Dark Hours, it covers more than time

[A little glimpse into the eye never hurt nobody, at least I think so]

Though this picture is old and has little to do with much of the story anymore, this offers a bit of a look into a pet project of mine that I've been doing for several month now. As I mentioned in my last post, I am quite fond of working in the sci-fi genre, mainly in the kaiju field. Now I know that word is not known too well by the general public, so I'll explain.

'Kaiju' is Japanese for 'weird beast,' but it often translates to 'monster.' Films with monsters include old horror classics like Dracula and Frankenstein, but most often the connotation of them goes to. . . .

                                 THESE GUYS! 

Yes, the classic image of a giant lizard destroying Tokyo is synonymous with the word 'kaiju.' If you spend any time around Deviantart you will encounter plenty of work in the genre, some very original pieces of work. A common trait we have in the genre is usually our own story involving giant monsters, a 'kaiju-verse' as fans say it. And that brings me to my main point.

I started the project to test my limits as an artist and writer, though I find that my limits are far from being tested, rather, they are being let loose to grow. It is a tale of. . . well, words don't always do the greatest justice, so I'll just show you.

This is my main beastie in the first part of the story, a massive thunder croc that humanity dubs 'Ragido' (rage and latin for 'killer' combined) though this is far from the actual truth, (now this might get a little spacey to the uninformed so bear with me) Ragido is actually named Sernak, and he is one of a group of Seven ancient beings created to guard the earth's well being from malevolent intruders. The characters are modeled after the seven trumpet blowing angels in Revelation, only given multiple other traits to hive them character. But this is only one element in the scope of the story spanning time and space. Humans fight and work with these monsters that appear, trying to keep themselves from extinction through force. There are various forces at work, like those of aliens from other worlds, much like this one below.

 

I could go into massive amounts of detail about every little thing, but I doubt Blogger will let me do that all at once, so I'll leave you with an excerpt of the story itself. This is a prologue to the second part of the story, where a young man has found his way into some pretty nasty hands. . .

Excerpt From: Dark Days on the Dunes by Jared Fisher ~Crimson-Vagrant Paul's consciousness began to flicker back into the light as the sun began to set. It was a slow return, at times he could barely make out the sun's warmth, at times he could only sense himself, as though he was half awake. But, then, a concrete sensation ran into his fiber of being. The sensation of hearing voices. They seemed far away, and heavily distorted, but they were there. Paul could barely make anything out of it, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the voices were talking about him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Well, what do you think?" "I think nothing, I know we must." "I recommend you do try thinking, Jeremiah." "Why would I?! He is one of them, that is all I need to know." "Your just upset because one of them got you good. In the neck right? Twice?" "If you were wise, you would not have-" "Silence! Brothers, this is the only one left, the others either left long before we awoke or lie dead from our claws and teeth. We are rarely so fortunate to take a living one for ourselves. Please, let's try not to go into killing it." "A brilliant speech, Lona. Especially the amount of dishonor you bring to your grandmother's memory." "Cite not her memory to me, you black tongued-!" "If she were here, she would have at least made him one of us by now. She did not hesitate as you do. That hesitation is what put us in that war in the first place. Are you going to make the same mistake again here by letting something that cannot be allowed slide?" ". . . ." "That's what I thought. Now then, let's get to business. Oh! The man is waking!" Paul shot upright, bursting back into consciousness. His instincts were on high alert, causing him to crouch into a defensive position. Standing around him was a crowd of cowled figures obscured by the night sky. They looked human, but their eyes all shone with a dull red light. "Whe-where am I?" he stuttered. One of the figures spoke. "In the enemy's arms, filth." Suddenly, two hands gripped Paul by the shoulders, forcing him to the ground with inhuman strength. He tried to struggle, but his legs were similarly bound. "What are you demons going to do to me? Where's my battalion?" "The giants?" One of the figures inquired. "They left you behind long ago. I would imagine they are licking their wounds. Especially if they are anything like helpless little you." The figures all moved in closer. Paul feared the worst, it seemed the skinwalkers were just as brutal as the stories said. "Now Lona," the one who spoke earlier said, "What will you do?" One of them, much taller than the others, turned his head, the disappearance of his red eyed gaze making him as a stone in the darkness. "I. . ." the tall one, apparently this  "Lona", quietly muttered. "I'll do it. I'll make him one of us." Voices of affirmation and approval broke out over the silence, the rest of the group seemed plenty happy at the thought. Paul attempted to thrash himself free, but nothing could break the vice-like grip of the Skinwalkers holding him down. Lona moved in, as a predator preparing to kill, and Paul turned his head closing his eyes in fright. It seemed the end had come. Suddenly, a voice broke out over the small band. A familiar voice. "Paul, No!" It was Jo's voice, which gave Paul a rather odd blend of emotions. For one, he was glad he was alive. On another note, he was disturbed that the voice came from a new red eyed figure that had just entered the circle. The group all eyed the encroacher, "You know this one?" a voice broke out. "He's my friend." Jo muttered, "He's from the group of warriors, same as me." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah, I know, fun times, right? If you are interested in seeing more of my work, my deviantart page hasn't gone anywhere since last time I advertised it. Found Here  Until next we blog!