Goosh's First NaNo

[Goosh]

I'm going to do it. Or at least try. The main reason I didn't do it last year was that I had no idea it existed. ^_^ But it seems like a lot of fun and craziness and possible sugar/caffiene overloads. Which is good. First post will contain excerpts, ideas, rambles, but for now I'm just going to post some different ideas I've had to see what you think.


IDEA 1: Child of Fire

The world of Kyrth is now a frozen wasteland, a scar of the battle between Fire and Ice 2000 years ago. Ice prevailed, but in the last 50 years, the Flame (the league of Fire) has begun to grow and resist the Ice. Their only hope lay in the small form that lies inside a spark in Fehran's forge.

The spark has been enchanted using the unborn life forces of five expecting women. Soon, it will grow unti a girl is born from it. And so the resistance waits and fights.

Kayle has been a normal girl for her fourteen years, despite her five mothers. But when she meets a mysterious aunt Tay Rin and the village is destroyed, she learns she is prophecized to lead the forces of Fire to victory. But as Kayle travels across Kyrth, sh learns more about the 2000 year-old war, and begins to question if Fire is the right side...

Totally new idea: Untitled Thus Far

Aya is the only uninspired muse of the city Framisce, a metropolis of creativity. After a near death experience fails to inspire her, she vows to wander the country until she finds something interesting.

On the mountain of Shadow rests the Castle of Night, home of the dark Baron Von Darcanschpukky, currently on vacation. In his absence his son, Edward von Darcanschpukky, reigns as prince of evil. But his heart's not in it. He just wants to be like his dad, who doesn't see that Edward's sister, Marietta, is far more evil. When Marietta wrests the crown from Edward, the boy is banished from Shadow Mountain. And so a quest begins....

Tess has been run out of her village. New anti-magic laws have been put into affect, and the pitchforks have been forking and the torches have been burning. With only a crystal orb--inheritance from her mother, she has no place to go and no one to go with.


In a small inn, the three meet. Aya decides to help Edward, and Tess decides to travel with Aya. As the three try to restore Edward's reign, they will meet all sorts of strange characters, unravel mysteries, discover each other's secrets and generally try to survive. What with the trolls and all.

EDIT: I'm now for sure doing the above idea, now titled "Of Crowns, Crones and Contemplation" Right now I'm plotting out places and monsters and such, and I'm still confident. What's wrong with me?

[Ginz ❤]

Ooh, sounds really interesting, Goosh! =D

Good luck with NaNo! Hopefully after this you'll join us crazy NaNoers every year! XD

[Goosh]

Ohemgee CHARACTER PROFILES =D

Aya

Aya is a thirty something single muse living happily in the big city
of Framisce, a metropolis of bustling creativity in the forms of artists and writers. Aya is perfectly happy with her liffe until one day, when she wakes up without inspiration. No matter how hard she tries, she can not think of anything to create.

That night, someone tries to kill her. Aya decidies that she must leave the town and wander the country, to find both inspiration and safety.

Aya is very compassion and caring, though she doesn't show it often. She's helpful and kind, but can sometimes be a little vain.

Edward Von Darkkenschpukky

On the Mountain of Shadow, storms swirl and eerie fog creeps along the ground. At the top of the mouontain stands the Castle of General Darkness. Generally the Castle is ruled by the evil Baron Von Darkkenschpukky, who is currently on vacation terrorizing other countries. (NOTE: By "terrorizing" the Baron generally steals things, destroys crops, burns empty buildings. He doesn't want to rule the world, just make it less pleasant.) And while the Baron's away, the kids come out to play....or fight.

For Edward, your average fifteen-year-old evil prince has been left in charge. Edward isn't really that evil, but what other profession can an evil prinice choose with a father like the Baron? Now his sister, Terri, is truly evil. And one day, while Edward is bored ruling the mountain, his sister snatches the Staff of Darkness, rendering her the rightful princess, and current ruler of the throne.

But Terri doesn't stop there. She banishes Edward from the castle, takes control of all the mountain's inhabitants, and sets out to try and dominate the world. And kill Edward.

Edward wanders the surrounding area until he realizes that he must get away from his sister and get a message to his father. And so he begins to walk.
'
Edward is shy, intoverted, and defensive, usually using sarcasm to avoid conversations. Along his travels, he reveals many layers of himself that he didn't know existed.

TESS

Mistwood is your standard charming little old-timey village. And on the edge of the village, neighbouring the Great Wood, sits a charming little cottage, a home to witches.

Tess, a fifteen-year-old witch lives with her mother on the edge of the Great Wood. She is learning the ways of witches, helping the people of the village, and living a happy, quiet life. Until one day...

The government of Mistwood (a.k.a. the perpetually drunk mayor >.>) has decided to outlaw magic from the city, and the less-than-bright citizens are all to quick to agree. Which is why at midnight, Tess and her mother are being chased through the mists of the Great Wood.

Tess's mother knows there is not much time left. She she gives her daughter an artifact--a shining crystal orb. And with the word, "run", the only family Tess has dissappears.

But is she dead? Captured? In hiding? Tess doesn't know, and the stupid crystal ball doesn't have answers. But as she makes her way through the forest and away from Mistwood, she learns that the orb contains magic--a fragment of her mother's magic, in fact.

And after she manages to escape the hellish woods, she finds herself at a crowded inn, sharing a table with two strangers: A muse and a boy who claims he is a "dark prince." Well, it's better than nothing...

Tess is very hard-working, loyal, and caring. She is intelligent, and somewhat friendly, though she has trouble getting to know people.

[♥ Xivvy]

YOU ARE AMAZING! What was that name ... Darcanschpukky? :3 That's incredable.

Hey, the story sounds like its going to be fun! Great plot. Hope you get it finished! GOOD LUCK! ^^

[Goosh]

Okays, now it's time for random notes, which will give you shiny spoilers of mayhem to come. =D

TEH GOBLIN SEA CAVES SPA AND CHEESE OUTLET Along the western coast of Landa lies a rather large bay. The walls of these sea cliffs have been hollowed and renovated into a relaxing goblin spa. Too bad most of the customers are here against their will. But how bad can a prison/spa be? Not to mention the deep dark secrets of the cheese outlet.... >3

Chronia

Oooh, mysterious. A town in Landa, deluged in time radiation from the Well of Time. Which means if you don't have an anti-radiaition bracelet, you'll be knocked into next Wednesday...or maybe next year...or maybe a millenuim ago. What will this strange place do with the plot? Almost nothing! It's mainly filler!

NINBOSTRATUS All that can be reported of this enigmatoc personnage is that there seems to be rings of clouds at her wrists and ankles. Is this merely a fashion statement?

GIANT PINK RABBITS.'Nuff said.

[Belle]

Wow. I love all these so far. Can't wait to track your progress. Go, Goosh.

[Goosh]

WARNING: This post contains spoilers for the entire novel.

I've gotten some really good ideas for twists and foreshadows and stuff and I want to write it all down here. So no peeking. >.>

SPOILER: Click to show

Aya wakes up one day without inspiration. After nearly getting run over, she decides to wander country looking for inspiration. Edward is dethroned by his sister, who was attempting to rule the country, kill Edward, and find her mother at the same time. Tess and her mom, Fenna, are run ouot of Mistwood. Fenna gives Tess crystal ball before transfering herself into it. Ergo, foreshadowing with crystal ball randomly not working, animals looking like Tess's mom, etc. While in Chronia, radioactive time waste hits her in the back of the head and pools in her pocket, forming a bkack hole. The three meet, and decide to contact Ed's father through the winged men of the City of Fortune. The three get caught up in a gang war with past/future seers. >D They steal a ship and are forced to sail south along the west coast. They are taken in by goblinis at the GSCSACO, where they stay for a while (possible subplot). They eventually escape and sail to mountain (find Latin word for rabbit and make a reference >.>) where the Giant Pink Evil Sentient Rabbits force them toi mine for carrots. Eventually they befriend a rabbit and escape to the nearest coast, making their way to Swabbish and Kyradon, where they become P.O.W's in a camp (not sure which side) They escape (these guys are good at escaping >.>) and make their way through the smoky plains (possible dragon battle). They fight trolls in Trollwood, head up through Greatwood, and make it to mountains/hotel/beach, fiinding Ed's pa. All are captured by Terri and forced into the dungeon. Terri smashes orb, revealing Fenna. BIG BATTLE ENSUES. I'm not sure how it ends. >.>

[Goosh]

Finished the first chapter! =D I totally filled my word goal yesterday and I'm working on today's right now.

SPOILER: Click to show

The city of Framisce was situated on the southwestern coast of Landa, if situated was the right word. Roughly half of the city stood on an island that was more or less on the coastline, if you want to get technical, while the other half was cut off by a large, imposing river. Due to lack of creativity on the part of Framisce's discoverers, the river was named The River, because we all know that f something is in caps, that Something will be specifically recognizable from everything else.

Framisce was quite an interesting city--this was mainly due to the inspirational value of its River. It drew the more creative members of society into one place, which was much of a relief to the rest of society, who were starting to get a bit annoyed. Because of this high-concentration populous of artists and writers of all mediums, the town took on a somewhat rambling, bizarre appearance. Aya herself--and we'll get to her later--live in a large, imposing, Ancient Greece-inspired manor, with pillars and vases and the like, next to a large brick Tudor.

As stated, the reason for all this--for lack of a better word--creativity oozing through the streets was The River. No one knew how, or when, or why or who or any other of the five W's and an H, The River became what it did. But The River that flowed through Framisce was one of inspiration.
Visually, it was somewhat nauseating: a sludgy, multicoloured goop that wound its way in a lazy arc through the city. Black was predominant--lines of text always are--but the colours of indescribable ideas were vivid and bright, and awful to look at. No one in history has ever wanted to see a bold magenta idea drowning a delicate turquoise one. But the citizens of Framisce weren't picky, and they took what they could. Little old ladies sat dutifully at the water's edge at strange contraptions that looked like combinations of spinning wheels and fishing rods. The women would cast out a line, reel in an idea, and wrap it up in a spool to sell at the market every Sunday. Needless to say, little old ladies are the most competitive species in the world, as evidenced one day when Bella Redwood shoved Violet Aswich into the water for stealing an idea that Bella had already hooked. At least Violet was lucky enough for Bella to have forgotten her handbag that day, or the octogenarian might have been dealing with a concussion. But this story is not about Bella or Violet, but a cast of other...diverse...characters, one of whom lived in Framisce. Her name was Aya, and she was a muse.

Muses somewhat straddle the fine line between human and myth in several ways. They are physically alive, and have to eat to live and all that jazz, but what is rather disconcerting is that they don't sleep. They can if they want, but they just don't have to. It's somewhat creepy waking up and seeing a muse simply staring at you all night. Muses have magic, but unlike humans, they don't have to strive for it. It's just there. This often means that they can't control it, but it's a small price to pay for not having to go through tiresome rituals with shiny things. Muses are inspirational beings, flowing with ideas, but it is only myth that they are obligated to share those ideas with humans. That is totally voluntary. It's simply muse nature to give ideas to people who need them, but some muses--like our soon-to-be introduced friend, Aya--consider it to be work, which, like death or bills, should be avoided if possible. But most of Framisce's citizens didn't need muses--they had The River, or, in a rare case of forced creativity, their own thoughts.

Aya the muse did not work. She had quite a large inheritance collected from generations of her family, enough o keep her happy for several centuries. Not that Aya was spoiled; it just seemed rather silly to work with all that money lying around. So she had bought herself the house and had lived off her inheritance ever since.

One evening, nearing the end of summer, Aya stood on the balcony of her house, the one that jutted majestically toward the sea. She leaned against the railing casually, fingers gently holding the stem of a delicate wineglass. She brushed the one curl of her that always escaped her bun away, and admired Framisce's view.

The sun perched precariously on the horizon, and the effect was beautiful. The deep blue of the sky had run into the sea, leaving it cast in a swirls of pinks and oranges and purples. Light gently skimmed the waves as they gently coasted nearer to the shore. The mountain that angrily breached the water was outlined in light.

Aya often wondered about the mountain. It was so lonely, so forlorn. No one had ever been there, as far as she knew: the tides between it and Framisce were in the wrong direction, and far too strong. But the rocky giant was still beautiful to look at, and perhaps its mystery would be solved one day.

She finished her wine and left it in the sink as she made her way past the kitchen towards the bedroom. Aya felt rather sleepy tonight, which is odd for a creature who doesn't ever have to sleep, and decided to turn in early, pausing to examine herself in the mirror. Before her stood a tall, late-twenties-early-thirties-ish woman in a plain white robe. She had striking green eyes, a friendly smile, and that one lock of hair that she was frustrated by and secretly approved of. She changed into her nightclothes (in reality the same outfit but in a different colour) and relaxed, letting herself go limp on her bed as she began to drift in and out of consciousness. It was a bit more difficult for muses to fall asleep, as opposed to humans. An idea--maybe for a story or poem or sculpture, she couldn't quite tell--began to form in her mind, words and pictures merging seamlessly before drifting apart. Aya grinned, and fell asleep.

That night, when the house was silent, a figure carefully scaled the wall of Aya's home and nimbly vaulted over the railing of a balcony. The silhouette moved lithely, and was so obscured in shadow that calling it a silhouette wasn't just artistic embellishment. The shadow gently opened the sliding glass door, being careful to close it without a sound. Grateful for the quieting plush of padded rugs, the intruder carefully made his or her to Aya's bedroom, where the muse slept, content.

The figure pulled on the drawer of the small nightstand next to the sleeping woman's bed, wincing upon the slight scraping sound of wood against wood. Inside was jewelery. The figure was sorely tempted to take a pearl necklace or two, but that would mean sacrificing payment for this job. Of course, that didn't stop a small golden ring from coincidentally finding its way into the figure's pocket.

There, on the nightstand! A small framed picture of the sleeping muse and her parents. The figure leaned across the bed, being careful not too disturb Aya in the least, and snatched the picture, fame and all. The burglar vaulted out of the window into the backyard, and quietly made her way onto the road.

Normally this would be an exemplary burglary, stealthy and mysterious. But in front of Aya's house, the muse's neighbour and a landlady were having a fight. One of them was drunk, that much was obvious from the scent of cheap alcohol, but it was hard to tell which.

“Now look here,” said the neighbour, dressed in a pink robe that was altogether too small, “You had to gone and drag 'im or 'is, or whoever that is, into it.” The neighbour gesticulated wildly to the burglar, who awkwardly nodded at the landlady.

And then the figure ran off into the night, already memorizing the face of the woman she was hired to kill.

The sun made an effort to brighten up Framisce. It was difficult, and the sun technically couldn't shine on anything through the layers of graffiti. It sort of banished the drakness, though, or at least swept it into corners where it was less likely to be noticed.

The golden light worked its way towards Aya's house—flittinig through alleys and over buildinigs, as if it had a purpose set in mind. It took the opportunity to shine on Aya's spotless house—kept that way with a combination of threats to vandals and a chainsaw that was mainly for show—and through the window, to gently nudge Aya into the land of the living.

It took a few tries, needless to say. Muses are very determined to hold onto every last drop of comfort they can, and even a harsh glare stabbing at her eyelids would only make Aya stir slightly. The sun, now a bit p.o.'ed, allowed its rays to heat up the room unbearably until the paint on the wall bubbled.

Aya reluctantly woke up, stumbled across the room to shut the window and draw the curtains, and sat on her bed, head in her hands. Not that she was sad or anything. Some people just aren't morning people. Truth be told, the thought of imminent caffeine kept her from ripping the head off the next person she saw. Aya supposed the whole sleeping experience was amplified if you were a muse.

Aya walked into the kitchen, now in a fresh robe. Then, with a gasp, the muse stopped in mid-step, which of course led to her falling onto a conviently placed couch. She furrowed her brow, and thought and thoguht in an intense concentration that looked far too much like gas to be taken seriously. Something was wrong.

There was nothing there. Nothing in her mind. Oh, sure, there was the regular stuff: name, face, all the regular details of her life. Knowledge of the world around her, likes and dislikes, her hated of the colour teal. But in the spot where ideas were bubbling was empty. She had no thoughts of sculptures or paintings or sonnets.

Aya had lost her inspiration.

` This happened. Maybe not frequently, but it did, to everyone sooner or later. It just never had happened to Aya. Normally inspiration would return in a few days, never over a week, but normally you're not a muse freaking out because you've lost the very essence of your being for the first time. Aya was convinced that this was somehow going to drain her life. She was dead wrong, but belief is a very powerful force, and sometimes more powerful than fact.

Today was a Sunday, a market day, and the alleyways and passages of the markets—situated on both sides of The River—were packed and ringinig with a mesh of voices. Aya grabbed her purse and tore outside, allowing the calls of street vendors to guide her. Framisce was a random jumble of buildings leaning againist each other and tiny walkways that snaked around balconies and over pools. But soon she could smell The River: a stale mix of caffeine and sweat. Aya ducked under a clothesine and into the market.

At the edge of the water, which was a stone walkway in someplaces and a muddy bank in others, the idea-catchers were mainly abandoned. Poor quality tents, constantly on the verge of collapsing, fought for attention with bright colours and huge signs, which were far too overwhelming for the packed street. Some tents even stood upon other tents, haphazardly nailed to walls. Fruit was flying everywhere as vendors shouted their wares to anyone who would listen. And, in smaller tents with big wooden racks, the little old ladies conducted business.

Aya ran over to the nearest one, a shrunken woman with a lacy black dress and an apple-cheeked smile. The muse was not fooled. Sure, they were all withered smiles and tea and crumpets when they were in a good mood, but she had seen little old ladies angry, and it was not a pretty sight.

“Give me the best idea you've got!” Aya panted, angrily opeing her purse and spilling gold coins onto the table. Lightning quick, bony fingers snatched the gold off the table. The old lady grabbed a spool with a long an winding idea on it. She handed it to Aya, who slung it on her arm and allowed the rich text to creep up towards her head. There was a faint hum as the idea magically vanished into the depths of Aya's brain.

Where it died. The idea lay, cold in her brain, not giving her any direction, any inspiration. Aya backed away from the old lady's stall, frantically egging her mind on. Nothing would come. The muse turned, slipped, and plunged into the river.

The water was thick and lukewarm, and she struggled to make her way to the surface. She scrabbled against the stone wall of the bank, grasping purchase and dragging herself upwards. Her head broke the chruning surface of the water, and she gulped for air desperately. Her knees had sunk into the mud of bad ideas in the riverbed, so she worked to push herself up until she was standing stable in the waist-high water. Struck by an idea, which was a miracle in itself, Aya waded into the middle of The River. She allowed the flow of ideas to wash over her, to spark her imagination. Nothing again.

With a sigh she plodded back as the water began to paint goosebumps along her skin. She heaved herself out of the water, making her way back towards her home. Her robe dripped the smelly gray water, and her sandals squished with each step.

She was almost home when an attempt on her life was made. She had only a few more turns to take, and she didn't notice the cart that was following her every move. The muse turned onto a little alley, no more than a crack between two houses. It was long, narrow, and fatally straight.

She felt, rather than heard, the cart behind her. Her mind sacrificed logic for instinct and Aya began to sprint. The cart followed her, its wheels--fueled by magic--picking up speed as she did. Aya ran for her life. The end was almost in sight. She turned the corner just as the cart caught up with her. It leaned hard left in a valiant effort to turn, but it with a mighty groan it tipped and smashed against a wall, sending a most familiar figure flying.

Aya didn't bother to see who it was.

All in all, a pretty bad day. Total loss of inspiration, and a murder attempt. She needed to get out of the city, for both facets of her health—physical and mental. She didn't bother to pack much. She put some changes of clothes in a tote and left the city by the light of the setting sun. It looked far too much like blood.

[Goosh]

=D A bump -and- a new chapter for you. For all you fangirls that love the miisunderestood angst of Edward Von Darkkenschpukky.

SPOILER: Click to show

About a week's travel north a Framisce stood a mountain, tall and composed of an ore so black that it was simply known as dark. Of course, when the very rock has a cliche and melodramatic name, it's a given that the same goes for the mountain itself and anything pertaining to it. Thus the mountain was named Mount Shadow, and the mighty fortress on it the Castle of General Darkness.

It was a pretty fancy place, all pointy turrets and high lonely towers that pierced the perpetual storm that hung above the castle. Of course the storm was there on purpose, the castle's inhabitants sacrificing radio reception for atmosphere. The owner of the castle had hired a young mage, name of Nimbostratus, to keep the storm going continually.

The owner of the Castle of General Darkness was one Baron Von Darkkenschpukky. The Baron came from a long line of evildoers, and the Baron was no different, though his evil was rather less effective. You see, the Baron didn't really believe in murder, or actually harming anybody. He, like any sensible person, thought it was wrong except under certain circumstances. Currently the Baron was away terrorizing other continents. Burning empty houses, stealing livestock and hiding them, pressing fingerprints into pies coolinig on windowsills, that sort of thing. So the Castle was only ruled by his two children.


The Baron's son, Edward Von Darkkenschpukky, was officially in charge, as his father still clung to a bit of chauvinism due to a lack of father figure in the Castle. Because of this, Edward currently possessed the Staff of Darkness, an ancient artifact of evil magic that allowed the Baron Von Darkkenschpukky to remain a figurehead of menace in the general area, which consisted of a sheep pasture and a village with a population of less than a hundred.

Under Edward's rule, nothing much was different, except for the fact that Edward's sister hated him even more. For while Edward wasn't even interested in pursuing an evil career (a fact which would mortify his father if he knew), his sister Terri—probably short for Terrible—was a true person of evil, not above kicking puppies. The Baron didn't seem to recgnize this conflict amongst his children, which pretty much sums up his character in a nutshell.

So, one day, Edward was sitting his obligatory hour a day on the throne, and Terri was in an especially foul mood. So far she had maimed three servants, concussed one, and one who was particularly annoying had been castrated. He was now lying in the pantry, moaning and clutching his knees to his chest.

Edward, for the umpteenth time, was staring at the throne room. It was a rather boring place to rule from. He had examined every inch of the ornately carved throne, as well as the Staff of Darkness. The walls, floor, and ceiling were grey stone, and the only way out was a doorway that led to sweeping steps which wound their way dwn to the front room.

Edward figured that if he didn't quell his raging boredom (if such an adjective could be applied to such an emotion), he would waste away. He lifted the Staff of Darkness, a slim cylinder of violet-painted wood, topped with a decorative purple flame cast in metal. Raising the staff above his head, he grunted with effort, and managed to produce a small spark that immediately fizzled out. So much for dark magic.

It was at this point Terri stormed up into thte throne room, practically spitting with rage. She stood in front of her brother in an oversized Gothic gown, and she eyed him as though he was worth less than an iota of thought.

“Hey, sis,” Edward said brightly, lowering the staff. His sister continued to stare at him stonily.

“What's up?” There was still no response from his sister. Edward smiled nervously and lowered the staff. He noticed Terri's attire. “What's with the dress?”

Again his sister remained still. It was rather unnerving. Edward, in a spectular display of stupidity, decided to make a joke. “Playing dressup?”

That was all Terri needed. As long as she had an excuse, she felt justified for totally going berserk on her brother, possibly breaking a bone if she was lucky. She advanced towards Edward, who cringed and held the staff up. He focused, but of course was only able to produce the smallest spark. Terri clenched her fist and managed to produce a cascade of black sparks of her own power. Quickly, she snatched the staff from his hands.

Edward jumped up from the throne and backed away to the other half of the room. “Terri!” he barked. She clenched the staff and forced a wave of sparks that clattered to the floor and slithered away. Edward jumped out of the way of a big one that ended up scorching the wall.

“Playing dressup?” Terri hissed, and a stream of sparks shot out of the tip of the metal flame and burned black dotd onto the wall. Edward, who now had a rational fear of fireworks, turned and ran down the stairs leading to the front hall. His sister followed, sending arcs of black lightning at him, gown swishing arund her ankles.

“Terri, give me the staff!” Edward roared as he reached the front door. “Dad left me in charge!” He played his trump card then. “I'll tell on you!”

“No!” she shreiked horribly. “I have the staff; I claim the postition of rightful heir. In fact, rightful queen! I don't care for father dear.” She conjured a black circlet for her head. “Leave, now! Know that if I see either of you again, I will annihilate you!”

Edward opened his mouth to speak again, but Terri was already conjuring up dark magic again. He opened the front door and tore outside.

It was cold out, on top of the mountain, but luckily the perpetual storm wasn't raining much on this section of the spire. A sweeping path led gently down Mount Shadow until it reached a large, boxy guuard station. Edward mentally counted to ten, and tried the front door. Locked.

Well this was absolutely perfect. His sister was serious aboout banishing and murdering him, and Edward's main goal in life was to stay alive as long as possible. He knew she would eventually come looking for him, but he had nowhere to go. So he jogged down the path, mentally searching options and trying not to stumble on the rough, uneven surface. The guard station came int focus through the haze of the storm. On the roof he could see Nimbostratus sitting bored, adding random bolts of lightning to the frenetic dance above for fun. When she saw him, she dropped down about twenty feet to block his way, and he assumed only magiic prevented shattered legs.

Nimbostratus was the youngest servant, though older than Edward by three or four years. She had grey hair pulled back into a ponytail, fierce eyes that seemed to reject colour, and swooshy pants that made her looko like a genie. She crossed her arms, and as the cloud rings that circled her wrists expelled sparks, reminding Edward of his new fear of combustiveness.

“Edward.” Her tone was neutral, but her stance was rather aggressive. Then again, she wasn't the nicest of teenage girls. Edward breifly wondered if Terri had been giving her lessons.

“Hi.” The teen tried to duck past her, but she sidestepped, and he came up short.

“Edward, you must leave now. You're nice, and I won't kill you right now. Terri's orders. I'll say you escaped, but if I see you again, I'll have to follow the queen's whims, however malicious.”

“But she's not the queen! I'm in charge here, and Dad will be back soon.” The boy frantically ran through the arc of stone towards the gate. Nimibostratus kept up pace easily.

“You have to look at it from my point of view. She has the power to kill me now, and I can't disobey her. No offense, but I value my skin over yours.” She turned, unlocked the gate, and backed over to the side of the road, her eyes on the figure that had just emerged from the front door. “Give me a push and run, Edward. Just pray that we don't meet again.” There was almost a sad look in her eyes as he gave her a mighty shove and bolted out the gate, leaving shadowy mineral for smooth grass. The only place in the vicinity was a small vllage southeast. Seeing the running figure getting closer to the gate, he powered intoo a sprint and began to race across empty field to where a few houses stood.

He reached a house that stood on the outskirts of the village, if the word outskirts could be appliied to only a few dozen houses. He flopped onto the grass, panting, and then turned over, remembering Terri chasinig him down the road. The field was empty, and he couldn't make out anything near the castle on the mountain. He relaxed again into the tall grass.

After he regained his wind, Edward decided to ask the inhabitants of the house if he could stay. If the people didn't know who he was, he could liie to them, and if they did, he could initimidate them. It wasn't the nicest of plans, but it was effeicient.

The house was more or less a nice little cottage that was going downhill. The soft white paint was peeling, and one of the bright red shutters was hanging crooked. Toys littered the front yard, and sagging steps led to a door with a broken window. Nervously, he knocked.

The door was immediately wrenched open by a hulking woman in a flour-dusted apron. She had long grey hair stuffed hurredly into a hairnet, and she wore a blue dress that was too small. In one hand she carried a small baby swaddled in cloth, and her voice was raspy and unpleasant. “Whaddaya want?” she coughed?

“Um, hi, miss. My name--” The door was slammed in his face, missing his nose by a fraction. At the next house, a better looking cabin which was opened by a friendlier-looking woman, he cut straight to the point.

“I need to--” Slam!

The third house was big and neat, but Edward didn't trust the villagers. He stuck his foot in the doorframe and smiled cautiously.

“Would you be so grateful as to--”Sla--crunch.

Edward limped angrily into the meadow beyond the village. Everyone had refused hiim help for his safety and now his foot, which was throbbing an angry red. He set his cloak down on the ground, kicked off his shoe, and sat down, thinking.

He had nowhere to go, but he needed to go somewhere. Terri was after him, and any doubts of her not meaning what she said had left him. He had no option but to contact his father, Baron Von Darkkenschpukky. Escept he didn't know how, and those villagers sure weren't going to tell him.

He decided that tomorrow he would walk. He was halfway through a mental list of what he needed before he was laying down, then resting his eyes, then dozing, then asleep. His cloak kept him warm enough, but his foot still hurt. And then it started to rain lightly.

But, even though he didn't know it, in the shape of a large tree with a fanning wall of protective leaves that kept him dry, luck came to Edward.

[Goosh]

Chapter three is finished. Hooray for Tess the witch! The fourth chapter will be going to Aya again, then Ed, then Tess, but after that all three of them will have met.

EDIT: Forgot to actually post the chapter. >.>

SPOILER: Click to show

Between Mount Shadow and the tiny town of Mistwood lies the Great Wood. It is generally large and dangerous, full of carnivorous things that love the taste of innocent traveler. It iis unadvised to cross these woods under any circumstances, but Edward did not have to. Well, not yet.

The village of Mistwood had about three times the population of the unnamed village where Edward slept in a meadow, which meant it was large enough to actually find itself on a map. It had all your basic features of the faiytale village: the jolly baker; the strong forger whose hammer fells rang every hour; the wives and the children; and the mayor. This village also had something else.

This village had witches.

Not that it was a bad thing. These witches, mother Ferre and daughter Tess, were kind and polite and pretty, model citizens. But, as is generally the sad truth for different people, they weren't quite included into the community. They weren't present at town meetings, they only bought things from the store when they had to, and n one would be caught dead inviting them to a party. Still, these witches lived a happy life, and this quiet scorn did nothing to discourage Tess, who loved learninng her mother's antiquated knowledge of magic and nature. Today, she sat in the kitchen with her mother, a bowl of clear water on the table. Ferre was teaching her daughtry to scry.

“You really don't need a notebook, you know,” Ferre muttered as she gently strred the water in her bowl. “I've taught you that magic comes from the spirit.”

Tess nodded. “I know that. But wouldn't it make things easier if future witches didn't have to struggle to diiscover things, like if an elder passed away early? Witches couold benefit greatly from a...history. An archive of magic.”

“I see your point, Tess. You can make notes later, after we've done this. Scrying is a very traditional magic. It allows you to loook upon other people. It has a great many uses, but there are limitations. You can only scry someone you have seen before. You can only scry in reflective surfaces, and only once very hour. Still, it is a powerful tool.” Ferre regarded the water in her bowl.

“Who should I scry on, Mom?” Tess asked. She slid the notebook aside and focused on the water: so clear, it was almost as if the bowl was empty. It would be a gateway, a mirror to any person she chose. Tess could feel the buildup of power in mind, the one that told her her magic was in tune.

“I don't know. Whoever you want. Pick someone from the village.” Ferre and Tess were both staring at their bowls intently. “Now, focus on that person.See nothing but them: their speech, their mannerisms, their clothes. Fcus on your subject.” \

Tess picked the mayor of Mistwood, a jolly old man who didn't seem to care much about the way thinigs went on in the village. It was well-known that he fancied spending every night at Gerrin's tavern, and that he was somewhat of an angry drunk. Tess hoped she would catch him on a good day.

She focused on his pudgy face, fancy suit with brass buttons everywhere, the way his long moustache would quiver. A drop of colur formed in the water, causing Tess to almost lose concentration. But she focused again, and the drooplet flew around the bowl, paiinting a scene for her in spectular colour and clarity. Ferre was focused over her own bowl.

The mayor sat in his office in he dark. The curtain had been drawn clumsily, and a small brown bottle stood at the edge of the mayor's desk. The mayor himself had unfocused, blearly eyes. His suit wasn't buttoned properly and he seemed to be talking to someone outside the picture.

“darn witches,” the unidentified voice said.

“Yeah...they...they're no good. Up in tha' cottage, doin' who knows what...settin' demons or summin' on the town...s'not good.”

“Run them out, sir! For the sake of the people!” A bottle of ink and a paper were discreetly pushed into the mayor's view.

“Good idea, Rupp...Rick...it's a good idea.” The mayor clumsiily grabbed a quill, dipped it into the ink, and began to scrawl on the paper. “darn...witches, idiots...they don't deserve to live here.”

The stranger's voice oozed agreement as a strong hand grabbed the paper. “Wonderful decision, Mayor. We'll get them soon, don't you worry.” And with that ominous note, Tess's concentration shattered. The colours ran until she was looking at a bowl of water again. She could see her pale reflection, as could her mother.

“Oh, my,” Ferre said. “That seems to have taken much out of you. Go take a nap, now, Tess. I'll call you for dinner.”

Tess stumbled up the stairs and collapsed on the bed in furious thought. The mayor wouldn't actually run them out, would he? He had just been drunk. At four in the afternoon. Nevertheless, he would surely recall his decision when he was sober. He had to. He knew that Tess and her mother were powerful, and he knew they wouldn't go down without a fight. Tess resolved not to tell her mother; it would only worry her. Self reassured, the young witch slept.

The next day was quiet. Tess helped her mother around the house until the suun slipped behind the greenery of Great Wood. The mist of the forest, where Mistwood had gotten its rather obvious name, crept out of the woods and embraced the cottage. Ferre retired early, and Tess sat on the steps, knitting, watching the village with growing apprehension. A group of people had met in the town square, and she could see the pinpricks of torches, held high. But surely they were just having a meeting, or a bonfire.

The figures started to move towards the cottage. If they marched, she had ten minutes. Tess ran inisde and sprinted up the steps silently, burstinig inito her mother's room, where she was already packing up artifacts and spellbooks.

“Tess!” the girl's mother commanded. 'Fetch the brown sacks from the pantry. Tess did so, finding that they were full of vegetables and meat. They quickly packed all of their supplies into several bags, sat them by the front door, and watched as the townspeople approached. One man, whose voice Tess recognized from her scry, spoke.

“The mayor has signed a decree, outlawing all magic in the town of Mistwood.” He spoke sternly, officially. “Leave now, andn we will not be forced to harm you.”

"And tell me, Halen,” Ferre spat at the man, “why the mayor has signed this decree. Surely he knows no one tells witches to leave.” She angrily raised a hand from which magical blue sparks flew.

“He knows that witches are evil; everyone here knows that. You consort with demons and torture the dead.” He spat on the ground. “We will burn your house, and you, if you don't leave now.”

Ferre looked at her. “Would you like to leave, Tess?” This question was sincere. Ferre was asking whether or not she wanted to put up a fight. In response, Tess closed her eyes in mystic conocentration. A wave of mist rushed forward, extinguishing the torches. The young witch smiled, and winked at her mother. Emerald green sparks danced on her fingertips as the villagers attacked.

Ferre sent forth figures of blue light that tackled the villagers; some tendrils of the mob fled, but most stayed to fight. Holy water, of course, did nothing, but a shovel to the head took out one of the blue things for a while. Tess wasn't as strong, but could conjure waves of invisible force to send the townsfolk sprawling.

They took out almost half the mob, but thirty or so still remained, and the two witches were forced to run. Grabbing a pack of supplies each, they darted into the foggy wood, townspeople with relit torches following.

As soon as they hit the forest, it was like they had wandered into another world. It was so quiet; the mysterious mist seemed too suck all foreign sound from the place. The only sound was the crunch of pine needles underfoot and the slight panting for breath, and the clumsy movemets of the villagers far behind them. The fog coated everything, thick and unrelenting, and Tess could barely keep track of her mother. She didn't k now where she was going; she could have been running in circles.

They stopped in a clearing barely big enough for three people. They dared not to breathe, as they could hear the villagers muttering; they had to be close, as their flickering torches cast beacons of light in the mist.

“We've got to keep running, Mom,” Tess whispered.

Ferre shook her head sadly. “No, Tess. You keep running. I'll distract them. Just run.”

“But--”

“Run!” Ferre hissed. She grasped her daughters hand and slipped something into it. Ferre ran loudly through the trees until sehe was far away from Tess, and then set off an explosion f biig orange light. The villagers didn't seem to realize the obvious nature of this diversion and ran towards it.

Tess ran. She ran, not caring hoow loud she was or in what direction she was headed. She was numb inside, barely feeling the tears that trailed down her face. Her mother was gone. In hiding. Maybe captured. Maybe dead. Tess ran, as if by running through the night she could distance herself from the pain, but iit caught up with her whenever she stopped for air, a horrible clawing in her chest. And yet, while she was running, she felt strangely numb, like the pain was too much for her to comprehend so she had to just ignore it.

She stopped in the middle of the trees for no reason, and the sun was just rising. She was far too tired. She had veered southwest through the Great Wood, coming to a spot near the southern edge. She opened her hand, which was still clenched tight, to see what her mother had given her.

It was a crystal orb, about the size of an apple and perfectly spherical. She touched it, and it seemed to glow magically. She would have examined it more thouroughly, but she fell asleep, as the same time Aya and Edward woke up, which was most curious.

[Deleted]

Wow, congrats at the progress, Goosh!

[Goosh]

=D Thanks. I've reached 6668, so whatever I add on today will be extra. ^_^ *goes to update profile*

[Goosh]

D: I'm behind as of now, but I finished this chapter, anyway.

SPOILER: Click to show

Aya dragged herself out of bed. She had decided to head north, with no particular destination in mind, which she hoped would confuse the assassin. She was staying at a little bed and breakfast by the side of the road, owned by an old retired couple. The place was nice and quaint, but she was ready to go.

She showered, changed and helped herself to some of ther breakfast Mrs. Tinn was making downstairs. She had never heard of waffles before, or syrup, and found them both delicious. Lookinig at a map while sipping somoe juice, she traced a potential trail.

“I could go to Chronia, that's only a few hours away. Then just go north, explore a bit,” She raised her vioce slightly, because Mrs. Tinn was in the front room. “Mrs. Tinn! Have you ever been to Chronia?”

“I have,” replied the old woman, tossing a rag into the sink. “It's nice there, real pretty. It jumps through time, you know.”

“What?”

“There's a magical hotspot in it, leaks magical time radiation. The whole thing is constantly shifting through time, so you have to wear a little bracelet to keep yourself from unaging or going to the future. There are even,” the old lady added slyly, “some added benefits.”

“What do you mean?” Aya asked, initrigued. This place seemed inispirational to a fault.

“The Fountain of Youth is there. It's totally been taken over by peddlers, dreadfully expensive. But,” she added, smiling, “I'm nearing one hundred years.” The woman, who looked about sixty, laughed.

Aya payed up, thanked the two for their hospitality, and began walking towards Chronia, takinig in the countryside. Fruit trees were heavy with produce, and the endless fields of grass were just beginninig to take on a yellow tinge. The sky was a solid, cloudless, blue, a blue that she liked, and it was just arm enough to not sweat. Even if she didn't regain inispiration from the beauties of nature, they were wonderful to be a part of.

It had just about reached mid-afternoon when Aya came upon a gate. There were no walls beside it; it was simply a big arch in the road. A small booth had been set up before it, and the person inside tapped on the counter to get Aya's attention.

“Right here, miss,” he called as Aya walked up to the booth. “This here,” he continued, “Is the boundary of time radiation from Chronia. Have you been before?” The muse shook her head. “Well, you'll be fine so long as you do not take this bracelet off, no matter what.” He handed her a rope bracelet with a large green stone in the centre. “The jewel absorbs radiation and keeps you from ending up seven hundred years old.” He pulled oon a big wooden lever, and the metal gate creaked aside. He resumed his nonchalant stance and finished automatically, “Enjoy your time in Chronia.”

“I will,” Aya replied brightly, stepping through the gate and immediatley noticing the change. The whole area seemed blurry with time radiation, and grass grew and died in seconds. The air became thicker, and she had to work to make her way into the main town. It was a jumble of houses like Framisce, except more oderly and planned, as if someone had given a thought to what was happening in the town. With all the tonsfolk and tourists wearing bracelets, the radiation cut down and the world seemed sharper, more clear. People went around their daily business, ignoring the powerful magic that surrounded them. Aya happily strolled through the sunny streets, enjoying this easier way of life. The people seemed genuinely happy, children ran and played in the streets, farmers sold produce that was years old, thanks to the powerful time magic. Turning a corner, Aya found herself in the square that held the Fountain of Youth.

It was large and ornately carved, with marble figures sinuouosly spread across the base. Dams had been built around the main basin, and taps had been fitted so only merchandisers get access to the miraculous waters. Dozens of stalls along the eastern walls all sold the same thing: Fountain water in jugs and mugs and crystal ampoules.

Aya bought a tiny bottle of a kind-looking woman and listened to her inistructions. It was a five year bottle, guaranteed to erase fives years of age from her spirit. Any mental problems afterward were strictly her own fault.This clause worried Aya slightly, but nevertheless she swallowed all of the icy cold water in two gulps.

All of a sudden her head was racked with a splitting headache. Her skull seemed to pound into red-hot fragments, and her vision blurred again. Upon complaint, the saleswoman told her that her mind was reactinng to the potion, that it was gettinng rid of unneccessary information collected in the last five years. Unfortunately, Aya now did not remember the taste of shrimp, and only had a vague idea of how much she might like it. Memories of days when she didn't accomplish anything were wiped, as were things that she found boring and unneccessary, like visits from people she didn't like.

This process and its accompanying migraine took about an hour, and her head was sore still after. She stumbled groggily from the square, but as she did she tripped over a magician's potion cart, a vial of purple radiation smashing off the back of her head. The bracelet protected her, but she could feelinig it drippiing down her neck, maybe aging her cells, and she was not happy.

At least, she wasn't until she looked in a mirror. The water had done a fantastic job, giving her a nice late twenties look: smooth skin, thicker hair, an absence of stress lines. It was money well spent, Aya thought, as she took off her bracelet at the radiation limits. She gave it to the attendant and eyed the land to the north. It was more sloped and hilly than the land arouund Framisce.

She hoisted her pack and began to walk, long happy strides. The water had also restored some long-lost athleticism, and she didn't break a sweat as the landscape passed by. Eventually, by the time the sun was getting a bit bored of hanging in the sky, she came upon an inn.

It was large and reeked of past decadance. The balcony was crumbling, and there were major cracks in the wall of the second floor. A crooked sign creaked on its hinges: a blue circle with the words Blue Moon painted over it in peeling gold paint. Light seeped under the doorway, as well as raucous noise. Aya pushed open the swinging door.

On one side of the large room stood an old bar with an even older barman boredly dusting the countertop. Long wooden benches strecthed across the room towards three or four fireplaces at the end of the room, each with meat and soup cooking on it. A little girl was running around, trying to fill all the orders of weary travelers and keep watch over the fires. Men were sitting and clutchign tankards of ale like they were lifelines and talking loudly to their companions so as to be heard over the shouts of the other people who were only shouting to be heard over the first shouts, like some vicious cycle.

Aya slipped through the haze of steam and drink and noise and made her way to the bar, where she got the attention of the barman. She had enough for about a week's stay, but she decided to just stay one night, get some supplies, and move on. She bought a modest mug and sat down to ponder her fate.

Also, I have no idea how to make Ed's next chapter more than a paragraph. Ii wouould love a random idea from someone.

[Shadaras]

I have no idea what your story is and don't care. Add a llama in. Or a drumming monkey. *has odd ideas*

[Goosh]

kittengriffin said:

I have no idea what your story is and don't care. Add a llama in. Or a drumming monkey. *has odd ideas*

.....Why not? *goes to add a drumming monkey scene*