Chapter 3 - The Part Where We Might Not Make It

Well, needless to say, this year's NaNo was a complete failure for me. I guess I got a bit of a taste of what it's like to be a real writer, when you try to sit down and write, anything and everything becomes so tempting (even sitting on BA at 9AM trying to join a game of DotA). Anyway, this is going to be the last chapter of the story, and I'm going to leave it unfinished as a sign of my failure (and motivation for next year). I've kinda lost all motivation to write for this story.

Thanks to MrMan5.5, Dante and Auto for constantly poking me into writing, Dante even went so far as to change my MSN message to "Tell me to start writing. Do it. Do it now!" in order to get others to do the same (and thank you to everyone who poked me as a result of that). Also, thanks to everyone who has read this far!

Tomorrow, we shall resume the normal blogging programme!

---

[Brent]: So what's with Main Character Training anyway?

[Anna]: Well, every year, hundreds of Writers get the chance to create a Story, but the Story has one limitation, it has to direct the Main Character to a goal chosen by the Council of Writers. I don't know why really, history was never my favourite subject. Obviously, in most cases, reaching that goal requires physical and mental strength, so Writers usually try to choose Main Characters who are skilled at both.

Unfortunately, about twenty years ago, a large group of Writers rebelled against the Council and decided they were going to choose Main Characters who were weak, stupid, or had some sort of major disability that would make getting the goal nearly impossible. They did it because they thought it would be a challenge, and because they weren't interested in reaching the goal, they were interested in watching those poor people struggle. The Stories of that year had the highest number of Main Character deaths ever. After the events of that year, the Council, of which my father was a member of at the time, made a ruling that Main Characters must undergo a series of tests, and receive training in order to ensure that something like that never happens again. Fast forward to now, and this is what it has become. Unfortunately, it has made the stories a lot less interesting, because there is no sense of danger, no thrill, almost everyone makes it at the end of each year, and the people that don't fail only because the Writer wasn't able to incite enough motivation in them to continue.

I should probably tell you now, that you're free to leave any time you want to. I don't want to force you into doing this, but it would mean a lot to me if you stayed until the end. To be honest, this is my first story. I'm sorry you ended up being a Main Character with such an amateur Writer, but everyone has to start somewhere, right?

[Brent]: Really, there is nothing for me back there. It would just be a life of moving around until I got old enough to move out on my own. There is a whole world of things out there, and I've barely seen any of it. Now I have the chance to. One thing I was wondering though, won't my family notice that I'm gone?

[Anna]: This story takes place in a different world. You will still be you, and will still be able to do all the things that you do, but the world that you will find yourself in may be completely different to what you know now. While this story is happening, it'll be as though time in your world has stopped, and after it's all over, you'll be back here, as though nothing had happened.

[Brent]: So it's all for nothing?

[Anna]: Not at all. Everything you learn, you keep, and I know how you love to learn things.

[Brent]: What if there is no magic in this world?

[Anna]: Even if there are no mages in the world, you will still have all of your magical abilities. It's unlikely that the council will create a magicless world though, as magi usually make it easier for Main Characters in terms of folk lore, weather reading and general domestic spells like fire lighting and water cleansing.

[Brent]: I can do all of those things, so how does having a mage around help me?

[Anna]: Let's just see how we go. Anyway, if you wait here for a bit, someone should come and pick you up in about an hour. Is there anything you want to do before you go? You might not be seeing this place for a while.

[Brent]: I'm fine.

An hour later, Brent notics a silhouette appear down the road. As it gets closer, the figure begins to resemble a man who had just escaped a maximum security prison, and the expression on his face did nothing to dispel the thought. After tearing his gaze from the scar running from the man's chin to his ear, Brent notices the shopping trolley that he's pushing.

"Get in," the man says, gruffly. Unsure of what to do, Brent hesitates. Years of being told not to talk to strangers starts to take hold of his body, and thoughts of being taken into a dark basement and tortured flash through his mind. "Get in," he repeats. Brent steps into the shopping trolley, confused at why his body suddenly refuses to obey him. Before he can think of something to say, the man starts to push the shopping trolley at breakneck speed. After a few minutes, they turn into an alley and the man finally stops.

"Get in," the man says, but this time, he is pointing towards the sky. On closer inspection, Brent realizes that he's pointing to a large bird carrying a small bucket strung on a rope between its talons. Despite its size, the bird manages to land without disturbing its surroundings, and it leans in towards Brent, as though sizing him up. Seemingly satisfied that Brent is the one it was searching for, the bird points to the bucket, which was now lying on the floor, rolling back and forth.

"What?! I can't sit in that, I'll fall and die!" Brent protests, only to find that the man disappeared while he was distracted by the bird. After a quick examination of the bucket, Brent concludes that it was hardly ideal to sit inside, even though he wasn't the tallest of people. "There is no way I'm sitting in that." The bird simply looks at him, blankly.

[Brent]: Anna! Do something. Make me a seat or something.

Chapter 2 - The Part Where We See What Happened

[Anna]: About time!

[Brent]: What?

[Anna]: I've been waiting for ages!

[Brent]: How did you know I'd do it?

[Anna]: Of course you would, it's part of who you are. I noticed you signed up as Brent, glad you're getting into character.

[Brent]: Umm, yeah...So where did you go anyway?

[Anna]: Writers are only allowed one chance to convince someone to be their Main Character. They're not allowed to intervene after that.

[Brent]: I see.

[Anna]: But I knew you'd do it, and now that I'm your writer it means I get to do cool stuff like this!

*****

"Hi, Brent, honey. How was your first day at school?"

"Mum! Why are you calling me Brent?!"

"I thought you were over that B-Man stuff."

[Brent]: What's going on? I'm not talking, but this sounds and looks like what I said to my mum yesterday.

[Anna]: It's a flashback. Now that I'm your writer, I get access to all of your memories so that I can add flesh to your character with flashbacks. Plus, it gives me a better idea of who you are. I only watched you for a few days before I met you for the first time.

[Brent]: You were watching me? What are you, a stalker or something?

[Anna]: No! It's called research! Anyway, let's just let this flashback play out.

[Brent]: So I guess my name really is Brent now.

"Anyway, sweetie, what did you do at school today?" Brent's mum asks in an annoying falsetto.

"Nothing much." Brent replies.

"You should be more excited! It looks like we're going to be staying here a bit longer. Your dad had a really good day today. Doesn't look like it'll be a repeat of last time. The owner of the building is willing to let us rent it without having to pay 3 months in advance. That means we can get that new oven!"

"That's good." Brent says, gloomily.

"Stop being so cheerful! Big smiles means more friends, cheer up!" Brent's mum squeezes his cheeks, then walks off humming to herself.

[Brent]: Urgh, my mum is so embarrassing, did you have to include that part?

[Anna]: I just write what I see.

Brent walks up to his room, glad to finally be away from everything. Lying on his bed, the full weight of the day's events hits him. First days are always bad. Having three first days in a month is worse. The thought of being able to stay in this place for more than a week was both tempting and repulsive to Brent. New places always meant new people, new ideas for spells. The last place they moved to had a mage who used his fire magic to temper glass, but unlike most glassmakers, he managed to shape glass inside a large mound of compacted sand, while keeping the rest of the sand intact. So every festival, there would be a large mound of sand in the town square, and people would look forward to the unveiling, where young children would brush away the sand and reveal that season's masterpiece.

Although, new people meant making friends all over again - trying to break into the well-established cliques, and making small talk with people who are about as interesting as a potato peel in the hopes of some spark of friendship. The worst part of it all was falling in love with girls he would never see again.

[Brent]: No it's not. How is that the worst? You clearly know nothing about moving around a lot.

[Anna]: So what? It sounds good.

[Brent]: ...

Given his father's track record, they would probably be staying in this town for six or seven days at most. No point in getting attached to anybody, because all it would result in was yet another PaperMail address to add to the long list. Though the letters shortly died off once the transit time started to reach months in length. The last PaperMail he received had taken 5 months to reach him, and had 17 mail-forwarding spells cast on it. Brent was almost certain the mail-magi knew of him by now, he was keeping them busy at least.

A thought suddenly occurrs to him - maybe the Writer had brainwashed the people around him, but surely all the mail he had received over the years would have his name on it. A quick search through some boxes turns up a large pile of mail.

"Brent, Brent, Brent... Why do they all say Brent?! I swear they said Harold." Brent starts digging through the other boxes strewn about his room in an attempt to find any semblance of his life as Harold. Old pencil cases, homework, exams, reports from teachers, birthday cards, everything he had kept from his former life were marked with Brent.

"Anna! What's going on? Change my name back, I want to be Harold. I am Harold! Anna?" Brent screams at the ceiling.

[Brent]: Were you actually there?

[Anna]: Nope. This is pretty funny to watch actually.

Brent starts pacing around, thinking about the things that had happened to him. Bullying was pretty standard. Comes with the territory - Brent couldn't help that he enjoyed learning new spells, it felt good doing something he hadn't done before, even though most of the things he accomplished were pretty useless. The ability to slow water dripping down a wall is hardly the kind of feat that impresses the girls. They want to be the one dating the guy with shiny new things, or the guy who can command balls of flame into performing incredible shows. They didn't want to be the one dating the guy who spends all of his time with his head buried in a book, trying to work out the best way to freeze water into ice, while expending the least amount of energy.

He lived by the motto: "Think before you act" and it has served him well so far, why should he change? The only problem now was that he had no idea what was going on, but it was time to find out.

"Mum, I'm going out." he yelled as he walked out the front door.

"Okay, be safe!" she replied.

He began considering what he knew so far. Something called a "Writer" had approached him and asked him to be a "Main Character" in her "Story". She was able to conjure food, so that indicated some sort of magic, which mean she had probably studied at an academy of some sort. The best place to find information on someone like that would be the Mage Registry. He starts making his way over to the library, when he suddenly remembers the scroll with terms and conditions. Then he also remembers that he threw it into a fireplace.

"Great. Just great." Brent slumps down onto the ground in resignation. He suddenly gets up and starts looking around for something. His expression changes to one of concern, and then confusion. And then...

[Anna]: Huh? What happened there?

[Brent]: What do you mean?

[Anna]: You were looking around, and then it went all blank.

[Brent]: Yeah, that's when Jurin appeared.

[Anna]: Jurin? Who's that?

[Brent]: He's a writer, like you. He gave me another copy of the terms and conditions. That's how I was able to register.

[Anna]: Hmmm. That's really strange. Writers aren't meant to talk to other Main Characters. What happened next? I can't seem to access it, the next thing I see is us talking about you finally signing up.

[Brent]: We talked about some stuff. He told me what it meant to be a Main Character. Anyway, we're supposed to be heading to the training grounds, aren't we?

[Anna]: Oh, yes! I'm so excited! This is going to be the first time I've seen a Main Character in training, I've never been allowed to watch before!

[Brent]: Well, hopefully it all goes well, and I'll be allowed to be your Main Character.

Following the instructions in the scroll, Brent heads off to the training grounds.

2,603 / 50,000 (4.0%)

Chapter 1 - The Part Where They Meet

Stories are always difficult to write. The beginning has to be something that captures the reader's attention, otherwise they will never get to the middle nor the end. The middle has to be something that involves plot twists, character development, intrigue, story progression, all without making the entire thing the size of a World Book encyclopedia set. The end has to tie up all of the loose ends, while still maintaining a degree of plausibility, and without resorting to the cheap cop-out where the main character wakes up and realises it's all a dream. Luckily, when you write about a person's life, the story just writes itself, and all you have to do is add some dramatical embellishes to create a story.

---

It was a morning like any other for the local school bully. The day begins with taunting the neighbour's son, who couldn't see his fingernails without his glasses. Then it was off to school, where he had top choice for lunch from the various students who he had bullied into submission. It was great that they didn't even bother resisting anymore. Better yet, they all tried to bring his favourite meal to school because they knew whoever was the fortunate (or unfortunate, if you consider he'd have to go without lunch) boy to have their lunch selected would be free from torment for that day. Not that he needed food from others, it's just that over time he had learnt that food tastes better when someone else wants it more than you do, but can't have it. Then it was off to home, where he got to play with his father's latest acquisitions, which meant he got to brag about having all the new toys at school the next day. It's a tough life being a bully and the son of a renowned travel mage. Worse is when people simply don't understand the rules.

"That bread looks fancy, where is it from, new kid?" The bully glares with all of his might, thinking that the new kid at school needed to know how things worked around here.

"My dad is a baker, and he learnt this recipe from Halenish monks."

"Why haven't I seen this before?"

"They aren't very open to foreigners, but his mother was raised by a Halenish family, so he can speak their language, and the monks took him in after his parents were killed. He's opening a new bakery if you..."

"Boring. If I wanted to hear your life story, I'd have asked. Just hand it over." A row of boys eagerly holding out their lunches sigh and start making their way to any hiding spot that wasn't already taken.

"But it's mine", the new kid protests.

"Not anymore. You're new here, so I'll introduce you to the important people in this school." The bully pointed to himself, "Firstly, there's me. Anything I say goes. You don't listen to me, and things get very, very hard for you. Understand? My father knows all of the magi in the High Platform, and he won't hesitate to call in some favours if he knows someone is giving his son a hard time."

Realising the trouble such a man could cause, the new kid hands his bread roll over to the bully with a resigned sigh and walks over to the kitchen hut in the hopes that he can beg the cook into conjuring some lunch out of pity - something he had managed to perfect at his past three schools. Just outside the kitchen hut, he hears a voice.

[???]: Here, eat this.

A small plate of food appears on the table. The new kid looks around suspiciously. "Who said that?"

[???]: My name is Anna. What is yours?

"I'm Harold. Why did you make food for me?!"

[Anna]: Shhhh, you'll draw attention to yourself if you keep talking that loudly. Try talking like this.

[Harold]: Like this?

[Anna]: Yes, this way only I can hear.

[Harold]: What's going on?

[Anna]: I'm a Writer, and I've decided that you're going to be my Main Character.

[Harold]: Writer? Main Character? Are you going to write a book about me or something? Trust me, my life is too boring to want to live, much less than read about.

[Anna]: On the contrary, it's the ones who lead boring lives that make the most entertaining characters, all you need is to be in the right place at the right time. Hmmm, and we're also going to have to change your name. Harolds don't save the world, Harolds own local general stores and spend their lives selling ingredients to magi who will go on to make a name for themselves.

[Harold]: You can't just change my name! Everyone I know calls me Harold, and it's too much effort to go and tell them my new name, because they'd just keep forgetting and go back to calling me Harold. Far too much trouble to be worth it. Plus, I'm sure there are plenty of Harolds who could be out there saving the world, if it weren't for people like you putting us down all the time!

[Anna]: OK.

[Harold]: Good, now that that's settled...

[Anna]: You're a Brent.

[Brent]: Weren't you listening to what I said?! It's far to much effort to change my name, just live with it.

[Anna]: It'll take a bit of getting used to, but after a while, answering to Brent will become second nature.

[Brent]: Wait, what? Why does it say Brent next to what I'm saying?

[Anna]: Because that's your name, just like it says "Anna" next to what I'm saying.

[Brent]: Whoa, I'm reading what I'm saying. I mean, the words that are coming out of my mouth are there in text. This is starting to get a little strange.

[Anna]: I told you, I'm a Writer. It's my job to write stuff like this down, that way other people can read about it at a later time.

[Brent]: But this is happening right now!

[Anna]: So?

[Brent]: You're meant to do stuff, and then when you're old, sit down and write a memoir about it and sell it to pay for your retirement because you didn't have the foresight to save money while you were still able to work for minimum wage!

[Anna]: Geez, if everyone did it that way, then stories would be full of inconsistencies with all the important bits left out. Do you know how bad old people are at remembering things? I'm only 22 and I have trouble remembering what I ate for breakfast sometimes. Anyway, back on topic. I'm a Writer, and I have chosen you to go on an Adventure.

[Brent]: An Adventure? Really, I think you've made a big mistake. I don't go on Adventures, I sit at home and hope the night will never end because I really don't like the thought of waking up the next morning.

[Anna]: Well, that's not very positive.

[Brent]: I'm not the type of person who goes on Adventures.

[Anna]: Sure you are, I wouldn't have picked you otherwise. For your first heroic act, you're going to have to register as a Main Character.

A large scroll appears on the table.

[Anna]: Details are in there.


[Brent]: What if I don't want to do this?

Brent opens up the scroll to find thousands of lines of tiny print. "Terms and conditions? What is this stuff?"

[Brent]: Hello? Anna? Are you there?

"Fine, don't answer." He picks up the scroll, walks back into the school and tosses it into the first fireplace he sees.

1,264 / 50,000 (2.5%)

And Then There Were None

NaNoWriMo has started, and yet I'm writing a blog post instead of writing my story - procrastination knows now bounds. Today was the last day of "440 DotA", which is kind of sad, because I really enjoyed playing DotA with the other 440 (and a few 340) students. I was pretty surprised to find out that Jason (a random 340 guy who did the database project with me and QC) is actually really good at DotA, and it was nice to see how most of the Team D players who had little experience improved so much throughout the year - Tom in particular. I remember my first game with him, Tracy kept pinging his position on the map and saying, "Food" (ie. someone to feed on for exp and gold), but now he's usually able to hold his own in 1v1, and is even giving advice to other people.

Anyway, as I mentioned, my blogs will be disappearing for a bit, and being replaced by the story I'm writing for NaNoWriMo (though I get the feeling my procrastinating will mean I end up writing blog posts anyway >_<). So if you're not really interested in reading my story (can't really describe what it'll be about yet, as I haven't played that far ahead, but I've decided that it'll be a fantasy story.

Goodbye for now, good luck to those who have exams/essays to write in the next month or so!