The Reason Behind the Hunt

So many heroes are motivated by tragedy.  The main character of my current works in progress is no exception.  He decided to hunt Demons after watching his mother die.  While I work through and touch up my first draft, here is what you might call my hero's origin story.

I still haven't settled on a name for him yet.  In the meantime, I use "SonHunter" as a placeholder.

SonHunter had taken his pregnant wife and first two daughters to a local festival to boost the town's morale in the face of the Demon threat. A celebration to remind everyone of the days before Demons brought humanity down through fear and random destruction. His mother had been feeling ill and decided to stay home. He was never sure if she was truly ill or that was part of the Demon's plan to get her alone.

SonHunter was walking with his wife and children when the screaming started. He hurried his wife and children along so he could get them safely into the house before investigating the source of the suffering sounds. It was only when he saw the flames licking at the sky behind the house his family shared with his parents that he became truly afraid. He began running, ignoring the words of his pregnant wife and cries of his frightened young daughters.

SonHunter reached the field behind the house to see his mother's body completely engulfed in flames. Her clothes nothing but ash floating in the air as the Omega Demon stood nearby, laughing as the last breath of life left the woman. SonHunter reached into his pocket and grasped the crystal he kept there in case of emergencies without breaking his running stride. A primal roar of rage came out of him as he charged at the Demon. “You foul beast from Hell! What have you done?”

The Demon turned at his words and raised one hand. It seemed to grin as it snapped its fingers. SonHunter suddenly found himself frozen in place, mid-stride in his run at revenge. The Demon licked its lips in anticipation of more fun as it looked SonHunter up and down. Its attention wandered only when the sound of the cries of SonHunter's daughters came around the corner of the house, closely followed by the two girls with tears streaming down their faces clinging to their mother's hands.

The Demon turned to look at the new arrivals. SonHunter had never heard of any Demons speaking out loud until that moment. “Ah, even sweeter little things to play with.”

The fury in SonHunter began to build and rise. His vision tunneled in on the Demon, blanking out the rest of the world. He tried to force his limbs to move. Pressing against the Demon's imposed paralysis with every ounce of will he had. He had lost his mother. He refused to lose his wife and children as well. Not today, not now, not ever.

With another roar that seemed to shock the Earth itself with its ferocity, SonHunter shattered the spell the Demon had him under. He charged once again at the figure of evil and torture. The Demon's face was locked into a look of shock right up to the moment SonHunter thrust the crystal at its chest. The shock momentarily became pain before disappearing completely in the flash of light that signified a Demon's capture.

SonHunter's wife stood frozen in place, as though the Demon's spell had hit her when he broke free of it. The girls, his own daughters, cowered in fear behind her legs. Peering around their mother at the previously enraged form of their father. Fresh tears now flowing down their faces.

SonHunter took a step towards them. They all stepped back as one. He turned and walked towards the flaming remains of the bonfire and his own mother. Tears flowed down his own face. Tears from the heat of the nearby flames. Tears from the sudden loss of his mother. Tears from the reactions of his wife and children. Tears of a lack of hope for future happiness. On his face, he could feel a pair of cool streaks in the heat still radiating from the deadly fire.

Do you think anything more can be added to help the story along?  Do you have a suggestion for my main character's name?

Novel Demons

National Novel Writing Month is in full swing.  This year I am doing a story based on an idea that has been in my mind for a very long time.  I have even written a few blog posts about it.  This year's book takes place in a world where Demons have emerged and special individuals, Hunters, try and protect humanity.  A number of aspects have changed since I first came up with the idea.  Today's post is an excerpt from the work in progress.

Demon from Hell. You have come unbidden to this Earth. Your presence in this town and on this plane of existence is undesirable. I have come to banish you and end the pain you and your kind have brought forth.”

The Demon just laughs. The sound lacks anything close to mirth as far as SonHunter knows it. The sound of the Demon's joy echoing off the walls of the hall fills SonHunter with dread. The sense of evil in that simple noise is enough to bring most people to their knees. It is a something SonHunter had heard before, but still causes him the same emotional pain as it did the first time.

The ember on the end of the Demon's cigarette glows more brightly as it takes a drag. Then it speaks with a voice that sounds like rocks tumbling in a deep grave. “You silly humans and your rituals. Weekly gatherings where you read from some dusty old tome. Phrases are said and replied to. None of it does any good, really. Candles, robes, all that fancy décor. And all of it asking for favors from some deity that may or may not be listening.

“Is it really any wonder so many of you follow my kind when we make our offers? You will believe in anything, even if you know it's wrong to do so. Just give you a tempting enough offer from someone in front of you, and you will give up on generations of worship.”

The Omega Demon takes another drag off its cigarette and lift one hand straight out. It snaps its fingers and the shades drawn over the hall's windows all fly up. The room is filled with light. All of the seated shadows are now revealed to be the residents of the town. They all sit still as statues, their eyes tracking the Demon as it strolls back and forth across the stage.

SonHunter can now clearly see the Demon. Its skin is as red as blood. This particular Omega has the body of an athlete and is naked from head to toe and almost six feet tall, minus the horns. Every Omega Demon looks the same, except for the horns. This Demon's horns curve back from high on its forehead. The seem to lay across the beast's bald head. The black horns come to sharp points near the back of its head.

SonHunter grabs two crystals from his pocket. He selects, by touch, two of the larger ones to allow for a quicker capture of the Demon once he gets close enough. He grips the crystals tightly, one in each hand. “Demon, hear me and answer me true. What have you done to these people? Why have you trapped them in this place?”

“I have done nothing to them. They have done it to themselves. I just came to town and made each of them an offer. Those that accepted, now sit here. Those that didn't spread word of my legend to other towns and villages.”

As the Demon speaks, SonHunter gets a closer look at his cigarette. He realizes it isn't a bundle of tobacco wrapped in paper. It is a small, burning bone. He can't tell what part of the body it may be from, or if it is even a human bone. All that is clear is that the Demon is breathing in on one end of a bone as the other end smolders. The Demon takes another drag as he continues to smile and taunt SonHunter.

“These people are just sitting here, waiting for me to make up my mind. I haven't decided if I want to make them kill themselves or go out and kill others as my bloody army. Either way, they are only doing what they chose to do by accepting my deal.”

This is still a very raw first draft.  Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Demons Rising

For an eternity, I've been meaning to write the story about a world in which Demons are hunted and contained.  Ideas for this story crop up at random moments.  During work.  While eating dinner.  Laying down for a quiet evening.  Driving down the highway.  Rarely at a time I have the tools at hand to put words on the page.  Now I think it's time to try to advance the tale a little further.

It's been a decade since the first hole to Hell opened in the farmer's field.  Other portals have appeared in other locations.  All of them on the ground, but not all of them in areas as open as the first.  School children celebrated as their school fell into a chasm, then ran in fear as beasts began to emerge.  City traffic, an entire freeway, had to be diverted when a support for an overpass fell below the surface of the Earth.

In all, 182 gaping portals opened between the Earth and whatever world the Demons came from.  13 gigantic chasms in various locations around the world with 13 smaller holes around each one.  From constant monitoring it was revealed that size did matter.  Smaller demonic imps and figures crawled from the smaller holes, while titanic, horrific, monstrous beasts erupted from the larger holes.

Over the decade that passed, many technologies were lost.  The Demons tore down cell towers in their rampages.  Power plants were irreparably damaged.  Corporate headquarters fell to the ground as the office buildings that housed them were toppled by demonic claws and extreme strength.  Humanity was pushed back nearly to the Iron Age of civilization.

However, at the same time a new "technology" was developed.  It was discovered by accident that the Demons were susceptible to certain minerals placed in a specific lattice structure.  Crystals.  The Demons could be fought and trapped in crystals.  In this aspect, size didn't matter.  A demon of any size could be captured in a crystal small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand.  All that was required was someone brave and strong enough to get close enough to a Demon to touch them with the crystal.  This was easily accomplished where the smaller imps were concerned.  Trapping one of the larger Demons was much more difficult.  This is how the Hunters came to be.

What do you think a side effect of approaching the Demons could be?  Should the Hunters have extra abilities or just be gutsier than an average person?  Comment and let me know.

A Dark Beginning

A story that has been stuck in my head for a long time takes place in a world that is battling and capturing demons.  Demons that cause chaos and confusion by possessing people and influencing them for their own foul intentions.  I have posted about this story idea before, although I haven't really worked out much of the tale itself.

Here, today, I have worked on something that could possibly be the emergence of the world in which the story takes place.

The legend had been passed on for generations. Fathers had told it to their children at bed time. Bards had entertained taverns full of drunks with songs based on the tale. Scribes had copied endless books whose pages were filled with the words of the legend. Everyone knew the story of the legend, even if they didn't always agree on the details. The legend continued to live on far longer than anyone that had taken place in the event that inspired it. Still, the story continued to be told and passed from generation to generation.

Like many great stories, big and small, this legend began in a tavern after a few drinks. A group of companions from a distant land had stopped for a hot meal and good night's rest. How many in the group and where they came from varied from telling to telling. They were just finishing their dinner and contemplating climbing the stairs to their rooms when a local farmer burst through the door. His hair was singed and his clothing had oddly shaped burn marks on it. He was coated in sweat despite the cool night air. He uttered one single word before collapsing on the floor. This word remained the same, regardless of who was speaking the legend.

“Hellfire!”

The waitress, who was also the farmer's wife, dropped her tray of tankards and hurried to his limp form on the floor. With patience and a calm that was exceptional at the time, she checked him for injuries and began belting out demands. She ordered a handful of regular customers to their home to check on her children. Two others she sent to the village apothecary for specific herbs to treat her husband's burns.

This wasn't the season for travelers so there were a number of empty rooms in the inn above the tavern. With a look at the building's owner standing behind the bar, the waitress nods upward. Her eyes pleading as her lips contain the fearful screams and mournful groans she wants to release. He gives a nod of acknowledgment. She grabs the hand of the largest man in the tavern and asks him to help her move the unconscious form of her beloved husband. The two of them carefully transport the farmer upstairs to an empty room and lay him down on the bed. There, the wife continues her treatments as the medicines she requested arrive.

The men sent to the farm return to the tavern s the wife finishes her ministrations and collapses in a nearby chair. She waits patiently and watches for any changes in his condition as the rest of the story unfolds in the large room beneath her. The different versions of the legend vary in regards to the exact words used to describe what the group found at the farm. However, they all agree on the general conditions at the farm.

The farmer's plow lay on its side, charred and broken. All that remained of the plow horse was the back half of a smoking skeleton and the foul smell of burned flesh in the air. The front half of the animal had vanished down a deep chasm that dropped far below the turned soil. The pit had opened in front of the farmer as he prepared his land for the planting of his crops.

The walls of the pit glowed with shifting and moving reds and oranges. As though they were made of living flames. The bottom of the pit couldn't be seen. Just more menacing light the further down one looked. One of the villagers tossed a rock into the pit in order to listen for it to hit bottom and gauge its depth. There was no answering crack of stone on stone. Instead, a bestial roar echoed up and caused the villagers to all leap back from the edge of the pit. All of this was relayed by the breathless folks that had been tasked with investigating the farm. Their words mingling as the tale moved from mouth to mouth.

Days passed. The farmer remained in a deep slumber despite his wife's nursing. He neither improved nor weakened. His burns were slow to heal, but showed no signs of infection. The hole in the field was being watched over constantly. There were only two changes in the field. A cloud of smoke began to emerge from the depths of the pit. Over time the smoke thickened and darkened. What, at first, was faint white wisps evolved into a thick column of black so dark it seemed to suck in all the light around. The smoke could be seen at night. Its darkness being so much deeper than a moonless sky.

The other change was a matter of sound. The initial roar that sounded after the rock was tossed in started a reaction. Numerous guttural growls and grumbling roars followed. As the days wore on, the number of voices and volume of each increased. Mixed in with the beastly sounds were occasional words and phrases. Nobody, not even the village scholar, was able to interpret the language being spoken.

At midnight of the 6^th day, something finally happened. A hand the size of a cart wheel with sharp ebony claws and rippling skin slammed down on the rim of the pit. A second clawed hand quickly appeared next to it. A roar louder than any heard before accompanied the emergence from the smoke of a head that could only be described as demonic. As the rest of the beast's body rose from the cavernous pit, numerous impish figures quickly scampered to the surface around the large figure. The imps chittered to each other as the demon rose to a height more than the largest house in the village. The beast stretched and took in its surroundings.

According to the legends, the injured farmer's eyes opened the same instant the hand slammed against the ground. His wife had been checking his bandages when she saw his eyelids flutter open. She would always insist that the eyes of the man she had fallen in love with were different in that moment. They seemed to glow with a light that defied the darkness outside. A pure light, of the clearest white. A clarity that she never knew could exist.

He sat up, the light from his eyes giving his face a faint glow. Once more, all the tellings of the legend agree on what words he spoke. “The war has begun.”

Where things go from here and how I introduce the rest of the inhabitants of this world will wait until another time.

Notes on Demons

I've never been one to use outlines for my books or stories.  Instead, I have a file of notes about the characters, story, plot details, and world where the story takes place.  Some of these notes are broad generalizations that frame the environment.  Some are simple comments about the direction the story is going or what kind of turn I want it to take.  Others still may be preferences or feelings the characters have that aren't obviously stated but come out through their actions and interactions with others.

Sometimes a story doesn't develop past the notes stage.  This may be due to an excess of clutter in my headspace, a lack of time to develop it properly, or just not enough story there to expand on.  One such story is one that I've had notes on for decades.  While there is a major plot conflict to base the story on, I just don't seem to be able to come up with enough to fill out the world it takes place in.  Maybe some day the rest of the tale will come to me in a dream.  In the meantime, here are the notes as I have them so far.  Derf is just a placeholder name I use until the character is fleshed out more and a proper name comes to light.

• Long life span of hunters, but not immortal. Just don't age normally.
• Communicate with "Hunter Council" via meditation and a special crystal
• Council catalogs Demons based on activity. Ranks them based on strength and shares information with Hunters.
• Smaller, weaker Demons not named, simple to catch.  Stronger Demons are given names and require more elaborate rituals to satisfy and catch.
• Each hunter chosen by "Hunter's Spirit." When one Hunter dies, the spirit moves on never know who will be next.
• Spirits don't clearly speak to Hunter, but can enhance vision to detect Demonic energies and give a Spidey-sense to hidden Deomnic presence.
• Number of Spirits is fixed, Number of Demons is variable, has gotten down to zero in past but increasing recently.
• Father/son team of Demon Hunters considered best in the realm, very rare for family members to be selected as hunters.
• Main plot point! Main character (Derf) must hunt demon that has taken his father
• Papa Derf disappeared while transporting crystal to "jail."
• Evidence of demons that had been caught by father-son team reappears.
• Demons are caught in and transported via crystals to one-way portal to "Dungeon Dimension"
• Demon possessing Derf's father is known as "The Corrupter" spoke to Papa Derf via the crystal
• Derf lives life alone except when hunting with Papa, chosen before starting a family.
• Papa Derf father of 3-5 kids, chosen after family started and years before Derf.

Leave a comment if you think the story should be developed further or left at this stage.  Suggestions for filling in any of the blanks would be welcome.