Tales of Shiftymcgrif: Skyrim Pics! And Broke 20,000 Words Today.

Frjlolrjlord or something, where Ashe and Tryndamere are from.

How is my keyboard still alive? I don't even know. This NanoWriMo nonsense has taken a mental toll on me, but it has taken a far greater physical toll on my keyboard. Never before have I wrote with such and unrestrained fury. In these long days of writing, where my only nourishment for the day might be beer and pepperoni sticks, I've got to keep reminding myself of why I'm doing this. I want to write a book, and I can do this. Furthermore, I don't give a fuck if it sucks right now, because it will get better over time. It's like evolutionary literature, you know, and at level one it's a shit-heap that gets trampled by griefers. In the early levels, it still gets shit-canned by higher level mobs and members of the opposing faction, but it is capable of inflicting minuscule amounts of damage. Some of the quest chains are mixed up. Some of the abilities on the action bar don't make sense. The talent trees are a gong-show. But hey, you only have to slog through Stranglethorn Vale for so long. I use this location because in Vanilla WoW, on a PvP server, it was atrocious, and took your 100x longer to get anything done, because everyone was out to get you. However, once you ploughed through that nonsense, things got a lot easier, and you could go to Hillsbrad Foothills and shit. Scarlet Monestary. In this literary adventure, I at times feel like I'm trapped in the harrowing shit-holes of Desolace, but it doesn't even matter. Does. Not. Even. Matter. I'm not even writing a book about WoW, but League of Legends. Yeah, I've been researching it and everything. Reading all the Journals of Justice. There's a rich world of lore and back-story that Riot has created, and I'm sinking into its underpinnings to device my own story-work machinations. Don't even give a fuck.

30k to go.