Guess what? Another NaNo update
Okay, time for another camp nano update again. I'm still writing and the current word count stand at 23434 (plus what's in the notebook to be typed so so it's probably more like 24000)
So the story is ticking on fine and is on track to hit the 50k by the end of the month. A few of the characters are turning out rather differently than I'd planned - and Cade seem to be turning into Mycroft Holmes (the Gattis one), my uncomplicated outlaw is now a political revolutionary in hiding who also had an orphaned neice, and the most important generals, Medon, (there are a three that appear in the story Torgan, Medon and Messillian) has gained a wife, and the backstory that he was born biologically female, but has lived his life as male - although this plays very little part in his characterisation - the main things are that he's a brilliant tactitian, a political reformist and loves his wife.
Insufficient food, water and sleep combined with injury to his knee and the mental strain of the last few days caught up with Sarpedon as he stood. The room greyed out for a moment, and Cade and Torgan voices became indistinct, muffled by the rushing noise in his ears, as one of them pushed him back down onto the chair.
Everything seemed to snap back in to focus as something pungent was waved under his nose, the sharp scent making his eyes water as he coughed, and tried to push it away.
“Oil of ###, my wife swears by it,” Torgan said as he snapped the lid back in place on the small, round container. “Now Lieutenant, I strongly suggest that you allow yourself to be examined by the physician before you attempt to resume command of you men.”
“I’m to remain in command?” Sarpedon said, his mind starting to feel foggy again. “But I lost the consignment.”
“I have yet to read your field notes, but I do not believe there is anything that you could have done to prevent their loss give the enemies superior numbers,” General Torgan said, “You managed to keep the remainder of your men alive, cache the weapons for later retrieval, and bring news of massacre at Timballie back through enemy held land without further loss. It is hardly an inconsiderable achievement.”
“Thank you, sir. But it’s as much the mens achievement as mine. And I doubt we would have made such good time without the assistance of Aran Simona.”
“That’s as maybe, but you will never make Captain unless you promote yourself more,” Torgan said in a tone that asked for no argument on the matter. Turning away from Sarpedon, he spoke to the footman at the door who had stood silent though the proceedings. “Boswin, please accompany Lieutenant Sarpedon to Dr Hagan offices, and then have food sent for me and Mr Cade, I fear it may be a late night for us all.”
“Very good, Sir,” Boswin replied in a small bob of his head. “Will that be all?”
“For now,” Torgan said, as he turned his attention to unlocking a draw in his desk and removing a book. “Right then Cade, you’d better tell me what’s going on, why Medon’s got one of his poke noses out traipsing about the hills.”
So the story is ticking on fine and is on track to hit the 50k by the end of the month. A few of the characters are turning out rather differently than I'd planned - and Cade seem to be turning into Mycroft Holmes (the Gattis one), my uncomplicated outlaw is now a political revolutionary in hiding who also had an orphaned neice, and the most important generals, Medon, (there are a three that appear in the story Torgan, Medon and Messillian) has gained a wife, and the backstory that he was born biologically female, but has lived his life as male - although this plays very little part in his characterisation - the main things are that he's a brilliant tactitian, a political reformist and loves his wife.
Insufficient food, water and sleep combined with injury to his knee and the mental strain of the last few days caught up with Sarpedon as he stood. The room greyed out for a moment, and Cade and Torgan voices became indistinct, muffled by the rushing noise in his ears, as one of them pushed him back down onto the chair.
Everything seemed to snap back in to focus as something pungent was waved under his nose, the sharp scent making his eyes water as he coughed, and tried to push it away.
“Oil of ###, my wife swears by it,” Torgan said as he snapped the lid back in place on the small, round container. “Now Lieutenant, I strongly suggest that you allow yourself to be examined by the physician before you attempt to resume command of you men.”
“I’m to remain in command?” Sarpedon said, his mind starting to feel foggy again. “But I lost the consignment.”
“I have yet to read your field notes, but I do not believe there is anything that you could have done to prevent their loss give the enemies superior numbers,” General Torgan said, “You managed to keep the remainder of your men alive, cache the weapons for later retrieval, and bring news of massacre at Timballie back through enemy held land without further loss. It is hardly an inconsiderable achievement.”
“Thank you, sir. But it’s as much the mens achievement as mine. And I doubt we would have made such good time without the assistance of Aran Simona.”
“That’s as maybe, but you will never make Captain unless you promote yourself more,” Torgan said in a tone that asked for no argument on the matter. Turning away from Sarpedon, he spoke to the footman at the door who had stood silent though the proceedings. “Boswin, please accompany Lieutenant Sarpedon to Dr Hagan offices, and then have food sent for me and Mr Cade, I fear it may be a late night for us all.”
“Very good, Sir,” Boswin replied in a small bob of his head. “Will that be all?”
“For now,” Torgan said, as he turned his attention to unlocking a draw in his desk and removing a book. “Right then Cade, you’d better tell me what’s going on, why Medon’s got one of his poke noses out traipsing about the hills.”