Finished commission for  lincard1000 based on one of his sci-fi novels. The excerpt that follows is what this piece is based on, and the full novel can be found in his account.


Invokes-The-Storm slowly came to, groaning as he raised his head and looked around. The Anubis had come to rest on the wreckage of some sort of wood and earthen structure. Flames were still fitfully licking at some of the shattered interior walls, lighting the darkness with a flickering orange glow. Thankfully, although cracked and twisted, the jet's cockpit canopy was still in place above their heads.

The pack-leader fumbled with his harness. He finally managed to get it undone and then fell forward in an undignified manner as the jet was canted over at quite an angle, nose down and half-buried in rock and soil. He cried out in pain as he felt several broken bone-plates in his chest being pushed hard against the broken control console by his own weight. Blood was also sluggishly dripping from the bottom of his jaw where he had a cut on his snout. Other than that everything was just peachy.

It took several tries before he was able to push the battered cockpit canopy open since it was covered in rubble from the building they'd crashed through. Invokes-The-Storm turned and tried to step on the seat to climb out but cried out in agony, feeling the bones in his left leg grate together in an extremely painful, unnatural fashion. After his vision stopped swimming from the pain, he carefully crawled out and half crawled over to the human warrior in the rear section of the cockpit.

When a gentle shake got no reaction he leaned over and carefully examined the unresponsive human for any signs of life. He was still breathing, which was a promising sign, so the pack-leader freed him from the restraint harness and gently lifted him up, cradling him with his two forward arms. Spotting a sturdy looking length of heavily carved wood he reached over and ripped it from the stand it was attached to and levered himself into a standing position. He leaned heavily on the wood which groaned but managed to hold his weight.

It took him several minutes but he finally managed to reach open air. He followed the smoking trail of ruin left by the jet as it ploughed a massive furrow along the ground and into the building. When the smoke-drift cleared, Invokes-The-Storm realized that there was quite a crowd of humans standing around several metres distant. He stopped, looking at them as they stood there and stared back at him open mouthed, and clearly quite terrified.

"This human is injured and needs assistance..." When he tried to speak, quite a few of them turned and ran screaming, not looking back, and he belatedly realized his translation disk was no longer functioning.

Growling from the pain in his leg and various other parts of his body, the pack-leader took a step forward on his improvised crutch and held out the limp body in his arms toward the nearest humans who all gasped and backed away quickly.

"Hrrr, what is wrong with you stupid creatures? Can you not observe this human requires your immediate assistance?"

After a few moments, a young human male fearfully approached him, holding what looked like an ornately decorated book in front of him like a shield. He got to within a couple of metres of the Vanguard warrior and stopped, looking first at him, then at the human warrior in his hands, then back again. He spoke softly, but Invokes-The-Storm couldn't understand him without his translation disk working.

Father Carlos Pablo Ramirez stood alongside the other villagers, staring in horror at the mostly demolished church that had been the focal point of their small but prosperous rural Mexican village. A shrieking fireball had come tearing out of the night-sky, throwing up smoke and dust as it tore a long smoking trail across the ground before smashing through the front of their church. Several minutes later there had come a series of unearthly and terrifying noises, like the screaming of the damned, from inside the ruined structure.

Eyes and mouths wide open they then watched, speechless, when a three-metre tall demon emerged from the smoke-shrouded wreckage. It was using part of the church's large and beautifully carved wooden crucifix to lean on, the figure of Jesus still nailed to it, upside-down. It clutched a dead or unconscious human body in two of its many arms. Holding the body toward them, it rumbled and growled at them in its demonic tongue, making many cross themselves, fearfully.

After a minute or two of complete silence it took another step forward, growling and rumbling at them, holding the victim in its claws toward them. This caused many of the women and children to turn and run screaming. Even some of the men of the village took several steps back in fear.

Someone deliberately pushed Father Ramirez from behind, making him stumble forward. Swallowing and whispering a short prayer, he slowly approached the creature holding his bible in front of him.

"A-Are you the d-devil...?" he asked, stopping in front of it as it stared down at him with its demonic black eyes, the orange glow behind it flickering like the fires of hell itself.