Na-No-Wri-Mo Fail

This is how far I got on NaniWriMo. Enjoy.

Winter was never a fun time for many people. Sure, there are those tha claim that they love the snow and the weather, and want nothing more then to roll around in the white fluff for days on end, but the fact of the matter is that it is much easier to bear the coursing heat of summer’s pillar then to withstand the freezing bite of winter’s fury. Let’s face it, the best part about Winter is staying inside and warming up with some cocoa and a good book, or perhaps a video game, if you are into that.

Anyways, this story starts out with a hermit in the middle of the forest during a harsh winter blizzard, power 120. Yes, I am using my absolute control as narrator to become aware of myself. No, don’t look at me like that. I can do what I want. They call me omnipresent. It’s one of those things you don’t question, like expensive wine and cheap beer. Anyways, besides that, I’m not even in this story, so do you think that I can have some form of a role in this grand half-century tale or do you wish to leave the most important person out? Without me, there would be no scripts! Just words and ideas floating around this idiot author’s brain. Yes, I AM stalling. You will see it a WAKE UP lot over the course of this story, if it ever does get finished. Never mind the fact that our bumbling author here has started a mere 11 days late, but he is also slowly running out of ideas over how to effectivly keep the audience of his story distracted while he desperatly thinks of a plot to this half-baked story. People like him exist, it’s called procrastination and it’s the skill he chose to take during his Grade 5 skill proficiency check.

There will be a lot of references to comics and books and TV and video games and just about every type of medai you can think of, just like that, so you may as well get used to it. Anyways, onto our hero. He’s a stocky individual, though I’m not sure if ANYONE really knows what that word is even supposed to describe. I mean really, when you see someone for the first time, the initial adjective isn’t going to be “stocky”, that sounds mildly offensive and unjust. There we go again, another tangent. You shouldn’t be fooled by this, reader. You’re being made to read something you don’t want to read WAKE UP because your famous author wants to elogate this as long as possible. Besides, he’s not afraid to use every stalling mechanism in the book this early. Sure, he may be stupid, again, but he’s one that will want to finish a goal once he started, although good luck with that when you are supposed to be at the 15k word mark around and we’re at what, 200? Excellent. You did a fine job, tossing your little hyperboles (again, I don’t think that means what he think it means) and stalling factors around. Let’s just get down to this. Who is our hero? What is his purpose in life? Are you ever going to answ-

Okay, so now we’re on our way. Our hero is an retired lumberjack, slash hunter. Living by himself in the woods in order to attain peace after going through a harsh Amnesia attack a few years ago, the hero is bearing down on his fireplace, constantly fueling is as his house is brutally atttacked by the unforgiving and strenghtening blizzard. He’s not too old, nearing his early 30’s, and his body is built like that of a German man with purpose. He knows no one and lives with no one. not even a dog. If you were to look up the definition of hermit, this man’s rugged, smoldering front is there as a picture instead, no description, just a portrait. That is how Mary-Sue this guy is. Don’t worry, over the course of this horrible novel he will “find” himself or some other generic cliche, and will grow as an individual, all the while hooking up with the hot heroine who is yet to be mentioned but is probably the princess or some shit, after rescuing her from the clutches of the evil, ugly, and bad evil-doer who will be the antagonist of this story, but will turn out to be merely a puppet for the real antagonist to take ahold of. Jesus. I can smell the game editors already.

As Gerek sets down the wood near the floor of his stone fireplace (yes, that is his name, say hi everyone), he hears a long banging at his secured door, followed by loud cursing and awful words that we are not allowed to repeat here due to family safety concerns. Gerek was alarmed; his cabin was a way’s away from the nearest hamlet and even then, he did not recall telling ANYONE his location, baring the delivery lady, who he had trusted for years now; she had the place set up for him, so it was hard to imagine her giving it away. Equipping his iron axe from the bedside, he slowly approached the door, axe raised.

The knocking continued for a spell, louder this time. Gerek decided to open the door; if it was something that intended to harm him, surely they would not bother knocking? ‘But what if it’s one of those professional types, the ones that string you along for a ride and enjoy their line of work? Damn, that actually sounds kind of fun. Going on cross-country voyages, spending time researching and developing a kill pla-…FOCUS, Gerek! Open the door.’

And with that, he opened the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Might continue it. I had a few ideas floating around for a VuTales-wide RPslashDnD thing, but I ALWAYS have ideas that never come to fruitiness.

~Pir