The characters are already rebelling--or at least Loki is. I knew it wasn't a good idea to tell him what was going to happen to him in chapter seven. He's been drunk and especially caustic for the past three days. And now when we actually have to start writing, he refuses to cooperate at all.
Camp NaNoWriMo, day one, campers! In which we embark on an epic journey of blood, sweat, tears, and uncooperative characters.
Okay, I stole the idea for such a blog post from my good friend ninjadragon99 on the OYAN forums. Her blog is A Writer And Her Dragons and she too is doing Camp NaNoWriMo. ^^ Actually, she's even doing a Norse story like me--the story of Loki and how he accidentally sent the Aesir to the moon at the worst time possible. It's called Silvertongue and it's quite cool.
Stats! I love stats! They're so crisp and factual. Takes all the imagination out of stuff, and we don't want too much imagination running around. 'Tis dangerous, precious!
| Wordcount goal: | 1613 |
| Wordcount Today: | 1974 |
| Wordcount of All Time: | 1974 |
| Words Remaining: | 48,387 |
| Greatest Achievement: | ...Do I get points for not strangling Loki...? |
| Greatest Annoyance: | Loki. He's a pain |
Ninth Twilight, Book One: Treacherous Ice
A warlord of Jotunheim.
Odin's father is dead. The Aesir are still young, a fledgling group of gods vulnerable to attack. And Odin's the one who has to take up his father's mantle, rule Asgard, hold them together. And across the Worlds in Jotunheim, the frost giants mobilize under the power-hungry Kassoq, who is bent on conquering Asgard.
Odin and his two brothers Loki and Honir must stop Kassoq. But the frost giant warlord is already playing on their fears and doubts, tearing at their loyalty…
Yerp, this is what I'm writing. Previously I called it Young Asgard, but Treacherous Ice fits better. Plus, new synopsis. And I have an outline and all sorts of cool stuffs for it.
Have an excerpt.
The younger man stopped a few feet away. “You’re on Æsir land, frost giant.”
I smirked, lounging on the slope of the grassy hill and looking down at him. “There’s no need to be rude about it, you know. I much prefer Jotun to giant.”
“Technicality.” He drew his sword, grinning. I glanced at my belt, which was distinctly lacking a scabbard and sword.
“Now that’s not fair. You’d attack an unarmed man?”
“Decades of traveling the Nine Worlds and you still don’t carry a sword.” Chuckling, he sheathed his sword as his blond-haired companion behind him rolled his eyes. Holding out his hand to me, he said, “Welcome back, Loki.”
I looked at his hand and then at his face. “What, I’m supposed to let you help me up after you threatened me?”
“A prince always keeps his word.”
“The only word you’ve given me is that you’re going to attack me.”
“What? I welcomed you!”
“Sure you did. After you threatened me.”
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