I managed to write 2200+ words, which brings my total to 5636, I'm still almost 400 short. I realized that many NanoWriMo writers from Malaysia are writing fantasy stuff, which is quite a surprise considering that just eight years ago, when I was form 1, my oral presentation about the fantasy genre was scoffed at, with most people being amused, or awed by my good looks, than really listening to what I said. Guess Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings have helped many in jumping onto the fantasy bandwagon.
Well, for me, coming up with names is always the hardest thing to do whilst writing fantasy, thus I use the Fantasy Name Generator. Great thingie to abuse. Hah!
More excerpts from what I've written thus far.
And...
And lastly...
Well, for me, coming up with names is always the hardest thing to do whilst writing fantasy, thus I use the Fantasy Name Generator. Great thingie to abuse. Hah!
More excerpts from what I've written thus far.
Eliar applauded when the man finished his poem by intoning the numerous ‘x’s, (twenty-three of them, Eliar counted) unfortunately, he was the only person clapping his hands. The other patrons were barely paying any attention. Lloyd was busy drinking his beer, while the other two, a young couple, were busy flirting and giggling.
“Seriously, I can never understand his poems.” Lloyd whispered.
“I don’t either.” Eliar agreed.
Thanking Sanford graciously for giving him a small bag of gold coins, Justinius got off from the table he was standing on and moved over to sit near Lloyd and Eliar.
“Ah. Eliar Swiftfire, I didn’t expect to see you here. What do you think of my poem?” Justinius asked, grinning.
“It’s great.” Eliar nodded while desperately finding words to praise the poem, but finding himself at a loss for words. He KNEW he was a MIGHTY wizard, but not a wordsmith nor a poet, so he could only settle for something simpler. “It’s really deep and stuff. Totally cultured, man.”
“Aye.” Lloyd added nonchalantly before ordering another mug of beer.
And...
The sounds of crickets chirping could be heard from all around while frogs at the shoreline joined in the chorus. Before them was the Areandur Lake, bathed in sunlight, its water sparkling deep blue, rippling gently in the breeze. In the park, people came and went, children playing hide-and-seek, a group of dwarven singers practicing one song after another, clerics of A'taiath meditating and chanting prayers for their goddess, old elves and dwarves sitting in a circle, playing chess, yelling friendly insults to one another. All these while, the sorceress had been sketching furiously on a piece of paper without saying a single word.
Lulled by the gentle caress of the wind, the distant singing of birds and fairies, and the sound of pencil scratching on paper, the young knight soon dozed off.
“YOU FOOLISH FOOL! I never gave you permission to SLEEP!”
Erik shot awake, startled by the sorceress’ voice. It was already evening. She stood over him, shaking her head in disapproval.
And lastly...
When the smoke cleared, there was a sound of a woman’s loud mocking laughter, and the girl struggled to see where it came from. Standing at the opposite end of the tunnel was a sorceress and a Zeltanian Knight.
“You damned cultists have nothing to worship now!” The sorceress said. Then she turned to the knight. “Go, Erik, kill them all now. And bring me their heads as prizes. But make sure you torture them slowly before you kill them, nothing beats the music of dozens of cultists screaming in sheer agony. I want this to be my very own sacrificial ritual, understand?”
“But that’s not the way of a Zeltanian Knight!” Erik argued.
“The killing? The beheading? Or the torturing?”
“All of them!”
“I know. I was just kidding. You have no sense of humour. Lighten up, knight.” The sorceress snorted in disdain, flickering darts of lightning began flashing upon her fingertips as she surveyed each and every single cultist in the place, there were fifteen of them. “Hah! I can take them all on.”
