A.I. writing fanfic!NaNoWriMo Part 3; or, National Not Writing Month · 2:21am Nov 17th, 2015
It was another semi-productive week for NaNoWriMo! For the first bit in any case. I reached 14,509 words total, which means I wrote a gross wordcount of 5,371 words over the course of five days, Sunday to Thursday. I was not home from Friday to Sunday night, and so did not get any words written (I was taking part in my yearly bout of wildlife conservation). This week is looking similar, so I'm going to do my best to crunch as many words as possible before I take my leave of the internet.
For today's passage, I've chosen a strongly-condensed selection of world-building.
My Little Pony influences abound yet again, I'm sure, but they are carefully chosen and crafted into a new, fantastical world.
Martial Lionspaw stared into the eyes of a child. The child looked back with an expression somewhere between scientific curiosity and intense fear.
Martial cracked a smile, showcasing his sharp teeth. “Hi.”
That turned out to be a mistake. The small boy teared up, him mouth pulling itself down in a frown fit to tear any heart asunder. A small whine escaped his lips.
“Leave the kid alone, Marty.” Darla nudged him in the ribs. Her sunhat lay low over her eyes, shielding her from the afternoon light piercing the window. “I refuse to pay for anybody’s therapy after coming in contact with you.”
Martial lay his head against the back of their booth seat. His wings were bunched uncomfortably behind him, pulled in close so that he didn’t disturb Dr. Deutero. The seat was built for Lumen proportions, so he kept his knees high above the seat, his long Vercal legs feeling tingly after an all-night train ride. White smoke poured from the lead car, the product of a high-output steam engine.
A steam engine, he recalled, backed up by a magic siphon. Or accompanied by one, perhaps. Either way, it put public transportation back in Vercalis to shame in all categories except ergonomics.
He reached between his bent legs to pat the suitcase beneath his seat. He did so regularly, just to reassure himself that he hadn’t misplaced it, or had it stolen. He stored his trinkets and baubles in the side pocket, when he wasn’t dressing up for formal occasions. No need to be too fancy, right? He looked down at his dark-skinned stomach and realized he hadn’t even buttoned his vest. Pretty inoffensive back in Vercalis, but the Lumen people had a strange fixation when it came to clothes.
As he buttoned his vest, he made sure that the citizen’s sigil around his neck stayed in full view.
A Lumen woman hugged the little boy close. She avoided eye contact with Martial, preferring to watch the landscape roll by. Martial did likewise, studying the world as it shifted from the rolling green hills around Adina, to the flat farmlands of the northern settlements, to a thick wooded area at the edge of the Eventide Forest. It was still hundreds of kilometers to the Valley of the Lesser Light, but some part of him felt that they had come full circle.
It was nighttime when they arrived at the station. Darla Deutero lifted her hat and grabbed her haversack. “Come on, Martial. We’re gonna be late for the play.”
“Why did we have to take the train?” Martial heaved his backpack between his wings. “We could have taken an airship, or even a carriage!”
“The tracks were the quickest way cross-country.” Darla swayed into the Lighton station, her haversack swinging at her side. She had exchanged her ill-fitting suit for a far more casual dress of a simple green shirt and knee-length pants. “And airship tickets ain’t cheap.”
She pointed to the sky. “Besides, there’s only room for one airship in this town.”
Martial Lionspaw craned his neck. His jaw dropped.
Above the city, colored a brilliant purple and trimmed with gold, was a sleek airship. Its canopy held the image of the flag of Lumenaria. Its gondola was long and narrow, curved at both ends like a seagoing vessel. The rumble of propellers, driven by magic siphons, reached his ears. He squinted to bring the vehicle into focus, and saw dozens of crewmembers togging ropes down or securing cargo.
“Impressive ship,” Darla said, “ain’t she?”
“It’s adorable.” Martial turned his attention to the craft’s rear, where the name was inscribed with curling, sprawling letters. “The Buttercup’s Folly?”
Darla shrugged. “Maybe Queen Amalia likes plants?”
“Or butter?” Martial Lionspaw glanced around town, taking note of the uneasy glances headed his way. Two-story buildings dominated both sides of the main street, acting as both homes and businesses. “Nice little town. How’d it rate being the official Fearfree Festival focal point this year?”
“It’s part of a cycle.” Darla Deutero brushed a graying strand of hair away from her nose. “Each year, the Fearfree Festival is held in one of the cities to celebrate the forming of Lumenaria. They put on a pageant based on one of the old myths, they host a city-wide party, they decorate, and the tourism industry gets a boost. I think they pretty much pick city names at random.”
The airship shifted on a gust of wind. The engines hummed as it descended towards the town square. A large company of soldiers marched in unison, their hefty shields facing the crowd. A few others, wearing the blue sash of the royal guard, stood at the center, where the loading ramp would be lowered.
Darla pointed to a mounted soldier. “On the unicorn over there, with the purple. That’s our captain.”
Martial watched as Harold Veil lifted a sword and called his troops to a halt. “He looks otherwise occupied.”
“He’s in charge of the whole security force. Of course he’s busy.” She tugged on his wing. “Come on. If we hurry we might be able to get some good seats.”
“Hold on.” Martial stayed rooted on the spot. Even with all her might, Darla couldn’t budge him. “This seems to be my week for seeing amazing, unbelievable things. I want to see Queen Amalia disembark.”
“Huh. I guess it is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.” Dr. Deutero rolled her eyes. “Alright. But only long enough to satisfy your scientific curiosity.”
“I could not ask for more.”
They meandered through the throng of people. Market stalls sold enticing treats and glistening baubles. Children ran around, playing games and make-believe. Travelling musicians tried to grab the ear long enough to earn some gold. Martial still felt people watching him, but for the most part, he was swallowed up in the general mayhem.
They reached the edge of the square, which was cordoned off by a series of thick ropes. Lighton was too small to have an airship port, so the officials were making do with whatever open space they could afford. The airship hovered a few meters above the ground, just low enough for the royal guardsmen below to grasp the lines and tie the ship down. The rear of the vessel parted, opening a wide cargo bay door. A ramp slid out and made contact with the ground.
Martial grinned and leaned against the rope. A soldier gave him a double take, but he made sure to lift his citizen’s sigil. After a moment’s consideration, the soldier let him be.
“Gerdar’s nose,” somebody said.
Martial looked down and to the left. A young Lumen man, no older than twenty, stared at him with a wide grin. “Hey,” the Lumen said, “you’re a Vercal, right? From Vercalis?”
Martial tapped his sigil. “I actually live in Corburg.”
“Yeah, but you were born there, right?” The young man ran a finger through the collar of his black shirt. He held out a hand. “Sorry. My name’s Maximilian. Or Max, for short.”
Martial Lionspaw reached out his hand. They shook. “Martial. Marty for short. And yes I was, but my home is here now.”
“It’s really, really amazing to meet somebody like you,” Maximilian said. “I’ve heard stories, but to actually meet a Vercal is… wow! You really are tall!”
“I’m actually fairly average.” Martial turned back to the airship. He kept an ear peeled for any word from Darla, but she seemed content to stand a ways from the rope. “I knew a man who was as wide as a bull.”
“That’s unbelievable.” Maximilian rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “So what brings you all the way out here? You’ve come to see the play, right?”
“Pretty much. That and meet a friend.” Martial crossed his arms over his half-bared chest. “I take it you’re a native of Lighton?”
“Sure am! I’m actually part of the musical. I’m just killing time until show time.” Maximilian glanced at the commotion around the airship. “One question before the queen comes out: What’s the best thing about being a Vercal?”
“I’ll answer that if you answer one of mine.” Martial raised an eyebrow. “What’s the best part of being a Lumen?”
Maximilian clasped his hands behind his back. He lowered his eyelids as he thought. “I’m actually not sure. I guess the Heartsong, yeah? That’s what’s always brought up.”
“Don’t ask me; you’re the expert on being a Lumen.” Martial grinned. The younger man jerked away as the sight of his teeth. “As for me? You haven’t lived until you’ve flown.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Maximilian extended a lanky arm. “There they are!”
Martial shielded his sides with his wings as the crowd jockeyed for position. He sighed and maintained his place, in full view of the disembarking royals.
Queen Amalia hadn’t come alone. The first person to walk down the red carpeted ramp was Annette Kingskeeper, dressed in her ever-present purple robes. She spoke calmly to a fellow politician, a governor of one of the nearby cities.
They were followed by a representative from the eastern islands, the sea-side border to Lumenaria. Rather than being a Lumen man, he was a native of the Lowlands, the marshlands from overseas. His greenish skin and webbed fingers stood out against his dark suit and tie.
Beside the Lowlander, a waist-high, three-meter long, muscular creature plodded on four legs. Its craggy mouth revealed sharp teeth, unable to be hidden by the beast’s thin lips. A shell of intricately-carved leather clothed its back, while wide-set spectacles aided its eyes. It looked up as the Lowlander spoke, then threw back its head and let out a guffaw.
“I don’t believe it.” Maximilian bumped his shoulder against Martial’s elbow. “A dragon! A real, living dragon! It must be the ambassador from the Cauldron!”
Martial’s eyes widened when he saw the next delegate. She was a Vercal woman, tall and thin, with plumage that trailed from white at her back to red at the tips. He turned his face to the side, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t look in his direction. “Krevatch…”
Maximilian blinked at him. “You alright, Marty?”
“I’m fine…” Martial searched for the young man’s name. “Max. I’m fine.”
Maximilian shrugged. He shielded his eyes as another man bumped him from behind. “Who’s she?”
“Princess Corona, the ambassador from the Vercalis capitol.” Martial studied an uninteresting rock at his feet. “She must be here as part of the peace talks.”
Corona paused midway down the ramp as the crowd’s cheers turned quieter; darker. She wrung her hands, her fiery wings spreading a few inches.
The mass of people changed their tune a moment later, when the person they’d come to see appeared at the mouth of the airship.
“It’s her,” Maximilian hissed. He bounced on energetic legs. “It’s her!”
Queen Amalia stood tall, her body draped in flowing colors. It would have been an insult to say that her clothes were made from fabric, but instead from rippling, crystalline, colorful streams of water. Always moving, always shining. Her smile outshone the spotlights illuminating the town square. Her braided, golden hair bounced with every step. In one hand, she carried a scepter made from gold and topped with a ruby. Her other hand was free to wave at the crowd, prompting louder cheers.
Martial’s heart fluttered. He felt unsteady on his feet. He spread his wings to strengthen his stance, knocking Maximilian to the side.
“Watch where you’re flapping!”
“Sorry,” Martial said, his voice squawking. He slapped his cheeks and shook his head. “Sorry.”
He looked back to the queen to see her beside Corona. Amalia took the young princess’ hand and led her towards the soldiers, giving her a reassuring smile. They entered in to the protection of the royal guardsmen, who led them away into the city.
“I think that’s my cue. The performance starts soon.” Maximilian raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I think I’ll leave you alone with your thoughts.”
Martial Lionspaw wiped sweat from his brow. “No. No, I’m headed for the theater, too.”
“We don’t really have a theater. We repurposed the town hall.” Maximilian jerked a thumb behind him as the crowd dispersed. “Need a guide? I come cheap.”
“I’m sure I can find my way, thanks.” Martial let out a loud whoosh of breath. He rubbed the back of his head and craned his neck. “I just have to find my—”
Darla stood on her tiptoes to tap him on the shoulder. “You’re adorable when you’re stupid, Marty.”
“Doctor.” Martial frowned. “Where did you disappear to?”
“At the back of the crowd, where nobody would see me.” Dr. Deutero placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the street. “So… I take it you enjoyed seeing the princess.”
Maximilian chuckled.
Martial grunted. “I reason that I am not the first to lose their composure in her presence.”
“Ooh, that’s a good word. ‘Composure.’” Maximilian waved and walked backwards a few paces. “I hope you two enjoy the show. Gotta hurry!”
Darla tipped her sunhat as the young man retreated. “Who’s your friend?”
“A fellow spectator.” Martial realized his hands were tight fists. He forced his fingers to relax. “Dr. Deutero… I need to stay scarce. Hidden.”
“Scarce?” Darla Deutero started walking down the road. Martial hurried to keep up. “You’re a two-and-a-half meter tall Vercal in an ocean of Lumens. Where does ‘hidden’ factor into that equation?”
“N-not necessarily from everybody.” Martial gritted his teeth. “Just from Corona.”
Dr. Deutero snapped her head in his direction. She pulled her mouth into a heavy frown. “Oh. I see.”
“It’s better if she doesn’t see me.” Martial gave his wings a joint-stretching flap. “Better for everybody.”
Darla rubbed her chin. She snapped her fingers. “Follow my lead. We’ll hang out in the back of the theater, since the Royal Circle’s getting the front row. You can’t ask for anything more hidden than that.”
Martial smiled. “Thanks. Then we’ll meet Captain Veil afterwards?”
“That’s the plan.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket. “I’ve got the address he’s using at the inn…”
Alright, rather nice segment here. So far I get that Martial is 8 feet tall, dark skinned, isn't used to wearing clothes, has large feathered wings, and sharp teeth. Otherwise, I'm assuming he looks fairly human. I keep trying to match him to mythological creatures, but I think I'm going to have to accept that this species is probably your own invention.
Please please please tell me that the Lowlander is basically a Marshwiggle
Also, I had to do a double take at one point, I thought you said purple unicorn. Nope, just a guy in purple riding a unicorn. Do unicorns have any sort of advantage over normal horses in this world, or are they just for prestige? Finally, apparently dragons are short. At least usually, I'm guessing there are exceptions.
Since I don't know the timing between the segments, I sadly can't comment on the pacing or anything else that might involve the parts I missed. That's a shame, because I would like to know if this is the first hint about Marshal hiding from one or more members of his own species.
3547273
That about does it. There's a few subtler differences, but I'm still working on those small details. In addition, I'm still undecided on whether they have digitigrade legs or not. It's kinda required for flying creatures in real life, but I'm building a fantasy world, so the rules can bend...
Yes, they are my own creation for the most part. They're basically animal people, though. Wings like an eagle (kinda), teeth like a shark (partially), and a fashion sense like a magpie (shiny!). You could say I started at the popular perception of angels as winged humanoids and made them an actual, physical species.
More or less.
Maybe a Marshwiggle on antidepressants, on a good day.
It jarred me a little bit when I read through it, too. That one's just a happy coincidence. I described the captains as wearing royal purple, and then I described them riding unicorns, and then it sort of meshed together...
Nah, his steed it white.
I had this thought, this glimmer of an idea, that I would populate the world completely with fantastical creatures. Meaning that they use Unicorns instead of horses, they keep firebirds as pets instead of parrots, etc. It would mean I'd have to replace a few references to real-world animals (such as the Lionspaw surname), so it needs a little refining.
As it stands, the unicorns have a natural advantage over horses in battle, due to the giant, lethal spike on their heads. I imagine it's a bit like getting skewered by an antelope: Painful and embarrassing.
The dragons sent a near-sighted, tiny geezer as an ambassador, so that they didn't terrify the Lumen people out of a lucrative trade agreement. Dragons vary widely, as will be seen in the story itself.
I just might reveal the description of the World Serpent, just to give an idea of how massively horrible they can become.
Alas, it's a symptom of releasing snippets rather than chunks.
This is the second time he's encountered another member of his own species. The last Vercal man he met shot him in the leg with a paralyzing crossbow bolt, called him traitor, and stole an artifact from him.
But they also refused to kill him. All's not quite cut and dried.