The lovely and talented Brenda Drake once again hosts Pitch Madness through her blog. I won't go into the details here as she covers them better than I ever could. However, I do encourage you to read on, especially all you lurking agents, because (drum roll) here is my entry (formatted as required by the contest):
Name: J.M. Bray
Title: TEARING THE SHROUD
Genre: NA Fantasy
Word Count: 93,000
Vincent expected to make friends in college, not have visions. The apparitions tell him to become possessed. If he doesn't allow it, evil creatures will enter our world. And he thought Calculus was hard.
The young warrior staggered as a severed hand clawed at his boot. His tall muscular frame ached with wounds and fatigue. Gore and blood dripped from his short blond hair.
The battle started hours before when the beasts came out of the mist, their talons clacking over the rocky soil. They were randomly assembled, a disjointed collection of nightmarish animals. Sharp teeth erupted at all angles from their gaping maws, some piercing their own faces. Serpentine drool oozed from their mouths, hanging in long strands before finally plopping to the ground. Where it struck, fires burst into life, as if they brought the flames of the Abyss with them. Strangely, the creatures smelled of mint, as if they had freshened up before setting out on wanton destruction.
Randolf, his Second, turned with a smile. "Coleman, my lad, this looks like a bit more than a small infestation.
Coleman gazed at the approaching horde. "That it does."
"If things go wrong at least we'll have a good smell about us."
Coleman's gray eyes sparkeld. "Wrong? It looks like a party's comin' our way."
As the first beast clambered at him, Coleman brought his longknife through a powerful downward strike. The blow severed its taloned claw and carried into the creature's head, splitting it to the chin. What served for its brains and brackish blood, splattered him. Fortunately, the gore didn't' start fires, like its spittle, which found a gap in his leather armor, scalding him. What should have felled the beast, merely made it stumble.