'She'll need to pick someone today, or the council'll get antsy. And no queen wants an antsy council, let me tell you.'
He chortled to himself as if he'd said something funny. Cuthbert wondered what it was.
'Took you long enough,' the guard on the left grumbled.
'Took you long enough,' Cuthbert shot back. Then, realising it didn't carry quite the same insult the guard on the left's comment had, he added, 'To be a jerk.'
The guard on the left looked at him wryly. She raised an eyebrow. Cuthbert seethed. 'With your jerk face,' he added. 'You jerk.'
The guard on the right looked between them, worried. 'Um... Welcome to the door puzzle,' she said, trying to put on a bright, happy voice. 'We're the guards of the doors - hello - and we're here to stop you getting through these doors today.'
Because they're jerks, Cuthbert thought to himself, pouting.
So. 2016 has struck again. I set out to tackle NaNoWriMo, I really did. I had the best intentions. Look at that graph hitting target trajectory two whole days running.
But. Then I began interviewing for a new job.…
Continue readingThere were causes it was worth going to jail for. Ironic home decorating wasn't one of them.
Cuthbert looked at the mirror, though it was almost more frame than mirror, with a fussy whorl of curls and flowers spreading around the edges.
A young man stood in the middle of the frame.
A dashing young man.
He had smouldering eyes and near chiselled features and, undoubtedly, minty-fresh breath. He waggled his eyebrows at Cuthbert. Cuthbert turned away, giggling coquettishly.
'Where am I meant to find 5,000 gold pieces?' Cuthbert asked, exasperated.
Dave sighed. 'You know,' he said, 'some people aren't made to be heroes. And if you put a sword in their hand anyway and tell them where the dragons are who need stabbing, you're only...'
His face turned green.
'Well, you're only making dog chow.'
'So the dragons have the gold...' Cuthbert murmured, already formulating a plan.
Stepping carefully over the cracked and burst wood that had previously been the stairs, Cuthbert teetered and tottered his way to the below decks.
It was still technically below decks, he supposed, though the amount of deck it was below had been drastically reduced. It was far less above water than he remembered it, though. He waded in the direction he thought his quarters had been in. It was hard to judge with so little of the ship left.
There is something in the human nature - some deep, primal instinct, some knowledge from the cave times - that sees something dangerous and repulses at it.
It's what has helped mankind survived, stopped them trying to house-train sabre-toothed tigers, stopped them putting poisonous things in their mouths.
Cuthbert wasn't certain the hideous pink lamp could be considered dangerous - unless it was to good taste and housekeeping - but it was definitely repulsive. He had no desire whatsoever to put it in his mouth.
As it ever was. As it ever shall be. Today marks the first of November and, thus, Frantically Scribbling Adventure Game Nonsense (or, as some people insist on calling it, National Novel Writing Month) begins!
I’ve managed to hit my 1,667 word target today – whether I can keep that momentum up is another question entirely.…
Continue reading'I'll have that spear back, thanks,' she said. 'It's good for reaching hard-to-scratch places. And you wouldn't believe how itchy this armour gets.'
'You're meant to wear something under it,' the guard on the right hissed.
'And have twice the laundry?' the guard on the left snorted. 'More fool you.'