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Genre: Other Genres
About gunshouLocation: New England, USA Home Region: Age:31 Website: http://blownuts.livejournal.com Favorite novels: The Dark Tower Favorite writers: Gaiman, King, West, Pratchett, Butcher, Brust Favorite music: Movie or anime soundtracks so I'm not distracted by singing along. Non-noveling interests: FFXII, my dog, LJ, making icons, teaching high school, martial arts |
Joined: October 21, 2004 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 5
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Brief Author Bio: gunshou lives north of boston with her toy poodle, spends far too much time on the computer, and wishes her students would not be so literal. Obsessed with Basch and Noah fon Ronsenburg of FFXII, she scours the internet for fanart and good fanfic, which often renders her incapable of rational thought. Defender of the Apostrophe, her goal in life is to become an Evil Overlord, accompanied by her minions and her army of peng(u)ins. She's a sucker for a good metaphor, loves semicolons, and writes in shades of purple with occasional forays into Deep Imagery - an unfortunate side effect of being an English teacher. |
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Synopsis: Prisoner of Fate
FFXII fanfic. Yeah, I know, but I don't tell you what to write, do I?
Imprisoned by the Empire, disgraced knight Basch fon Ronsenburg fights insanity in the blackness beneath Nalbina Fortress. His twin, who betrayed him to this fate, finds the stains on his honor harder to bear then the blood on his hands.
And Vayne Solidor, who orchestrated the fall of Dalmasca, has greater plans for the brothers than either of them ever dreamed.
Excerpt: Prisoner of Fate
Basch tilted his head back against the bars and squinted up, trying to peer past the capstone of his cell. Ambient light from above colored everything in dull hues of brown and grey, but he saw the bars and the wall beyond them. Except he could no longer quite discern the stone arches from the blank spaces beneath them. He rolled to one knee and thrust his face through the gap between two bars, trying to detect activity at the lip of the hole, but if anything stirred in the murk, it remained too far away for his sight. The soft light didn’t flicker; it simply faded. The glowstones that lined the room above were going out.
They were going to leave him in the dark.
gunshou's Writing Buddies
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