GOODKIND IX - Killer Queen

[Moosicus]

Is that a rule or a moral imperitive?

So far I haven't been able to find any place where Zedd explicitly states that "Show us your tits" is a wizards rule. Yet. But I have found the rule from Phantom: Wizards tenth rule, "Willfully turning aside from the truth is treason to one's self." Hooray.

[Jaxom 1974]

So far I haven't been able to find any place where Zedd explicitly states that "Show us your tits" is a wizards rule. Yet. But I have found the rule from Phantom: Wizards tenth rule, "Willfully turning aside from the truth is treason to one's self." Hooray.

Hmmmm...I can accept the truth that the Sword of Truth books seriously blow. So I guess I'm not commiting any treason against myself there!

[VigoTheCarpathian]

Ah hell, might as well put all of the rules up:

Wizard's First Rule

"People love tits. They will believe anything they want to be true or fear to be true, especially while staring at tits."

Wizard's Second Rule

"The greatest harm can result from the best pair of sweater cows."

Wizard's Third Rule

"Passion rules reason. And titties rule passion"

Wizard's Fourth Rule

"There is magic in sincere boob display- the magic to heal! In the view that you grant, and more so in the view you receive."

Wizard's Fifth Rule

"Mind what people do, not only what they say, for deeds will betray a lie. If a chick says she's going to lift her top, she had better do it, or she is a liar."

Wizard's Sixth Rule

"The only sovereign you can allow to rule you is titties."

Wizard's Seventh Rule

"Life is the future, not the past. At some point, you might see boobs."

Wizard's Eighth Rule

"Deserve titties."

Wizard's Ninth Rule

"A contradiction can not exist in reality. Not in part, nor in whole. A truth-loving woman who is not topless is a contradiction."

Wizard's Tenth Rule

"Willfully turning aside from some titties is treason to one's self."

ETA for formatting

[Bazzlebane]

Alright, women of the board. You've all now got the perfect halloween costume idea: a red dress with your breasts exposed. I'll be holding a halloween party...

[Jaxom 1974]

Alright, women of the board. You've all now got the perfect halloween costume idea: a red dress with your breasts exposed. I'll be holding a halloween party...

Oh man! What a great idea (and I don't just mean the topless women!)...but having a Halloween party themed with The Sword of Truth! I can't think of anything scarier.

[Werthead]

Right, I've been through and collated all the parodies I could find on my blog - everyone's credited, but if you'd rather not be on there then let me know and I'll take it down. Also, if I've missed any of em then give me the URL and I'll rectify as soon as I can!

MinDonner FTW!!! It has to be said that this is a very handy resource. Your 'cribber's guide' to Goodkind is also pretty cool.

[Moshe Goldberg Rubinshteyn]

Ok, here's my first try (and of course, I do realize the TG already did his own 'TG meets RJ' parody, so it will certainly not be as good as his (BBHN,WLHHTU)).

The wheel turns ... <snip>... it was not the beginning but it was a beginning.

The two-mud-pool people haven't had visitors in two years. They have lived in isolation for two dozens of months. Not a single outsiders had entered their village for a hundred weeks. It was more than 700 days ago they had encountered a stranger.

Niccaeve tugged her braid at the sight of Lan. There was magic perverse sexual desires in his look. Niccaeve tugged her braid and smoothed her skirt. Lan glided from his horse in one single fluid motion. He smoothly came to an instant stop. Niccaeve smoothed her skirt then tugged her braid. Instantly, at the same time, in fact, simultaneously, Lan felt his thing rising.

<snip, edited out ~200 pages of braid tugging, rape, skirt smoothing, and gratuitous sex>

Kahlaraine looked at all the two-mud-pool people. "I'm looking for Rand Ayn Rahl, the Seeker Reborn." Her gaze fell on a woodsman who wasn't a woodsman (but who had wood). In this instant she completely understood the concept of a woodsman who wasn't a woodsman (with wood). Kahlaraine flashed her titties. The woodsman stared (now with even more wood), Lan stared, everyone stared. Niccaeve tugged her braid.

Kahlaraine pointed at the woodsman. "The Seeker Reborn has to come with me to rape the armies of the Dark Chicken One. Here's your new outfit for the job, Rand Ayn Rahl". She searched in her saddlebags and found a black metal-studded under-thing outfit which she tossed to Rand.

Narg entered the scene and saw what's going on between Kahlaraine and Rand Ayn Rahl: "But Naaaaarrrrghhhh luuuuuurrrrhgs Raaaaaaarrrrggggh". In one stretching motion Narg gabbed Lan's sword and suddenly a war broke out in the same instant.

<snip, edited out ~200 pages of gratuitous violence, torture, slaughtering, some more torture, impaling, goring, beheading etc. you know the drill>

Suddenly the war ended. All the villagers were dead. Narg built a statue of immense power out of chewed testicles and ears.

The End

Of course, if you want to know where the access key to the statue is (hint hint, Kahlaraine is currently fondling it), tune in to the next installment of the TG meets RJ 'Crotch of Truth' series called: The Pillar Rising

[Moosicus]

Nice one Polaris though I think you went a little light on the raping. Definitley needs more rape.

edit: To avoid this being a one-line post and thus incur the wrath of Mod, I will also say that at some point Ayn Rand al'Thor (or whoever) and Narg (whatever he is) should both have inner conflicts over talking to women, each believing that it is the other one who is good at it. We also eventually need a sword in the stone of tears. But I suppose that will be for another day.

[VigoTheCarpathian]

I also enjoyed the Wheel of Truth, Polaris. MM is right, though...the rape really does make a parody sparkle. That and unwarranted violence against non-threatening people. And terrible "tactics". Perhaps someone could tug on their braid while being raped?

[The Wolf Maid]

Oh man! What a great idea (and I don't just mean the topless women!)...but having a Halloween party themed with The Sword of Truth! I can't think of anything scarier.

The kids would run screaming from you.

Of course, if you want to know where the access key to the statue is (hint hint, Kahlaraine is currently fondling it), tune in to the next installment of the TG meets RJ 'Crotch of Truth' series called: The Pillar Rising

This has to be the best part. The Crotch of Truth...

[Zadok]

This is also my first attempt at a Goodkind injection into a far superior authors work. I give you the unholy combination of Goodkind and Mieville.

The door burst open and hammered against the wall, sprang back. Motley stood before them. He was silhoutted. Richard saw a twisted outline against the black-painted walls of the corridor. A garden of multifarious limbs, a walking patchwork of organic forms. Richard's mouth dropped open in amazement. He realized as he watched the shuffling bird- and dog- footed creature, as he saw the clutching tentacles and knots of tissue, that perched on top of Motley's head, was the bright red comb of a chicken. It was like a red flag. With an utterly bestial roar, Richard pushed KahLin to one side. Her hands twisted as she begged him to stay with her, but he was launching himself at Motley in fury.

There was a sudden loud concussion. An explosion of glass scintillas sprayed across the room, leaving blood and curses. The last slake-moth stood behind Richard. Its unthinkable wings were wide open. Motley had been facing the great beast: his mind was captured. He gazed at the wings with an array of unblinking eyes.

Between the slake-moth and Richard, sprawled on the boards, was KahLin. "Come here, KahLin," Richard hissed, "and don't look behind you."

KahLin slid fitfully along the floor towards Richard's back, his clutching arms. A little way from him, she hesitated. She saw Motley, transfixed as if amazed, gazing past Richard and over her, captivated by...something. She knew nothing about the moths that were not moths. Richard saw her hesitate, and began to howl at her not to stop.

With her one good eye, KahLin took in the extraordinary sweep of the slake-moth's shape with awe; and then she caught sight of the gusting colors on the wings and she was silent. Enthralled. The slake-moth reached out with a slithering clutch of tentacles and pulled KahLin toward it. The moth was not capable of speech, but Richard knew what those tentacles were for.

As Richard grabbed backwards for her hand, staring intently into his mirrors, he suddenly remembered the Bio-Thaumaturge's First Rule: Deus Ex Machina. Richard flung off his helmet as the others stared at him in shock. "You have no power over me, slake-moth! Richard bellowed, "I am only hypnotized by my love for KahLin." The slake-moth let out a slow moth cackle as Richard turned to face it.

Suddenly, Richard was running. The distance between them shrank at an alarming rate. Richard for the first time noticed the soft underbelly of the moth, that was the opening. He was in the iron grip of deadly determination. Richard was lost in the dance with death. Richard dropped to his left knee, using his forward momentum and a twist of his torso to add force to his strike. Fingers straight and stiff, he drove his arm ahead with all his might. Richard struck like lightning, driving his hand through the slake-moth's soft middle. In the blink of an eye, he had seized the moth's spinal column and yanked it back out, ripping it apart. The moth pitched backward, crashing against the wall, slumping down in a spreading, crimson flood.

[Moshe Goldberg Rubinshteyn]

that's what I first tried, TG meets CM, but I couldn't. I don't have enough moral celery for that. Great work, I'll call it 'Perdido Truth Station".

Now, if someone could write a TG meets RH: DickChivalry Rahlseer.

[Knight of the Wineskin]

Bah. Needs more beastiality and descriptions of the corruption caused by humanity.

[Draco the Lizard]

I think I may have found the first person to use moral celery for good:

It's none other than the Doctor

Clearly, that celery is the origin of ALL moral celery.

[Watcher]

I adapted Ned’s fever dream of the Kingsguard way back in the first or second thread. Here’s an update to it.

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood.

Richard dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Kahlen held captive and powerless for the ninth or tenth time. Richard lost count but his heart ached for his one true love the same as it did the first time his one true love was kidnapped and almost raped.

In the dream his cronies rode with him, as they had in life, Martyn Cassel, Jory's father; faithful Theo Wull; Ethan Glover, who had seen the Truth that came from Richard; Ser Mark Ryswell, soft of speech and cutter of ears; the mudman, Howland Reed; and Lord Dustin on his small pony. Richard had known their faces as well as he knew his own once, but the years leech at a man's memories, even those he has vowed never to forget. In the dream they were only shadows, grey wraiths on horses made of mist.

They were seven, facing three. In the dream as it had been in life. Yet these were no ordinary three, They waited before the round tower, the red mountains of Dorne at their backs, their white cloaks blowing in the wind. These were no shadows, their faces burned clear, even now. They were big men. Richard was a big man, and all these men were bigger then him. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips, for he knew not the truth of Objectivism. The hilt of his greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. His braid was long and thick. Ser Oswell When was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings, raping an evil chicken that wasn’t a chicken His wrist were thick almost as thick as his thick neck. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. He didn’t know how to handle children. Never once did he kick one them in the face. His neck was thick and so was his braid. But neither his neck nor his braid nor wrist was as thick as the other two. He was still bigger then Richard, who was a big man.

They all lacked the moral clarity to see the Truth. Richard once spoke to them, but they didn’t listen. They all deserved long, slow deaths. Richard would cut off their ears personally.

"I have come to tell you the Truth of Objectivism," Richard said to them.

"We have laughed at your speeches before," Ser Gerold answered.

"My brain has been turned to mush trying to decipher it," added Ser Oswell.

"When King's Landing fell, Nicci tortured your king with a Agiel, and I wondered where you were. Since he was evil, she was right to torture him all night"

"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and your pet Mord’Sith would burn in seven hells."

"I came down on Strom's End to lift the siege," Richard told them, "I give a speech about how your life is yours. I talked about how the only person you owe anything to is yourself. By my example I showed them how you can kill and torture and murder as long as you have moral clarity. I spoke of the evils of communism and the how the Church is evil. The Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."

<snipped>

"Our knees do not bend easily," said the waking Ser Arthur Dayne

"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man, and true," yawned Ser Oswell from the nap he took during the last 20 pages.

"I'm sorry, I fell asleep," Ser Gerold pointed out. "Can you summerize that?"

"Communism is dead," said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

"We fell asleep during that speech," explained old Ser Gerold.

Richard’s wraiths moved up beside him, shadow swords in their hands. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

Richard lost his temper and draw the Sword of Truth. All the memories of the other wielders memories came rushing back to him. The battle rage was upon him. Quicker then a snake, his first stroke slit Ser Oswell in half, his guts come sliding out of his bottom half. His lungs slid out from his now useless armor and washed the ground in blood. Richard easily turned that slice into a thrust and speared Ser Gerold with it. His point punched a boulder size hole through the heavy plate mail he was wearing and his chest. The point stuck out the back. Swift as a cat, Richard ripped the Sword out of Ser Gerold chest with his still beating heart at the end of the sword. He then cut Arthur’s neck cleaving it almost in half. Arthur’s armor stood no chance against that masterfully stroke.

Richard looked over his fallen enemies and laughed. His men laughed with them. Then Nicci grasped in horror as Arthur Dayne started a sword thrust from where he laid on the ground, his head barely attached to his body. Faster then a speeding bullet, Richard leapt aside the thrust. He reached down and shoved his hand into Arthur’s open neck and ripped his entire spinal column out of his body with one swift pull.

Richard then went to rescue Kahlen. At the sight of Richard, Kahlen’s memories came rushing back like a wind in a void. She remember everthing and was proud that even if she didn’t remember who she was, she was always true to her inner self.

[Knight of the Wineskin]

Once again, MY EYES!

[Mr Smash]

Oh, come on. I think we all know who the protagonist would be if Goodkind had written A Song of Ice and Fire:

Ser Gregor Clegane drew the Sword of Truth from its sheath as his opponent was lead into the ring. He was a much smaller man than Gregor, who was a big man, but he had a dangerous look. Gregor turned to regard his beloved, the beautiful Cersei Lannister, before facing his opponent, Prince Oberyn Martell, of the Old World of Dorne.

The Dornishman's eyes gleamed with hate. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded, voice dripping with spite.

"Some deluded commie bastard who is lacking in moral clarity," Gregor replied.

The Dornishman ignored Gregor's words. "Elia of Dorne was my sister. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Gregor Clegane had killed many people, including women and children, in his wars with the Old Kingdom. He didn't remember this "Elia" or her children.

"Your sister chose Death," Gregor explained. "By serving the Old Kingdom and its evil king Aerys, she was a party to evil. This makes her evil herself.

<snip>

And now you, too have chosen evil. The man you are defending today is guilty of many vile deeds. If you stand for him, then you yourself are evil and deserve to die."

"I am doing a good deed today," Prince Oberyn spat, his eyes blazing with hate. "Once I have slain you, I shall rape and murder the evil woman you are defending. You blame her brother for what he did? She was born with all the advantages. She is beautiful and cunning, where he is small and stunted. The Old Kingdom rewards those who kill people like her. Only with her death can we have equality."

He leveled his spear and charged. Gregor knew that he would have to kill him first and then explain to the crowd why his words were lies propagated by the Old Kingdom.

Weapons clashing, the two men circled each other.

Bringer of death.

"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Bringer of death.

"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Bringer of death.

"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Bringer of death.

"You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children."

Bringer of death.

Gregor swung the Sword of Truth in an arc that would have taken off the Dornishman's head had he not dived out of the way. He vanished into the crowd.

Bringer of death.

Gregor went after him, hacking his way through the mass of spectators. He had no choice. They were helping to conceal an evil man, so they were no better than evil themselves. Blood and gore showered across the ground and Gregor hacked his way through the crowd.

A man in a bloodstained tunic stood before him. "Can't you give peace a chance?" he asked, before the Sword of Truth took his head off in a red spray. There was still no sight of Prince Oberyn of Dorne.

Bringer of death.

Suddenly, something struck him from behind. Gregor sprawled forward, losing his grip on the Sword of Truth, which slid across the ground. He rolled to see Prince Oberyn standing above him, grasping the Sword in both hands.

"You're dead, Clegane," the prince spat. "I have the weapon." He wound up a stroke that would take Gregor's head off.

"I am the weapon," Gregor replied. He lurched upward and drove his hand through Prince Oberyn's armor and into the soft stomach beneath. He grasped the Dornishman's spinal cord and gave a mighty yank. It came free in a shower of gore. Prince Oberyn Martell collapsed.

<Gregor gives a 20 page speech to the crowd about the evils of communism>

<Gregor and Cersei talk for 10 pages about how much they love each other>

[The Wolf Maid]

*dies with laughter*

God, this is too much. Even Martin Himself would collapse with laughter with this!

I loved the Tower of Joy scene, and the three Kingsguard. Sacry thought, though, I imagined they would say the same things if confronted by Richard.

Mr. Smatch and Watcher, you guys

[Larry.]

Please, for the love of God, tell me you people haven't yet SoTomized Bakker's PoN yet. That might be too much to bear...much as I was laughing in reading the latest 'adaptations'.

But I'm waiting for the real thing in the next few days - apparently today, G--dk-nd (BBHS, BBNC) gave an internet radio speech/interview on the situation in Lebanon. The usual suspects were creaming themselves it seems and supposedly, there might be a podcast of this available in the next few days. Just something for us to look forward to, huh? :sick:

[The Wolf Maid]

Please, for the love of God, tell me you people haven't yet SoTomized Bakker's PoN yet. That might be too much to bear...much as I was laughing in reading the latest 'adaptations'.

Looking up MinDonner's Blog, I don't think anyone has done PoN yet, so you can rest easy.