GOODKIND VIII: It's Not Terrorism If We Do It!

[VigoTheCarpathian]

I find that whiskey will cure most ills, or a nice strong beer...with the exception of SoT. Then, it only dulls the pain a bit. I don't know how Moose does it: flipping through copies of all the SoT books, looking for and reading passages, and then typing Terry Goodkind's own words to have it appear online for the benefit of others.

I now salute you, Mad Moose: if I were to do your job, I would probably find myself locked in my computer room in the dark, with most of a bottle of whiskey in me, crying and trying to pour the rest of the Maker's Mark (my preferred brand) into my eyes to cleanse them, and repeatedly trying to smash my fingers with a ball peen hammer, because I would be convinced that I had opened the door for them to be possessed by Yeardi.

[Snowbeat]

In any case, if whiskey doesn't solve it, straight cleaning alchohol should fix it right up.

[Werthead]

After a week of Terry (BBNC) its only natural that those of us who spend a lot of time here take a while to prepare cocktails. We have to drink ourselves into a stupor of moral clarity, at least thats what I'm focussing on. Seem Werthead got the jump on all of us last night. Go Wert!

Tonight I am sober, although tomorrow I should be on the lash again. God help us all.

Just watched Return of the King on my friend's unnecessarily vast projector screen and found myself pondering how Goodkind would have approached the material. Then I stabbed myself through the eye and stopped thinking such filthy thoughts.

[The Wolf Maid]

For the love of god will someone please buy the man a thesaurus.

So this drawing thing......the stick men have really detailed distinguising features like only one hand and that automatically focuses the magic on the right person? How do we know Richard didn't just simultaneously murder every single one-handed person in the world?

He does use it, the theasaurus. He did it once in another QOTD.

We don't now if Richard did murder every single one-handed person in te world. But we do now Richard couldn't care less and would just call it 'casualty of war'.

So I saw that His Yeardedness listed "Landscape Painter" under Previous Employments. Has anyone seen any of his works or was that something he made up to seem even more like Hitler?

Creepy.

[niamh]

Tonight I don't even want to think about Goodkind, when Gemmell just died.

May I give a quote from the late David Gemmell instead? His prose might not be much better than TG's, but his idea of life is so opposite that I always feel better after reading him.

It's the epilogue from Stormrider (which has no bearing at all on the rest of the story and is completely unrelated) The book is set around 1600 in a very close parallel world to ours. Feargol was shipped as a reward to a new virgin world across the ocean, in which the magic hasn't been bled from yet. (magic in this earth is generated by acts of love and kindness, and every muder and brutality bleeds the magic away much faster, to the point that the old world is now like our real one, barren)

This is one of the multiple DG's view of evil, as opposed to TG's one view of evil

The quote is pretty long, and off topic, so feel free to delete my post . I'm just crashing the party

EPILOGUE

IT HAD BEEN FIVE YEARS NOW SINCE RIAMFADA HAD DEPARTED THE world. Feargol missed him still. He would often stare up and out at the stars, wondering if the spirit of Riamfada had ever found the Seidh.

He was thinking of him now, as he strode down the wooded hillside, the morning sunshine glinting on his braided hair. He was a long way now from the great trees. The journey had taken several months. His moccasins were thin and all but worn out.

A huge herd of bison was grazing on the grasslands as Feargol emerged from the woods. He stopped and watched them for a while. Then he began to run, falling into an easy, rhythmic lope. He loved to run, filling his lungs with the sweet cool air, feeling his body stretch and sweat and relax.

He continued on for more than two hours, then climbed to the crest of a low hill and stopped to rest.

Ahead he could just make out the line of the coast, and the blue sea beyond. Across the vastness of that ocean lay the land of his birth. He thought of it little now. This was his land. This wondrous continent of magnificent forests and mountains, rivers and valleys. Magic was everywhere, floating in the air, seeping from the earth, bubbling in the rivers. Feargol drew it in with every breath.

Having rested he ran on, moving into sun-dappled woodland.

When he arrived at last at his destination he sat and waited, gazing down at the distant compound. Few people were stirring there. This was hardly surprising. They were dying.

Here, in a land rich with edible roots and game, they were starving to death.

Feargol had waited for this moment for most of the fifteen years he had spent in this great land. Riamfada had warned him of it. The Varlish had finally crossed the ocean. They had come in a great ship, and had begun a settlement on the coast. They had brought books, and chairs, and clothing and guns. They had carried beds and pictures and chests laden with goods from home. Not one of them had brought a fishing line. Nor a horse or mule. Not a single cow, and certainly no seed corn. They had expected to be re-supplied by sea, but those supplies had never arrived. Now they were dying.

And this was the pivotal moment that Riamfada had spoken of. What happened today would ultimately set the destiny of the world.

Feargol calmed himself, allowing his spirit to commune with the land. He felt uneasy, and had done for months now, ever since these few Varlish had landed here.

Towards dusk he rose from the ground and walked out to meet the seven hunters, laden with meat, who were heading for the compound.

The leader, a tall broad-shouldered warrior with a broken nose and a scar across his lips, gave a crooked smile as he saw Feargol. He was carrying a small dead deer upon his shoulders.

'Ha! Ghost Walker. Have you also come to marvel at our foolish visitors?'

'Not to marvel, Saoquanta. You are carrying much meat.'

'They are dying down there. They had one hunter, but he broke his leg. Now they have nothing.'

'And you will feed them?'

'It is a small thing, Ghost Walker.'

'No, it is not, Saoquanta. It is a great thing. I have seen it.'

Saoquanta tipped the deer from his shoulder to the ground. The other six warriors laid down the meat they were carrying. 'What is it that you have seen?'

'I have seen the rivers boil and stink, and the air darken. I have seen the buffalo vanish and the land laid to waste. I have seen the tears of the mountains, and heard the cries of the valleys. The people in that compound will be the fathers and the mothers of the darkness. Their children will outnumber the stars. They will rape and mutilate the land until there is nothing clean left to destroy.'

'These . . . fools will do this?' said Saoquanta.

'And others like them.'

'These words are heavy. They sit like stones upon the heart, Ghost Walker.'

'And upon mine.'

'What is it that you advise?'

'I do not advise, Saoquanta. I merely prophesy.'

The broken-nosed warrior nodded. 'Your dreams are always true. It is well known you walk the spirit paths. The Great Spirit has blessed you.'

'He has.'

'He has blessed me also, Ghost Walker. He has told me to protect my people, and to nurture the land. He has made me a hunter of great skill, and a provider to my people. I need to think on what you have said.'

With that he moved away from Feargol and entered the trees.

For more than an hour the hunters waited. At last Saoquanta returned. He sat once more with Feargol.

'If I walk into my camp and I kill a child with my knife that would be evil and the Great Spirit would be saddened by my actions. Not so, Ghost Walker?'

'It is so.'

'If I walk into my camp and a child is starving and I offer it no food and it dies have I not killed it?'

'Yes,' agreed Feargol, his heart heavy.

'The fools have children with them. They are dying. I have food. If I walk away now will not the Great Spirit be saddened, Ghost Walker?'

'The descendants of these people will have no understanding of the Great Spirit,' said Feargol. 'They will be thoughtless and greedy, merciless and vile.'

'It seems to me you are saying that if I do this small evil then great good will grow from it. This may be a great truth. It is not a truth I choose to understand. I am Saoquanta. I am a hunter. I do not let children starve. This is not why the Great Spirit blessed me.' Saoquanta rose and lifted the deer to his shoulders.

Feargol stood. Curiously the sense of unease left him. He felt free of the burden. 'You are a great man, Saoquanta. I shall walk with you, for I know the language of these men.'

Together they walked down the hillside to the compound. There were no guards at the stockade and the gates were open. The hunters moved inside.

Several gaunt men saw them. One of them, seeing the meat they carried, fell to his knees and offered up a prayer of thanksgiving.

[Werthead]

Gemmell > Goodkind to the power of about thirty billion.

As I said in the other thread, Gemmell had a hard upbringing which really informed his writing. It also left him as the kind of guy you'd want on your side in a pub brawl. He had a very clear sense of morality and good, evil and the shades of grey inbetween that impacted on all of his books that I've read. Never the most 'literary' of writers, being mainly concerned with writing action-adventure stories, nevertheless he had greater issues he managed to address. He will be missed.

[williamjm]

We don't now if Richard did murder every single one-handed person in te world. But we do now Richard couldn't care less and would just call it 'casualty of war'.

Creepy.

Maybe the ultimate goal of all true objectivists is to kill everyone else. Any other person it bound to disagree with you on something, so they must be EVIL, therefore the only moral thing to do is to kill them all. I bet that'll be the next Wizard's Rule.

[The Wolf Maid]

Bah. Children. Some of Erikson's characters (Thelomen Toblakai) have FOUR lungs.

Now I'm scared. Imagine what it would be like if they sneezed...

:sick:

[Dornishman]

So, when Goodkind characters grow up, they become Erikson characters?

[VigoTheCarpathian]

Let me preface this by saying that I am incredibly drunk: 8 IPAs from the bar with my roommate are serving me very well right now. And Erikson is not some dipshit 9 year old.

Goodkind characters grow up to be any stereotype that an 9 year old could have thought of. Currently, they are analogs of any fantasy world that ever could have happened. Except, they are gifted with the one true Yeard. His vision of the world shows an appallingly clear vision of the future. And that is, all that do not agree, face certain cliched death.

That is right...all of those who choose to resist, will become corpses in TG's wake. He is the only holder of Truth that we know of...and the fact of the matter is, our entertainment on his behalf has only angered the gods of Objectivism. They only bow to a Yeard that is true and good and holy...

Therefore, any who have witnessed this board with their mortal eyes must be sujbected to a horrible doom of Gratch-ass rape and a long gauntlet of advances from Kahlan, who smells like a whore on a 3-day bender of methampetamines. Do you get anally violated from a non-human, or succumb to the wily herpilogonahcipilAIDS of Kahaln's infested crotch?

[Jaxom 1974]

Wow, that's a whole lot of stuff there, Vigo. Let me get this straight: You typed all that while drunk? Woo! That's some good drunk typin' skills you got there, my friend! Yes!

[VigoTheCarpathian]

Witness! If anyone thinks that The Malazon Book of the Fallen is not a good book, I need only point them in the direction of the morally clear.

I know people who liked SoT, and now have rejected it, like beer vomit an alcoholic would try to lick up off the floor. And I say to those people: no matter what your opinion/life experience/ass-rape by other life forms, Yeardi is the inferior of anyone who ever thought of writing anything. The fact that he's published means doodly-squat: several hundred thousand people bought the last Jessica Simpson album, and that does not make an argument for popular music.

[Xray the Enforcer]

Wow, that's a whole lot of stuff there, Vigo. Let me get this straight: You typed all that while drunk? Woo! That's some good drunk typin' skills you got there, my friend! Yes!

We need Teh Stranger in here for some tag-team drunken ranting with Vigo. For the record, between Gratch and Kahlan? I'll take the chicken.

[VigoTheCarpathian]

I would take any lifeform that does not have any understanding of morality, and/or clarity. It's infinitely more sexy...

[Larry.]

In other words, you'd take Paris Hilton and bang the ever-lovin' Jesus out of her and then make sure the videotape is distributed on the web?

[Xray the Enforcer]

Jesus, what is up with the Friday Nite Crew? Depravity abounds.... next up, somebody makes a namble reference. Oops.

[VigoTheCarpathian]

No, I'm saying that I would rather have sex with a goat than Paris Hilton...with a Namble made out of Yeard Hair and razorblades...

[Larry.]

It was only a matter of time before we moved toward the realm of Goodkind slash fiction. Might as well accept that we'll be reading scenes of Kahlan screaming out to the Namble:

"Yes! Yes! Harder! Harder! I want your barbed cock to come all over me!"

Excuse me while I go vomit :sick:

[VigoTheCarpathian]

No slasher fiction is worse than TG's illustrations of how the world should be...there is moral clarity in gang rape! ETA: My fiancee tells me that my drunkeness is quite obnoxious, even though I strive to keep my spelling pristine.

So, just to recap what my drunken idiot mind believes: Terry Goodkind is a closet idiot. He has no concept of what the real world entails, and believes only what he has heard on Fox News. His Yeard (while magnificent) is a compensation device, meant to make us trust him in his moral resolve.

The truth of the matter is, dude is nothing more than a retard who found a philosophy for other retards. And some masturbating idiot at TOR thought it was genius. The thing is, the Goodkindology I've seen manifest scares the shit out of me, that someone would invest that much in a thing I considered to be entertaining when I was in high school.

I'd like to think that we haven't heard any replies from the pro-Yeard crowd, because everyone's too busy rubbing every page of Phantom on their newborn children, hoping that the additive magic will rub off on them.

[VigoTheCarpathian]

This stupid and self-serving and non-applicable in every way..but this board is awesome! I started my first-ever-posting over at the Malazan Boards (I like GRRM, too!) when their Goodkind thread was still going strong, and never looked back...after encountering mystar's brand of stupidity, I have chosen to stand against everything that TG stands for...or at least just make fun of him for wasting my time.

By the way, the first person who can name the 2 co-inventors of the word "Yeard" gets five points from me, for being diligent in their search for Truth.