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  #161  
Old 11-23-2012, 09:28 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Quote:
Originally Posted by Mumzy View Post
Thanks I need it XD
I have notepad and wordpad, I can't find anything to count the words.
Alsoalso, OpenOffice is is Word knock off. Just note it saves things in a sort of obscure file type.

Alsoalsoalso, I did a bit of writing, not sure how many words since it was handwritten. I just scapped and started a new character perspective. (My fic has multiple perspectives a chapter.)
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  #162  
Old 11-23-2012, 11:16 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

ODT isn't an 'obscure format'. turnitin (electronic submission for university assignments) takes it without complaint! so does ff.net, even. it's just silly people who have borin' ol' word who can't take it.

and i mean you can just save it as a .doc or .docx file anyway.
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  #163  
Old 11-23-2012, 11:59 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Quote:
Originally Posted by Tailsy View Post
ODT isn't an 'obscure format'. turnitin (electronic submission for university assignments) takes it without complaint! so does ff.net, even. it's just silly people who have borin' ol' word who can't take it.

and i mean you can just save it as a .doc or .docx file anyway.
True, but to someone who doesn't even have Word, they might not know.

But the system my college used did not like it at all. Plus it didn't help that I forgot to change the format when turning things in eighty percent of the time.
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  #164  
Old 11-24-2012, 01:50 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Quote:
Originally Posted by Tailsy View Post
ODT isn't an 'obscure format'. turnitin (electronic submission for university assignments) takes it without complaint! so does ff.net, even. it's just silly people who have borin' ol' word who can't take it.

and i mean you can just save it as a .doc or .docx file anyway.
even more recent versions of word will eat it (and probably mangle it, but that's not the point), so.
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  #165  
Old 11-24-2012, 03:08 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

and now we know! and now we know.
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  #166  
Old 11-24-2012, 03:12 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

and knowing is half the battle ?
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  #167  
Old 11-24-2012, 03:59 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

The more you know...

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  #168  
Old 11-26-2012, 07:15 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Sooo the last ~week.5 have been pretty spectacularly terrible, with a hideous fellowship application that ate all my motivation to do things and then Something Terrible happening to my laptop (my baby! D:). But I pulled out all the stops on my little break and managed about 15,000 over the past couple of days, so I'm back to a reasonable ~2200 per day to finish on schedule. Should be pretty cake. Looks like my friend is actually on track to win her first year, too, so that's pretty cool.

Good luck to everybody still in the game! It's not too late to make a crazy last-ditch effort and win!
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  #169  
Old 11-27-2012, 04:59 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Tomorrow might be the first day that I don't write, but this considerable buffer I've built up over the last 26 days is certainly gonna help the case! Less than 4000 to go, I'm feeling great!
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  #170  
Old 11-28-2012, 09:30 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Oh my! I have under 2000 words left! This is pretty damn exciting!

I'll probably have to leave those final thousands for tomorrow since I'm sleepy and it's late, but then I'm gonna write like crazy and then I can win and be happy foreverrrr (and my fingers can rest a bit)
And wow I'm definitely going to participate next year, too! I'm super glad my friend talked me into this :D
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  #171  
Old 11-29-2012, 08:32 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

I'm behind, but I can easily pump out enough words in the next two days. I've got this. I'm gonna be okay.

And hell, even if I don't win, I still made some serious, major headway on this stupid project. That's gotta count for something.




but i still want to win
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  #172  
Old 11-29-2012, 08:26 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

@ PlagueMD: you can do it! Just keep on typing, yeah!
All you others, too! You were made to be winners :D


and
guess who just won their first Nano??
spoiler: it's me

Man I feel great!
I don't care if the story is silly and the writing awkward -- I did it anyway!
yeahhh time for some more victory chocolate, I guess!

I'll read through it tomorrow at school and correct all the worst typos, before I dare show it to people. Proper editing will have to wait, I'm gonna concentrate on other stuff now. :P
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  #173  
Old 11-30-2012, 03:06 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

I have one more day.

I can do it. And so can you all!

(I need the extra credit. NaNo has risen literally to the top of my priority list.)
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  #174  
Old 11-30-2012, 05:54 PM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

I still wanted to answer some other posts oops I meant to post more during November. But now it's the last day!! I have a bit under six thousand words left I have to write lots today still.

Everyone, it's the last day!!! Even if you don't quite make it to fifty thousand, you tried really hard and made lots of progress! Even if you only wrote two words, that's still more than you would've otherwise written! As long as you tried, you still win! You still did a good job!

And even if you can't make it to fifty thousand now, you can put in your very best effort and do as much as you can today!! More people each year do National Novel Writing Day, where they write fifty thousand words in one day! Most of you have a lot less than fifty thousand words left! So you need a lot less than a whole day!

If you can't think of anything, rambling is totally okay. It could even be really good! Because rambling pushes you out of the "I can't write anything" state and eventually, you make it from the rambling to your next plot point! Even if you don't know what the next plot point actually is, if you ramble enough, one will happen somehow. You get to a point where you just can't ramble anymore and have to throw in a dragon, and now your story is going somewhere again. Don't be concerned if it's not turning out well! Just keep going! It's not going to turn out like anything if you don't write anything at all. You can edit or take out bad words but they push you forward in the story still and open up your mind to be creative, so that the good words can come out. None of that happens if you're too scared to write anything down! It is scary! But! You can do it! You've been doing it all month already!

What I'm doing right now is really focused sprints, like, twenty or forty minutes where I type as fast as I can manage even if I can't actually think of anything to type. And then I do a short break, because it gets harder to consistently type as fast as you can the more minutes you add to your sprint. The sprints are exciting because you realize how much you can write in that kind of timeframe and you can make an estimate of how many sprints you need to finish your goal! And you know a break is just around the corner, so you can keep typing and typing. Even if it's bad, all that matters is that you keep typing until the sprint is up. Try a smaller sprint like fifteen or twenty minutes, first! If that goes well, you can keep some of your sprints longer! Much smaller than that and it's hard; usually you write more slowly when you first start the sprint, but then catch up by going faster and faster until the end (because most times the more you write, the easier it gets). Giving yourself twenty minutes gives you time to do that!

Sometimes it's hard to take the break at the end because you build up a lot of momentum, but take the break! Your fingers need to rest after a sprint, and so does your head! Breaking at that point often doesn't actually get rid of the momentum. You're excited to write when the momentum is there, and if you stop there, you hang onto the writing energy you've been building! If you instead stop when it gets hard, then you're instead hanging onto a feeling of this-is-hard. Plus, it's important to be convinced that a break is coming! If you end the twenty minutes and then go "well, I could write for another twenty..." and keep sprinting, then you know that you're liable to do that, and then you don't really know for sure that there's a break, so it's not the same. You can easily fall into a habit of writing more slowly during the sprint (which is okay! Not every sprint can be super-successful!) and telling yourself "oh, I did badly during the sprint, I should keep going..." Don't do that! It's a good job that you wrote for the whole sprint and looked at the screen for the whole sprint even in the seconds or minutes where you got stuck for what to write! You tried hard! It's not a failure! You need to tell yourself that!

During a break, you can do things like drink water or stretch! If you haven't been at the computer long and nothing like that is important, it could be a good idea to use the time to work out an outline to work from for your bext sprint! It's easier to sprint with an outline, because you know exactly where you need to go; that way you don't suddenly crash into a "wait, what's next?" in the middle of your sprint.

Figure out how many sprints you need! This will give you a timeframe to work from so you know you can do it if you can just fit that much time into your day! Otherwise, you still know you could've done it if you had had that much time, and you have more power to see how much time you'll need next year, too! Challenge yourself to write faster during sprints; chances are, you haven't reached your maximum potential there yet! I haven't and I've been doing sprints like all month almost.

If you're having a hard time motivating yourself to start a sprint, https://twitter.com/NaNoWordSprints might help! There are set times for sprints and you'll be doing them with lots of other people! There's also lots of encouragement from the people doing it and people talk about how they did afterward! And they send out prompts every so often, like "include a teddy bear in your novel".

You could also go in #tcod and start sprints there! I'm not sure how many other people are actively there who'd want to sprint but I'd sprint with anyone.

So many of you have over forty thousand!! That's so close!!! You have a whole day left to try! Ten thousand words can be written in three hours!! It's totally possible! Winning is totally possible! You can make it!!!!!

(also congratulations to people who already did it that's super-super-super-great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
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  #175  
Old 12-01-2012, 02:54 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Whew! Got it, finally. This is honestly the closest I've ever cut it; even in 2008 when I'm pretty sure at one point I was over 10K behind, I still finished somewhere around the 28th. Never fell quite that far behind in one shot this time, but I did fall like 8K behind two separate times, so.. ouch.

But! While nothing is "finished" (and these days I never go into NaNo expecting it to be, so no loss there), I did get 50K more words of writing done than I would have otherwise, so that's always awesome! The novel-fanfic-story finished at about 27400 while the short-story-collection-fanfic-story came in at 22600; not quite my original goal of 50K in just the long story, but after all that struggling I will totally take it! I did at least get a lot of ideas going, and what I did manage to get out also helped me identify some issues I need to fix that I hadn't noticed before (why yes it makes a ton of sense to send a lazy prince and a useless half-elf and an old fragile chancellor out along the border of hostile territory with no extra protection, why do you ask?... and while we're at it it also makes sense for a well-behaved young man to practice his psychic powers by throwing his mother's good china around the house); now that I can slow down I have time to better iron this stuff out and do a bit more worldbuilding and whatnot. Hopefully this time I'll actually be able to make more progress, though, and get around to actually using/editing what I already wrote so I can actually post something for once! D:

I would have kept going a little longer today, but I really had to stop and attend to some other stuff, haha. Sooo gonna go do that in a minute!

I realized, meanwhile, that we didn't do that thing where people posted excerpts of their story! And now I'm disappointed soooo I'mma just leave these here in case anyone wants to torture themselves with how forced and gross it is, haha. If anyone else wants to post anything they've written then it would be cool to see!

weird pokémon fantasy novel thing, here have some bad guys

Whatever the honchkrow's concerns might have been, either no one had told Hjálmarr or he didn't care— he could feel Brynja sagging underneath him, growing more and more tired and by now unable to fight her way out from under him. An uncharacteristically wild laugh tore from his throat as he drew back his fist again, ready to drive it into her head one last time—

— and then his fist connected with empty air as an unseen force ripped him off of Brynja and threw him backwards as easily as the chair from before. The prince hurtled clear across the throne room and crashed soundly into Thormodr's abandoned seat, then fell sideways into the glass case placed carefully by its side—

Everyone gathered in the throne room fell silent the instant the glass shattered and the case's contents smashed right along with it. Charmion's gloating and Delyth's complaining cut off abruptly; Ragnvaldr's eyes went wide in disbelief; Brynja and Hjálmarr froze where they lay on the ground, too stunned to fight against their pain and fatigue and attempt to rise.

Ragnvaldr moved first, the rush of his wings finally breaking the silence as he flapped over to the shattered case. He landed next to Hjálmarr's still form with a clatter of talons and gingerly rooted around in the glass with his beak, carefully shifting the fragments aside until he found what he was looking for, and the others waited with bated breath as he got a good grip on the object and hauled it forward to inspect it.

"You've *ruined* it!" Delyth shrieked as soon as she laid eyes on the badly chipped half sphere in Ragnvaldr's beak. "Wretched savages, barbarians, you've *ruined* Thormodr's God Stone!"

"I haven't ruined a thing, woman," Hjálmarr snarled, finally levering himself up on an elbow and wincing when he accidentally leaned on a shard of glass.

"You smashed the case, idiot," Brynja retorted, getting to her feet at last and leering at her half-brother out of her one good eye. "You knocked everything over and smashed the God Stone on the floor. Stupid clumsy oaf! What kind of king smashes the only god-monster relic he's ever going to get his hands on, hm, the only source of the power that will guarantee him the respect of— "

"I haven't ruined *anything*!" Hjálmarr repeated. "*You* smashed the God Stone when *you* threw me into it! For all of your and Delyth's ranting and calling us clumsy savages, *I* don't recall being the one who was throwing chairs around and swinging people into Father's priceless relics!" He stuck his bleeding wrist into his mouth and sucked at it petulantly.

"Actually..." Ragnvaldr mumbled around a beakful of broken relic.

Delyth rounded on Charmion as though she hadn't heard the honchkrow. "Now I *know* you two aren't trying to pin the blame for this on my daughter," she said, laughing mirthlessly. "It was hardly Brynja's idea to start this ridiculous fighting, and right here in the throne room at that! If you two bloodthirsty *creatures* had been able to [curb] your urge to maim something, we could have settled this in *any other way* that would have left the God Stone in one piece!"

Ragnvaldr dropped the piece of God Stone he held behind Thormodr's throne, and then backwinged away from the case's remains, his eyes growing wider again. "Excuse me!" he squawked, balancing on one talon and pointing at the leftover mess with the other. "Look, look!"

"No matter how we tried to 'settle' things, the outcome would have been the same," Charmion snapped. "Complain as much as you like, Delyth, but your daughter will never have the right to be the queen of [Thormodland] and she never did!"

"I am every bit as much Thormodr's child as he is, and as the oldest I think I have every right to— "

Charmion heaved her wine glass at Brynja's head and only narrowly missed her target. "*I* think that you're nothing but a weasely, filthy whore and her ungrateful bastard brat who had absolutely no business marching into *my* husband's kingdom and bringing all of this nonsense and misery down on me and my son!"

"Enough, enough!" Whatever comment Hjálmarr was about to add to his mother's was cut off as Ragnvaldr flew up and landed squarely on his head. "You'll all stop this childish bickering at once and listen to what I'm saying or I'll just have to vent my frustrations a little more forcefully!" Hjálmarr held very still as the honchkrow raised his tailfeathers meaningfully; Brynja snorted derisively.


(different thing from later)

"Do relax, would you, human?" the young woman said, rolling her eyes as she settled back in her chair. "You're *fine*. Well, mostly fine. Someone or other did a rough patch job on those gashes in your side, anyway— and just those bandages will have to do, by the by, since it's not as though we're going to waste perfectly good healing magic on the likes of you— so you're not likely to bleed out any time soon. Or, at least, not likely as long as you don't undo the bandages with all of that irritating wriggling around."

Didier stopped and sat still, then leaned over to look at his side. Upon closer inspection there did appear to be bandages there after all, soaked a dark-reddish brown with his blood though they were. Hardly the sort of careful medical treatment he would have received back at home in Chiennaud, of course, but then again considering where he was he supposed he should have been thankful that anyone had attended to him at all.

"And besides," the young woman continued, now smiling cheerfully and reaching casually for a wine glass that sat on a tray beside her, "we'd hardly be able to question you if you were all full of holes. Not very productive, is it, trying to get information out of people who are all preoccupied with bleeding all over the place."

The phrase "trying to get information out of people" sent an involuntary shiver up Didier's spine, one that the young woman was quick to pick up on. "Now, now," she said softly, still smiling at him over her glass of wine, "there's no need to get upset. Just because my father happened to detest you humans and my half-brother wants to continue his crusade to kill all of you, that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of having a reasonable discussion with you! You look like an intelligent man, sir; surely you know better than to jump to such hasty conclusions."

The [advisor] nervously returned her smile but did not relax; he knew better than that. If he'd had a genuine reason to trust the woman— princess or queen or something, he supposed, assuming that the father she referred to was the late king of [Thormodland]— then she wouldn't have been addressing him from the other side of a dungeon cell door, and she wouldn't likely have had such reservations about "wasting" perfectly good healing magic on "the likes of him", either.

The woman's smile never faltered. "Well, if you're going to continue to remain skeptical then I suppose that's your decision," she said calmly, shrugging a little. "I don't suppose I can blame you for being a little suspicious, given... well." She waved an arm at their surroundings. "I'm hardly going to pretend that I'm fond of your kind, of course, because I'm not. But that doesn't mean that I can't be courteous, you know. I do have reason to believe that you know things that are of interest to me, human, and I'm going to find out what I want to find out by any means necessary... but I'm not some brutish orc or half-orc, like that oaf Hjálmarr and his tiresome mother. If we can do this the civil way, rather than the hard way, well, that would make things much, much less painful for the both of us, would it not? Think of it a little less like an interrogation and more like a simple conversation, let's say. So! My name is Brynja Thormodsdóttir. I don't believe I ever caught yours...?" She paused, still smiling, and watched him through the bars with a politely inquisitive expression.

His name... would it really hurt anything if he told her that? Or, perhaps, the more pertinent question, how much would it hurt if he didn't? She'd gone as far as to admit that she wasn't his friend, but she'd also put forward the suggestion that, at least for the time being, this didn't have to be too unpleasant. He just had to cooperate and the whole affair would remain relatively painless... but how far did that mean he would have to go?

"You might as well tell me, you know," said Brynja, a slight sing-song lilt to her tone. "As I've said, I'm more than happy to be a courteous host, or at least as courteous as the current situation allows. But if you want to draw this out, you should know that I *will* get precisely what I want, and if that means that things take an unfortunate turn for you, well, then, so be it. So, Mister Human, how do you intend to dictate the flow of this conversation, hm?"

Didier sighed. He did have to give this Brynja some credit; so few dignitaries he'd dealt with were capable of getting to the point so quickly. "My name is Didier," he said softly.

"There!" Brynja said cheerfully, raising her half-empty glass in his direction. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? It's very nice to meet you, Didier. I have to say, given the other imbeciles I'm constantly surrounded by, it's refreshing to deal with someone so cooperative."


golden sun one-shot thing

"Fine, you don't have to believe me if you don't want to," Isaac says with a confident smile. "But I'm telling you, Garet, I can do it. Eyes closed, five seconds flat, all ten of them, just like I said."

Garet yawns and slouches against the bushes behind him, still as unimpressed as ever. "Isaac, the last time you tried to catch ten apples in five seconds you managed to grab all of *three* of them in four seconds and then give yourself a splitting headache in the one second you had left. And since that 'last time' was only a little more than a week ago..." He smirks. "You'll forgive me for being just a tiny bit skeptical of your claim, there, pal."

Isaac does not stop smiling. Garet can say whatever he wants, and it's not going to bother him in the slightest. He's been *practicing*, after all, staying up late and catching all sorts of things in his room and in the rest of the house, and except for that one time when he dropped his mother's good dishes in mid-cast and she chased him out of the kitchen, he's doing pretty well if he does say so himself.

His mother, when she isn't busy cleaning up the messes from his latest impromptu practice sessions, says she doesn't really understand the point of training to become "the fastest catcher this side of Mt. Aleph", and that she doesn't see when on earth that sort of skill might ever be of any use to him. She says that a sensible young man would be better off spending his time learning to be "the most efficient and thorough roof-patching catcher this side of this house so that I don't have to come up there behind you every time you attempt to 'fix' a leak and I don't want rain in the house again, honestly Isaac it's not that hard if you just apply yourself". She says that was more or less why she'd agreed to help him learn Catch in the first place, and then she usually heads off to do chores while muttering to herself about Garet and Kraden putting *ideas* in his head again.

It's not just an *idea*, though, Isaac insists mentally, and he didn't need Garet or Kraden's help to come up with it. If he's honest with himself he doesn't know *exactly* when becoming the fastest catcher this side of Mt. Aleph will be useful, but that doesn't matter because one day it *will*. He knows it. And just that knowledge is reason enough for him.

Garet is absent-mindedly plucking leaves off of the bush he's leaning against at this point; Isaac needs to act quickly, then, or lose his audience and his chance to show off how he totally is not going to give himself a raging headache this time around, no really he's not. "Pay attention," he hisses, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "All ten of those apples, five seconds. You'll see. Ready?"

"If you are," Garet sighs, rolling his eyes but holding up a hand to count off on his fingers anyway. "Ready... steady... go! One!"

Isaac concentrates harder than he ever has before, his mind jumping from one low hanging apple to the next and giving each the hardest mental pull he can muster. One apple snaps free of its tree, then another, the third is a little trickier but comes loose with a bit of extra work, all three of them fly back in the boys' direction one by one—

"Two!"

The fourth apple is stubborn like the third, and he ends up dropping it instead of pulling it back, but he doesn't care because Garet has already said "Three!" and he has to hurry and move on to the fifth. A dull, throbbing pain is starting up somewhere around his temples, but Isaac tries his hardest to push through and ignore it. Come hell or high water he's going to prove Garet wrong this time—

"Four— oh, hey, Jenna!"

Jenna has just strolled into view. She stops where she stands and turns around as if to wave at them, and the sudden appearance catches Isaac's attention just long enough that when he reaches out to grab something with his mind—

"Hey, guys— eeeeeek!"

An [invisible] force misses the sixth apple entirely and instead hoists the hem of Jenna's skirt straight up in the air, then releases it immediately when it realizes what it has inadvertently done, and also just how furious Jenna is going to be about it.

Isaac wonders if maybe later he can claim that it was a case of mistaken identity. After all, at the moment Jenna's snarling face is about as red as any apple he's ever seen.

"All right," Jenna says, her voice dangerously low and menacing. She glares back and forth between Isaac and Garet, one hand holding her skirt in place and the other balled into a fist. "Who did it? Which one of you two slimy jerks thought it would be funny to look up my skirt, huh? Who gets the stuffing beat out of them, huh?"

Neither Isaac nor Garet says a word, instead looking first at one another's frightened expressions and then back at Jenna's clenched fist.

"Or maybe," Jenna continues, moving closer and waving the fist right under their noses, "the question should be 'who gets the stuffing beat out of them *first*', because if neither one of you fesses up in the next three seconds I swear I'll knock *both* of your blocks off!"

Isaac is at a loss. Of course he can't pin the blame on Garet... but like heck he wants to get beat up by Jenna. He remembers that one Incident with Garet and the Great Healer and the squirrels all too well; he's seen Jenna's handiwork and wants absolutely no part of it.

Unfortunately for Isaac, it seems that Garet remembers the Squirrel Incident every bit as well as he does, and is in no mood for an encore. "Isaac did it!" he blurts out, pointing at his best friend with both index fingers. "Isaac did it, Isaac did it, I even told him he couldn't I mean shouldn't but he did it!"

Garet turns, grins apologetically at Isaac, and then vacates the orchard at top speed.

"N— No, Jenna, no," Isaac stammers, stumbling backward and holding his hands up to keep some distance between himself and the irate Jenna. "No, you don't understand! I— it was an— I didn't mean— the *apples*, Jenna, over there, see— no, Jenna! Isaac didn't do it! Isaac didn't do it!"

Then he turns and sprints in the opposite direction when Jenna takes a swing at his head anyway.

At the very least, though, Isaac thinks to himself as he ducks beneath the blast of fire that Jenna flings at him from behind, there is one upside to this mess. He's seen that best-friend–sellout rat practicing his Psynergy before, seen how his face turns red when he tries to push things around, seen how furious his sister gets when he knocks a heavy log right onto her favorite part of the garden. Stupid Garet's really no better at any of this than he is— and, if nothing else, he bets Garet wouldn't have been able to lift up a girl's skirt.


hahaha ouch everything is awkward violence and crappy dialogue this is awesome
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Old 12-01-2012, 02:55 AM
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

Whew! Got it, finally. This is honestly the closest I've ever cut it; even in 2008 when I'm pretty sure at one point I was over 10K behind, I still finished somewhere around the 28th. Never fell quite that far behind in one shot this time, but I did fall like 8K behind two separate times, so... ouch.

But! While nothing is "finished" (and these days I never go into NaNo expecting it to be, so no loss there), I did get 50K more words of writing done than I would have otherwise, so that's always awesome! The novel-fanfic-story finished at about 27400 while the short-story-collection-fanfic-story came in at 22600; not quite my original goal of 50K in just the long story, but after all that struggling I will totally take it! I did at least get a lot of ideas going, and what I did manage to get out also helped me identify some issues I need to fix that I hadn't noticed before (why yes it makes a ton of sense to send a lazy prince and a useless half-elf and an old fragile chancellor out along the border of hostile territory with no extra protection, why do you ask?... and while we're at it it also makes sense for a well-behaved young man to practice his psychic powers by throwing his mother's good china around the house); now that I can slow down I have time to better iron this stuff out and do a bit more worldbuilding and whatnot. Hopefully this time I'll actually be able to make more progress, though, and get around to actually using/editing what I already wrote so I can actually post something for once! D:

I would have kept going a little longer today, but I really had to stop and attend to some other stuff, haha. Sooo gonna go do that in a minute!

I realized, meanwhile, that we didn't do that thing where people posted excerpts of their story! And now I'm disappointed soooo I'mma just leave these here in case anyone wants to torture themselves with how forced and gross it is, haha. If anyone else wants to post anything they've written then it would be cool to see!

weird pokémon fantasy novel thing, here have some bad guys

Whatever the honchkrow's concerns might have been, either no one had told Hjálmarr or he didn't care— he could feel Brynja sagging underneath him, growing more and more tired and by now unable to fight her way out from under him. An uncharacteristically wild laugh tore from his throat as he drew back his fist again, ready to drive it into her head one last time—

— and then his fist connected with empty air as an unseen force ripped him off of Brynja and threw him backwards as easily as the chair from before. The prince hurtled clear across the throne room and crashed soundly into Thormodr's abandoned seat, then fell sideways into the glass case placed carefully by its side—

Everyone gathered in the throne room fell silent the instant the glass shattered and the case's contents smashed right along with it. Charmion's gloating and Delyth's complaining cut off abruptly; Ragnvaldr's eyes went wide in disbelief; Brynja and Hjálmarr froze where they lay on the ground, too stunned to fight against their pain and fatigue and attempt to rise.

Ragnvaldr moved first, the rush of his wings finally breaking the silence as he flapped over to the shattered case. He landed next to Hjálmarr's still form with a clatter of talons and gingerly rooted around in the glass with his beak, carefully shifting the fragments aside until he found what he was looking for, and the others waited with bated breath as he got a good grip on the object and hauled it forward to inspect it.

"You've *ruined* it!" Delyth shrieked as soon as she laid eyes on the badly chipped half sphere in Ragnvaldr's beak. "Wretched savages, barbarians, you've *ruined* Thormodr's God Stone!"

"I haven't ruined a thing, woman," Hjálmarr snarled, finally levering himself up on an elbow and wincing when he accidentally leaned on a shard of glass.

"You smashed the case, idiot," Brynja retorted, getting to her feet at last and leering at her half-brother out of her one good eye. "You knocked everything over and smashed the God Stone on the floor. Stupid clumsy oaf! What kind of king smashes the only god-monster relic he's ever going to get his hands on, hm, the only source of the power that will guarantee him the respect of— "

"I haven't ruined *anything*!" Hjálmarr repeated. "*You* smashed the God Stone when *you* threw me into it! For all of your and Delyth's ranting and calling us clumsy savages, *I* don't recall being the one who was throwing chairs around and swinging people into Father's priceless relics!" He stuck his bleeding wrist into his mouth and sucked at it petulantly.

"Actually..." Ragnvaldr mumbled around a beakful of broken relic.

Delyth rounded on Charmion as though she hadn't heard the honchkrow. "Now I *know* you two aren't trying to pin the blame for this on my daughter," she said, laughing mirthlessly. "It was hardly Brynja's idea to start this ridiculous fighting, and right here in the throne room at that! If you two bloodthirsty *creatures* had been able to [curb] your urge to maim something, we could have settled this in *any other way* that would have left the God Stone in one piece!"

Ragnvaldr dropped the piece of God Stone he held behind Thormodr's throne, and then backwinged away from the case's remains, his eyes growing wider again. "Excuse me!" he squawked, balancing on one talon and pointing at the leftover mess with the other. "Look, look!"

"No matter how we tried to 'settle' things, the outcome would have been the same," Charmion snapped. "Complain as much as you like, Delyth, but your daughter will never have the right to be the queen of [Thormodland] and she never did!"

"I am every bit as much Thormodr's child as he is, and as the oldest I think I have every right to— "

Charmion heaved her wine glass at Brynja's head and only narrowly missed her target. "*I* think that you're nothing but a weasely, filthy whore and her ungrateful bastard brat who had absolutely no business marching into *my* husband's kingdom and bringing all of this nonsense and misery down on me and my son!"

"Enough, enough!" Whatever comment Hjálmarr was about to add to his mother's was cut off as Ragnvaldr flew up and landed squarely on his head. "You'll all stop this childish bickering at once and listen to what I'm saying or I'll just have to vent my frustrations a little more forcefully!" Hjálmarr held very still as the honchkrow raised his tailfeathers meaningfully; Brynja snorted derisively.


(different thing from later)

"Do relax, would you, human?" the young woman said, rolling her eyes as she settled back in her chair. "You're *fine*. Well, mostly fine. Someone or other did a rough patch job on those gashes in your side, anyway— and just those bandages will have to do, by the by, since it's not as though we're going to waste perfectly good healing magic on the likes of you— so you're not likely to bleed out any time soon. Or, at least, not likely as long as you don't undo the bandages with all of that irritating wriggling around."

Didier stopped and sat still, then leaned over to look at his side. Upon closer inspection there did appear to be bandages there after all, soaked a dark-reddish brown with his blood though they were. Hardly the sort of careful medical treatment he would have received back at home in Chiennaud, of course, but then again considering where he was he supposed he should have been thankful that anyone had attended to him at all.

"And besides," the young woman continued, now smiling cheerfully and reaching casually for a wine glass that sat on a tray beside her, "we'd hardly be able to question you if you were all full of holes. Not very productive, is it, trying to get information out of people who are all preoccupied with bleeding all over the place."

The phrase "trying to get information out of people" sent an involuntary shiver up Didier's spine, one that the young woman was quick to pick up on. "Now, now," she said softly, still smiling at him over her glass of wine, "there's no need to get upset. Just because my father happened to detest you humans and my half-brother wants to continue his crusade to kill all of you, that doesn't mean that I'm incapable of having a reasonable discussion with you! You look like an intelligent man, sir; surely you know better than to jump to such hasty conclusions."

The [advisor] nervously returned her smile but did not relax; he knew better than that. If he'd had a genuine reason to trust the woman— princess or queen or something, he supposed, assuming that the father she referred to was the late king of [Thormodland]— then she wouldn't have been addressing him from the other side of a dungeon cell door, and she wouldn't likely have had such reservations about "wasting" perfectly good healing magic on "the likes of him", either.

The woman's smile never faltered. "Well, if you're going to continue to remain skeptical then I suppose that's your decision," she said calmly, shrugging a little. "I don't suppose I can blame you for being a little suspicious, given... well." She waved an arm at their surroundings. "I'm hardly going to pretend that I'm fond of your kind, of course, because I'm not. But that doesn't mean that I can't be courteous, you know. I do have reason to believe that you know things that are of interest to me, human, and I'm going to find out what I want to find out by any means necessary... but I'm not some brutish orc or half-orc, like that oaf Hjálmarr and his tiresome mother. If we can do this the civil way, rather than the hard way, well, that would make things much, much less painful for the both of us, would it not? Think of it a little less like an interrogation and more like a simple conversation, let's say. So! My name is Brynja Thormodsdóttir. I don't believe I ever caught yours...?" She paused, still smiling, and watched him through the bars with a politely inquisitive expression.

His name... would it really hurt anything if he told her that? Or, perhaps, the more pertinent question, how much would it hurt if he didn't? She'd gone as far as to admit that she wasn't his friend, but she'd also put forward the suggestion that, at least for the time being, this didn't have to be too unpleasant. He just had to cooperate and the whole affair would remain relatively painless... but how far did that mean he would have to go?

"You might as well tell me, you know," said Brynja, a slight sing-song lilt to her tone. "As I've said, I'm more than happy to be a courteous host, or at least as courteous as the current situation allows. But if you want to draw this out, you should know that I *will* get precisely what I want, and if that means that things take an unfortunate turn for you, well, then, so be it. So, Mister Human, how do you intend to dictate the flow of this conversation, hm?"

Didier sighed. He did have to give this Brynja some credit; so few dignitaries he'd dealt with were capable of getting to the point so quickly. "My name is Didier," he said softly.

"There!" Brynja said cheerfully, raising her half-empty glass in his direction. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? It's very nice to meet you, Didier. I have to say, given the other imbeciles I'm constantly surrounded by, it's refreshing to deal with someone so cooperative."


golden sun one-shot thing

"Fine, you don't have to believe me if you don't want to," Isaac says with a confident smile. "But I'm telling you, Garet, I can do it. Eyes closed, five seconds flat, all ten of them, just like I said."

Garet yawns and slouches against the bushes behind him, still as unimpressed as ever. "Isaac, the last time you tried to catch ten apples in five seconds you managed to grab all of *three* of them in four seconds and then give yourself a splitting headache in the one second you had left. And since that 'last time' was only a little more than a week ago..." He smirks. "You'll forgive me for being just a tiny bit skeptical of your claim, there, pal."

Isaac does not stop smiling. Garet can say whatever he wants, and it's not going to bother him in the slightest. He's been *practicing*, after all, staying up late and catching all sorts of things in his room and in the rest of the house, and except for that one time when he dropped his mother's good dishes in mid-cast and she chased him out of the kitchen, he's doing pretty well if he does say so himself.

His mother, when she isn't busy cleaning up the messes from his latest impromptu practice sessions, says she doesn't really understand the point of training to become "the fastest catcher this side of Mt. Aleph", and that she doesn't see when on earth that sort of skill might ever be of any use to him. She says that a sensible young man would be better off spending his time learning to be "the most efficient and thorough roof-patching catcher this side of this house so that I don't have to come up there behind you every time you attempt to 'fix' a leak and I don't want rain in the house again, honestly Isaac it's not that hard if you just apply yourself". She says that was more or less why she'd agreed to help him learn Catch in the first place, and then she usually heads off to do chores while muttering to herself about Garet and Kraden putting *ideas* in his head again.

It's not just an *idea*, though, Isaac insists mentally, and he didn't need Garet or Kraden's help to come up with it. If he's honest with himself he doesn't know *exactly* when becoming the fastest catcher this side of Mt. Aleph will be useful, but that doesn't matter because one day it *will*. He knows it. And just that knowledge is reason enough for him.

Garet is absent-mindedly plucking leaves off of the bush he's leaning against at this point; Isaac needs to act quickly, then, or lose his audience and his chance to show off how he totally is not going to give himself a raging headache this time around, no really he's not. "Pay attention," he hisses, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "All ten of those apples, five seconds. You'll see. Ready?"

"If you are," Garet sighs, rolling his eyes but holding up a hand to count off on his fingers anyway. "Ready... steady... go! One!"

Isaac concentrates harder than he ever has before, his mind jumping from one low hanging apple to the next and giving each the hardest mental pull he can muster. One apple snaps free of its tree, then another, the third is a little trickier but comes loose with a bit of extra work, all three of them fly back in the boys' direction one by one—

"Two!"

The fourth apple is stubborn like the third, and he ends up dropping it instead of pulling it back, but he doesn't care because Garet has already said "Three!" and he has to hurry and move on to the fifth. A dull, throbbing pain is starting up somewhere around his temples, but Isaac tries his hardest to push through and ignore it. Come hell or high water he's going to prove Garet wrong this time—

"Four— oh, hey, Jenna!"

Jenna has just strolled into view. She stops where she stands and turns around as if to wave at them, and the sudden appearance catches Isaac's attention just long enough that when he reaches out to grab something with his mind—

"Hey, guys— eeeeeek!"

An [invisible] force misses the sixth apple entirely and instead hoists the hem of Jenna's skirt straight up in the air, then releases it immediately when it realizes what it has inadvertently done, and also just how furious Jenna is going to be about it.

Isaac wonders if maybe later he can claim that it was a case of mistaken identity. After all, at the moment Jenna's snarling face is about as red as any apple he's ever seen.

"All right," Jenna says, her voice dangerously low and menacing. She glares back and forth between Isaac and Garet, one hand holding her skirt in place and the other balled into a fist. "Who did it? Which one of you two slimy jerks thought it would be funny to look up my skirt, huh? Who gets the stuffing beat out of them, huh?"

Neither Isaac nor Garet says a word, instead looking first at one another's frightened expressions and then back at Jenna's clenched fist.

"Or maybe," Jenna continues, moving closer and waving the fist right under their noses, "the question should be 'who gets the stuffing beat out of them *first*', because if neither one of you fesses up in the next three seconds I swear I'll knock *both* of your blocks off!"

Isaac is at a loss. Of course he can't pin the blame on Garet... but like heck he wants to get beat up by Jenna. He remembers that one Incident with Garet and the Great Healer and the squirrels all too well; he's seen Jenna's handiwork and wants absolutely no part of it.

Unfortunately for Isaac, it seems that Garet remembers the Squirrel Incident every bit as well as he does, and is in no mood for an encore. "Isaac did it!" he blurts out, pointing at his best friend with both index fingers. "Isaac did it, Isaac did it, I even told him he couldn't I mean shouldn't but he did it!"

Garet turns, grins apologetically at Isaac, and then vacates the orchard at top speed.

"N— No, Jenna, no," Isaac stammers, stumbling backward and holding his hands up to keep some distance between himself and the irate Jenna. "No, you don't understand! I— it was an— I didn't mean— the *apples*, Jenna, over there, see— no, Jenna! Isaac didn't do it! Isaac didn't do it!"

Then he turns and sprints in the opposite direction when Jenna takes a swing at his head anyway.

At the very least, though, Isaac thinks to himself as he ducks beneath the blast of fire that Jenna flings at him from behind, there is one upside to this mess. He's seen that best-friend–sellout rat practicing his Psynergy before, seen how his face turns red when he tries to push things around, seen how furious his sister gets when he knocks a heavy log right onto her favorite part of the garden. Stupid Garet's really no better at any of this than he is— and, if nothing else, he bets Garet wouldn't have been able to lift up a girl's skirt.


hahaha ouch everything is awkward violence and crappy dialogue this is awesome. also Butterfree you're not allowed to laugh at my bad guys' names okay, I feel like you/someone will laugh and I'm probably being weird about it but :(
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Old 12-01-2012, 06:20 AM
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PlagueMD PlagueMD is offline
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Default Re: NaNoWriMo 2012

I just finished writing 50,000 words of my stupid Digimon fanfiction. No cheap filler tricks, no describing things that didn't need to be described-- 50,000 words of pure work that will be postable after a few once-overs.

I'm going to go sob for joy now.
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