keeperofdreams:

As a big fan of the old Ecco series, YES. I really hope this meets its quote for both the single player and the MMO versions!

Reblogging myself again. It only has 19 days to go and it’s nowhere near close to meeting its goal. :( This makes me sad, both as a fan of the series and as a gamer.

It’s even being created and scored by the original Ecco the Dolphin team! How could anyone NOT want this? And if this helps, one of the guys doing the score has also worked on the Walking Dead and Battlestar Galactica!

Topside. They actually wanted him, of all the lowly creatures in Hell, to crawl his way up from the pit in order to plead their case. Reasons as to why they chose him flitted through the hellhound’s mind, causing his ears to flatten against his furred head, as he dug his bestial claws into the rocky surface overhead and burrowed for all he was worth. Could it be because he was a runt? Because he was scrawny and mostly harmless compared to his much stronger brethren? Perhaps it was his unwavering loyalty to the more powerful demons who didn’t want to see Hell destroyed, but neither did they want to see the mortal plane decimated as well.

With those conflicting thoughts stabbing his brain like so many red hot pokers it made digging that much easier, even when he broke a claw straight down to the sensitive quick housed inside. Soon the repetitive pattern of ‘scratch, fling, move forward’ became his mantra and all of those questions were left behind so that his brain could focus on the most important task: entering the mortal realm and reaching the safe house.

Time had no real meaning to Zeek since he was conceived and raised among the pits of lava, the surprisingly frigid lakes of ice, where seconds flowed as slowly as decades, but even so when he finally burst through the rocky layer of ground that was covered by pale grey slabs of concrete sidewalk he couldn’t help but let out a joyous exclamation. Sure, he was bloody and sore and looked like five miles of bad road but he’d made it, he’d accomplished the first step in his task, and that was good enough for now.

The hard part came next: he had to reach the safe house before anyone, mortals and otherworldly creatures alike, could spot him in his true form. Even in a major city like Seattle he couldn’t blend in with the bipedal monkey-creatures that walked about, despite their lack of common sense. There was always the risk that a hunter was among them or, worse yet, they were another supernatural entity in disguise just waiting to take out someone who didn’t share their view on what the apocalypse should be or if it should even happen.

So, with a nervous growl that bubbled up from his throat he bolted into the closest alley and used his strong front limbs, closer to arms and hands even though he normally traveled on all fours, to lift the solid iron cover of a manhole just high enough so he could slip under it and vanish into the dark, reeking depths that consumed the city from below. Any other creature would’ve gagged or even vomited when they caught even a faint whiff of the smell around them but Zeek wasn’t most creatures.

The scent almost reminded him of home, even if the oddly goopy texture of the water rushing past his four legs did not. He paused to gain his bearings before trotting on, tail held out in a stiff, straight line behind him for balance due to the small walkways that weren’t made for someone of his size, As he crept along, doing his best not to slip on the slick, algae and who knew what else was present-covered surface under his paws, he subconsciously raised his hackles and the dark colored ridge of flexible spikes than ran from between his shoulder blades and down to where his tail connected to the rest of his body.

Was he lost? Zeek began to panic and he began to take in deep, heavy breaths his lungs didn’t even need, causing his chest to heave and his glowing orange eyes to cross and blur. the hellhound couldn’t help it. He wasn’t used to being out of his tiny section of Hell with the rest of his kind, let alone being in this unfamiliar territory with such an important task weighing heavy on his mind. Every step forward unnerved him all the more and, before he could even try to rationalize with his fear, he was bolting for the closest rusty ladder that would take him out of this disgusting area, reeking with mortal scents that scorched his sensitive nose.

On the streets above there was a gathering of humans trying to decide on where they wanted to go for lunch. The local deli? Cheesecake Factory? An ethnic food restaurant that half of them would probably complain about later? They were all far too focused on their problem at hand when a nearby curb level sewer grate suddenly was chucked forward with a horrible sound of twisting metal being flung onto blacktop. Zeek, once he’d ripped the gate preventing his freedom out of place, squeezed out of the rectangular hole and darted straight up onto the street.

Cars honked, people screamed, and the group of on break mortals decided that the place right behind them was good enough for now. All the while the hellhound paid no mind as he searched for somewhere to hide or, at least, spotted a place with a familiar glyph placed upon it. He couldn’t risk being caught in his current form. His mission was too important and, even if he could transform himself into a more public friendly shape, he didn’t have the energy to do so. He stood frozen, overwhelmed, in the middle of the road and it wasn’t until he felt a sudden sharp pain in his side, along with the sensation of being airborne, did he fully realize just how in danger he really was.

Thankfully for him the cab driver thought he’d just hit some weird looking stray dog and that was all the time Zeek needed to force himself up onto all fours before leaping over the side of a small walkway bridge into the rapidly flowing current of water below. He struggled to paddle and keep his head above the churning, muddy liquid but, quicker than he expected, his limbs gave out and exhaustion overcame both his brain and his body.

Somehow Zeek bellowed out the word before his brain could even comprehend what was happening. “MOVE!” he howled, seconds before slamming his smaller frame into his partner’s. The priest grunted from the impact as he hit the wall to his left and slumped to the ground. Just then a bullet whizzed past his head, sending fragments of brick and mortar cascading down onto him. There was another bang, followed by a pained yelp and the smell of brimstone and blood. Zeek spun in place before diving behind a dumpster, blood oozing from the wound in his chest as he grimaced.

When the priest first called him a companion, not a minion or a tag a long, not a dog, Zeek felt something in his chest tighten. For a moment it felt like he couldn’t breathe, like someone had reached inside his body and squeezed the air out of his lungs. Is this what mortals felt when they said they were happy? The hellhound was unsure but, as the euphoric sensation rushed through him, he couldn’t help but smile up at the human male that was standing beside him. Even though it wasn’t visible he could feel his tail wagging frantically.

Zeek tugged at the tie around his neck. Such formal attire was foreign to him and, combined with the suit he’d been bribed into wearing, he felt so very out of place. That’s why he let the priest do all of the talking to the baron, even though he had a tiny bit more standing when addressing hellspawn. But he wasn’t in any shape to state his and, by proxy, the mortal realm’s case as long as he was trapped by the fabric noose he’d been told to wear. It was all he could do to not rip it off.

Dean smiled like an eager child at the flame crackling before him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been to a cook out like this, so the very idea of chucking meat onto a raging bonfire was both a new and an exciting experience for him. He didn’t care if Sam thought his actions were stupid as he stabbed a marshmallow onto a pointed stick he’d found and thrust it into the fire for an all over toasting. It wasn’t until the sugary treat had turned charred and black that he realized he’d left it in for too long.

(Yes I know I’m behind, shame on me!)

He woke up covered in blood from head to toe. His memory of the past few days, as usual after a full moon, was a distant haze. He struggled to get to his feet but was thrwarted by all four limbs, arms and legs alike, being asleep so all he could do was squirm on the floor of the wooden cabin. All around him he could smell blood, the copper scent flooding his sensitive nostrils. What had he done? There, over in the corner. A head. A head fully detached from its body. Christian hunched over and gagged before vomiting.

Cold was a new sensation to Zeek. All he’d felt before were the painfully hot temperatures down in hell found in lava pools and the ground itself. So his first encounter with the weather humans called snow was nothing short of amazing. The first touch of a snowflake sent him into a childlike fit of glee and, when he realized more were falling from the sky itself, he ran around in circles trying to catch as many as he could even though they all melted as soon as they touched his warmer than average skin. It was an amazing feeling.

It was another restless night. Christian paced back and forth in front of the filthy window taking up most of the wall in his motel room, occasionally glancing up at the sky and the almost full moon that taunted him with its very presence. His skin itched and he felt like his muscles were on fire. He could even sense the beast beginning to squirm about in his head, clawing at the mental bars keeping it restrained but just barely. It knew tomorrow night it would be free, that it would rip apart this weak human skin from the inside.