17000 words. So I did 2000 words after the last progress report. Things were getting talky, thus I changed the rhythm. Writing action scenes are harder for me compared to dialogue.
Also, the usual elven generator I use was down, thus I had to surf around to find another. Ended up finding THIS instead. Where you can type in your name and get your name of some Middle-Earth races (hobbits, elves, humans, dwarves and wizards) in return. A particular elven maiden is named after a particular much-talked about blogger.
Anyway, excerpts:
And...
and...
Technorati tags: Writing, nanowrimo, books, Fantasy
Also, the usual elven generator I use was down, thus I had to surf around to find another. Ended up finding THIS instead. Where you can type in your name and get your name of some Middle-Earth races (hobbits, elves, humans, dwarves and wizards) in return. A particular elven maiden is named after a particular much-talked about blogger.
Anyway, excerpts:
Yet the rats were getting closer, only meters away from the immobile sorceress. The knight stepped forward, his sword drawn, attempting to shield the rodents from her even though he knew it would be futile. Silently he whispered the prayer of the Zeltanian knights, and the blade upon his sword glowed white in response.
“Step aside, you dolt!” The sorceress shouted.
Despite his confusion, Erik did what she said, and she, with a loud sharp command, placed both of her hands upon the ground. Intricate runes of magic flared into life upon its surface, moving and spreading by themselves and towards the all-engulfing darkness and the stone walls of buildings around them. Pulsating silvery-white light of pure brilliance sliced through the sea of rats, bursting into explosions that sent dozens of tiny charred carcasses into the air. Rivers of light streaking through the sea of darkness.
And...
“You are intriguing, human.” The figure said with a voice deep and ancient like the mountain this city was built upon. “To protect a place with sorcery when sorcery is forgotten like the faded histories of fallen civilizations.”
“I was protecting myself.” The sorceress said.
“My servants’ hunger can only be satiated by the flesh of those who have imprisoned them for centuries, not you nor your knight companion, for it was the dwarves who destroyed our homes and built their own above its ashes. Inconsiderate and ignorant. They may think me nothing more than dusts that swirl around their feet as they walk, and for their foolish arrogance I shall make them pay. A generation repaying the debts left by earlier generations.”
“Who are you?” Erik asked.
The figure tilted his head towards the knight. “Merely one who had existed during the dawn of time. One who had seen every single war waged upon these lands, alliances forged and broken, figures deemed as heroes, figures damned as villains, kingdoms rose and fell, conquerors becoming the conquered. Within the mountain I dwell in, I see nothing but perpetual darkness, yet I know everything that occurs upon the face of this world. My servants are my eyes and ears. They are everywhere.”
The sorceress nodded. “You are Ouroboros, King of Worms.”
and...
“Ahhhh!” He screamed in frustration and pain.
The beautiful elf maiden, whose vegetable stall was beside his, giggled in amusement. “If you can’t deal with the flies, you won’t be able to last long here.”
“Gah! It’s only pestering me! And not YOU!” Eliar whined. “It must be my spiky hair or something!”
“You humans have gotten too used to life indoors, thus one as insignificant as flies can bother you so verily. They feed upon your annoyance, thus they stay with you. They feel nothing from me, I am placid like a still lake, and therefore it is unnecessary for them to be anywhere near me.” The elf maiden said serenely.
“But ‘bothering me verily’ is an understatement, miss elf.” Eliar grumbled.
“Please, master Swiftfire, my name is Torfithiel. It means ‘dawn in elvish.” The elf maiden said with a kindly smile, she was bathed in the pale glow emanated from the streetlight behind her, accentuating her ethereal and delicate qualities. She had picked a good spot for her stall, Eliar noted.
Technorati tags: Writing, nanowrimo, books, Fantasy
