Author’s notes: I’ve been using AI more often. I really have no idea what I’m doing with this story yet. Because people seem to really like it, I don’t want to “Generate” the story. Here is an example of how AI might get used in a story I’m just stuck on.

Give me an opening dialogue between Ivana and an elven lumberjack in charge of clearing a path through the forest. Ivana is trying to figure out what is delaying the clearing. The lumberjack is concerned about dreads and other fey creatures hiding in the trees. He doesn't like them and seems to want to find and kill them. Include a comment about how he doesn't like fey like he was some damn elf. Ivana stares At his elven ears and he adjusts his comment to mean wood elves.

Here’s a draft for the opening dialogue:

---

**Ivana**: “This path was supposed to be cleared days ago. What’s holding you back?”

**Lumberjack**: “Damn forest is crawling with dreads and other fey nasties. Every time we take an axe to a tree, you get that prickling feeling, like something’s watching you from the shadows.”

**Ivana**: “Fey creatures? I thought you were an elf. Aren’t they supposed to like you?”

(*The lumberjack snorts loudly, his tone dripping with disdain.*)

**Lumberjack**: “Hah! Just because I’ve got these ears doesn’t mean I have a soft spot for them. I’m not some damn elf—”

(*Ivana raises an eyebrow and stares pointedly at his elven ears. He shifts uncomfortably under her gaze before clearing his throat and amending himself.*)

**Lumberjack**: “—wood elf, I mean. They’re the ones that go skipping through glades singing with sprites. Me? I cut trees. I don’t talk to them.”

(*Ivana crosses her arms and steps closer, voice cold.*)

**Ivana**: “Right. So instead of clearing the path, you’re sitting here planning a war against things most people never see.”

**Lumberjack**: “Planning nothing. If they’d show themselves, I’d take care of it quick. They’re the ones playing games, hiding in the shadows. And if they want this forest, they can keep it—once I’ve had my way with it.”

(*Ivana’s eyes narrow.*)

**Ivana**: “Well, while you’re having your little feud with the fey, this path isn’t getting cleared. I suggest you decide which is more important—your grudge, or your job.”

(*The lumberjack scowls, hefting his axe over his shoulder.*)

**Lumberjack**: “Fine. But don’t come crying when those shadow-dwelling little bastards start making trouble.”

AND HERE’S WHAT THAT TURNED INTO

Also, you have LordB13 to thank for the idea that all the “managers” in this town builder are screwed up in some way. It's great. I love it. Here’s what I have so far.

Taron Timberfell - High elven lumberjack (Hatred of trees)

Landon Merrick - Human, roguish. (Lazy Soldier is more interested in gambling than working.) (thrives on charm and wit to mask his shortcomings.)

Drunken Priest who fumbles his blessings.

Cowardly Hunter afraid of the wilds.

One-Handed Carpenter struggling to keep up.

A miner/mason with a fear of small places.

A herbalist with allergy issues.

A bartender/innkeeper who looks creepy.

Keep the ideas coming. I still don't have a real plot yet.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Chapter 2

“This forest is crawling with dryads and other little fey nasties.” Taron Timberfell leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. His eyes darted to the trees as though expecting them to sprout legs and charge. “Every time we take an axe to a tree, you get that prickling feeling, like something’s watching you from the shadows.”

Ivana took a slow breath and leaned back, clasping her hands behind her back in a practiced attempt to appear professional. “Fey creatures? Is that what’s holding up the clearing? I thought elves could, I don’t know, talk to them.”

Taron straightened, his jaw tightening as if she’d just insulted his ancestors. “I ain’t no damned elf.”

Ivana cocked an eyebrow and tried her hardest not to glance at his pointed ears. She failed.

Taron’s frown deepened, and he crossed his arms. “Wood elf, I mean. They’re the ones that go skipping through glades singing with sprites and holding hands with pixies. Me? I cut trees. I don’t talk to them.”

“Right,” Ivana said, her tone flat. “Have you actually seen any of these fey?”

“Well, no,” Taron admitted, bristling. “But that’s their game, you see. They let you feel all safe and cozy, lull you into a false sense of security. Then, when you least expect it, they strike.” He made a dramatic chopping motion with his hand, which Ivana suspected was not entirely unrelated to how he handled his axe.

Ivana’s lips twitched, but she wrestled them back into a neutral line. “So instead of clearing the path, you’re sitting here plotting war against things you haven’t seen yet?”

“I ain’t plotting nothing,” Taron huffed, clutching his axe. “If they’d just show themselves, I’d take care of them real quick-like. But no, they’ve gotta skulk around in the shadows, waiting.”

Ivana screwed her face into what she hoped was a serious, no-nonsense expression. The muscles in her forehead betrayed her, as usual. “Well, while you’re busy waging your imaginary war, this path isn’t getting cleared. And I’m stuck evaluating candidates for your replacement.”

It was a lie. She wasn’t looking for a replacement yet. But Ivana was slowly realizing that her inability to express the right emotions on her face made her great at bluffing.

Taron scowled, hefting his axe over his shoulder like a soldier bracing for battle. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when those tree-dwelling little bastards make a mess of everything.”

They exchanged glares, and Ivana held her ground until Taron stomped off, muttering under his breath. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ivana allowed herself a long, slow exhale.

***

Ivana made her way down the wagon train, the mingling smells of cooking sausage, warm porridge, and the forest's floral decay creating a strange blend in the cool morning air. The small clearing was alive with activity as people packed up their gear or prepared breakfast. She weaved through the bustle until she spotted Asher near his personal cart, meticulously organizing supplies.

Before she could speak, Asher glanced up, his expression taut. “Have you seen Landon anywhere?”

“Landon? No.” Ivana shrugged. That wasn’t unusual. The captain was nearly impossible to find—unless he wasn’t needed, in which case he was annoyingly present.

Asher’s jaw clenched, his frustration spilling into his movements as he yanked a strap tight. “Any news from the scouts?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Ivana said, shifting her weight. “I was busy talking to Timberfell about the road clearing.”

“Timberfell?” Asher rubbed his face, a gesture that screamed why is everything a disaster today?

Ivana folded her arms and gave him an amused look. “He says the forest is crawling with fey. Dryads, shadows, and... I don’t know, angry squirrels? Apparently, every tree feels like it’s watching him.”

Asher paused mid-motion and stared at her. “And what did you say?”

Ivana smirked. “I told him I was evaluating replacements for his job.”

For a moment, Asher just blinked. Then a wry grin spread across his face. “Maybe we should do the same with Landon.”

Ivana chuckled. “Not the worst idea.”

Before Asher could respond, a scout sprinted toward them, his face pale and his breathing labored. “Sir!” the scout said, snapping a poorly executed salute.

“What?” Asher asked, his tone shifting, all humor gone in an instant.

“We’re missing two scouts, and I can’t find Captain Merrick.”

Asher straightened, his voice calm and measured. “Two scouts?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Understood. Get the rest of the scouts and meet me in front of the train.”

“Yes, sir!” The scout ran off, shouting for his peers.

Asher grabbed his sword and started toward the front of the wagon train, his movements brisk but steady. “Ivana, if those two wake up, send them to me immediately.”

“Okay,” Ivana called after him, watching as he jogged off. Her attention wandered to the two Player Characters sitting in one of the carts.

Both were semi-transparent, staring blankly into the distance like unsettling mannequins. Ivana shivered. Gods, I hate it when they do that... it’s fucking weird. Neither of them had gear even close to Asher’s quality, which likely meant they were noobs—low-level Players who often had no clue how the world worked.

Just as Ivana turned away, a loud voice burst from the cart she’d just been staring at.

“Alright! Random Encounter!”

Her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around, her gaze darting to the Players. One of them had stood, a wild grin on his face. The other Player remained seated, working a kink out of his neck.

“Where’s the fight?” bellowed the standing half-orc, Kill-a-dor, his name tag floating above his head in glowing letters. His shout drew every pair of eyes in the clearing.

Ivana closed her mouth with an audible snap, scrambling to remember what she was supposed to do. Right—send them forward. She forced a bright smile onto her face, raising her hands to get their attention. “Oh, brave adventurers!” she called, her voice dripping with theatrical enthusiasm. “Your valor is needed at the front of the wagon train!” She pointed forward, her gesture overly dramatic, mostly because she wasn’t sure if the noobs knew which direction the front was. “Seek Archwarden Asher! He will guide you to glory!”

Kill-a-dor vaulted out of the cart like an overeager hunting hound, landing with a thud before breaking into a sprint. “I call first blood!” he yelled, probably to his fellow Player, who climbed down with far more restraint.

The blonde-haired half-elf, Jace_Macer, adjusted his tabard and gave Ivana a polite nod. “Thanks, miss,” he said before jogging off after his companion, his chainmail rattling softly with each step.

Ivana let her hands drop, scanning the clearing. Sighs of relief rippled through the gathered expedition members. The tension that had gripped the air seemed to dissipate, and she caught more than a few muttered prayers of gratitude.

Yeah, she thought, releasing her own quiet breath. I’m relieved too.

Author’s notes: I still have no idea what happens next. It’s a game world. Its a forest. There are Players. Any thoughts?