Catching Up

* Added some previously unfinished or omitted entries. Some may seem like duplicates while others may only seem like snippets. They are dropped into the date slot that they would have originally been posted. So you may have to scroll down a bit. I do not throw away any of my sketches and I feel that I should do the same with the story.

* Finally created my own header and enjoyed playing with Photoshop even for just this little bit. Original artwork took about a week. While the edits took about 3 hours (mainly to remember the controls).

* Established that I would no longer post updates on Facebook. Those who care are already here. I may change my mind. I have every right. Besides, who would want everyone to see there diary? That, and I am sure that I do not want everyones opinion.

Now, back to tarnishing clean, white paper!

Moving on

If there are no more questions, shall we move on?

Move on. Indeed. Easier to say, than do. Moving on means that you ignore what has just happened and jump to something else or continue from where you were interrupted. I shall move on from the crummy relationships that used me for my frailties, onto the thing they interrupted: Venge.

Looking back from the day I started this project fifteen years ago, I can see what has gotten in it's way. My relationships, real or imagined have brushed my dreams aside. You would hope for support in your ambitions, not demands or games. Running around frantically trying to please someone. So, for Venge's sake and for the sake of all my dreams, I shall not seek the affections of another. I shall keep distractions to a minimum.

This is the reason I have not posted as much here. I have been both distracted by seeking affections as well as actually drawing. I write to get a break from drawing. I still do not draw as fast or good enough to be a success yet. But, I feel that I am finally ready to produce the page layouts.

All the groundwork is laid and now is the time to move on.

Got a problem with that?

In these entries I have laid some groundwork for fleshing out the (my) story. I have provided origination's of some of the 'whys' that may prompt a question.

Why do my drawings look that way.

Why is there so much detail in a creation myth.

What feels drive the story.

But, as much as I try to rationalise and integrate story aspects, problems still may arise. I would prefer to have any questions brought up now, during the creation. I would rather those who have taken an interest in what I am doing bring to my attention a conflicting plot device, rather than later. Having some fanboy question something that has, by that time, become an integral part of the story, would bring an early end to a lifetime venture. They would destroy the foundation of my story with a simple question that I overlooked.

I have no problem answering any questions about my work. I helps to have an outside observer. Someone who subjectively observes is detrimental to determining that I have all the basis covered. And that I am conveying the proper message.

Ok, ok. I know. I have not really given you any of the pages all laid out. But, this blog is about the story, not the art (even though, in comics, most of the story is told with pictures).

Got a question, complaint, concern?

Dish it out.

I've had worse.

Vulnerability

I had a realisation that derailed my ideas about Venge. I was creating a story of a crazed, calculating, and unstoppable murderer. No where in my plot lines or character analysis did I leave room for Venge to be weak.
How could anyone enjoy a story that did not have a vulnerable hero? The best hero stories must be a life-or-death struggle in which the hero meets up with a group of like-minded individuals to conquer a feat that is much greater than them. At least one person in the story will become a turncoat/traitor and the hero must overcome a personal obstacle becoming changed in the process.
My story (at least the first 13 issues) would have it all... except one thing. Venge was not vulnerable. Well, not mortally so. He wanted to die. Wants to die. Has died. What now? There is no real risk to his actions. He has plenty of emotional and mental frailties and vulnerabilities but no physical ones.
It makes me think of the novel: Armor written by John Steakley. (spoiler follows, if you have not read it then drop down to the next paragraph) In that story the main character wishes to die but is unable to pull the trigger. He thrusts himself into suicidal situations that he miraculously survives. I found myself cheering for this unstoppable and tragic man. Not a hero, just a man. But why? Was I hoping he would die? Was I hoping that he would single handedly win against all odds? I can't explain it. I felt compelled to see where the story was going. What great triumph was to be his? But then, he apparently dies in the story and I remember how upset I was. I closed the book and didn't open it again for a week. I had to be convinced by the person who lent it to me.
Is this the way my story was steering? I am sure it could be effectively written in such a matter, but was I sure that was something I wanted? It is a good tale for a novel or movie. But, I don't think it was one that I wanted Venge to be in for one main reason. I always had hopes that the major comic book publishing companies would buy the story and reproduce it in a continuing series.
So to have the hero die would be counter productive. In that case, was having him mentally and spiritually tormented enough? Maybe. But the solution was far better suited to my goals.
The original story had Venge kill both his wife and himself, then return to life with some pact from death. The current story has him watch as she killed herself and is then implicated as her murderer but sent to a mental ward. No longer is he some undead and unkillable juggernaut. Now he is flesh and bone vigilante fueled by spiritual energies.

Venge can now be hurt on many fronts.
His sanity will always be questioned through out the series.
His feelings will always be conflicted and under strain.
His body will be damaged and broken.

And only by drawing from the energy of the spirits within him can he pull it all together.
And only by appeasing their whims can they gain energy for him to use.

This shall be my attempt at a psychological action ghost story.

Bothersome Heart

Leave me alone heart.

The more you bug me about it,

the lower my standards get.

And that is when I find myself

tied to someone for 3 years

who does not love me.

So stop bothering me, heart.

I have survived this long.

I will not be unloved to death.

I may hunger,

but I shall not starve.

Feedback

Feedback: The process in which part of the output of a system is returned to its input in order to regulate its further output.

Inception

So, the sun came and went a couple of times, but finding more to add was elusive. Then I had a guest over and we watched a DVD of the AEon Flux animated series. I had not thought of this cartoon for so long that I had forgotten how it had a dramatic affect on my personal drawing style.

So, I guess this is as good a time as any to give credit to the artist influences of mine.

At the top of this list is Leonardo Da Vinci. His work is not as clearly reflected in my own as others on this list. But, his craft for invention and dissection of the human anatomy, as well as his use of values (color) within his work, is definitely something that has been an influence of all artist. And, since I enjoy creating new and interesting things, I found a kindred spirit in him. I discovered that it was possible to be an artist that creates rather than one who just reproduces. This was instrumental in being able to find my own style and my own way to express it.

The next most influential would have to be Greg Capullo. Greg's work first caught my eye when he pencilled the New Mutants last Annual in the first series (or maybe it was X-Forces first Annual). In that story he portrayed a futuristic team that included my favorite single comic book character: Magik. I liked his art unlike many artists who are pulled in to draw the Annuals. Soon after he became the full time artist for the X-Force comic. This was a series that I was following fully at the time and continued to be excited about his pencils. While researching his background, I noticed that he had been a commercial artist before comic book work. This is were his influence took hold. He let me know that there were jobs that I could get where I could gain experience and earn a paycheck. I then became convinced that pursuing a Graphics Arts Degree would be most beneficial to my future plans. I could gain an education in art without fighting to stay engaged in general ed and boring art history classes. Don't get me wrong, I know those classes have merit, but they just seemed like an unnecessary obstacle on my path to becoming a professional artist. To this day, I have some pages torn out of the Wizard: The Guide to Comics in which he had a monthly article about learning to draw comics. These have become a kind of comic bible that I refer to often.

The next to last on my list is Brett Booth. Not as well known as other artist in the genre, but his was a style I enjoyed looking at. In addition, he taught me that, the style I was developing by accident, was perfectly acceptable. His characters tended to be leggy and nearly unproportionate. But, he was able to make it look good. My style was developing into one that was being reflected in this artists publication. I was able to determined how his art looked so different but not in a bad way. I could see how my own style would sometimes stray from reason and be able to reel it in. In a sense, he taught me how to see when my proportioning was getting too 'out of control'.

The final, and possibly most influential is/was Peter Chung. He is most well known as the lead artist/designer/director of AEon Flux. The first glimpse I had of the animated short on Liquid Television had me drawn to it. I would anticipate the next episode of the series in hopes of catching another glimpse of it. His storytelling was dramatic and equally elusive. As there was no dialogue in the shorts, all the story was told in actions. Most notably, his characters were drawn lean and angular. While the angularity of the art made it strange to witness, the leanness and agility they held, fascinated me. During this time frame is also when I had determined that I wanted to be a comic book artist. So, as I was learning to draw superheroes and the like, I was also being entranced with his style. I wanted my characters to be lean, leggy, and lithe. But, I did not want them to be angular unless it served the character (typically with those who possess a hard substance covering them i.e. stone skin, armor plates, etc.).

Now, these are not the only influences I had (mainly because each of those possessed their own influences who, in turn, would be considered mine). But, this is by far a list of those who most directly influenced my style. And, it is a commonly accepted trait, that if you want to be recognised in the comic book industry, you have to have your own style. I feel fortunate that I did not have to force myself to draw any particular way. I know when something looks wrong to me, and change it appropriately. It may very well be wrong still... but it is my kind of wrong =]

Conception

The concept for Venge is not a totally original one.
He is the culmination of many closely related stories that caught my facination.
I then took the various concepts and created story that could possibly acomodate them all.

There are three main stories that were integral to Venge's background.

The first is The Crow . A normal person who, with the aid of a supernatural crow, returns to life to exact vengence. The most popular Revenant/Risen story to date.

The next is Death . Especially in the "High Cost of Living" graphic novel. One of the Endless who are the primordial entities of all creation, Death takes human form once a century to remain grounded.

The last, and possibly most obscure, is Basara . This character is probably the glue that brought it all together. He is a character from the Samari Showdown series of fight games. During the course of playing the first game he appeared in (SS3) I became facinated with his untold stoy. If he was victorious in the match (2 of 3 rounds) he would see the spirit of a woman who seemed to be someone whom he longed for. If he was victorious without losing a round in the match (2 of 2) he would get to hold her breifly. In either case, she would disappear which would cause him to cry out in anguish while collapsing.

Facinating. There might have been an actual story, but I could never understand it (didn't speak the lingo).

So then the gears began to turn. What if Basara was the Crow? What if the spirit was Death? How could all that be possible? And so the peices began to fall into place. Changing or warping certain parts of each story so that I may still call it my own. As it stands right now, little still remains of each story but is still good to look back at the origin.

Venge's original name was Death Dancer. And while it sounded pretty neat, it was just a mouthful to spit out continuously. Especially when reciting written dialoges. And really couldn't find anything else that would fit in the same way. So, I changed his name to represent what he was instead of how he did it.

Likewise, his costume has undergone a few changes in 15 years. The blades were originally attatched to metal bracers. It later plots and scripts, I have changed them to be actual Reaper Scythes that reapers can change to best fit their needs. Venge has chosen their current configuration because they fit a specialised 'dancing combat' technique he has created.

In addition, I gave him a mask instead of makeup. This change came about after I had concerns with figuring out what Venge did in his free time, and why he wasn't constantly plagued by officials from the scientific, religious, and governing communities.

More on this when the sun goes away.

Unsane

If you are reading this, I am sorry. What follows shall be a non-chemically induced traumatic trip into a tormented mind. And for once, I am not talking about myself. Except... it comes from my mind...

I hope you all received the straight jackets I sent. I tried to guess your size, but they are kind of a "one size fits all" apparel. Anyhow, you'll need them. If for no other reason than it will help you get a hold of yourself.

* * *

There she is. She has come to me as anticipated. She always does. It is her job. She leans down and kisses the mob boss vampire. I should be jealous. I am. He is dead. I cut a fine thin line between his life fetter and reality. That is my job. She pulls away from him. His soul is still embracing her. She loves all life. She is death. She absorbs him. His soul. She walks to me. I can't hear anything. My heart drowns out the voices. She kisses me. No not me. She kisses Anthony. She is right here. I want to hold her. I will never let her go. Not again. I can't touch her. She pulls away from me. I can not fight her. Anthony follows her. She absorbs him. Anthony will not help me. Not anymore. She looks at me. Through me. Those burning coals roast my soul. All my souls. This skeleton measures me. All of me. Her cloak hides all but her hands and face. Skeleton hands. Skull face. Burning eyes. Have I sacrificed enough? How many souls would I pay for her? All of them. All of you. All of me. I have already payed all of me. I will collect all of you. I am getting mad. I want to collect another. She will not come to me. Not unless I do. She closes with me again. She closes her eyes. She closes my eyes. She kisses me. I kiss her. I lower her hood. I feel her face. Soft and smooth and warm. I hold her neck behind her ear. I pull her into me. I cry. Is it finally over? Can I be with her? She is always with me. I run my fingers through her hair. Soft and smooth and warm. She pulls from me. I wrap my arm around her waist. I wrap my other behind her back. I will not let go. Not again. Someone is saying my name. My heart beats them down. I lay her down. I look into her green eyes. I trace a hand down her body. I kiss her again. Someone says my name again. She looks at me. She is sad. She is happy. She is crying. I am crying. I say something. Nothing comes out. Venge! What? There is no one over my shoulder. I look over my shoulder. Alex is impatient. Death is gone. No! No, no, no, no, no. And no! I punch the floor. The floor has a hole. I am still mad. I am also mad. There is a copying machine. The copier is over my head. It is not so heavy. It fits through the window. It missed the fire escape. Overshot it by at least six feet. Six feet under. Copiers are not quiet. Copiers do not fall gracefully. They splat better than people.

"She is gone, Venge."

Alex is annoying. Alex wants Posey dead. Posey hides well. Alex is the loudest. They are all loud. My heart is quiet. They all want someone dead. Some are already dead. They just curse me. They distract me. Alex is annoying. Alex is my best friend.

"It is time to go, comrade. The police will come to check into that copier."

Splattered copiers. More love for machines than people. Money makes money makes. I feel purple. I am tired. I do not get tired. I need rest. I have energy. Voices know it. Souls all want death. Window is open. Fire escape escape. Should be fire.

"I know that bastard"

I like stairs. Ladders good too. Someone taps my shoulder. What does Mary-Belle want?

"There he is!"

I see him below. He likes spattered copier too. He looks at open window. I am falling on him.

"That's the punk kid that raped me."

He doesn't see me. I could splatter kid on splattered copier. I don't. Did he kill Mary-Belle?

"No, but..."

Punk is surprised. I think I broke something. I don't feel pain. My knees hurt. My knuckles hurt. Pavement doesn't make good holes. I fix my knees. It sounds like bubble wrap. Wet bubble wrap. Slimy wet.

"So that's it?"

Mary-Belle is sadder.

"You're just going to let him go?"

I don't baby sit offspring. I don't check on your estate. I sure as Oblivion don't kill people who don't kill.

"Uh, Venge?"

"What?"

Alex notices something. Punk kid is confused.

"You are talking out loud again."

Kid better run before someone hurts him. Kid runs well. Mary-Belle cries. Mary-Belle could be banshee. Destroyer of worlds, people! Fine. Who has been taken by this kids. Taken advantage. Too many to ignore. I could ignore them. Crowds move better in one direction. Fine. Kid too slow. One jump with a twist and flip. Land in front of him. He is running. He doesn't miss me. Now my chest hurts. Kid is sitting on ground. Not fast enough. Punks need to leave old ladies alone. Perverts don't need equipment. Punk's equipment is broken. I broke it. Blades cut it from life. Punk screams. Kid holds his parts. Let's go find Posey. You coming Alex? I invite everyone. We'll make it a party.

Nothing more than feelings

Victory!

I had feared that things were looking up for me. Insane you say? I agree.

While I wish for things to turn out better, in the long run, I am an artist. And an artist's primary tool for their art is passion. Artwork can never be called such unless it possesses passion as its primary focus. Art without passion is like a relationship without love. And I have experienced both.

So, as things progressed from crappy to stable, I found that nothing was driving my art. What am I supposed to draw? What am I supposed to write? Am I supposed to go out of my way to find things that affect me in a negative way? This only proves to defeat oneself.

Now, it is true that there are positive passions. But these I have not experienced for quite a while. I recently found a job, but it really wasn't something I had to strive for. It was not an achievement, merely a step.

So, it happened. Another crushing blow in this boxing ring called life.

I may have mentioned earlier that I am ruled by passion. And, to a greater extent, women. Rejection is not something that is a foreign concept to me. But, I take such care to avoid it, that when it happens, I become crippled.

Success at last! Emotional limbo is no place to dwell. But emotional euphoria is delusional. At least I hope so. I hope that I am not only supposed to experience it once in my life, when I am too young to appreciate or take advantage of it.

True artists are tortured souls.

So let the emotional self mutilation begin!

MidKnight, you are pathetic.

I know, but I am my kind of pathetic. And one that I have no interest in you changing.

* * *

The man who stands before Gregor and yourself is large. He is both tall and broad of shoulder. He wears a dark-grey cloak over, what you guess, is medieval armor of some sort. He occasionally shifts his weight, but there is no noticeable metallic sounds. Likewise, he was able to approach you both quietly and without effort.

His voice is deep and strong, but not overly powerful or forceful.

"Forgive me for disturbing your conversation, Seeker Gregor. But I require a moment of your time," he says.

Gregor looks to the large man, "Certainly. Give me just a moment."

Gregor then looks to you, "As an Observate in training you do not have an identity. This man is currently not either of our subjects for observation. But, occasionally, personal lives interfere with Observate edicts. As such, you are to remain silent and do what we do best: observe."

"But first," Gregor looks back to the large man, "introductions are in order."

Gregor motions to you with an open palm, "This is an Observate in training, has no identity, and will only observe." He then motions to the large man in the same manor and says, "This is Graustein. He retains no family name due to being raised in a holy order from birth. And he would have attained the highest position of leadership within his current order if he had such desires. The order he was raised in is able to perform miracles derived from the power of God and belief in him to become Paladins. Since those days, Graustein has joined with an order that is able to perform atrocities derived from the power of Lilith and belief in her to become Blackguard. He has finally found his place in an order that maintains balance in the natural world derived from the power of Death and belief in it/her to become an Unpaladin."

The large man, named Graustein chuckles softly, "Gregor, you Observates never fail to amuse me. Yours is, by far, the greatest task any human could hope to undertake. And I hold the recitations of your order in high regards."

Gregor nods at Graustein in recognition.

"If you don't mind me asking," Graustein begins again, "who's tale were you just reciting?"

Gregor pauses and it is apparent that he is not confident in telling Graustein.

After a moment of looking from you to the ground and back he finally looks Graustein squarely in the eye and states, "Venge."

The once jovial expression on Graustein's face melts away to one of stern seriousness. Graustein looks at you with a clenched jaw and speaks through clenched teeth, "Let me tell you something about that man."

Gregor looks as if he is about to cut Graustein off from speaking when Graustein raises a hand to silence him. He lowers the hood on his cloak and says, "No, Gregor, this Initiate needs to hear this. It may be biased. I may be biased. But, what did you say to me once? Outside observation is sometimes needed to gain a different perspective? So here it is."

"Venge is possibly the most remarkable human being to ever be created on this earth. Since becoming an Unpaladin, it has been my quest to send those who would run from death, to the afterlife judgement. These people are commonly referred to as the undead."

"Now, Venge is technically one of them, but he is not. This is not what makes him remarkable. The first thing was his ability to forsake the gift of life bestowed upon him by the combined will of God and Lilith. His sheer will to die overpowered that of his creators. I am not talking about a suicide through any unnatural assistance. He just willed himself to stop living. And you may think that this is not such a hard task, that the elderly do it all the time. The elderly do not die because they stop living. They die because their time is up and they expire."

"Second, Venge is possessed with vengeful souls. And I do not mean this figuratively. All the vengeful souls of all eternity are trapped within his mind. They guide him towards their ultimate goals of revenge. They educate him and provide him information that he can use to free them from their eternal emotional incarceration. And, once again, by his sheer will alone he is able to keep these entities in check and maintain his own sanity."

"And lastly, Venge possesses a love more powerful than anything that has been recorded. When God and Lilith wished nothing but love and true love for Death on her most recent embodiment, Venge was fated as the recipient and provider of that love. So true and so powerful is his love for the entity know as Death that he could create realities that rival the present creations of God, Lilith and Death. Luckily, Venge considers himself just a man. A man who longs for a love that he may never again receive."

"How am I sure of such things? I hunted him for a long time with the intent to slay him. I observed him in possibly as much detail as you and yours are trained to do. In our final encounter I was set to deal him the final death strike when something happened. Reality changed. It is incredibly difficult to describe what happened. I have been asked if it was possible that he infected me with his insanity. The only response that I can provide is that I was trained extensively with the Order of Paladins, the Order of Blackguard, and the Order of Unpaladins to be immune to such things. But, if a man who is insane can create his own reality, would not his reality also become insane?"

"All I can leave you with is that Venge possesses the greatest love which drives his personal passions, which in turn gives him the will to do anything. It is fortunate for us that his love, passion, and will are set to free the souls trapped in his psyche so that he may spend another moment with Death. He will do this until he no longer needs to. It is unclear as to what will happen when his time finally does come. I just hope that I can be a witness to it."

Reflection

If I were to look upon my life and give it a rating, I would fail to do so. I would become bored with it and most likely forget that I had to rate it. If you were patient enough to sit through it all, I would have you recite the best parts.

But in recitation, the human element taints the truth. But truth is really only a perception after all. 30 people watch the same 5 minute scene and are interviewed afterwards and asked to recite what they just witnessed; 30 different stories are told in varying lengths and details.

We take from our life the bits and pieces that we wish to retain. Parts that usually fall in the extremes of our experiences. Of those, we place a high priority on our firsts. The rest we store away to later dig up and regurgitate as a memory or and chance to be empathetic.

I will never know what it means to be you. I can, however, try to know what it's like to be like you. If I cared enough.

Why are humans the only animals that show their teeth when they are happy? And why do humans reflect so much? Is it not enough that we learn? Or is that the nature of humanity? That we are to learn what we can and reflect on the things we cannot.

I have always stated that I act approximately half my age. Am I really saying that I am emotionally retarded? Did my mother not love me enough? When you strive your whole life to hold onto the basic needs of life, the luxuries get left behind.

And why, oh why, can I not draw something every time I put pencil to paper? Inspiration constipation. What I want and what I get are rarely, if ever, the same thing. When they are, I call it miraculous and cling to it as if it were heaven sent.

Boy, I just can't stop laughing at myself. Because if I laugh hard enough it makes me feel better when others do too.

Right. Writing before bed but after work is not productive.

Idols (cont. finally)

Anyhow, I have come to terms with my dilemma from the previous Idols blog. I had two choices; either dwell upon something that I would not possibly be able to solve, or have faith. I already dwell on too many things out of my control, having a 15 year old ghost is far beyond my abilities to comprehend. All I can really do is have faith that I will know when the time has changed.

I will have faith that, IF I was mistaken about my true love, I will be able tell when it happens for real. That, no matter how hard I may try to hide from it, the universe will set things in motion to make me realise. I will be powerless to resist her and it will just happen.I will not hope for this.

For in hoping, I deny what was.

I don't know what forces are at work out there, but I have faith that it/they knows the forces that work in here.

* * *

Gwendolyn Sang walks down the musty corridors from her youth. It was here that she would have been served upon like royalty. As would her family. She was young and innocent and knew nothing else. But, thinking back, she now realised why her mother never smiled much.It has been three years since she fled this place. I has been three years since she left her friends, family, and everything she knew. Today she returns for answers.

Hearing footsteps from farther down incites a reaction from Gwen. She quietly leaps into a crevice located in the corridor wall. It was natural for her to remember this spot. She hid often in her youth and new all the best places. Although this space is smaller than she remembers, she is able contort herself into in. The footsteps pass her by without so much as a pause, stutter, or scuff.

I see then are still using the golems. She thinks to herself. I'm going to have to remain quiet and cautious.The footsteps fade away and Gwen leaps from hiding. She dashes along the corridor until she reaches the underground great hall.

The hall is really just a massive chamber located with the caverns. Here, the people of her childhood built and maintained shops and a city center. Today, though, they are run down and look abandoned. Gwen leaps to a nearby shop without making a sound, and scans the area. She can make out the patrol route that the Golems maintain by the absence of dust and debree on their trail way.

Gwen judges the sounds of the distant Golems, and gets set to leap to another building when she hears a disturbance of rubble. She crouches down low and scans in the direction of the sound. She can make out a humanoid figure making its way cautiously through the ruins when it suddenly stops. Gwen cups her hands to her eyes like binoculars and controls the blood flowing to them. With this ability she is able to amplify the ambient light she perceives and peer into the shadows. Although covered in baggy rags, Gwen notices that it is a female roughly equivalent in physical age to herself. She further controls her sight by telescoping in on the figure and is shocked to see the woman is looking straight back at her.

Gwen falls flat to the rooftop and resets her vision. She controls the blood flow to her muscles and makes a powerfully quick leap to the roof of the shop next door. A barely noticeable thump and dust trail leave any indication of her previous location and no signs point to her new one. She restores her blood flow to normal levels and channels a bit to her ears. She concentrates on any sound within the great hall and can only make out the stomp of an incoming Golem.

The Golem moves closer and closer. Gwen remains absolutely still that not even a breathe escapes her. The Golem stops just short of the building she is on when it lets out a loud roar. The sound of rubble being disturbed at the base of her hiding place prepares Gwen to make another leap into hiding. When, suddenly, the sound of metal cleaving into hard leather leads Gwen to believe that she is not the target. Gwen chances a look over the peak of the shop's roof and sees the battle that has taken place.

The woman in rags is quickly dashing around the Golem. The golem are fleshy in coloring but their skin is slightly harder than the most sturdy boiled leather. These Blood Golems as they are better known only resemble humans in the ability to walk upright. They possess two large, trunk-like legs that support an even larger barrel-shaped chest. Atop the chest and to the front rests a head that, although fleshy, more closely resembles a slightly flattened basketball. Two tiny eyes invade the round shape of the head and a large mouth opens to reveal small shark-like teeth. To either side of the chest, two massive arms protrude. These arms measure two-thirds of the Golems height and are larger around than even its legs. They end of one set of arms ends in a bone-like scythe while the other set ends in horn-like digits.

The massive Golem swings at the rag girl several times but fails to connect with the wiry woman. She continues to dash around it, laying strike upon strike into it with a large, flat knife blade. The strikes seem to have no affect of the massive beast, when suddenly, a strike lands in between the armoured plate hide. The Golem lets out another roar and knocks the woman into Gwen's shop. The golems roar is answered by another distant one.

Gwen realises that the situation can only get worse if she lets it. So, she puts herself in a meditative blood combat trance. This trance she has trained to perform and maintain for hours on end. She leaps to the Golems back and unsheathes her bloodforged blade. The blade measures six feet in total length and contains a three foot blade at one end offset from a one and a half foot blade at the other. Gwen positions the bloodletter blade over her head and strikes down and into the giant Golems neck behind its head and into its chest.

The mighty creature opens its mouth to let out another roar when it collapse into the ground, motionless. Gwen follows the beasts momentum to the ground and recovers with a tumble and somersault. Gwen then quickly rushes the to woman in rags.

The young woman peers at Gwen, blood slipping from the corners of her mouth. "Is that you SangGwen? Daemar, your sire, will be most happy that you have returned. As will those of us who fight against him..."

The woman falls limp in Gwen's arms.

Daemar, I thought I had watched you die ages ago. This time I won't hear your lies or deception. this time I will drain every ounce of your black blood until you crumble to the ages.

Viewer Discretion Is Advised

Some of you may have noticed a mature content warning before you enter. I felt the need to do this because some of the things I have gone over contain adult concepts and situations. And, as I progress, it may contain graphic depictions of murder, rape, or otherwise very criminal acts.

I would not want my kids to read this until they were at least in there teens. And, as a writer, I must strive to make it believable and as close to real as possible. I admit to having been in trouble with law before, but nothing of a felony or capital punishment. So then, I must rely on my imagination.

Maybe, by the end of this, I will get you to say 'wow' or 'that is one sick guy'.

So, this is the disclaimer.

You have been warned.

And so have I.