So I've decided to do NaNoWriMo this year, and decided to revive my blog as way to talk about/pump myself up/record my progress/procrastinate.
I failed epically last year. It was pathetic. Got like 3,000 words down, if that. Lame.
The good news is that this year I'm already on 2,611 words on Day Two. Okay, still below the average required of 1,667 a day, but I'm happy enough. Besides, it's only 3:15pm. Plenty of time left to reach that goal.
It helps that I pulled a sickie today. Not something I do often, but I wasn't feelin' work today.
Had no idea what I was going to write about, in fact didn't even realise it was NaNoWriMo until yesterday. Turns out I'm writing a fantasy story, a kind of fantasy kitchen sink, with pretty much every race imaginable (except elves and dwarves, and not much in terms of humans). It's set in a city, with some kind of China Mieville nu-weird vibes, also some underworld stuff going on and probably some Abercrombie dark humour. We'll see how it goes.
Here's a couple of snippets of what I've written so far (these aren't the full chapters):
PROLOGUE - VAMPIRE UNICORN ATTACK
They attacked in swarms, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.
Through the baking deserts in the south and the icy valleys to the north, and all those plains and valleys and lush forests in between. They rode like death, ploughing ever eastwards, expanding their territory, conquering new lands. Cities and kingdoms fell before them. Emperors kneeled or were destroyed. Whole civilisations were wiped out. Fear went before them, yet they left nought but despair.
They were vampires. They rode unicorns. And the unicorns could fly.
The city of Valakknar was the last vestige of mankind. It stood in a valley cushioned between two gigantic mountains, it’s mighty towers reaching to the stars as if trying to compete with their titanic rivals.
There gathered the remaining might of mankind. Heroes and champions from every land rode to the banners of Valakknar’s King. Others followed. Those fleeing the vampires and their dread unicorns rode east to Valakknar’s safe haven. Knights and soldiers, assassins and criminals, nobles and peasants, men and women and children. They flooded the city and there the world of man made it’s last stand.
Vampires are not a race known for their patience. They should have waited, besieged the city. There were too many people. The food would run out, the water too. Disease and famine would be the murderers of the human race.
But the unicorns were restless, so their vampire masters drove them on. They flew over the city’s mighty walls with ease, and came crashing down upon mankind’s final defence. Shields were clattered, swords thrown aside in fear. Horns skewered limbs, fangs devoured necks. Lightning speed and mammoth strength was too powerful for mankind to withstand.
They died, and the vampires drank. They died, and the unicorns frolicked in their remains.
They died. All but one.
And the Gods watched on.
CHAPTER ONE - VALOPYLIS
It was earlier that week that Raktar and his brother had been given this task.
They’d been working for the same gang for a while, a year or more, performing hits for Mauvir, a vampire criminal who controlled the underworld in most of the city’s south. He paid well, and the Dragonkin rewarded his payment with effective results. Mauvir seemed almost fond of them, using their fire and claws more often than the skills of his vampire kin.
The imp was a dealer of arms and magic, and Mauvir had performed many transactions with the demonic little being. But something had happened. Imps were not to be trusted at the best of times. Raktar didn’t know the details, didn’t want to know, but if he had to guess he’d say the imp had some how screwed the vamp out of a drachma or twenty. And Mauvir didn’t take being stolen from very well.
The imp had to die. The payment Mauvir had promised the two brothers upon receipt of his cold, still corpse said that much.
The Dragonkin had created an elaborate ruse to meet the imp in order to procure a vial of poison from a land across the Winter Sea, but as he’d walked into the meeting spot where Raktar waited, the imp had known something was wrong instantly. Raktar didn’t know much about their abilities - some said they had premonition, others mind-reading, and some said they were just incredibly intuitive - yet the little creature had turned and fled without a word, dropping his vial of poison to smash on the cold cobblestones of a dingy backstreet.
But Trekkir was watching from atop a nearby roof, and tracked the imp across the dark suburbs to this monstrosity of a cathedral, where the goblins had worshipped the Lord of Hell.
As Raktar strode through the cathedral he kept catching glimpses of the black little creature. At the end of halls, at the top of a staircase, skidding round a corner. Raktar gave his brother telepathic directions the whole time.
He stepped through another doorway at the end of a hall to find a large, spiralling stairway. He heard the imps frantic footsteps higher up, echoing. He followed, for what seemed like hours, upwards and upwards. Where was this creature leading him? He flashed his brother a quick warning: “Could be a trap.”
“I’m outside.” Raktar reached out with his mind, felt Trekkir scaling the outside of the same tower he was climbing. His brother was further up. “I’ll check out the scene first.”
Minutes later, Raktar heard his brother’s screams in his head.