Writer's Block

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Writer's Block Empty Writer's Block

Post by The Merciful Overlord on Thu Mar 24, 2016 5:23 am

Not too far now. The town was in sight. Maybe...several leagues away, judging by the hills. And Scarlet was tired out from the mountain pass. So it would have to be walking, for a while. The town was small, from the looks of it. It had to be a farming town. Even though he saw no farms from where he stood, there were no major roads leading to this town and it was too small, so it couldn't possibly be a trade center.

The red mare by his side, Vane started down the first of the rolling green hills. Dark hair and even darker eyes, many thought the wandering traveler to be some sort of rogue. If only they knew the truth of it. People's impressions of him made it hard to do any sort of business.

The sun was only just over the horizon. They'd been traveling all night. Better to not stay in the mountains longer than he had to. With the constant rain over the past few days, rock slides were common, and wolves ran rampant through the caves and crags. No need to put Scarlet in danger.

While on the crest of one of the more archer worthy hills, Vane saw the first of the farms. He'd thought so. That made it a bit more difficult. Folks in these parts were less trusting of outsiders. And truly, what could he offer a poor farming community when it was the best type of weather for crops to flourish? Perhaps something to help contain their fire's heat, so as to not cause fires. He could cook, but most people here might expect his meals to include some sort of poison or alchemical unnaturality. Not that they were likely to describe it in such terms.

"Cannei 'elp yew wid sometin?"

Vane very nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the female voice to his right. He hadn't even heard her coming. There weren't even raindrops to mask her footsteps at the moment. "I'm...sorry?"

"Yew deaf travel'r? Cannei. 'elp yew. Wid sometin?"

Right, an accent. He should have known that the people in a town like this might have one. "Oh, no, I'm just heading for the town."

"Heeding straight trew our farm." The girl had red hair tied back in...surprisingly intricate braids. She was fairly short, but Vane guessed her to be about seventeen summers old. "Why yew goin ta town? Commin to spreed witchcreft or sometin?"

Well that told him a lot. "I just need a place to rest for the night. Does the town have an inn?" At this point she was eying him suspiciously and he wondered if he'd said anything wrong.

"Eet does. Ain't ne'er ben too much room in da een dough."

"The town gets a lot of traffic then?"


"Travelers coming through, I mean."

The girl flushed red and apparently realized her mistake, huffing in embarrassment. "New. I men' it's jus' small."

"Ah, well I don't mi


Boreas gave an annoyed sigh and sat up, shaking his hand out. He was sitting in the library in the back corner. He'd practically claimed this table as his own by now. It was a couple weeks since school had started and he used whatever time he could to try and get over this horrible writer's block he had. It was like he couldn't come up with anything decent! All the words were scrambled together in his mind and came out sounding like absolute crap! He had all the plot points written down, he had all the general conversations in mind, and he had all the main characters planned out. Resisting the urge to slam it down, the brown haired male gently placed his pen on the table and ripped the page he'd been writing on from his notebook. "Garbage," he growled, crumpling the paper up. "Worthless, fucking, stupid piece of trash," he muttered. He wasn't being loud enough for anyone to be able to complain about it, but the crumpling piece of paper wasn't all that difficult to overhear. Throwing the crumpled piece of paper to the ground carelessly, Boreas crossing his arms in the table and buried his head in them in agitation. "Why can't I write anything decent," he moaned quietly into his arms.
The Merciful Overlord
The Merciful Overlord

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