National Novel Writing Month!

Summary:

Neroke's bastard child

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National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 01 Nov 2009 13:52

A note from the author

I am not a writer by nature. Visual components have interested me more then literary ones, but I have none the less decided to write up this story for National Novel Writers Month. This will be 50,000 words of what will end up being drivel. I will probably not edit it apart from the odd spell check, but plots will come and go like a cheap hooker in Amsterdam.

As to the story itself, I am basing this novel around a fictional tribe of people inhabiting the area around the north east of modern day Quebec, Canada. The tribe is fictional, as I am terrible at research and any attempt at trying to stay true to a culture of one of the many Inuit tribes would just be insulting as I stumble around wikipedia trying to find out how and where people lived.

The geography will be wrong, the characters 2D, the tribes rediculous and the plot very very loose.

So, here I begin, 13:52, november 1st, 2009

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Crazy Aido 01 Nov 2009 16:52

You will hopefully find, as you keep writing, that your own style starts to develop, as I discovered recently.

This will help with description and allow the story to flow better, but for the moment, just write and try to enjoy it, as this often has the most fruitful results.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 04 Nov 2009 12:06

Hrmm. Damn studies preventing me from writing. Four days in and I'm three days behind. Bah.

And what I have is pretty shit anyway.

I may transfer to doing lots of fluff instead.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 04 Nov 2009 15:50

Okay, it has just dawned on me that I am never going to be able to do a 50,000 word novel in a month. It is just beyond me.

As a result, I'm instead going to attempt to do 50 pieces of fluff for Steinstreet, with the hope that at least some of it might be useful in some shape or form.

These will range from descriptions of characters as I picture them, to short stories, to letters to whatever else.

All of this can be changed, used and laughed at by anyone here really. It's just my small contribution.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Crazy Aido 05 Nov 2009 15:49

You do that for me, and it's a promotion for you my lad.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Lazy Neroke (guest) 05 Nov 2009 17:10

I've got three done so far. They're not long, only 100-300 words each, but it's better then nought.

Will post them when I can.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Crazy Aido 05 Nov 2009 19:08

That's all I ask my freind.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 12 Nov 2009 11:12

Right, here's what I got so far. I'm going to post them all here so you can just dissect anything that you think might be decent enough to add to what we already have.

Eriu

Lan stumbled through the forest. He was lost. He knew it. But when lost, the only way to find your way is to press forward. Eventually, he knew, he would find something, someone, somewhere he recognised. His toe stuck a rock and he muttered a curse to himself.
How drunk was he last night, he wondered, to believe that a fairy was calling to him from the forest? It seemed so real as well. “Come” the voice had told him, “come and play.” He cursed again. He stopped to take in his surroundings, then decided that was a bad idea. In every direction a labyrinth of trees blocked his view, limiting it to twenty paces.
Again he pressed on, until he came to a clearing. His breath stopped. Before him stood the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Was she the fairy, who’s siren call lured him here?
She stood in the centre of the clearing, staring at the small river which trickled past her. Her hair was Auburn and flowed down to her waist at the back. A golden circlet held back her hair from her forehead. She wore full armour, on top of which she carried a heavy woolen cloak of dark browns with gold embroidery at the hem.
Her pauldrens seemed to be wooden, covered in cuts and gashes which should have broken through to the shoulder. Her breastplate was a highly polished silver, accentuating her slim physice. Her arms were bare save for two silver bands around her biceps and bracers on her wrists.
She wore a kilt which ran to her feet and parted to the side, revealing the inside of her left leg. Her skin was fair, but all possible muscle on her body had been tightened and strengthened and Lan was convinced she could tear him apart at a whim, without breaking a sweat.
Beside her, two large horses drank from the river. Both as black as night and each an image of the other.
He gasped as he saw the spears beside her, covered in blood, flesh still hanging from the blades. The warrior queen turned to greet him, her smile masking her true intentions.
“Greetings, I am Eriu. Shall we play now?”

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 12 Nov 2009 11:14

Banba

Darkness. Darkness surrounded by darkness. Darkness surrounded by darkness with a dark centre. Any man in this area would be blind, forced to stumble in the darkness like a lost child.
This however did not matter to Banba. Banba hated the outside world. Mortals scurried like ants building their hives to live in. Banba lived in self imposed exile. The cave she called home had perfectly curved walls, as if they were melted like glass in a furnace.
Banba herself was blind. Well, blind in a matter of speaking. If it were possible to see through the darkness of her home all people would see is a six foot tall naked fey with no facial features at all. It was as if someone had taken her head off and replaced it with a perfect sphere.
This was not how it happened, of course. Centuries of magic use and life in exile had made facial features unnecessary and so, they disappeared.
Banba walked to the centre of a spherical room an put a hand on an orb. A dull light filled the room and in her mind, the image of a huntsman appeared.

Time to feed.

Re: National Novel Writing Month!

Neroke 12 Nov 2009 11:15

“Face it,” said Marcus, “it simply cannot be done.”
“You’ll see,” grinned Sabbath, crushing up nettles in a mortar and pestle and adding it to a pile of mixed ingrediants on top of a corpse in the middle of the room.
“This’ll work, and then we’ll be unstoppable!”
Marcus sighed.
“Come on then, your majesty,” he retorted, bored of the same fiasco every damned night.
Sabbath closed his eyes and waved his arms above the body, chanting words louder and louder until he was screaming them at the top of his lungs.
There was silence, then Sabbath opened the corner of his eye.
“Did it – “
“Not even a little.”
Sabbath kicked the corpse, and it rolled onto its side and let out what seemed to be a low moan. Was this it, thought Sabbath. Had I raised the dead? He stood there, transfixed on the body, as unmoving as it was.
Marcus slapped him on the back, and Sabbath jumped.
“Christ almighty! Don’t scare me like that!”
“Hrmm, Christ rose from the dead, maybe he knows how to make this work.”
“You know what, Marcus, you’re right. Maybe he does know! Okay, you go to the church and pray and I’ll go to the pub.”
“Sod that, I’m thirsty.”
“Wait! I’ve got it!” exclaimed Sabbath, glee in his eyes. “All you have to do is move the air around him! And in him probably! But you could move him Marcus!”
“I’m not sure if that would work,” said Marcus, knowing it wouldn’t.
“Just try it you fool!”
Marcus stood and took a deep breath. He moved and manipulated the air around the corpse, condensed it so that it was practically solid, and used that to push the corpse to it’s feet. The air created a cocoon around the body, forcing it to move in whatever way Marcus wished.
The corpse attempted a salute, before both it and Marcus fell to the ground, sweat pouring from his brow.
“I think we should just head to the pub.”

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