The Battle Against Writer's Block
I shifted in the saddle of the great warhorse. Her name was Ambition. Sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds and was reflected off my armor of Resolve. I rode proudly at the head of a grand army made up of troops from every facet of Creativity, Motivation, and elsewhere. We were to face the evil armies of Writer’s Block this day. We marched along the dusty Pen and Paper Road which led to the Valley of the Keyboard where the battle would be decided.
The war was going badly so far. Many of my soldiers had fallen in the battles before, and some had even deserted. A large portion of my troops from Originality had turned cloak and joined the ranks of WB’s soldiers of Insipidness and Namby-Pamby. This day however, was going to be different. I could see the confidence I felt reflected in the faces of my army as we solidly marched on. We passed the dark Forest of Laziness, with its spindly trees of Distractions blowing ceaselessly in the wind, and the tall moss covered Excuses, their ancient branches reaching toward the sky.
Soon I could see the emerald carpeted valley, surrounded by craggy mountains. On the other side we could see the armies of WB spread across the valley floor, from one end to the other. Their numbers seemed endless. On a great hill in the center of this vast host stood the giant form of General Writer’s Block himself, the victorious conqueror, his visage hidden behind a great black helm with intricate scroll work depicting past writers pulling out their hair or crying in their beer. The rest of his body was covered in armor that had spikes and other strange edges which on closer inspection revealed that they were metal depictions of broken pencils and crumpled paper. I had seen him up close and personal before.
I began issuing orders to my soldiers and they started filing into the valley through the many small passes in the rocks. I rode my warhorse back and forth across the front ranks of my troops as my army formed up at the north end of the valley amid the shouted commands of my captains and clamor of men equipped for war. WB’s army stood firm in defensive positions. I was, as always to attack.
I sent my archers from Creativity to the vanguard and ordered them to position themselves for the first volley. My heavy spear out of Vast Lexicon moved behind them in a defensive shield wall in the likelihood of an enemy Drawing a Blank cavalry charge against my archers. I ordered my own cavalry on the flanks of my army.
Arrows of Inspiration filled the air, causing a large shadow to momentarily darken the field of battle. When they struck the front ranks of WB’s army the effect was devastating. Whole rows of his soldiers fell like wheat before the scythe. With shouted commands soldiers from the rear were moved up to replace those who had fallen.
Hours later the battle was going badly. WB’s Apathy scout troops had circled around and attacked my reserve soldiers from Drive and Desire at the rear. I had to pull several squads from my Composition forces at the front to help reinforce them. We were slowly being pushed back. The enemy was so close I could see their faces clearly now. One enemy soldier came out of the ranks of milling, fighting men, his face twisted with hatred for me. I noticed his tabard as he jumped at me with his sword. He was from Prosaic. My horse bucked and I struggled to hold on. One of my soldiers displaying the sigil of Unique Vernacular intercepted the Prosaic soldier and they disappeared in the swirl and chaos of the battle.
We fought valiantly on and as the sun began to sink behind the mountains casting long red shadows across the battlefield, I came face to face with Writer’s Block himself. He stood up in his saddle, his huge black clad form menacing. He called out a challenge and couched his spear for a charge. I did the same and our horses stormed across the battlefield, knocking aside enemy and friendly troops alike in our haste to get at one another. We came together in a thunder of arms and armor. Our spears broke upon each other’s shields, but I held my saddle. As I wheeled my horse around, I saw Writer’s Block upon the ground. There was a resounding cheer from my army and they renewed their attack with vigor.
Writer’s Block was far from finished. He stood raising a vicious looking morning star. It had a huge spiked ball on it, the spikes were the incarnation of writers’ broken dreams. His back was to the setting sun and the weapon’s shadow was like an ice cold wind sucking the breath and will from me as it fell over me. I dismounted and drew my Sword of Determination. As the sword illuminated the area around me, the dark shadows fled screeching, slowly fading away. We stalked toward each other for the final epic battle.
Writer’s Block walked up and smashed my head in with the mace. My soldiers all lost heart and fled the battle, some dropping their weapons in their haste to escape. My core of loyal bodyguards managed once again to take my body and flee the field. I would be resurrected and we would slowly recruit more soldiers from my lands. The battle would be fought again. And again. And again if necessary. Perhaps one day we would permanently defeat Writer’s Block and his armies. I would be back.
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