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BranTheBuilder

G--DK-ND(BBHN)XI

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The Quotes of the Day are absolutely real. Yes, Goodkind is THAT bad, and obviously very fond of rapes too. If you dig up your copy of Wizard's First Rule I think you'll be surprised...

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WFR is bad. But compared to his latter writtings it is positively brilliant. Page through Faith of the Fallen for some true gems.

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What I am VERY confused by is the Quote of the Day. They are obviously parodies of Terry Goodkind's writing mocking him but why do people discuss them like they are real? Is this some sort of inside joke?

Yes. They are real. No one in this board (or so I hope to God) is capable of that kind of terrible parody. Even if we parody Goodkind, and try to imitate his style, we all fail. Someone always says it was close, but our grammar was better than TG's (BBNC).

Please explain. Also, is this the writer that I've heard about dwell in uncomfortable detail on rapes and such?

Yes. Although uncomfortable is an understatement. Apalling or gratutious is closer to it.

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Yesterday I had a song come up on my MP3 player and inspired by recent events in this thread felt compelled to create another song parody. The song, Minor Thing by Red Hot Chili Peppers from their outstanding album By The Way. Enjoy :D

I change reality to fantasy

You see to me its just a minor thing

Goodkind knows everything

To readjust you've got to trust

That all the facts are just a minor thing

And I've got a minor thing

Goodkind knows everything

You've got your caught bolt, black cloak

Time-distance acceleration

Noble art, statue sculpting

Big fight intimidation

When I write a book I've got to

Redefine the genre to make the silence ring

Goodkind knows everything

You make a complaint

I will shout you down to stop the hate

Its just a minor thing

Goodkind knows everything

The facts are just a minor thing

And I've got a minor thing

Goodkind knows everything

You've got your caught bolt, black cloak

Time-distance acceleration

Noble art, statue sculpting

Big fight intimidation

All out interferring

Need for money motivation

Objectivist sexual junkie

I know nothing about infiltration

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theMountainGoat you have just broken the Chillis for me - I'll never be able to listen to them again... you are a GIT! :P

that's two bands ruined for me now - PLEASE, I beg, NO MORE musical parodies... they are killing me... :cry: :cry: :cry:

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If only I had a dollar for every time somebody suggested that the QotD was made up, I'd have...well, several dollars by now. Perhaps enough to buy a decent book.

Btw, did anyone notice this in the "made up fantasty words thread"?

A Bengali Menace said:

So we can blame Goodkind for the existence of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?

I'm not surprised...

:rofl:

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If only the QotD were parodies... then it would be so much simpler. But alas. No, I don't think anyone trying to come up with a parody could really manage to come up with some of the prose that TG actually gets published. Moose's little fanfic thing is about the closest we've seen, and while MinDonner's parodies are disturbing in their own right and quite brilliant, they still somehow lack the... authenticity that TG posesses.

How does he do it? We simply do not know. Nor do we really wish to know, since that knowledge might well destroy our very minds.

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theMountainGoat you have just broken the Chillis for me - I'll never be able to listen to them again... you are a GIT! :P

that's two bands ruined for me now - PLEASE, I beg, NO MORE musical parodies... they are killing me... :cry: :cry: :cry:

You know I have done three musical parodies. I'm guessing the Nickelback one did not bother you so much. I will try not to write any more for your sake Bran, but when inspiration strikes then a great idea cannot be denied no matter how evil the consequences. Sorry.

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You know I have done three musical parodies. I'm guessing the Nickelback one did not bother you so much. I will try not to write any more for your sake Bran, but when inspiration strikes then a great idea cannot be denied no matter how evil the consequences. Sorry.

THANKYOU!! :D much appreciated!

yeah, never been into Nickelback... always thought they were 10years too late :P

they are great parodies though.

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By the way, I don't get why "traveling pants" is supposed to be funny or stupid or at all noteworthy. English is my second language, and I think I'm missing something here. Please help me improve my grasp on the English nuances.

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Jaxom's friend is more likely a Hutt than a Jedi: as we all know Hutts are immune to Force mind tricks. :) Just felt geeky enough to clarify that sorry. :P

Hmmmm...he is a rather large man...the Hutt comparison may just be apt.

I really did want to bring up the Chicken that wasn't a Chicken to him, but our wives came back and neither of them were interested in books right then and there...I'll have to do it later...

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By the way, I don't get why "traveling pants" is supposed to be funny or stupid or at all noteworthy. English is my second language, and I think I'm missing something here. Please help me improve my grasp on the English nuances.

Well, "pants" is just the American word for trousers, and implies quite a modern type of clothing... and then there's the fact that Kahlan obviously has a special kind of pants for travelling in, like the "Confessor's Face" that she wears sometimes... it was more the fact that this was used in GK's attempt at the Most Ridiculous Rape Scene Dialogue award where Jagang asked Kahlan to take off her travelling pants...

Meh. It's just not funny when you explain it. :P

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By way of explanation (which maybe should have gone with the original QotD, but I'm lazy), here's a song that hopefully will put it into perspective:

These Pants are Made for Travellin'

You keep saying you've got something for me.

something you call rape, but Confess.

You're in D’Hara, where you shouldn't have been a messin'

and now Richard Rahl is gettin' all your best.

These pants are made for travelling, and that's just what they'll do

one of these days these pants are gonna travel all over you.

You keep lying, when you oughta be Truthin'

and you keep winnin' cuz your army’s so big.

You keep invadin' when you oughta be stayin'.

Now what's Truth is right, but you ain't seen Richard’s thing.

These pants are made for travelling, and that's just what they'll do

one of these days these pants are gonna travel all over you.

You keep dreamwalkin' where you shouldn't be dreamwalkin’

and you keep thinkin' “No one would dare innocents burnâ€

Ha! I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah

and what he sees with moral clarity, you ain't HAD time to learn.

Are you ready pants? Start travellin'!

I hope that clears it up (travelling pants = ridiculous and modern phrase)

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Good morning and welcome to the Terry Goodkind Quote of the Day. By now I’m sure many of you are thinking back to the early stages of the series and wondering to yourselves, “How on earth did a bad-ass stone-cold killer like Richard ever get captured by the bad guys in the first place? Why didn’t he just slaughter them all?†Let’s find out together, shall we? To sum up, Kahlan, Richard, and Zedd all went to Tamarang to get queen Milena’s box of Orden, but they find out that the box is gone, and the wizard who was protecting it was killed. After leaving, it turns out that a spell was placed (drawn) over Richard, dragging him to a cave. Richard decides that Kahlan and Zedd should continue on, while he goes to deal with the “Artist†James.

Then he saw it. The man in the drawing was as tall as he, but the rest of the drawing was larger still. It was crude, but he knew it was him. The sword held in the right hand had the word Truth written on it. There was a map around the figure, similar to the one Kahlan had drawn on the ground. On one side, the line around the outside edges went down to the Callisdrin and across the center of the bridge. That was where he had run into it.

<Snip>

There was flickering light. He spun around. A man holding one of the reed torches came closer, an oily smile on his face. It was James, the artist.

“I thought I might find you here. I came to watch. Anything I can do to help?â€

By his laugh, Richard knew James wasn’t about to help him. James also knew that with the wall <a magic wall> between them Richard couldn’t use the sword on him. He laughed at Richard’s helplessness.

<Snip>

Richard spun to the drawing. While he worked with one hand, he searched his pocket with the other. He pulled out the stick Zedd had told him he could use to alter the drawing.

James leaned forward with a chuckle, watching him work.

The chuckle stopped. “What are you doing there?â€

Richard didn’t answer as he erased the right hand on the figure.

“Stop that!†James yelled.

Richard ignored him and kept erasing. James threw the torch on the ground and pulled out a drawing stick of his own. The artist started drawing in fast slashing strokes, strands of his greasy hair whipping around as he worked. He was drawing a figure. He was drawing another spell. Richard knew that if James finished first, there would be no second chance.

“Stop that, you fool!†James yelled as he raced to complete his drawing.

The unseen wall pressed up against Richard’s back, forcing him against the wall of the cave. He barely had room to move his arms. James was drawing a sword, starting to write the word Truth.

Richard took his drawing stick and, with a line, connected the sides of the wrist on the figure, making a stump. Just like the one James had.

As he finished it, the pressure on his back lifted, and the sick feeling left.

James screamed.

Richard turned to see him writhing on the floor of the cave, folding himself into a ball as he vomited. Richard shuddered and picked up the torch.

The artist’s pleading eyes came up to him. “I…wasn’t going to let it kill you…only trap you…â€

“Who had you do this spell on me?â€

James gave a wicked little smile. “The Mord-Sith,†he whispered. “You are going to die…â€

“What’s a Mord-Sith?â€

Richard heard the breath being squeezed from him, bones snapping. James was dead. Richard couldn’t say he was sorry.

Richard didn’t know what a Mord-Sith was, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out.

<Snip>

Richard ran toward the cave entrance, dropping the torch along the way. Running out into the bright sunlight, shielding his eyes, he came to a halt. Squinting, he saw a ring of people around him. Soldiers. They wore uniforms of dark leather and mail, swords over their shoulders, battle axes at their wide belts.

At their lead, facing the cave, facing him, was someone different, a woman, with long auburn hair pulled back into a loose braid. She was sheathed in leather from neck to ground, cut to fit like a glove. Blood-red leather. The only deviation from the blood red of it was a yellow crescent and star across her stomach. Richard saw that the men wore the same crescent and star on their chests, only theirs was red. She watched him with no emotion except the slightest wisp of a smile.

Richard stood with his feet spread defensively, his hand on the hilt of the sword, not knowing what to do, without a clue to their intent. <Dumbass> Her eyes gave a little flick, looking above and behind him. He could feel the anger of the sword racing urgently into him through his hand on the hilt. He held it at full rage as he gritted his teeth.

The woman snapped her fingers at the men behind him, then pointed at him. “Take him.†He heard the sound of steel being drawn.

That was everything Richard needed to know. The commitment had been made.

Bringer of death.

His sword came out in an arc as he spun. He let the anger loose with a vengeance. It exploded though him. His eyes met those of the two men. Their jaws were set in a rage of their own as their swords cleared the scabbards over their shoulders.

Richard kept the Sword of Truth low. Waist height, with all his weight and strength behind it. Their swords came down defensively. He screamed with lethal rage. Lethal hate. Lethal need. He gave himself completely over to the lust to kill, knowing anything less would be the end of him. His sword tip whistled.

Bring of death.

Shards of hot, shattered steel spiraled through the clear morning air.

Twin grunts. At impact, twin, wet thwacks, like ripe melons hitting the ground. Insides turned out in long red ropes. The top halves of their bodies tumbled as the legs collapsed.

The sword continued around, tracing its route with strings of blood. He refocused the rage, the hate, the need. She commanded them. Richard wanted her lifeblood. The magic surged through him unhindered. He was still screaming. She stood with a hand on her hip.

Richard met her eyes, made a slight alteration to the course of the sword so it to would meet them. Her widening smile only fed the violent fire of his wrath. Their eyes locked together. The sword tip whistled around toward her head. His need to kill was beyond retrieval.

Bringer of death.

The pain of the sword’s magic hit him like a waterfall of icy water on naked flesh. The blade never reached her. The sword clattered to the ground as the pain took him to his knees, ripping through him, doubling him over.

Hand still on her hip, smile still on her face, she stood over him, watching as he clutched his arms across his abdomen, vomiting blood, choking on it. Fire burned through every inch of him. The pain of the magic consumed him, took his breath from his lungs. Desperately, he tried to get a grip on the magic, tried to put away the pain as he had learned to do before. It did not respond to his will. With rising panic, he realized he no longer had control of it.

She did.

He collapsed to his face in the dirt, trying to scream, to breathe, but couldn’t. He thought about Kahlan for an instant; then the pain took even that from him.

Not one of the men moved from the circle. The woman put a boot on the back of his neck and an elbow on her knee as she leaned over. With her other hand she grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his head. She leaned closer, the leather creaking.

“My, my,†she hissed. “And here I thought I was going to have to torture you for days and days before I finally made you angry enough to use your magic against me. Well, not to worry, I have other reasons to torture you.â€

<Snip>

“Do you want the pain to stop, my pet?â€

The question enraged him. His anger at her, his want to kill her, twisted the pain tighter. “No,†he managed with all of his strength. <Good job, stupid.>

She shrugged, dropping his head. “Fine by me. But when you decide you want the pain of the magic to stop, all you have to do is stop thinking those nasty thoughts about me. From now on, I control the magic of your sword. If you so much as think of lifting a finger against me, the pain of the magic will take you down.’ She smiled. “That is the only pain you will have any control over. Just think something pleasant about me, and it will stop.

“Of course, I too will have control over the pain of the magic, and can bring it to you any time I choose, and I can bring you other pain too, as you will learn.†She frowned. “Tell me, my pet, did you try to use the magic on me because you are a fool, or because you fancy yourself as brave?â€

“Who…are…you?â€

She took a fistful of his hair again, lifted his head, twisted it around to look into his eyes. As she leaned over, the boot on his neck sent a shard of pain through his shoulders. He couldn’t move his arms. Her face was wrinkled in a frown of curiosity.

“You don’t know who I am? Everyone in the Midlands knows me.â€

“I’m…Westland.â€

Her eyebrows lifted in delight. “Westland! My, my. How delicious. This is going to be fun.†Her smile widened. “I am Denna. Mistress Denna to you, my pet. I am a Mord-Sith.â€

<Snip. She pokes him with her agiel a few times, makes him bleed and scream, breaks a few ribs.>

Denna gave him a cruel sneer. “Now, my pet, say, ‘Thank you, mistress Denna, for teaching me.’†Her face came closer. “Say it.â€

With all his mental strength, Richard focused his hunger to kill her, and envisioned the sword exploding through her head. “Die, bitch.†<You're my hero Richard.>

Denna shuddered and half closed her eyes, running her tongue over her upper lip in ecstasy. “Oh, that was a deliciously naughty vision, my pet. Of course, you will learn to be seriously sorry you did it. Training you is going to be exquisite fun. Too bad you don’t know what a Mord-Sith is. If you did, you would be very afraid. I would enjoy that.†Her smile showed her perfect teeth. “But I think I’m going to delight in surprising you even more.â€

Richard maintained the vision of killing her until he was unconscious.

~Terry Goodkind, Wizard’s First Rule

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I love the magic drawing contest. It's like extreme Pictionary.

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How the hell did James die?

Maybe I cut too much out. James had drawn a magic spell around Richard, it worked like a wall, closing in on him and forcing him into the cave. It kept shrinking and the touch of it made Richard nausious. Richard found the picture of himself and changed it to look like James (missing hand, see?), at that point the magic wall came off Richard and started to wrap around James, slowly crushing him to death.

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Because he rattet out that the Mord-Sith paid him to lay a spell on Richie?

NM.

But somebody got his hand chopped off. Yay. Every fantasy series needs that.

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“Who had you do this spell on me?â€

That's gotta be the the best line...I can just hear CCR singing "I Do a Spell on You".

The other thing I don't really get (and maybe its just my feeble mind) is that with the magic stick, Richard drew a dude with one hand. I have problems with this:

1. If I "did" a spell, and it was currently working on someone, them erasing a hand on it would (logically) cut their own hand off.

2. Any decent spell-"doer" would (logically) have some sort of failsafes built into their spells.

But, oh well...we all know that logic is not part of SoT..."I'm a wizard, remember?"

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