Concept Art: Zeegan

As I've been writing Warrior's Fury I've done my best to sketch out what some of the main characters look like.

I'm not absolutely sure 'concept art' would really fit some of the stuff I'm about to show you - but I haven't quite reached the point of being able to draw or paint the character(s) in a way that is satisfying enough not to consider that it's not just a 'concept' of what the character looks like.

Anyway, I thought you would like to see something close to what I'm picturing in my head.

So, Zeegan is an Eekyde Quyd, essentially just a member of a 'branch' of the Quyd Race.
Here is my original sketch for the average Quyd~

You may already have guessed, but I roughly based their faces off of a porcupine.

Once I had the basic idea on paper, I tried my hand at Zeegan himself~

Obviously he isn't purple :P
and that is why he is categorized as 'Eekyde' (i.e. 'set apart' or 'outside the norm').

And more recently I quickly sketched this portrait of Zeegan~

Then decided to color it in Photoshop~

And (at the risk of boring you) here are a few of the slightly different versions of the last one.
(on the far right it's just the glowing 'nayrlkolth' in his hand that is different, and the two center ones have different textured shirts...
you can see the texture difference better if you click on the image ;P )

(Random NOTE: Photoshop 'rocks' ;)

Definitely let me know what you think. :)
 . . . Oh, and if you haven't already, you can read a bit about this character Here ;)


Improperly Aimed Zeal

It is amazing how the LORD chooses to instruct us when we least expect it.

Today, on an impulse that I didn't really think about at the time, I offered to help a family friend to do some weeding. Little did I realize God had decided I needed some counseling.

I won't risk boring you with needless details, I'll just give you the 'lesson' learned through the conversation we ended up having.

It was mainly about the Hunger Games. She didn't change my opinion about the book, but she did point out something that struck me as being the 'Reason' for the Holy Spirit guiding us into the conversation: 'the problem is not the book'.

She pointed out that the things I didn't like about the 'craze' going on about the Hunger Games was not the 'problem' that should retain my focus, they are merely the 'symptom of the real problem' - which is the need for God, and the compassionate preaching of the Gospel of Christ.

The Salvation of our Redeemer and King, Jesus Christ, is the only thing that should command my focus and zeal.

And, to be honest, I have fallen short of the goal of 'focusing on the LORD' far too often lately when it comes to peoples' entertainment choices . . . So for any who may have read/heard my opinions/rantings on the Hunger Games -- or other works of fiction (i.e. movies, games, books) -- please know that my opinions have not changed/weakened, but I would like to inform you that I am now under the conviction that (unless you ask a direct question) I should no longer 'bother' you with my opinions if they are negative in the sense that 'I think this is something everyone should classify as bad'. . . .

My only response in that case will be one of two things: 1) I will change the subject to Christ or something Christ-related. Or 2) I will remain silent and merely pray for God's grace in both/all our lives. . .

A Prayer:
              Thank you, LORD, for your discipline and instruction. I thank you for the wisdom and understanding you have provided to Mrs. H.
             Please continue to teach and guide me to greater zeal for Your Holiness, God, and soften my heart to be compassionate for the people around me. I ask that You please continue to humble me when I begin to show pride or arrogance and get sidetracked on things that ultimately do not matter in the grand scheme of our aiming to praise, honor, and glorify You in everything that we do.
             In the precious name of Jesus Christ I pray, Amen. . .


Good for a Laugh (Hopefully)

I wrote this back in 2008 for a writing class I took. . .

It was thrown together in about two hours so it was never properly 'edited,' but I thought it might at least be good for a smirk ;P

I hope you enjoy it :)

Have a Ball

Written by J D White
April 17, 2008

The bright red sphere came out of nowhere.
     Max was turning his head towards the sound of a yell, when all of a sudden a shiny red ball smacked him clean in the face.
     Enough force was behind the impact that he fell backwards off the branch he was sitting on. He gave a cry of pain when his back came in contact with the hard earth beneath the branches of the large tree.
     Springing quickly to his feet, Max looked around quickly and caught sight of the obnoxiously bright, red ball.
     Making an irritated noise he hurried after his assailant as it bounced away from him.
     Once he caught up to it he snatched it up with both hands and tossed it over his head.
     Max immediately started to wonder if this hadn’t been a mistake when he heard the ball bounce off of something behind him. Knowing that he was probably making another, Max turned around to see what he had hit and was rewarded with the sight of a red blur coming at his face. . .
     And before he knew it he was on his back again with a numb nose.
     Making an angry sound he jumped to his feet and chased after the infuriating bright red ball.
     This time when he caught it he tucked it under his arm and walked over to a pile of large rocks next to a little stream. He found a slight circular dip on one of the larger rocks and set the ball carefully in it.
     Waiting a moment to make sure it would not move, Max glanced around and caught sight of a rock the same size as the ball. Grinning mischievously he picked up the rock, held it over his head, and smashed it down onto the bouncy ball.
     The moment the rock landed on top of the ball it shot out from under the stone and into Max’s stomach, picking him up and propelling him into the air.
     Finding himself once again on his back Max turned his head and looked through the blurring pain in his eyes to find the bright red ball bouncing gently beside him.
     As it bobbed up and down next to him it portrayed a look of innocence that instantly got Max’s blood boiling.
     Lashing out at it he smacked the ball out of his sight and almost instantly heard it rebound off of the nearby wall. And before he could do anything about it he felt it smack into the top of his head.
     Unable to contain it any longer, Max let out a scream of fury and leaped to his feet. Taking hold of the ball before it got away he squeezed with all his might between his hands and bit into its rubbery surface.
     After a few seconds of hopping around in a rage as he chewed on and squeezed the infuriating ball, he suddenly became aware of a low whistling sound.
     Realizing that the sound was coming from the ball, Max quickly yanked it away from his face; fearful that he might have angered it.
     But as he held it at arms length it only began to shrink and flatten in his grasp. After a moment the ball was completely deflated and hanging limp in Max’s hands.
     He stared open mouthed at the ball he had just broken and was not quite sure what he was feeling at that moment.
     Then he heard a sniffle from in front of him and looked up between two bars into the baleful eyes of a little boy. “That was mine.” The little boy stated to the chimpanzee staring out at him through the bars of his cage in the Oregon Zoo.

I'd like to know if this at least makes someone smile ;P


Another Sample of Warrior's Fury

Here is one more 'sample chapter' of Warrior's Fury.

I must warn the reader that the chapter consists of a battle aboard a sailing vessel, so it is on the violent side. However, after some consideration and a conversation with a friend, I decided this would be the best chapter with which to present Rim - the title character - because it really does give the reader a good 'feel' for who and what he is (regardless of the fact that the chapter is out of context).

So, without further ado, here is the sixteenth chapter of the soon to be published Warrior's Fury. . .


As he drifted back into wakefulness, Rim looked up from where he sat amidst a pile of ropes in the shade of the foremast of the Giou-Zeeganzy. A large s’hydy alighted on the gunwales directly in Rim’s line of vision and cocked its head to one side as it eyed Rim for a moment before beginning to groom and clean its large red flight feathers.
Lazily shaking his head at the odd avian creature, Rim let his eyes wonder up toward the seascape. But, instead, he found a sheer cliff-face dominating his view.
          Jerking back in surprise, he scrambled to his feet and looked to the other side of the ship. The shore of a small islet lay only a few dozen yards away.
          “Tee’oukran!” Rim sprinted toward the back of the ship, his pulse beginning to pump harder through his veins.
When did we get into this narrow thoroughfare? Rim tried to look to the sides of the large boat to see how long they would be in the enclosed waterway. From what he could tell, it would be a while before they returned to more open waters.
Rim picked up his pace when he spotted Zeegan talking with Harin and Elsira up in the Navigator’s Box.
Rim got halfway up the flight of stairs leading to the navigator’s deck before Vionsayul appeared to block his way.
“May I help you with something, seyr Dayor?” the infuriatingly well-mannered Gandoran asked in his nearly monotone voice.
Letting his shoulders slump briefly in exasperation, Rim shot an irritated glare up at the trio pointedly ignoring him in the Navigator’s Box. He turned a venomous look on Vionsayul.
“Yes, Ganderan, you may,” Rim stressed the mispronunciation of the man's Race, but all he got in return was a slight narrowing of the Gandoran’s eyes. “You can tell me why your captain has willingly chosen to travel a narrow thoroughfare between two islands in one of the most dangerous archipelagos in the world.”
Vionsayul was about to reply when Ayom shouted something Rim couldn’t understand from high up in the Watcher's Tower.
The Gandoran clearly understood what the young Gree’uhk was yelling, because he leaned against the side railing to look in the direction the ship was headed. Rim followed his gaze. A large river-skimmer, rowed lazily by a group of men of several different Races, was moving toward them from a river to their right and would soon be alongside the Giou-Zeeganzy.
The moment he laid eyes on the small craft, its oars manned by mismatched, rough-looking characters, Rim felt something twist deep in the center of his chest, and a wash of energy tensed every muscle in his body.
A strange quietness suddenly enveloped the ship. Vionsayul cocked his head and looked back toward the rudder of the ship, almost in unison with Rim.
 “The wheels have stopped.”
Rim’s eyes widened at Gray’s words, and something clicked in his head. Frantically, Rim checked the deck, searching for the Taygrit and Chorld they had taken on at Tonnon. They were nowhere to be seen.
Tee’oukran hhaltos!” Rim spat vehemently under his breath, trembling with rushing adrenalin. Grabbing the railing on the other side of the stairs, he threw his body over it and landed on the main deck with a thud.
“Zeegan, they’re marauders!” he hollered at the top of his lungs before leaping for the double doors leading down into the ship. . .

Grayinsun had watched as a look of ‘battle rage’ had come over the warrior Nanhew’s face and he had begun to shake as if caught ill-clad in the middle of a blizzard.
When he yelled to Zeegan that the skimmer was full of marauders, everything suddenly made sense. Gray berated himself for not having figured it out the moment he had heard the paddle wheels stop in the back of the ship.
That Taygrit and Chorld were plants from a marauder vessel!
Gray turned back to the river-skimmer and found it nearly upon them, the passengers having dropped their disguises and brought up weapons when they heard Rim yell at Zeegan.
Twisting to the side just in time to avoid an arrow launched at his head, Gray purified a small amount of the fol’ty on his belt and launched the sphere of barely-visible, greenish air at the offending archer. The Chorld was hit full in the face by the small mass of purified kolth and was lifted off his feet to do a full backflip before landing in the water behind the river-skimmer.
Several of the group on the small boat stood, swinging hooked ropes over their heads. One of the marauders, a massive hulk of a Sagri, tossed his hook at Gray’s neck. The skimmer was within a few yards of the Giou-Zeeganzy now, and the hook would have easily enwrapped its mark had Gray not seen it coming.
Gray ducked and ran down the stairs, calling the crew to arms as he prepared another nayrl-purified sphere of fol’ty from his belt, fully intending to use it to bash a hole in the bottom of the assaulting river-skimmer.
He ducked another hook and mounted the long bench running the length of the side rails, but found, to his thorough disappointment, that the marauders were far more skilled than he had given them credit for.
Obviously anticipating his action and skillfully calculating where he would show himself again, the Sagri managed to toss his hook and get the rope tightly wrapped around Gray’s neck.
Gray’s only saving grace was his Race’s natural speed and perceptiveness. Once he felt the rope on one side of his neck he quickly brought up his right arm to keep it from encircling only his vulnerable windpipe. With his left hand he caught the deadly hook that would have struck him in the face.
This happened in the space of only a few seconds, and Gray had just enough time to see a sadistic smile spread across the Sagri’s face before he yanked on the rope. Unable to fight the Sagri’s immense strength or move fast enough to cut the rope, Gray set his jaw and took in a deep breath as water rushed toward him. . .


An Interesting Find

A friend of mine, Raquel, posted something about an acquaintance of hers that I thought would be worth sharing. . . Click Here to visit the post.

Her comments on Josh sparked my interest, and so I visited his blog and could not help but admire the last posts: To Surrender a Precious Dream, and What it Means to be a Man

A Prayer:
             LORD, thank you for the testimony of Joshua Eddy. Thank you for touching so many through his life. I ask that You continue to bless and uplift his family and friends, that they may continue to find abundant Joy in You, Father.
             And thank you, dear God, for the gentle reminder that anything short of Complete and Total Surrender - is utter insanity and a waste of the life You have so graciously given.
             In the precious name of Jesus Christ, I pray,  Amen. . .


Saturday Sermon

Okay, yes, I know the title isn't all that imaginative, but it's 2 in the morning and its all that is coming to mind ;P

I've recently -- as in starting in January -- been listening to and/or watching sermons by/from (not quite sure what the proper term is) Eric Ludy. Christophany is one of his more recent sermons that I listened to (this morning(?)) while working on formatting Warrior's Fury.

Philippians 4:8
Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

2 Thessalonians 1:12
so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Peter 4:11
whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.


A Sample of Warrior's Fury

So, I figured I am long overdue for actually posting something about or from Warrior's Fury, so I've decided to post the whole 'intro' chapter of the book. . .


The man was coughing up dark blood. His whole body convulsed with agonizing pain before he grew still again.
     Harin Oudek sank to his knees in the sodden black sand of the beach. He leaned over the broad-shouldered man lying in the surf and gently ran his hand over his chest. Though he was of no Race Harin had ever seen, his ribcage was similar to most others’, and, from what Harin could tell, it was in horrible shape.
     From behind, Pro't'hy yelled something in his own tongue that Harin could not understand. No doubt the tall Deon could now see what Harin was kneeling over and was calling for his wife to get help.
     Still, this man could easily die due to a wrong presumption.
     “Elsira!” Harin yelled as he moved his probing hands up to the man's neck. “Find a physician, now!”
     As he worked at the man's tunic front to reveal his heavily bruised, dark brown chest, Harin heard Pro't'hy's pounding strides close in behind him before the Deon stepped around the man's head. When Pro't'hy did not kneel down to get a closer look, Harin glanced up into the tall man's dark, sea-green eyes. The look on his face was grim and clearly conveyed that the Deon held no hope for the man's survival.
     Harin returned his gaze to the dying man lying in the rising and falling tide. The bruising on the man's skin and the bulging points in his ribcage spoke of horrible internal injuries that no physician could possibly mend. But the fact that he was still clinging to life gave Harin hope that there might be a chance if help came fast enough.
     To get to know a man with such strength would be most intriguing, Harin thought with regret as he began to pull his left hand and right wrist stub away from the dying man.
     Faster than Harin's eye could follow, the dying man's right hand shot up and took hold of his arm. The grip on his bicep was full of incredibly surprising strength as he was yanked down to where his nose was almost touching that of the dying man.
     Harin stared, wide-eyed, into a pair of fierce, incredibly pained, shock-white orbs.
     “Ssoa dozhlun!” Harin thought the man's gurgled words were a question, but, not understanding, he could only blink and shake his head.
     When he did, the man grimaced with an agony that seemed only half due to the physical pain he must have been feeling. Then his eyes snapped open again and the fierceness in those glowing white orbs was even stronger than before as he released Harin's arm, reaching up to touch the back of Harin’s neck just above the shoulder-blades.
     Harin felt his whole body jerk with the sudden flash of energy that lanced through him. Originating from where the man touched him, it spiked down into the center of his chest and spread through his whole body. The man lifted his left hand and pressed his fingertips against Harin's forehead.
     The beach, the man's touch, and the surf against the lower half of Harin's body all disappeared. Almost instantly they were replaced by the feel of a strong wind and the spray of the sea on his bare torso, the rolling motions of a ship beneath his booted feet. Of its own accord, his head turned to look at a woman clad in a flowing blue gown, leaning against the railing off to his right.
     A white-hot flash removed the scene, and suddenly he was standing on the white sand of a beautiful beach bathed in sunset reds, a vast jungle rising up on one side. He held the woman gently in his arms as he gazed down into her beautiful sapphire eyes.
     Another, smaller flash and – feeling a deep sense of foreboding – he was staring up at a colossal pillar of rock rising over seven-thousand feet into the air.
     The blinding flash of white light came once more, and the smell of boiling blood and burned flesh invaded his nostrils. He turned, and searing, white light lanced from his hand to vaporize a monster that leaped at him from the shadows before him. The woman was several yards away, slashing with a pure blue blade at another monster. In a language he didn’t know, yet somehow understood, she yelled for him to flee. A regretful sense of duty and a flood of shame tore through him as he burned down another monster and turned to run.
     Another blindingly white flash and Harin realized that he was reliving the dying man's memories – if only a select few – as he was suddenly back in his own body. He was breathing heavily from the rush of having had the man's memories forced rapidly into his mind, but he recovered quickly and waved Pro't'hy back when the tall man touched his shoulder.
     Harin looked down at the dying man when he sighed and let his hands splash back into the water. The man fumbled in the pouch at his waist and pulled out a four inch by five inch, bright green fol'ty box with strange runes etched onto its surface. He handed the box to Harin before he seemed to lose the last reserves of strength he was holding onto.
     The man lay perfectly still, breathing shallowly as his eyes developed pupils and stopped glowing. He stared at Harin, his gaze pleading, tears pouring freely from his now normal-looking – at least in the fact that he now had irises like a Sagri – silver-flecked, brown eyes.
     “Zheen siotsy kodzeezhay ufomseeth.” Harin was only partly surprised at the realization that he could make out the words as roughly meaning 'please don't let my sacrifice be in vain.' Though he doubted that was the properly accurate translation, the meaning was there.
     Harin nodded, trying to convey through his eyes a promise that he had no idea how to keep. The man gave a barely perceptible nod in acknowledgment, but the shame and loss that Harin could now recognize on his face did not leave as he turned his eyes skyward.
     “Khyotzat doadyzeen kssyo.” He expelled the words in an anguished sigh and did not breathe again.
     Harin slumped back on his haunches, wiping away the tears in his eyes with the stub of his right wrist and the back of his left hand. He let Pro't'hy close the man's remorseful, sightless eyes and looked at the box he had been given.
     'Forgive me, Dyzeen, my love,' the man had said with his last breath – or at least that was the basis of what Harin understood of his words. He could feel residual memories that were not his own of the woman the man had begged that pardon from.
     As he stared at the box resting in his only hand, Harin promised himself – with a conviction that surprised him – that he would find a way to fulfill the mysterious man's dying wish. And even as he did so, he knew that decision would change his life forever. . .

Please, feel free to comment :)


Onward! Upward! Christian Soldier,

Onward! upward! Christian soldier,
Turn not back nor sheathe thy sword,
Let its blade be sharp for conquest,
In the battle for the Lord.
From the great white throne eternal, 
God Himself is looking down;
He it is Who now commands thee,
Take the cross and win the crown.
He it is Who now commands thee,
Take the cross and win the crown.

Onward! upward! doing, daring,
All for Him Who died for thee;
Face the foe and meet with boldness
Danger whatsoe'er it be.
From the battlements of glory,
Holy ones are looking down,
Thou canst almost hear them shouting:
"On! let no one take thy crown."
Thou canst almost hear them shouting:
"On! let no one take thy crown."

Onward! till thy course is finished,
Like the ransomed ones before;
Keep the faith thro' persecution,
Never give the battle o'er.
Onward! upward! till victorious,
Thou shalt lay thy armor down,
And thy loving Savior bids thee
At His hand receive thy crown.
And thy loving Savior bids thee
At His hand receive thy crown.

~ by Fanny Crosby, 1876

Believe it or not, the first time I ever read this^ was a few weeks ago when a friend emailed it to me ;P
Hebrews 12 . . . 2 Corinthians 10:3-6 . . . Ephesians 6:10-18. . .