“Don’t ye go comparing me to yer maker, that ain’t fair!” “Favored by each of your Gods, adored by all, a life of servitude.” “Yer damn right, and because of him and that … necromancer, that I’ve gotta deal with you! Har har!” Foremarch threw his head back in laughter, discarding the stripped turkey leg as he tossed it into the searing coals. “Should’ve stuck to the anvil, or making the wizards envious with his magic, instead of making your whole cocky race of elves.” “His notion of peace remains strong with each Anthorian elf, don’t worry. We uphold his values well. At least, I hope they do back home.”

#WIPSnips Deal. Reworked this part to introduce a character earlier in the manuscript. Our hero jokes around with a descendant of his creator.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Distant waves were not far off, as both their sight and sound made an entrance. The dirt road began to twist off to the south, lending assurance that our path was still holding. Weeds made way for grass as tall as my waist, with cattails scattered about. Slightly northeast of our path was the signature gray tree, surrounded by three weeping willows. A murder of crows was occupying every branch of the gray tree, littered about the roots, and patiently awaiting their turn on the branches as they flew about in circles.

#WIPSnips Signature. The party was given instructions for how to locate to their new ally.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

My daydreaming for cooler moments leapt into reality as we moved into an alcove that was pleasant on the skin. The relief was palpable. “Rest, regain your strength. I’ll order the undead away so you can awaken the Paladin and examine his condition. Drink up from those barrels as well; you must be parched. I promise, it is water. Sealed for some time now,” Damion said, as he vanished back up the walkway that brought us into the alcove.

#WIPSnips Fantasy. Only one in a footer on the title for "Epic Fantasy". Ironic. Went with Daydreaming instead as our hero escapes the violent heat of the underground passage.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Quick! Give her some treats!

He's been mad all morning because I only threw the same treat back and forth across the house 10 times for him to chase. #Cats

They're doing a bang up job

#PosterPit is tomorrow!

#WriteSky #WritingCommunity #AmQuerying #AmWriting #AmAgenting #LitAgents #Writers

“Most correct. If you have a moment, I have a tale to tell. Would you like to hear it?” I inquired. The two musicians, Telrick and Bellin, respectively, pulled up a chair, and we talked for what seemed like hours. It was strange; never before had I felt so at ease when discussing my past. What is so different now? It couldn’t be the war; it would still rage. My allies lost, captured, or were even dead, depending on whether I would take the word of the Crimson or not. I felt empty and unsatisfied with myself as I had for the duration of the raid. Yet, there was an overwhelming sense of relief that I couldn’t shake.

#WIPSnips Duration. Our hero reflects on his allies after a hard fought battle.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Yup, I can only get so far in my feed before it errors.

The shadowing covers up most of his chubby belly. Sorry, famine pouch. #Cats

Sensational. Although I was no stranger to the wonders of soaring through the skies, airship travel was unlike any other experience. No sails upon the masts, but rather oversized blades spun with impressive speeds, three on each, powered by the dwarven runes etched into the wooden columns. Another was placed on the back of the stern. The captain’s wheel navigated the skies with the same ease as sailing the ocean’s waters. We tore through the cloud, an experience new for almost all members of our company. Winds broke against the bow and did little to slow our pace. There was still fear among the group; we were hundreds of feet into the skies, and falling overboard most assuredly would result in death. The waters below would provide no comfort.

#WIPSnips Wheel. The party experiences the wonders of an airship, soaring effortlessly through the sky.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

Inevitably, my computer will remind me that windows needs to update. After I just restarted it. Without fail.

A simple flute, one that I had grown quite proficient with during my later years on Anthor. My loving departed was always a far better player than I, as the children were quick to remind me whenever the topic did arise. I like to believe I’ve improved since then, although whenever I find a moment to play, it brings the melodies she would play back in my mind. Was I hearing myself, or was my memory of those moments so prevalent that all I was hearing was her? I gave it no further thought beyond the smile I could not fight back.

#WIPSnips Topic. Our hero reflecting on the joy his instrument brings.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

And today Hobbes is in floor protest. #Cats

Congrats!

They should *absolutely* be terrified. Maternal instinct!

Thank you! I found I ran into this issue when the MC is part of an immortal (in age) race but his parents are never mentioned. This felt like a simpler solution without having to add more tragedy to the story!

Men screaming at gods, entirely accurate.

Theo picked the floor today, in protest of... something. #Cats

“Apologies. I am a Sapling; there are none we call parents.” Damion looked at me, dumbfounded. “Ah, you truly do not know much of Anthor. I was born of the God Trees, ancient and vast, reaching to the clouds and wide around as a small house. From their boughs, I sprouted fully as an adult from the Raccoon tree, a Sapling imbued with the essence of Anthor’s creators. My wife, Quale ... born of the Sparrow Tree. But our children ... They are different. Sprouts, we call them, conceived in love, not from the ancient roots that feed our world,” I divulged. “Remarkable!” Damion exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before slapping them down upon his knees.

#WIPSnips Child. Went with Children so I could pull out some lore surrounding our hero.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

If your search history isn't slightly concerning, can you really call yourself a writer?

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

I can hear the lines so clearly in my head!

Off the top of my head I can remember...

Gust of Wind Dance
Blazing Dynamo
Volcano
More and More

Great game!

Oh... if only that could happen... 😬

Woke up to the cats clawing at the door. Let them in while I got ready for the day.

Went to the kitchen and ate while the cats also came in to eat.

Went the computer to write. Only one cat agreed to this, the other whined.

So I'm back in the bedroom, waiting for them to fall asleep.

Cats.

“I have friends to see, friends I once fought alongside in battle,” I responded quickly. “Judging by those two weapons, you still fight?” he spoke again, his eyes glaring over me. I gave a stern look back. “One can never be too certain when his enemy will appear again. Someone close to me was taken because they were unfit to challenge the might of an intruder. I have learned from this sacrifice dearly.” Cooper held his glass lantern up to his face to more clearly inspect my own. I began to suspect he was not so impressed with my words.

#WIPSnips Lantern. Our hero comes upon an enemy patrol, failing to talk his way out of the situation.

Text in the alt.

#WritingCommunity #WriteSky

I definitely associate it with technology, or something like "process an order" but it all sounds very... recent.

I decided to look it up and I think it can still work. But I agree! And was surprised to find how many instances I had in my own fantasy work.

www.etymonline.com/word/process

*carrying, oops.

If I was caring everything to my name on me I too would be hesitant to leave it out of sight. Nice snip!