Man. Was busy Sunday and wrote 0 words. Was depressed and tired Monday (because I finished the damn plot and had 10k left to write) and wrote 771 words.
Today I am back on track and wrote 2299 words! How, you may ask, is this possible, since I finished the plot and kind of suck at adding padding after the fact?
I’m writing a story one of the characters in the Real Plot can read at some point. Or something. I’ll work it in if I feel like it. I’ve outlined it and everything. It’s a big dumb fantasy short story, loosely in the style of Fafhrd and the Grey Mauser. Good times. And I’m being wordy as hell, which I somehow find easier in a fantasy setting than in a modern day one. This year’s NaNo has been full of educational tidbits like that.
The Hunter finally shushed her partner. “Svrg, it would be better if we did not attract attention on our way to meet our new employers, yes?”
Svrg looked a trifle fallen, but nodded. “I know, and I am sorry. It is just so wonderful to be back in Ecalpemos again!”
“You may recall why we have been gone for so long?” The Hunter raised an eyebrow.
Svrg did indeed remember. She blushed, her light skin coloring all the way down to her magnificent cleavage.
“So.” The Hunter made a face and said, “our new employers are supposedly meeting us at the Hog’s Head, which is on the other side of town. We’d better get walking.”
No sooner had they gone ten feet than the Hunter’s sharp ears caught the sound of a sword being drawn in an alleyway. She looked sideways and saw that Svrg had heard it as well. They traded miniscule nods, not slowing their pace, and were ready when the source of the sound revealed itself.
“Halt! You are surrounded!” it was a troop of guards, but not from the Overlord. Their clothes matched, but not in any recognizeable livery. That was the sign of mercenaries, whom Svrg and the Hunter despised. Mercenaries tried to pretend they were noble, like soldiers, but they weren’t any better than for hire adventurers like Svrg and the Hunter. If anything, they were worse, since they traded their loyalty for money. Svrg and the Hunter were loyal only to themselves and, on good days, each other. They were craftswomen of adventure — all money bought was their promise to get the task done, one way or another.
The Hunter and Svrg stood back to back, Svrg with her immense greatsword, Ldr, held in both hands and The Hunter with her slim rapier in her right and her long, thin dagger in her left. The guard continued, “what is your business in the city of Ecalpemos?” He was a thoroughly average man, the kind of person who looks familiar to everyone because he looks like no one in particular. Brown hair and eyes, dirty skin, thick stubble just short of being an actual beard. He held a cheap sword out in front of him. The tip was shaking slightly, though given his expression that was more from surpressed anger than from fear.
The Hunter spoke, for it was her task in the partnership to handle all things diplomatic. Svrg was a good fighter but useless when it came to communication beyond what she wanted for dinner or who she wanted to kill at the moment.
“Why should we tell you, precisely?” the Hunter asked. “You are not from the Overlord’s guards, you have no domain here.”