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Lazgah Concept Art

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Almost a hundred and fifty pages into TCoU:B, and the characters are moving towards the dangerous swamplands of the Groar and Lazagah people.  This book is one of the slowest I’ve ever written. Although not boring, I will admit that it can be a little dry. But this is a large tale to tell, and as anyone who has read a 1000 page plus fantasy novel, it takes a good chunk of time before the fuckin’ wonder begins.

Anyway. Our heroes are leaving the canyon where the Creature was found. After a merciless slaughter of evil men and women by the demonic reach of Blestemul, they continue on into the bizarre volcanic swamps, headed towards a Groar capitol, and then beyond. We’ve already discussed Groars here, but not the Lazgah are sentinents, true, but are too savage to be included in any type of modern society. Intelligent, but mostly in an instinctual and predatory sense, they have a basic language but mostly operate in tightly knit and organized troops. They are semi-amphibious, but don’t breathe through their skin. Heavily muscled, they have a bizarre anatomy the defies nature. Here’s a picture of some rough concepts:

And a closeup of the type of head I chose:

 

 

A few more concepts of the actual anatomy of a Lazgah:

 

They are adept scavengers and can often reverse engineer, or re purpose scavenged materials or technology. They can make surprisingly sophisticated weapons, favoring a super compressed blowgun tailored to exploit the advantages of having massive and powerful lungs. These darts are tipped in lethal poisons collected from creatures dwelling in their natural habitat. They are fond of throwing weapons, using their profound strength to throw such projectiles with incredible speed and force, far more than some human schmuck with a throwing knife. They will often utilize umbracells as volatile grenades, and as devastating traps. Here’s some concept art detailing Lazgah weapons:

 

And finally, some more advanced weapons found in the hands of Lazgah soldiers:

 

 

Okay, I’ll leave you with that. Got any questions? Comments? You know what to do.

The Creature in the Mountain Pass

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I’ve reached a point in my story where I like to answer questions that the reader may have in an indirect way. I prefer to disguise these points in the ignorance of my characters. They ask the questions, and I find a way to answer them for everyone. It is annoying. It is not easy. And sometimes, it doesn’t work. But, when it does, it ties shit together nicely in a lil’ package I can call my own. Anyway, here’s the shit.

The characters of the story, Alistar, Jala, and Kone are all headed towards the next scene. And yes, I’m isolating those who read this by not explaining anything further on these characters, nor why they’re together, or what they’re doing. It’s on purpose. Anyway, they’re all headed towards the next scene, when Alistar gets separated from the group via a powerful and ancient being. The beast is never named, nor his species. He has fantastic powers and incredible stories to tell Alistar, many that validate humanity’s existence on the one in a billion shot we call Earth.

I wanted to create a being that didn’t make any sense. Creatures created out of the imagination are often based on things that we have seen before. Humanoid creatures, where eyes belong, head, tail, symmetry. You know. I thought in a different way. And I am not ashamed that I was inspired to break out of the way I normally create fictional beings because of Philip Pullman and his works.He created a species of creatures that defied symmetry and that’s what I sought out to do.

I tend to warp things. Twist them. The world is too normal, and it needs a dark slant, a sticky, sweaty mutation deep in the corners of the sane mind. So, I came out with this initially:

But that made too much sense. I decided to alter the creature more, and recently I came up with its final form. Take a look at this shit:

Much better. There is some symmetry, yes. But I mixed shit up in ways I had forgotten about. This being, this creature, is the link that provides a foundation for the rest of Alistar’s (the main character) motivations throughout the story. I had to make this fucker unique, and hopefully I didn’t fail.

What about you? Ever create somethingentirely out of your own head? Your own creature? Being? Race? I would love to know how you did it, and what it is. Don’t be shy. We’re all freaks here.

P.S.: This entry is short because I started to feel pompous when I was writing it. I wanted to stop my mind diarrhea before I started sounding like those I despise.

TCoU: Blestemul Concept Art for a Demon

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How do?

TCoU: Blestemul, my next novel, is going along nicely so far. I’m at a little bit of a lull point in the story, you know where you have to build shit up before you bring the axe down? But hey. I’ll get through it, you’ll get through it, and then the good stuff will happen. Anyway, without revealing too much of the story, Blestemul is a very unique demon that shape shifts according to what instrument it can do the most damage with in conjunction with its chosen host (Alistar Crowne, the main character of TCoU:B in this case). It is a demon of pure rage and violence, but is surprisingly smart and sometimes supportive in times of need. Blestemul is what makes Alistar’s “quest” possible, which I will not reveal.

I went through a LOT of different concepts for this fuckin’ thing. I mean a lot. More than what you see here. I needed to get the perfect melding of beast and gun metal to make this thing look right. I wanted something sinister, but not completely without familiar qualities. I also wanted something that was much more than just an enchanted gun. If you’ve ever played the video games Shadowman, Devil May Cry, or Shadows of the Damned, I didn’t want this stylish weapon that looked cool and made a big racket. I wanted something that reflect a demon’s true form. Blestemul (which is Romanian forcurse) fit the bill. Also, if you played Shadows of the Damned, I didn’t copy the talking gun. In fact, I was quite pissed when I found my idea thrown out there already, but its my fault for not moving when I should have. Anyway, here’s one of three sketches I did for Blestemul:

I was having a little trouble with the overall form here. And Blestemul looked too…inorganic. So, I tried to change this up a bit and add more demon meat to the pistol’s furniture. I also removed the clip- it just didn’t fit into what I was trying to create. Here’s number two of three:

Now I have too much organic, and not enough metal. I was supremely frustrated at this point, and I’m pretty sure I took a break before I took another crack at it. If you’re an artist, there is nothing more frustrating when you’re trying to complete a piece than to watch it mutate into an image that was not in your head. Here’s the third and final picture, and Blestemul’s true form:

That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Here, I decided to add a gaping maw at the muzzle. Quite literally, this is where an odious and long tongue shoots out from under the weapon to grab, crush, and shove enemies and obstacles aside. If Blestemul really wants to get nasty, the demon reels in his victim, and the weapon’s mouth expands for a bone shattering chomp that is fatal and degrading. The tongue is not only a weapon. It is prehensile, meaning Alistar can using it like a grappling hook, and it can get “sniff” the air like a snake to see if there is anything of interest around. Also, it can be used to molest a target which saps the very life out of their bodies (if the abuse continues), reads their minds and memories, and makes them sick (Blestemul’s saliva is thick and yellowish green, like mucus) via slow poisoning. Symptoms include migraine, vomiting, fever, aches, severe hallucinations (auditory, visual, olfactory), and death if the dose is high enough.

Blestemul has a unique personality which is an ongoing development in progress. Many demons are stereotypically liars and deceivers. So is Blestemul, but he is also honest and supportive when he needs be. He is a tormentor, even to Alistar, as well as a valuable ally. He is a contradiction, constantly weaving all around him into a web of lies and truth, love and hate, anger and peace, that only he can read and understand. And let me tell you, it is FUN. To write as Blestemul.

Alright, that’s all for now I think. Comments? Questions? Lay em’ on me, you know I’ll answer. Got any characters you love to write for? Draw? Let me know.

Final Cover Preview: Geneslave

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I finished it!

I was worried initially about how this cover would come out, but I am pleased. This is what the cover will look like when I finally upload this sucker to Kindle and get it ready for the market. Take a look:

I am very proud of this. I don’t care what anyone says. Doesn’t mean I don’t want feedback, but I am happy with this piece and how it will tie in with the novel as a whole. On standard sketchpad paper, I used HB pencil, 0.1mm black marker, and watercolors. Oh, and not the expensive shit. This was done on a budget. Goes to show you that you can make something you’re proud of with your own two hands and not have to abide by anyone’s rules. Does that mean what I do is right for you? No, of course not. Do whatever you want. But if you’re like me? There is something satisfying and vindictive about doing whatever the flying FUCK you want when it comes to creative control of your own work.

Enougha that shit. I don’t know when I’ll get it ready for Kindle- I’m shooting for this week. But when I do, you’ll be the first to hear about it. Oh, I may be posting stuff for Blestemul in between now and then, so stay turned for that too. Keep writing, signing, playing, drawing, painting, dancing, punching, eating, bathing, flipping, and fucking, do what you want and do it well. Just do it responsibly.

As always ALL forms of serious feedback is welcomed. I will respond to your comments.

Cover Art: Geneslave

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Hello again.

My other job was calling, and if I didn’t answer, then well. I’d be fucked. But, you aren’t reading this for excuses, and I shall not give them to you. If you’ve been wondering why I haven’t pulled the trigger on Geneslave, it’s not because I’ve lost my nerve. Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve been developing a cover for the book that I would upload to the document when I Kindlefy it and get her ready for the market. I have a habit of rushing into things that I am excited about, and when I look back, I realize that things are missing. So. My wife suggested the development of a cover. At first, I was resistant. I wanted to put Geneslave out and I wanted to put it outnow. But, she helped me calm myself and look at the bigger picture. I thought about doing a cover, but I didn’t want to spend the time on it. Now, I’m glad I did. Here’s what I have so far, and I’ll keep posting the cover as I work on it more and complete it.


I know what you’re thinking. This motherfucker needs to hire an illustrator. And you’re right. But, the first and foremost problem is I can’t afford one. And I need one that will have the same level of passion for Geneslave as I do, and that’s hard to find free. That, and I’m starting to see why it’s important for me to draw the cover myself. This entire endeavor has mostly been under my steam. A good 95% of it if not more, and you know what?I don’t want someone else drawing the cover to my first published work. So whether it sucks the dick, or blows the gods, I’m making my own cover. What about you?

Do you illustrate? Would you illustrate a work you’ve created? Do you think about the cover art to your novel? Let me know, I’d like to hear about it.

Concept Art- Groar TCoU: Blestemul

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I saved one of the best for last. My favorite race in this book, the Groar. These massive walls of muscle look like mindless beasts, and some of them are. But what I like the most about them is their ability to channel their raw, unbridled power into almost any endeavor they choose. Behold the mighty Groar:

Now we’re talkin’.

Truth be told, I’ve always been drawn to beings of incredible strength, whether physical, mental, spiritual, etc. so this was a natural next step in character development for me and for TCoU: Blestemul. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking when I made this race, but…I can’t think of anything witty to say. Let’s just get into the descriptions n’ shit.

Groar Biology:

Groar males have pronounced manes that are often shaped into elaborate beards and hairstyles, while female manes are far less grandiose. It is difficult to tell between Groar males and females if it wasn’t for the species being mammals: female groars have breasts. Ranging in 7 to 9 feet tall, Groars range in 450-650 pounds sporting massive tusks and grand crowns of spines high on the forehead, where a singular, massive horn protrudes. You guessed it- the bigger and thicker the horn, the more the ladies love em’, the same going for Groar males when selecting a female mate. Skin color ranges to light olive, to a deep forest green with splotches of yellow, brown, and black flecks seen across the board.

Strict carnivores, Groars sport retractable claws and a tough hide to protect them when hunting prey many times their size. They are immensely strong and are almost indefatigable- they have deep reserves of stamina that pour forth when in combat, or stressful situations. Their brains are mostly medulla, stretching back down into the spinal column and along the spinal cord, protected by a case of dense bones.

Voracious eaters, Groars can easily consume half their weight in meat in one sitting. Everything from a kill is consumed, right down to the bone. They have a pair of stomachs to break down hard to digest foods (bone, hair, feathers) into useable energy. Groar hearts are also located on the right sides of their chest opposed to the left like most humanoid races in Urth. As for lifespans, Groar stay spry and powerful well into their senior years. An average Groar rarely exceeds 80 years in age. Groar females give live birth, and feed with milk like any other mammal.

Groar Psychology, Society, and Personality:

Violence is a way of life when it comes to being a Groar. They love confrontation and bloodshed, but not every fight has to be to the death. They relish combat of any kind, physical, mental, verbal, or sexual. They favor strength opposed to finesse, spite opposed to logic. Groars are not savage, however. They only appear so because violence is socially acceptable, along with nudity and sexual acts. An uneducated Groar is  shunned almost as badly as a weak or sickly one. They are slow to move and quick to learn, often studying opponents and daily obstacles with acute attention. They don’t mind getting hurt or humiliated it’s all a learning experience to a Groar. They have almost no concept of shame, or humility.

Groar personalities range just as much as human personalities do. One can encounter a Groar that loves to tell jokes while having sex and strangling an opponent, and in the same moment, meet one that is writing poetry while he masturbates and gnaws on a human skull to get at the brains. No matter how jovial, coarse, clam, excitable or elated they are, an undercurrent of incredible violence is present in everything they do. Most Groar societies revere high art and poetry, especially sculpture. They mix violence, war, and fighting with art, creating a piece that moves the soul and enrages the heart.In that same vein, Groars adore hair dyes, and use a variety of colors to distinguish themselves in society, whether it be rank, a particular profession they practice, or number of mates they’ve bedded. They also use tattoos and jewelry to the same effect, all to distinguish and identify themselves to themselves and other Groars.

cannibalism is common in Groar society, using it as a means of burying their dead. Family members, or close friends, will consume the dead Groar (if applicable) in a grand feast, celebrating the individual’s life and deeds. Groars are polygamous with both genders. Everyone that is of sexual maturity is fair game, including members of their own family, since Groar genes mutate to accommodate incestual reproduction to prevent deformities and deficiencies in the produced child. Groar families share everything without jealousy and are fiercely devoted to one another.

Every Groar has a “favored” mate, and no matter how many others they breed with, they will never leave the side of their one true love.  In all this chaos, Groars thrive, and have advanced modern societies of their own. They also integrate into other societies, but must mind their manners. Some Groars are tribal, and choose to live away from modern lands, but they are not secular. Most outside Groar tribes accept non-Groar visitors and outside Groars alike with open arms.

Most.

Groars believe in the perfect individual: very smart, AND very strong. These types of rare individuals lead Groar society, and “lower” Groars follow their instructions to a “T”. If a leader weakens, they have an alternative. Step down and be honored, or prove your strength against successors and be idolized. Both options are admirable, and retired Groars often are sources of obtuse wisdom that current leaders use in governing and improving Groar society.

See? These guys are much more than muscles, fangs, and rage. Stay tuned for more shit.

Emotions Used in Writing

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What emotion do you like to feel the most?

Most would generally believe that happiness is the default emotion that we all strive for. But, is that entirely true? Is happiness really a generic label we can adhere to the very complex range of emotions we call humanity? Nope.

All of us feel a wide spectrum of emotions that help us to define our world and the occurences within it. They help us like our senses help us. They provide a whole host of acceptable actions, reactions, decisions, and so forth. Something so abstract shouldn’t be quantified by one word. Happy. Sad. Angry.

What about mixing emotions? Emotions are rarely come by themselves, and quite often they are opposing spectrums. One that fascinates me the most is the spectrum of the masochist. Not pain per say, but let’s say anger. Hardship. Through anger, pain, hardship, stress. These types can find an ocean of willpower and strength through the bizarre combination of happiness and anger.

Why am I spouting off on this shit? Because like all the arts, emotions play a massive part in what we (as artists) produce. I operate on a spectrum that is so alien to some that it is repulsive. I operate like a masochist. I find immense pleasure in feeling anger, feeling pain. Sometimes, the more miserable I am, the more…”free” I feel. Especially when it comes to writing.

Fucked up, huh? I’ve been tracing this shit all over the place, trying to find out why I am like the way I am. Many experiences, values, lessons, etc all combine and pour into us to define who “we” are as a person. I like to take a closer look, and as far back as I can remember, I was verbally abused.

By parents? Never. Loved ones? Never. Friends? Never. I was very fortunate there. But, I was mercilessly made fun of in school. I mean, isn’t it obvious? My life slowly became defined by the amount of misery I was in. And I wasn’t happy. Isolation, masturbation, vindication. All these solo activities and fantasies ingrained in me a haphazard and dysfunctional way of defining my world. My world was anger and pain. So. It’s what I became used to, and it’s what I love. The more I am hated, the better I feel, and the more I can hate back. The easier it is to destroy. I didn’t feel “normal” happiness, so I had to teach myself to relish pain, anger, and hate and accept these emotions as what I personally call happiness.

Strange-ass shit. But I can assure you, this isn’t an internet tough guy routine.

Through much therapy and medication, I’ve learned to re-think the way I am wired for happiness. But, I will always indulge in that horrible anger that I always have inside of me. It’s a part of my personality, a part of how I operate. I need a personal investment, an emotion to find anything worth while, and the more intense the feeling the easier I can associate and deal with my world.

Writing is an act of masturbation for us all. And masochism for me. Two very isolated activities in my mind that bring me great joy. What kind of joy? True happiness? Or my definition of it? See what I’m talking about? It’s an area of infinite grey. Violence, sex, joy, anger. It all turns into the same thing for me. But only when I am isolated.

We are very rough on ourselves. I know I am. The self-abuse that I inflict via poor actions, or masturbatory actions (not necessarily sexual) that just tear me apart. In some sick way, I am happy when I am miserable- whether it be physical, mental, or spiritual pain. And when I am what most would call a “normal” state of happiness, I sometimes can accept it and enjoy it and embrace it. But other times, I find myself hollow, having a gaping chasm inside myself that the anger and pain would fill.

Writing isn’t therapeutic. I do love it, though. I have too many thoughts, too many stories to tell. All so violent, and twisted. So beautifully corrupted and corrosive. Poisonous. Infected. Writing is an act of psychic masochism for me. What my characters choose, what I do to them, why I do it. It gives me power where I never had any, a vessel to express my anger and fantasies in a safe way. Does that make it therapeutic? Fuck, I don’t know.

With that all said, find an emotion that you write with. Why do you write with it? What is your happiness mixed with? Is in unfiltered? Answer these questions, and you’ll write better. In order to entertain others, me must entertain ourselves first. If we want them to feel what we inflict upon them, we must feel it first and be willing to accept it.

What, you thought writing was all about franchises and movie deals? No. The good writers, the real writer has to write because it is a thundering need inside of them. I tell you all this shit not because I want pity. Not because I want to look tough. I tell you it because. Well? It’s true. I have no regrets with my life, or how I live it (for the most part). I don’t need validation, or attention. This entry is what it is, and you can accept it, use it, abuse it, or ignore it. It’s all up to you.

Why the fuck. Do you write? Spill it.

Concept Art- Bilks TCoU: Blestemul

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What, you thought I was a one trick pony? Naw, son I got more concept art. Lots more. Another race I created in The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul was completely random: it was literally a stream of consciousness drawing that I ran wild with. When I draw characters, I keep a general idea in my mind of how I want them to look. Then, I draw a few lines, some basic anatomy, and HIYAH character time. The creature below this paragraph is a Bilk, and boy. They were a lot of fun to cook up:

Cool, huh? Looks like a cross between a mutant horse, a bodybuilder, and a rhinoceros. These fuckers are cool- they have. Well. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Each time I describe a race in my book, I’ll have a similar layout. I’ll describe their biology, and then go into more about cutlure and interaction. With that said, here’s some more info on the Bilk.

Bilk Biology

Bilks stand roughly 5 feet to 6 and a half feet tall with main arms extended. Typically, their center torso and hoof are lifted about a foot off the ground when they lock their elbows. They are dense walls of muscle; Bilks range between 350lbs to 515lbs as an adult. Bilks are also psuedoreptilian, meaning that their body can utilize gathered heat in their metabolism and use calories to keep them warm and functional, but they will have to stop and warm themselves eventually, much like a snake. They cannot overheat however, but they can freeze to death if adequate warmth and food cannot be attained.

Their third arm is far from vestigial, and not only is it functional, it covers the Bilk’s cloachea, where it reproduces and releases waste. Often they’re spine pushes up large spiky plates out of the flesh around adulthood which is between 10 and 15 years old. They are short lived- most Bilks don’t make it past 60 and die of old age.  Skin color ranges from several shades of rich reds and ashy charcoal, all the way to black.

They lay eggs, but the fetus is alive inside before they are laid, incubated in the female Bilk’s womb before she lets them loose. When out of the womb, it takes roughly a week for the hatchlings to emerge. Coitus is achieved through temperature rather than friction. Two Bilks press their third arms together, entwining hands and locking their genitals together. Orgasm is achieved by both Bilks at roughly 104 degrees Fahrenheit.

Being voracious omnivores, they eat anything that they can fit into their mouths and crush with their jaws. They have two rows of teeth- the front are sharp and pointed, the second row is slightly shorter and completely blunt.

Bilk Culture and Society

Bilks are intense, aggressive, and very strict. But, they are extremely polite and jovial, their moods being dictated by their fervor. They are quick to anger, and quick to calm. They are extroverted, and very few Bilk individuals are sullen, or isolated. They mingle with other races easily, often using their powerful lightswitch personalities to win over via charisma, or intimidation. They are not savage however. Even with their incredible strength and fortitude, they are civilized and well-read. Ignorance is as despised as weakness in Bilk society, and Bilks that don’t measure up are ostracised.

Bilks have no concept of shame or honor, rather guided by an infallible moral code instilled in the them at birth. Bilks who do not follow the codes to a “T” are considered lazy, weak, and undisciplined. Bilk leaders and military commanders alike are calculating, ruthless, and absolutely obsessed with victory in battle, whether in politics, arguments, or war.

Not trusting the weaponry and technology of other races, Bilks are adept at creating powerful guns, vehicles, gadgets, and numerous other inventions to get the job done to their standard, which is always high. There is not written code for a Bilk, no tenets to follow. It is an internal moral compass that guides them, and they are unable to share this with other races simply because the concept is too alien to understand. Unless you’re a Bilk, of course.

Bilk pairs mate for life, and infidelity is often met with savage violence and infanticide. Pairs will stay each other until death, and it is not because of a traditional, easy to understand emotion like love. A favorite Bilk saying is, “anything worth achieving must be achieved without error or vacillation.” Basically, if you’re gonna do some shit, do it right and don’t fuck around.

Whadaya think? Let me know, I’d be happy to hear it.

 

A Sample Chapter and MORE- TCoU: Blestmul

by in The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul and tagged , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Well, hello there.

As you may or may not know, I have been writing my 4th book, The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul. This is my most massive undertaking, and I have never been happier living and writing in a world that I have created. Okay, so before we get into the concept art I wanted to post for this, I am laying down the prologue so you can understand what happens in the book, and what I’m talking about. Here’s a sample torn right from the word document:

Prologue:

Humans are stupid. In fact, they’re fucking morons. Inquisitive, sadistic, childish morons. At the best, they are gallant inventors, adventurers, creators, and healers. At worst, they are destructive, ignorant, arrogant, useless parasites. Humans become more and more xenophobic and secular by the decade, and their quest for knowledge of how to kill each other was always going to lead to cataclysm. And it did, in the year 2050.

It wasn’t a nuclear war. Wasn’t even a war to begin with. Mount Everest. Biggest fuckin’ thing on the planet. Moronic humans would climb that wretched hunk of rock and bitch and moan when they would die on it, surprised of their fate. It was only a matter of time before they discovered the mountain’s secret. A door, more specifically, was found. Barely larger than a doggie door, but there none the less. With curiosity peaked and the group’s findings made public, it wasn’t long before more humans came.

Further investigation revealed that the “door” was some kind of lock into a massive chamber that lay beyond. Excavation began, and soon Everest revealed its secret: the mountain isn’t a natural structure. It also wasn’t man made.

Massive in scope, the interior of Everest sprawled through that tiny trap door, with extraordinarily sophisticated machinery inside. Still operational, buzzing and humming. It was vacant, and it had looked as if nothing was living there. Fortunately, whoever built this structure kept a journal, and revealed the secrets of eons upon eons of life on Earth.

Facts, logs, data, everything was listed, everything since Earth formed, and the log ended in 2011. Apparently, whoever created this structure could pierce the mind of those how used it, and auto-translated itself to whatever form of communication the user was fluent in, whether it was ancient Sumerian, or the facial gestures and tail flicks of a dog. Further study revealed that the beings that made Everest where actually aliens that would introduce the process of life to an otherwise barren planet, regulating it’s every step of development. This race chose Earth, using powerful technologies to move the planet to just the right spot in the solar system, essentially moving every other planet along with it.

So powerful was this race that they monitored all life on the planet, inventing species, controlling weather formations, natural disasters, helping species die out (like the dinosaurs) and helping species thrive (like humans). It even had its own instruction manual, and literally told the user how to be a god on Earth. These aliens believed in a greater good, as said their religion, that they were responsible for creating and taking care of life, searching the solar system for ripe planets to develop and nourish.

Further study revealed that they introduced these ideals to groups of humans all at the same time in different places of the earth, hoping that they would understand the capacity for creation and life. Hoping that they too would be guardians and creators themselves. They didn’t.

Humans formulated religions everywhere, and as the alien’s god introduced messiahs, prophets, saints, so on and so forth, this overload forced humans to miss the overall view. Instead, they fought over these ideals, and eventually, where the log ends, the aliens asked for forgiveness from their god, simply called Good, and abandoned Earth.

Like the idiots they are, humans fought over control of the facility. America fought Russia, who fought China, which fought Great Britain, and so on and so forth, almost heralding in the third world war. However, something happened as humans tried to seize control of the command center. An alarm was triggered, loud and terrible, and Everest collapsed on itself. This released a massive wave of energy that completely warped Earth. Basically, it was like hitting reset button on a planet, and then dropping it into an evolutionary blender stuck in overdrive.

The aliens basically created a self destruct that forced the planet into a state of re-evolution. Instead of destroying Earth, the aliens wanted life to have a chance to start all over again. It didn’t wipe the trace of humanity and all its records.  The aliens simply restarted it. Without their help. Without their influence.

Now spelled Urth after the Cataclysm, the planet is in the clutches of an evolutionary oxymoron that stabilized after roughly 3000 years of accelerated change. Life re-stabilized in roughly 2000 years, and after a mere 1500, intelligent races now roam Urth, developing incredible technologies with new materials and old teachings, living and dealing with this new, chaotic planet. Humans, of course, are the most prolific and shortest lived.

The old species that survived eked out a living (humans among them of course) and found niches, surviving and adapting even as Earth became Urth right under their feet. Humans, now seen as wise sages, herald in a new era of light and creation, driven by wisdom and….I can’t even finish that. Humans didn’t learn shit, and those that did went back doing the same garbage they did before.

Only this time, there is no reset. Humans learn from the past, true. We started recording history again, failures, successes, making records, creating technologies based off of old ones, studying old sciences and making new experiments. However, we do not learn lessons. We only seek to advance what we already have, and now species clash, come together, and survive across desert plains with patches of rainforest, massive ice formations with bubbling magma, lush, tropical ice flows, random storms in the middle of mutated swamps, rocky tundra, volcanic grasslands, hurricanes among cryo-volcanoes without rain. Saltwater now a rarity, the entire planet almost completely covered in a mega-Pangaea with massive freshwater oceans. Constant climate change, constant weather changes, constant landscape changes, constant ecological contradictions, but life still finds a way to thrive. To survive.

Welcome to Urth, motherfucker.

I know, right?! WHEEEE!

Anyway, now you have a better understand of what has happened to our happy lil’ planet before humans royally fucked it  up (sounds familiar?). I created several main races that the forced evolution of the Cataclysm generated, using the basic human blueprint. The first race I created were the Incub:

Cool, huh? Alright, like I promised before, I wanted this blog not only to be a resource for writers like me, but I wanted to give readers a chance to get immersed in fiction and actually see what an author (me) goes through to create a novel. Me? I like concept art. And back story, which is rare to get in a novel without using a shitty plot device. So, that’s why I’m writing back story here, on the blog. So, if you read my book when it comes out, you can directly view, and communicate with me so I can elaborate on or clear up any questions that you may have. See? Cool.

Incub Biology

Incubs are enigmatic, but not mysterious. They are mammals: females have breasts like human women. They lack an abundance of body hair. Ranging from 170lbs to 220lbs on average, they stand no taller than 6 feet in most instances. Their lifespans typically do not exceed 110 years, reaching sexual maturity at 20-25 years of age. Their skin range from light blue to a rich, deep navy. The always have one eye, and lack two basic facial features. A nose, and a mouth. But. They are not hindered by this at all. Instead of a nose to pick up scents, they have super sensitive hairs on the tips of their ears. These gather particles of the surrounding environment and input the data as scent in the Incub’s brain.

As for a mouth, they don’t have one. They instead have a unique, and impossibly intricate voice box that they push air through to make a hum, which they form into words (the language of their choice) using said voice box and a sophisticated internal tongue which move through the system of bones and tissue inside the voice box. Breathing is achieved with lungs, but not through a mouth and nose (obviously). Trillions of microscopic pores dot the Incub’s face and under the chin, allowing air to pass through via lung control and system autonomous pore control.

Eating like a starfish, Incubs have a seam on their abdominal wall that is control much like a mouth. They throw their stomachs on their food, where it is held in the stomach which is lined with billions of taste buds, far more sensitive than a human tongue. Incubs taste food for hours as their body digests it, savoring each portion of the food as it is digested and pushed through the system. Incub stomach acids are completely clear and have no flavor. Digested food passes through the Incub just like any other mammal.

They have three fingers on each hand, but five toes on each foot. Their hands sport retractable claws which are quite sharp and can extend out to 3” in length. Also, on the left arm, an Incub has a poisonous stinger that has a cocktail of poisons, much like a snake. This venom causes paralysis in small doses, and internal hemorrhaging and brain death in large doses. This stinger is retractable. When refined, Incub venom can be dried and insufflated, causing intense hallucinations and inducing a dopamine soaked pleasure ride lasting for hours. Often, when a dose of this drug is taken, several powerful orgasms occur in the subject instantaneously.

Incub Culture and Personality

Incubs are somewhat furtive by nature, but not surly or gruff. They have a complex system of social intricacies involving honor, pride, and strength. They are a very active race- never happy to sit and stagnate. Athletic, but far from mindlessly violent, Incub sporting events are jovial and serious at the same time. Feats of great strength, endurance, or mental aptitude are all equally praised and admired. Incub scholars are very intelligent, and completely devoted to whatever school of study they adhere to. They are dedicated, fastidious, and powerful, but can be gentle, empathetic and philanthropic.

Incub men are considered feminine if they get involved in fighting. Considered strictly women’s work, and an Incub army is almost completely comprised of women. Incub men are typically skills in martial arts and gunplay, but almost never engage in combat outside of defending themselves or their families. Petty disputes are often fought with wits by both genders, and will never resort to violence unless attacked first. Not all Incubs adhere to their strict moral and social guidelines after all. Men are very content in defending and taking care of the family while female Incub work and fight, but it is typicaly not frowned upon in Incub society for a man to work as well.

Eating in public is considered a vulgar act, like exhibitionism in other races. Instead, decorative screens abscond the act from view in public restaurants and whenever the Incub is not alone. It is considered very rude to eat without a screen, and many Incub never go anywhere without a portable screen they can use when needed.

Incub reproduction involve lengthy courtships, but sex is typically not a private act. Not to be confused with promiscuity, having sex in public is  very common, and often the act is studied by other Incub to pick up pointers. Basically, if two Incub feel the urge, they act on it wherever they may be. Swapping partners, or participating in observed sexual activity is a massive taboo, and often considered a crime. Nudity is common in Incub society as well, but another race visiting an Incub city completely bare assed would be frowned upon greatly, often ending in an arrest. Incub sex organs are almost identical to human sex organs. Incubs cannot breed with any other species, but that does not mean they will not have sex with other species.

Goddamn. That about does it for the Incub. If you have any questions about them, ask me. I’ll answer you. Hope you enjoyed this, cuz I have a DICKload of concept art waiting to be uploaded in my mighty hard drive. Until next time.