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Posted by Meg

Kai sends us a demon from a demon’s point of view.

Its eyes opened.

Black and beady, they soaked in the darkness that enveloped its newly shaped form, swiveling back and forth in the star enlightened night, as it surveyed its surroundings in an attempt to find something to satiate the burning rage that filled him from within.  He could feel the fires of the Core far below him, a connection that drove him and all of his kind in their attempt to reassert their kind into their rightful place of control over the humans.

He was one of the more unique breeds of the corelings.  A bastard child of the mimics, the Bazille was only able to take the shape of something that it consumed.  There was no retention of that animal or humans abilities, but rather just an impression of its stolen self.

On almost all levels of competency that were measured by the ranks of corelings, the Bazille feel miserably short.  In its true shape, it was small, a hand shorter than the clay coreling, lacking in natural armor and strength, and was forced to rely on its cunning and natural ability for stealth.  This combined with its particular talents set it apart and above most of his counterparts.

Its one physical proficiency arose from the ability to detach its jaw as it prepared to bite, allowing it to expand its mouth around anything short of a stout oak’s trunk.  Sharp, biting teeth rimmed its jaw beyond the line of sight, down into its throat lining up like a set bear trap, just waiting to engulf its nearest victim.

This ability allowed him to consume its prey, forcing down small and large objects alike into its prodigious stomach where some form of magic of conversion took place, creating a shifting that transformed him into a likeness of the creature that had just been eaten.

The second, and ultimately more important, trait that allowed for the Bazille’s rise in the ranks of importance, was through the act of impression came the ability to escape the pull back down into the Core for a brief period of time.  Each time it varied, sometimes it lasted minutes, sometimes a hour.  He was sometimes charged by the princes to gather info but most often it was spent taking unparalleled, evil joy in mauling some unfortunate family that had the misfortune of its house being far enough away from neighbors that its screams weren’t heard.  It had something to do with the protection gained by the Impression, but eventually the sun’s despicable rays burned through the shell and once again he was yanked back down to the dark depths of the Core.

A shock of excitement that never got old took a joy ride up and down his spine every time the shock bloomed onto the unsuspecting faces of his victims as their favorite pet opened its maw and consumed as messily as possible on of their own.

Tonight he had formed in the wide expanse of a recently harvested field.  He rose out of the ground on all fours, hunched low and close to the ground, always trying to wait to show himself at the last possible moment.  The putrid smell of cut corn stalks hit its wide nostrils, grimacing as it turned its stomach.  He assumed that it probably smelled good to the humans, but nothing but freshly torn skin and blood waiting to be spilt perked up its taste buds.  To his kind, nothing but that smelled or tasted remotely palatable.

He began to move, his movements were sly and subtle as he moved towards the west, hoping to get every second he could away from the inevitable rising of tomorrow’s sun.  There was a small house on the far edge of the field and the fire of a family’s evening activities shone brightly through a warded window.  As he passed through the gate into the front lawn of the house he felt the awkward and slightly painful burn of wards that weren’t drawn for him but still hurt nonetheless.  His kind was rare and the wards that affected him and his brethren hadn’t been rediscovered following the Great War.

He’d heard the rumors of late concerning the one covered in wards, the one who had taken down the giant coreling last fall.  He’d heard the rumors spoken in hushed and fearful tones that the human was rediscovering wards long thought lost.  He’d heard a lot in his day, but if there was anything he’d learned throughout the years was that most rumors were overblown and even if it turned out to be something even close to reality that worry was for another night.  This night was for eating.

His dark shelled form slid quietly through the shadows of house making a circuit of the house looking for something bite into before he made his way into the home.  The smell of the humans was beginning to overwhelm his senses and any modicum of patience was starting to slip away under the wave of anger and rage until he heard the quiet purr of a farm cat coming from the rear of the house.  He moved closer, quieter than before, until he hovered over the small form, his tongue flitting out in tiny quick flicks as he licked his lips in anticipation.

The moment passed quickly as his teeth making quick and silent business of the animal’s body.  They were bloody and covered in tiny bits of hair and gore as they spread into a wide, villainous smile as the swirl of magic and mystery began to churn in his stomach as the transformation began.  It had never seen what the change looked like, but from his perspective it happened in less than five breaths.  A few moments of heavy breathing and then the world shifted to reflect its new vantage point.

The scent of flesh was still the same but the burn to consume was stronger after the transformation.  It always was; the necessity to replenish the magic expelled coupled with the hunger made for a condition that raged until his whole body trembled with barely contained energy.  Each step was troublesome as his new feet moved silently towards the door where he raised its paw, claws extended, and began to scratch at the door.

It didn’t take many scratches as he heard footsteps begin, moved towards the front window and he watched the curtain get pulled aside and looked up to see a small human peek outside.  She looked out to see what was causing the noise; a look of confusion spread across her face until she looked down and saw him.  She smiled, a quiet giggle escaping past her lips as she moved to open the door to let the cat in.

The Bazille would have laughed along had its feline form allowed it, but settled for a smile, another smile of joy but for a completely different and much more malicious reason as it cracked its jaws in preparation for the evening’s snack.

Thank you to Kai for this entry! I love that it was from the point of view of the demon! Very creepy and creative.

Posted on May 30, 2012 at 3:00 pm by megelizabeth
Filed under Contests, Create a Coreling, Daylight War, Desert Spear, Fan Art, Fans, Meg, Warded Man
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Posted by Meg

A new entry from Joseph L. Selby. You can read more at: http://josephlselby.com

New Coreling: Half-Demon

The Warded Man waited in the clearing as the first mists of twilight seeped up through the ground. The demons would come soon. For three days, he and Twilight Dancer had done battle outside the ruin. He had come in search of ancient wards, following a map that had proved true in every way but for the treasure at the end. Any wards that might have existed on the tumbles of stone had long since been washed away by the passage of time.

Three days it took him to search the ruins before he was certain there was nothing worth the finding. Three nights he spent fighting wood demons. The ruins sat in the deepest parts of Fort Angiers’ forests. He made camp in a nearby clearing, setting up his Messenger’s circle for when the ichor grew too thick and obscured his combat wards. He would step inside, clean himself, and resume the battle. The journey would not be entirely wasted. He would take as many of them as possible before his time here was finished.

Twilight Dancer grew impatient, sniffing the air and stomping a hoof, as anxious as he for the night’s battle to begin. The sun slipped behind the treeline, the forest grew dark, and the mist danced on the breeze, but all was silent. No fire demons dared come this deep into the forest, but the first wind demons should have taken flight by now. He watched the trees. Woodies found easy camouflage among the mighty trunks and thick branches, but they only stirred with the wind. Nothing walked. Nothing hunted. Nothing came to fight as it had for the three nights before.

A branch snapped and the Warded Man turned to face it. His robe lay discarded in his circle. He stood only in his loin cloth, fists in front of him, ready to begin his nightly dance. He saw a shape pass between the trees, caught in the light of an early moon. It was short for a wood demon and lithe, more like a man than a demon. The Warded Man waited. There were no settlements nearby, no wood cutters or messengers to wander the forest at night. He was alone, or so he had thought.

The figure turned toward the clearing, clearly a man robed and with a turban.

“Jardir?” The Warded Man asked.

No, it was not the Shar’Dama Ka. This man stood taller, nearly seven feet if not more. The blue light of the moon turned his robe and turban black, but beneath the muck and the mud, the Warded Man could see how his clothing had one been entirely white.

The Krasian stepped into the clearing. He walked with a walking stick but he did not limp nor did his back curl with age. He leveled his stick and the metal point of a spear glinted in the moonlight. His robe was tattered, his turban frayed. What flesh was exposed looked much the same as Arlen’s, black ink tattooed upon brown Krasian skin. So many were there, it looked in this dim light as if he had black lines tattooed across him in whirls and crisscrosses, as if his skin were made of wicker.

“Do you seek succor?” the Warded Man asked. He did not lower his fists.

The stranger walked freely in the night. His eyes sat sunken in his face, deep bags beneath them of one who spends his night fighting rather than sleeping. His flesh drew taught against his bones, lined with white cracks like aged leather. His joints were knobby and his fingers skeletal.

The man smiled and Arlen took an instinctive step back. His teeth were narrow and gnarled. His gums bled black ichor. Tongues of fire ate at the gaps and licked at his lips.

The man slammed his spear butt on the ground and fire burst atop his turban. The flames formed a royal circlet above his head.

“Bow to me.” He moved his mouth, he worked his jaw, but the sound did not come from his throat like a normal man’s. It came a whisper in Arlen’s head. The Warded Man pawed at his ear, swatting away a mosquito that was not there. “You must give the proper respect. Bow.”

“I bow to no man, not duke, not Shar’Dama Ka. Nor do I bow to demons.” Which was this man?

The Warded Man placed each ward he could make out in the low light. Of those he recognized, their purpose matched his own. Wards on his fists for punching. Wards on his chest for protection and turning away fire spit, and so on. If he had been born Krasian, this man might be his reflection in the waters of the Oasis of Dawn.

The memory chased up his spine. Arlen felt the deep pull of the Core, that insubstantial haze just as he had when a wood demon tried to draw him down to the Core outside Cutter’s Hollow. His head snapped up and he understood.

“Kaji.”

The half-demon stood straighter, taller if that was possible. “You are almost ready, dal’Sharum. Together we will wage Sharak Ka. Together we will make war against the daylight.”

Thank you to Joseph for that intriguing story. I love the description of the half-demon as a reflection of Arlen if he had grown up in Krasia. Beautifully written!

Posted on May 30, 2012 at 8:00 am by megelizabeth
Filed under Contests, Create a Coreling, Daylight War, Desert Spear, Fan Art, Fans, Meg, Warded Man
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Posted by Meg

An entry from the demon’s point of view …

Hi Peat,

Thanks for putting on this contest! Thanks also for responding to my random tweets.

I submit for your reading pleasure: The Hate Demon.

Best Wishes,

Jeremy Toburen

The Hate Demon Short

By Jeremy Toburen

@jeremytoburen

The hate demon scurried around dead leaves that would crunch with noise and draw the swinging arms of the wood demons. The large corelings already held their fill of hate, so the hate demon’s presence added no heat to the emotion that surrounded the meat.

Stealing a glance toward the slim magic circle that protected the only meat for leagues, the hate demon continued its erratic course. The glance was ill-timed. A small wood demon picked that moment to shuffle its feet in frustration. A taloned tow caught the wing of the hate demon and sent it pinwheeling across the crunchy ground.

The wood demon whipped its head around and snarled.

The hate demon froze, clutching the flap of its ruined right wing to its side. A tense moment passed, and then a haughty laugh from within the magic ring snapped the wood demon’s head back around. It charged the laughing meat within the circle. Magic crackled and the wood demon bounced back, just as it had the first few times.

They were slow to learn.

The hate demon pinched tight the torn wing with a spindly arm and danced between the dead leaves toward the circle of magic. A blue glow hazed the air where the wood demon had bounced. The meat within cast out waves of easy mirth.

Another laugh echoed. It struck the hate demon, a physical blow, and the tiny form sprawled on ground.

Wincing, it pulled itself upright and crawled toward the magic. Fortunately, the wood demons had retreated far enough from the magic circle for the hate demon’s fall to go unnoticed and unpunished. It inched closer until the magic brightened, pulsing with relentless unspent energy. But the hate demon could feel the meat now.

Retching, the hate demon curled in on itself, washed in the jovial emotions of the meat. They were making their curious staccato sounds, ignoring the slavering hatred of the wood demons. The hate demon had learned to respect the power required to withstand the permeating malice, but already it could feel the cracks forming. Already their banality rivered with the delightful stirrings of unspent ire.

“No, Carmen was the girl with the red hair. She only had eyes for that rich fellow with the earrings.”

“Are you sure? I thought my brother pointed to the small dark-haired girl with the big tits.”

“I’m sure. Carmen was the redhead. I tried to get her attention all night, but that tubby merchant kept buying her drinks.”

“No you didn’t. You spent most of the night talking to the dark-haired girl … What was her name?”

“Uh … Keelie, I think.”

“You think? You don’t remember?”

“Guess not.”

“You sure spent enough time with her … Are you sure she wasn’t Carmen?”

“I already told you, Carmen was the redhead that banged the merchant … I only talked with Kelly because she happened to be standing there.”

“Now she’s Kelly?”

“Kelly, Keelie, whatever … The point is Carmen was interested in the merchant. She wasn’t going to go for you.”

Both meats were quiet for a moment. The hate demon was able to climb to its feet. Anger flitted through the wards, resonating with the rage that boiled beyond. Even the wood demons recognized the shift. They stopped their useless frenetics.

“I suppose … My brother seemed so sure that Carmen was excited to meet me. If Carmen was the redhead, she never even looked in my direction.”

“She was the redhead! Do you think I’d lie to you? The sight of all that money probably addled her brain. What were you compared to that merchant?”

“Hey! That merchant was a fat pig. I’m twice the man he is! Let’s see him sleep out in the middle of the highway in a ward circle. He’d piss himself!”

“Except he doesn’t need to sleep in a ward circle on account of he’s got money. While you need to take a two-day to fix a bridge in some Creator-abandoned farm town. I’d say it was an easy choice for Carmen.”

“Careful, Sam! I don’t need any extra hands on this job. I’m doing you a favor for my brother.”

“Easy! There’s no use getting upset about it. Some women like their men dressed up, that’s all.”

“My brother said that Carmen didn’t care that I was a brick layer. He said that she was more interested in a man who worked with his hands than a man who hired them.”

“Your brother also likes a laugh. Maybe he was playing a joke on you, mate.”

The hate demon started bouncing on the outskirts of the circle. The anger was deepening. The meat was just coming into its full flavor. The hate demon pushed animosity toward the more succulent of the meats. It would have rather seasoned the other, but it had learned over the years that some meat was harder to cook than others.

“You know what I think? I think Carmen was the dark-haired girl, and you told her you were me!”

“Whoa! That’s too far! I don’t need to play a trick like that to tumble a girl. I do just fine on my own!”

“Yeah … Well you’re walking back to town tomorrow! I do just fine on my own, too!”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Dead serious! And don’t even think about crossing me or I’ll chuck you right out of this circle!”

“You’re mad!”

“Your worthless carcass would make a nice treat for that wood demon!”

At that moment the tender meat threw a rock at a wood demon standing nearby. It struck the coreling and bounced back toward the circle, knocking one of the stones that anchored the magic. The crease wasn’t large enough for the larger coreling to notice, but the hate demon scurried to the opening and clawed at the breach until the anchor stone moved again.

It barely had time to avoid the crush of feet. The nearest wood demon leapt to the breach and broke the magical barrier. The meats cried in terror.

The hate demon dodged the rush of the wood demons as it tried to get at the tender meat it had cultivated. There was a scream and a tearing sound and something knocked the hate demon out of the fray.

It rolled to a stop by the trunk of a great tree and keened at the loss of its food, but a sweet smell broke the wail. It darted to a chunk that had been blasted free by the wood demons’ melee. A concave plate of bloody bone lay on the ground. Brown hair gristled flesh on one side, but gooey grayish chunks clung to the other. Quivering, the hate demon tested the meat. Lucky night! It was the tender cut.

Thanks to Jeremy for that fantastic entry! Such a creative idea! I love that we are in the Hate Demon’s head and that laughter can cause the demon harm.

Posted on May 29, 2012 at 3:00 pm by megelizabeth
Filed under Contests, Create a Coreling, Daylight War, Fan Art, Fans, Meg, Warded Man
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Posted by Meg

Jenny sent us a new story and a new demon. Check it out.

Here is my competition entry, beautifully left till the deadline to send in!

Hope you enjoy reading it! 🙂

Jenny

A shepherd. The moment she realised their fatal mistake, it was too late for any sort of warning. Instead, she could only scream along with him as he collapsed, twitching to the ground. The torch he’d been carrying fell out of his grasp, but instead of extinguishing itself the fire caught on the layer of leaf litter which carpeted the floor. The flames lit the demon properly for the first time. Its head, which had snapped round to face her upon hearing her scream, was now being illuminated from the flames below, removing any traces of the humanity it had seemed to portray. Almost utterly devoid of features, the pale skin was stretched so tightly it gave the impression that an eerily human-like skull was grinning back at you. Only when the demon bared its teeth in a feral smile, revealing a jaw full of gleaming white fangs, was even that last illusion shattered. It was hard to believe that the soft whimpering sounds which had drawn them out – noises that had been so reminiscent of a child’s cries – had come out of that mouth. The eyes though. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. At least twice as large as a human’s, their glossy black in stark contrast to the creamy flesh, they protruded out of its head like bulbous orbs. Right now, as they reflected the fire, it appeared as if they were alight with flames of their own. She knew she was safe from any form of attack inside her wards, but the malice in that gaze hit her like a physical blow, causing her to stagger backwards.

A scream rent the air, and in it she could just discern one word. Her name. Hearing that made her blood run cold. The demons attention reverted to its prey on the ground, but she knew it wasn’t going to attack any further. That wasn’t how it worked. Sure enough, it took a few steps away from him, then froze in the position it would hold for the next few hours. Waiting.

She knew what she should do. Run back inside the house, leap into the bed and spend the next few hours blocking out the screams. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. It was her fault he was out there. If she hadn’t spotted the demon in the woods, heard those cries, and then brought them to his attention, he would never have stepped outside the safety of the wards. Never have gone to the aid of what they both thought was a lost wandering child.

That was what shepherds did. They lured you out to them, keeping their back to you, staying in the mottled light under the trees which could distort any form and trick the eyes. Only when you got close enough to touch them – when you started to realise that something wasn’t quite right from the unnatural paleness of their skin, the way that skin clung to the skeleton far more than it ever should, and the lack of any sort of body hair – would they turn to face you. You had a second of knowing the mistake you’d made before hallucinogenic toxic spittle was projected into your eye, and then there was no hope for you. For the next few hours you would be subject to torturous visions, the nature of which could only be guessed at – and she never wanted to know, never wanted to find out what he was seeing as he shouted her name with such despair and desperation – until the poison eventually reached your heart and you succumbed.

The flames from the torch were spreading quickly, but she had no fear of them becoming an inferno. Most of the wood and humus in this forest would be too damp to burn. New figures were being cast into harsh relief by the firelight though, crawling down from the trees, stalking around the now moaning figure on the ground, pressing themselves up against the pale demon like affectionate cats. The shepherd’s flock.

It was this affectionate behaviour which made it more than just a symbiotic relationship between the two coreling species. The flock demons were fiercely protective of their shepherd and wouldn’t hesitate to attack anything that threatened them, be that other demons or turning on rebellious members of the pack. If one shepherd tried to enter the territory of another, it would result in a full on battle between the two flock packs. The defeated shepherd, more often than not having lost every member of its flock, wouldn’t last long on its own. The poison saliva wasn’t designed as an overly offensive weapon, and their teeth would be no use in physical combat. A demons claw – or a human weapon – would rip through their leather-hide skin before they even got the chance to use them.

The flock demons, however, were lethal. Despite being carrion feeders – relying on their shepherd to catch and kill their prey – they were built for being heavily armoured guards. A reptilian canine was what they most resembled, and they were about the size of a large dog. Scaled with plates as black as onyx and as tough as sheet metal, it took skill with a bow or spear to find the chinks in their defences.  Their feet were more like larger versions of a lizards claws than paws, and infinitely more prehensile, the talons at the end viciously curved and deathly sharp. The eyes were small – being one of their weak points – and didn’t require the firelight to glow amber through the darkness.

As they spotted her, a few detached from the main group – circling, vulture like, around the dying man on the ground – and prowled over to pace along the line of the wards, snapping at her, long tails twitching impatiently. Some growled softly and the sound was pure bass, sending tremors through the ground. It also revealed their needle-like teeth, glowing white through the darkness and glistening as they salivated in anticipation of the meal to come.  Despite the lack of an external part to the ear their hearing was as acute as any of their other senses. Imagining them working together as a pack didn’t take a stretch of the imagination. They would be graceful, efficient and utterly deadly.

It seemed it was hours later when the screams stopped, when the sound of her name being repeated over and over again finally subsided and the only other noise was the soft footfalls of the flock demons in the fallen leaves. The demons recognised what the silence meant the moment she did, and less than a heartbeat later, they had converged on him.

Thank you to Jenny for sending us that haunting story. Beautifully narrated and intricately described.

Posted on May 29, 2012 at 8:00 am by megelizabeth
Filed under Contests, Create a Coreling, Daylight War, Desert Spear, Fan Art, Fans, Meg, Warded Man
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Posted by Meg

Part 2 of The Desert Spear has just been released by Graphic Audio!

Graphic Audio has been diligently recreating The Desert Spear into a full-fledged audio performance featuring voice actors, music and awesome sound effects. This is much more than an audiobook, creating the world of the Demon Cycle anew. It’s a great way to re-experience the books in a whole new way. Check it out!

Part 2 of The Desert Spear is available for preview and purchase here:

The Desert Spear Part 2 (of 3)

Want to start at the beginning? Head over to Graphic Audio to purchase Part 1 of The Desert Spear and Parts 1 and 2 of The Warded Man.

Part 3 of The Desert Spear will be released on June 20th, so check back soon to complete your Graphic Audio set!

Posted on May 28, 2012 at 3:00 pm by megelizabeth
Filed under Desert Spear, Fans, Meg
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