Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Wight Snow I: Humanity

For the coastal city of Meirport, some days are the passing of business as usual, while others are the passing of an unholy contagion that warps the landscape into a decrepit playground of ghoulish lust and insatiable dominance. The eyes of powerful undead beings – an ethereal wight and cunning lich – have fallen on the city, and as their will seeps through the streets and creeps over the unknowing in a blanket of pure wight snow and fog, nothing will ever be the same. 

For those who have not yet fallen to their grasp, it’s time to run, hide, or face the haunting music that calls for their submission.

This is strange, I've gotten used to the synopsis area filling enough space for this to start beneath the image, though it feels like the thumbnail dimensions are different, too.

Well, now that that's out of the way, I can get on to enjoying the first release of 2016 with something a little new. I'd put off the feature for a few days due to some hitches putting me behind schedule, so I've been working to get back on top of that. While I'm not much for new years posts, I have taken the opportunity to reset and redesign my progress sheets into something more useful, starting over from the new year. So far it's working out, so here's to pulling into a better year, starting now.

Wight Snow stands predominantly an erotic take on the common concept of an undead pandemonium. What starts as normal and innocent days takes a quick turn with as many mysteries and questions left behind the fog as you'd come to expect from such a setting, but the symptoms and behaviorism are, as you would expect, much more erotic in nature - with a healthy amount of femdom and the paranormal thrown in for good measure. Ravenous sex ghouls are something I've wanted to play around with for some time. 

It works well as a standalone story, but also sets the groundwork for future volumes and even cross-reference through other stories. The players and fate of Meirport will continue to ripple outward through the world. In a similar way to the second volume of Daemonique swapped perspectives, this volume has given Humanity's perspective in such a way as that I considered not listing it as a volume but standalone prologue. Future volumes will swap to a different perspective, giving you a much more intimate look into the machinations of what could cause such a thing to befall the coastal city in a way that survival horror rarely narrates.

It began as an entry for a Halloween contest amongst some friends that helped me get back on my feet a bit, so I'm glad to finally be bringing it to the world at large. Thank you for your support, excerpt follows the break.
The knocking continued, forcing her from the comfort of bed. Perhaps one of the tenants had returned drunk and mistaken a wall for the door to their room. It would not have been the first time. Throwing a simple cotton housecoat over her shoulders, Julia pulled it tight for warmth as she scowled and shuffled into the hallway to find the source of the insistent knocking.

Strangely, there was no one in the hall, though the sound was now all the more prominent than it would have been if it from the door downstairs. Curiosity and irritation piqued, Julia continued down the hall to the door closest to the stairs that was yet open, illuminating the hallway with the flicker of its oil lamp light. The closer she got, the stranger the noise became, making her skin prickle with a knowing unease. On top of the banging of wood and unsteady creaks was ragged groans and sharp gasps, from more than one person.

Even knowing what it must be, Julia could not bring her feet to stop and turn away until she stood in the open doorway, staring with wide eyes at the shameless couple before her. Laid out on his back with his clothes scattered about the room was the man she knew and had leased the room to. A local trader as often absent or found passed out in a pub alley as returning home, Julia had taken no interest in his antics, but trusted him enough to take the room on good faith.

Atop him was the confirmation of Julia’s trepid fears, and what held her gaze so fast. As bare as the day she was born, a woman Julia did not know sat straddling his waist. Her slender back arced up to leave her looking as though she were prowling over prey, her hands pinning his arms down as she rode him. Even for the innocent country girl there was no room for doubt in what they were deep into the act of, as what all but mesmerised her was that place where one joined to the other. 

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