Guidelines I was given to start writing again:

Character: Quinlan.

Setting: Corrie Guard drunk tank (not because he is but because that was the only place Fox could keep him where he wouldn't be bothering everyone...and that only partly succeeds) (That was NOT the setting I was given. The first idea was a creepy castle from later revealed author's future part of ItS. The second was a dungeon – where I got this idea. And another was a tower in a castle (with...golden chains on the wall? Wtheck? XD)

Length: One shot. (Yup, I failed at that. But at least I was closer this time)

Purpose: Something to get me writing.

Plot: (N/A)

What is it with this madness? Well, you may dually thank both my awkward imagination and Cuthalion97 for this bout of insanity. How did this start?...Uuhh (awkward cough) this...Uuuuh...might, might not have been somewhat what happened. :)

ANYWAY! On the with story! Hope you all enjoy! :D


A Tale on how to Write an EPIC STORY-(backspace, backspace, backspace.) AN EPIC TALE!

No...too...instructive. I don't want something instructive; I want something…

Quinlan puckered his lips, eyes squinting and thoughts non-existent as he tried to come up with a better opening and a much better title. For some reason unbeknownst to him, it just didn't ring 'EPIC' in his mind as he read it. But, he supposed he could work on the title later. He had a story he was just tingling to write.

Smirking at the screen, Quinlan wriggled some kinks he didn't have out of his neck and rolled his shoulders. His music was set and his pulse was beating to the drums. The images flashing across his mind rolled with the tune, feeding the fuel of his creative juices till he wondered if he would burst from the unreleased flood. His still mildly warm caf was set just off to his left, his idea scratchpad just off to his right, and his databoard just straight down the middle. His fingers hovered over the keys, itching to begin carefully tapping out the ambitious chronicle's opening line.

Oh, it would be glorious!

He could just see it now. Years down the star lane, society would look back on his works and marvel at the dedication and love poured into those volumes of wordcraft.

Poorly made renditions of his tales would be made by the millions and sold for the billions, capturing the hearts and minds of a growing generation who would all one day look back with star filled eyes and fond memories over the hours spent wishing and dreaming of the days that they too might be as great as their hero! Oh that legendary figure wielding the ever famous – well, he'd have to work on that part – shining emerald saber, bring justice and peace to all!

Yet no journey began at the middle. All things must start at the beginning, where they are meant to begin. Thus, looking down upon the endless canvas of possibilities, Quinlan Vos...Jedi Shadow…Master of the Order...stared blankly at the screen.

Well, he thought. This is it, little fingers. Do something! Uuhmmmm riiiiiiight NOW! No….NOW! Oh come on.

Yet, try as he might with all his creative strength, nothing came to him…

Biting his lower lip, he glanced down at the small scratchpad he'd half scribbled a barely legible gabble of words (his substitute for a proper outline) onto; It was nearly flawless! Surely an outline with as much direction as 'It's about me, but cooler!' was enough to kick-start any heroic narrative! After all, there were no restrictions as to what he could write with an outline like that so what was the problem?!

Maybe the music just isn't getting to me yet, he figured, unplugging his headphones from his databoard and cranking the volume.

Out from the yonder beyond the dark and dusty cell within the Coruscant Guard jail, the Jedi heard a rousing bellow echo off the solid walls of his prison.

"Quinlan! Turn the music down; you want to hurt your ears!"

"But Thirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre….!" he moaned, "I need it for my story!"
"What?"

"FOR MY STORY?"
"WHAAAAAT?"

Shutting the music off, Quinlan frowned, "Thire, you can hear me just fine and you know it."
"So glad you agree now. Now keep it in your headphones. I don't want the other boys to need to get their ears checked so early simply because you were trying to get in the mood."

"How did you know- "
"WHAAAA- ?"

Rolling his eyes, the Jedi shook his head, turning back to his databoard.

"Whatever. Okay, self. Let's do this, how do we start?"

(Whatever other conversation he had with himself is unknown at this moment because that was the time that Quinlan Vos decided he would try to find inspiration by searching through holonet photo galleries for reference photos.)


A Few Hours Later…

Glancing over at the time and feeling very unachieving at the moment, Quinlan finally closed down the 'inspiration' tab and returned to his somewhat unbegan..unbegun? Unbegotten?...Unbegotten sounds better.

- To his somewhat unbegotten story.

Yet still, despite all that his imagination was taunting him with in his head, nothing would transfer to his fingers in order to type. Finally admitting to himself that he was somewhat in a predicament, he glanced down at his compad, wondering if he dared contact the only other person he knew of who could help him with a problem so terrible as this.

Taking a deep breath, he entered his password and scrolled through his hoard of contacts until he found the one he was looking for.

Poorboi, Foxy. (AKA, the Commander)

Ah, the name never failed to bring even a small smile to his face.

He shook off all feelings of pride and surrounded himself with an aura of humbleness as he granted himself the ability to ask another for help.

After all, no one was meant to handle hardship alone.

He typed, [Heyo, Foxy. Messa Bored…..And I might, might not be procrastinating from something important that I need help with. Help!]

A moment later, a return text appeared on his screen.

{Define 'important.' }

[Important as in 'riot might break out if I don't finish this thing I've been avoiding for the past four months.]

{WHAT DID YOU DO?}

[Babbabbab, AVERT CRISIS FIRST! How do you lie on an incident report?]

The little indication that Fox had seen the message appeared.

But there was no indication of a response until two minutes later.

{Want to run that by me again?}

[Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….How do you embellish details on an incident report?]

{You. Are asking. Me?}

[Yes! Well, no. I'm asking for moral support. I know now what I must do…But I do not know if I have the strength to do it.]

{Seriously?}

[Help me Commander Fox, you're my only hope!]

{Knock it off. Alright fine. Tell me what happened.}

[Okay, get ready for a Jericho of text. Well, it all started with this guy who, as was foretold by the Ancient Prophesy given by the Wise Ones – peace be with them forever! - was destined to arrive at a place of his moral fears and battle the dread hordes of undead in order to save a friend trapped within a high tower above the city, awaiting the day that his friend would save him from the boredom of his responsibilities as he stood guard for all those who- ]

{Wait, wait, wait, what? Vos, what is this?}

[The incident report.]

{Are you pulling my leg?}

[No! This actually is happening! I just have to figure out how it ends, though. I'd hate to disappoint everyone who might get upset! And to be honest, so would the author!]

{Author? What author?}

[Oh yeah, the person who's been making me write all this stuff? Yeah, that one. :)]

{But an author is implying that all of this is fictitious.}
[:)]

As before, it took a while before the other man replied. Making bubble pop noises with his lips as he waited for Fox's response, Quinlan wondered how much trouble the Commander was going to dump him in once he got back to the Jedi Temple. Finally, the three periods that indicated that Fox was typing popped up on his screen. Barely a second later...

{YOU DARNED KRIFFER!}

Frowning, Quinlan raised an eyebrow and typed back a response.

[Actually, I think it's spelled Kiffar.. Just need to take out that extra r and switch the e with an a. Oh! And don't forget to capitalize the k. :)]

{Why didn't you just say that you were- GAH! Never mind! I'm trying to work here, Quinlan! Please, let me work in peace!}

[Foxy, I'm a Jedi investigator; that's what I'm trying to give you!]

All he got back for a response was a simple angry, frowny face icon. Sighing as he shrugged, Quinlan exited out of the chat box and went back to staring wearily at his mostly empty writing tab.

Well, there goes my writing buddy and potential writing prompts and inspiration.

His eyes scanned the title on the screen, the bold face italics still catching his eye as he waited for something to happen.

AN EPIC TALE!

But how could it be epic if nothing happened? There was nothing as of late that he could write about! The most interesting thing he had had happen within the past twenty-four hours was the texted conversation he'd just had with Fox and that was- …

Blinking, Quinlan considered, What do I want people to be to take away from my tale when it's all over and done?

He paused to himself...And grinned.

Of course! Absolutely nothing except that they have a stupid smile on their face! Ah, perfect! Just my style.

Reaching over to pat himself on the back, the Jedi smirked. He had something to write right now...And he figured he'd better get to it before he forgot how funny it all was. Reopening the chat box, he scrolled through all the recent messages with Fox and got to work…

It would be short…

But Heck, it would be a story. ;D


The End…

The Tentative End…

The Tentatively Dramatic End….

(QUINLAN! Just end it already, please).

The Tentatively Dramatic and Contested End.


Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand there you have it, folks! :D Thank you for reading!

If this was terribly confusing, the reason why is because I wrote it in about three-ish/four hours so everything was pretty 'get it down and out' rather than 'Make sure it's nice and proper before you unleash it to the general public. Also, it probably doesn't help that 'editing' is not in my vocabulary, it was already passed eleven P.M. by the time I got this out, and I hadn't written anything in forever because I don't know how to write happy sap when I plan ahead of time to write happy sap. :/ It doesn't make sense.

Anywho, that leads me to my final note: GoA is...uuuhhhhh...still in progress. Extremely slow, so my apologies to everyone reading that but for me (once I hit a certain word count) things get much slower than I want them to.

I'll end this now so you can get on with your lives but once again, thank you for reading and I hope you at least got a laugh or two out of this short and admittedly ridiculous story. Seeya later! :D