If Different Authors Wrote the Stormlight Archive

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

George Lucas 

 

Open on Kaladin, staring out at the battlefield. It is littered with both soldiers and Parshendi corpses. He stands alone in his vest and trousers, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

KALADIN: Dead. All of them….dead. Half of Bridge Four is gone, because of me.

 

Sylphrena floats up to him, a ribbon of light, before assuming the form of a young girl. 

 

SYL: Not-so, Mistah Kaladeen, sah! You-sa still have meesa! 

 

KALADIN: Uh, Syl? Why are you talking like that? You didn't talk like that in the last book. 

 

SYL: Mistah Lucas thought it'd be better for the KIDS! You-sa knows he loves dee children! 

 

KALADIN: Excuse me, Syl. 

 

SYL: Where-sa you-sa going, Kaladeen? 

 

KALADIN: To find the nearest chasm. 

 

J.K. Rowling

 

Dalinarbledore gripped Kaladin's shoulders, meeting his eyes. "Don't you see, Kaladin? You are the Chosen One. Of all the Radiants at this school, you alone can unite the Sprenly Hallows and defeat Voidemort!" 

 

Kaladin looked away from Dalinarbledore's eyes, which always made him feel as though he were being X-rayed. "But….this doesn't make sense." 

 

"Of course it does. Voidemort chose you as his equal, which is why you can fly and do all of those amazing things." 

 

"But wouldn't I have been able to do that anyway, being a Windrunner and all? And while we're at it, why did I get Windrunning while Shalmione got Lightweaving? I mean, seriously, why are there differences in our magic, anyway?" 

 

"Because it's magic. Duh." 

 

Just then, Professor Sadeas walked by, scowling at Dalinarbledore. "You're smiling, Professor. Ten points from Gryffindor." 

 

"I outrank you, Sadeas." 

 

"Fine. Ten points to Slytherin, because I have better fashion sense." 

 

George R. R. Martin

 

Sigzil stood alone on the battlefield. Around him lay the broken bodies of Bridge Four, Dalinar's warcamp, Sebarial's warcamp, and the entire customer base of a random tavern. 

 

"Looks like it falls upon me, then," he sighed. "I alone must carry this narrative to the end. And I shall. I shall." 

 

The arrow struck his heart from an unknown source, and there he died. 

 

Stephanie Meyer 

 

Pattern buzzed in deep chagrin. "Shallan?" 

 

"What?" 

 

"I know that your sketches are important….but shouldn't you be working on keeping the parshmen from destroying the world?" 

 

"In a minute," she said, chagrined. 

 

"Shallan, you have already made 499 sketches of Adolin Kholin's abdominal muscles." 

 

"And this will be an even 500." Just as she finished the sketch and held it to the light for a moment's admiration, the door swung open. Her chagrin was quickly replaced by delight. 

 

"Shallan," Kaladin breathed. "I'm sorry for intruding on you like this, but I had to see you. I didn't have time to put on a shirt. I hope you don't mind." 

 

Pattern's chagrined buzzing began anew, but Shallan ignored it. When the Almighty sent you a shirtless Captain, you didn't ask for details. 

[Kobold King he/him]

J. R. R. Tolkien

 

 

* Forty pages of info about the history of tobacco in Alethkar *

 

 

 

 

(This was awesome. ) 

[maxal she/her]

Hey, we had a thread on that a while back... I had a really neat one written where Shallan compares Adolin and Kaladin's abs........... I have to find it again.

 

I recall I also did Divergence 

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Hey, we had a thread on that a while back... I had a really neat one written where Shallan compares Adolin and Kaladin's abs........... I have to find it again.

I recall I also did Divergence

I didn't see that one, then, because it sounds hilarious.

[maxal she/her]

It is written in a different optic, so I'll have to re-work it to fit this idea of this thread... It was hilarious.

[maxal she/her]

Here it is. A different format than yours and updated for this thread. I'll do the Veronica one later. I hope I've got the grammar right  I have trouble at times to keep up with the proper tenses.

 

Stephanie Meyer 

 

Adolin was glowing like a shining diamond each time he steps into the sunlight. After a 100 years or so, one would understand why he became so self-conscious about it he thought spending eternity in a perpetually rainy town while going through High School over and over and over again was such a brilliant idea. Still, he certainly was tired of studying the same subjects, the same classes... as it turns out instruction has not changed all that much in the last century. You are still required to read Shakespear: one would think he would have learned by heart by then.

 

It is then not surprising his eyes would wander on beautiful newly arrived Shallan Davar the second she walked into his school. She was the embodiment of perfection: those long hair, this snarling mouth, the perpetual unhappiness, what not to be attracted to? Never in his 100 years of existence had Adolin saw such beauty...

 

It was only logical he would enter in an affair with her, even though his entire species thought of her as... food. Never mind that: he was a vegetarian.

 

However, after a while, he thought the relationship did not work. After all, she was not glowing like him and she did not follow his diet. How could it keep going on? Especially since she kept asking to be turn into a glowing into the sunlight eternal vegetarian being such as himself. How could he curse her with eternal youth?

 

He thus ended the relationship: not surprising. He never managed to make them work, even after a 100 years.

 

Shallan, however, had a different opinion. It turned out she truly had feelings for glowing Adolin and not much else in her life it appears. She thus destroyed all of her drawing of him and resumed to curl herself into a ball at the bottom of her bed and cry, cry, cry, cry, cry because let's face: she is just a ridiculous girl, what else can she do in the scope of a break-up? Adolin... He had such gorgeous perfectly chiseled abs...

 

Luckily, she rapidly stumbled on Kaladin, a boy who spent all of his leisure time running into the wood, bare chest, with his equally bare chested friends, carrying a heavy bridge: a scared mission he received from the elders of his village. All thought of Adolin momentarily evaporated in front of Kaladin perfectly sculpted abs and broad shoulders because, let's face it, fencing was an adorable hobby, but lifting bridges, now that is sure to create a stronger musculature. 

 

Shallan thus ended up with a huge dilemma: who's abs did she prefer? Adolin was more athletic, but Kaladin looked so strong. Who's hair did she liked the best? Adolin neatly tousled and messy blond hair or Kaladin knotty and dirty brown locks? Who's smell did she prefer? Adolin's cologne or Kaladin freshly scent of sweat and musk? And what of their other anatomy parts? She giggled as she internally referred to them as fruits. If Kaladin was a banana, what was Adolin? A cucumber? English or regular? She could not help wishing Alethi fashion called for tighter pants...

 

Oblivious to the fact a war is about to explode outside, Shallan continues her internal struggle and what could possibly be more important than the heart-breaking decision she needs to make? Adolin or Kaladin? Kaladin or Adolin?

 

Unable to come to a conclusion, one would think she would choose Kaladin as she jumped down into the chasm with the clear intention of being rescued by wild Kaladin. However, in the mean time, Adolin got depressed. It turned out Shallan was his one true love, despite not being able to glow and smelling like food. Unable to continue this sad life thinking he had rejected her and incapable to foresee a future where he may simply go back to her, he enlisted himself to be sacrifice to Taranvangian, in desperate of dying people.

 

It is thus Renarin arrived, thankfully with his shirt on, on Shallan's door steps begging her to intervene. Horrified, Shallan flied to the rescue and prevented Taranvangian from extracting Adolin's death rattle. She immediately rekindled her interest with Adolin upper body, but not after having making him promise to grant her eternal youth and glowing in light ability.

 

After a much throughout inspection, it seemed as if Shallan dilemma had finally come to an end, but as the everstorm loomed and evil voidbringers rushed to exterminate humanity, she could not help but wondering how Kaladin's chest may feel like should she lay her head into his neck... And those eyes... Dark brown like the earth, firm, solid, smoldering even whereas Adolin eyes were blue like the sky on a clear day. Genuine, nice, playful...

 

As she heard the cries of the dead outside, she quickly drew he pad out and started the futile exercise of determining which young man was more perfect than who.

 

All the while, glistening Adolin still glowed like a diamond, dirty Kaladin still carried manly bridges bare-chested, but nothing else mattered to them than shy, snarling Shallan and her quiet eyes.

[Young Bard he/him]

Let me fix this up. Going by literary value...

 

STEPHANIE MEYER

 

a;dlkfjqpwoeifja;dslkj fpqoiewjf ;sdlkfj poqoweirj ;ladskfjpaowoierj ;lakdjfpqoweijr ;aldkfjpooqeiwjr;lsadskjfoweirj ;ladskkfjpoqwewijr ;alkfjpoqeij; kdljf pqoiejr; lkdjf poqiwjer adsf

wa;dlfk.asdfij qwpeoifj dsal;kfj ;3woeijf ;allskdfj oqwiuehf as;dldkfh qoiwerj ldslak

 

qpwoeijr ;lsdkfnc,xz.,fj;aowierj lads;lskfj poqweijr adklspqwoeijr ;sdldkfj pqoweirj pdaoisfj pqoeijr ;ldksjf .

 

EDIT - December 9, 2018 (Yes, three years after the original post, that's not a typo):
Put in spoilers for length.

This is the problem of being around in one place on the internet for a long time - you look back at some of your old posts and realised that sometimes... you used to be a bit of an arrogant arsehole. Someone upvoted this post recently, and I came back here to figure out what I was getting praised for.

I vaguely remember writing this - it was a cheap gag, at a time when dogpiling on Stephanie Meyer and the Twilight Series was popular. I think part of it was an attempt to riff off of the supposedly well established fact that Stephanie Meyer was a poor writer. Or at least, that's what I told myself. Looking back, I think that wasn't really the point of why I wrote something like this. Instead, it was an attempt to be 'hip' and 'cool'. "I'm cool - you want to know who's not cool? Those people."

Arguably, this post was a case of mild misogyny. Yes, it was a piece of cheap, kind of trashy fiction, but there's plenty of cheap, trashy fiction out there (including a bunch of things I like) that don't get nearly this level of hate. I think the problem is it's cheap, trashy fiction aimed at people who aren't cis white guys (aka... people like me.) I could write a lot more about that, but Lindsay Ellis' video on the topics articulates it a lot more clearly than I can, so I'll just link that.

If you'd tried to talk to me about that at the time, I think I'd have probably tried to evade blame - "It was a quick joke, made in a couple minutes - you're reading to much into it." But that mindset - of trying to make yourself cooler by putting down other people - that can get vastly more destructive than this. Part of me is terrified at how easy it would have been to fall into that rabbit hole - if my life had gone slightly differently, could these attempts at being 'cool' have pushed me towards the anti-feminist, anti-LGBT rights, alt-right position that dominates so much of politics today? I'd like to think not, but is that anything other than what I did here, taken to extreme levels? Trying to be cool and popular, and punching down to do it?

Suffice to say, I'm ashamed I wrote this now. Part of me wonders how I'll view the things I write today another three and a half years from now - hopefully not as poorly as I view this. I like to think I'm more aware and thoughtful now, but I probably thought the same about myself then, so who knows.

Edited December 8, 2018 by Ookla the Unprepared
Added rambly mess about people, ideology and discrimination that probably no-one will ever read.

[TwiLyghtSansSparkles she/her]

Here it is. A different format than yours and updated for this thread. I'll do the Veronica one later. I hope I've got the grammar right  I have trouble at times to keep up with the proper tenses.

 

Stephanie Meyer 

 

Adolin was glowing like a shining diamond each time he steps into the sunlight. After a 100 years or so, one would understand why he became so self-conscious about it he thought spending eternity in a perpetually rainy town while going through High School over and over and over again was such a brilliant idea. Still, he certainly was tired of studying the same subjects, the same classes... as it turns out instruction has not changed all that much in the last century. You are still required to read Shakespear: one would think he would have learned by heart by then.

 

It is then not surprising his eyes would wander on beautiful newly arrived Shallan Davar the second she walked into his school. She was the embodiment of perfection: those long hair, this snarling mouth, the perpetual unhappiness, what not to be attracted to? Never in his 100 years of existence had Adolin saw such beauty...

 

It was only logical he would enter in an affair with her, even though his entire species thought of her as... food. Never mind that: he was a vegetarian.

 

However, after a while, he thought the relationship did not work. After all, she was not glowing like him and she did not follow his diet. How could it keep going on? Especially since she kept asking to be turn into a glowing into the sunlight eternal vegetarian being such as himself. How could he curse her with eternal youth?

 

He thus ended the relationship: not surprising. He never managed to make them work, even after a 100 years.

 

Shallan, however, had a different opinion. It turned out she truly had feelings for glowing Adolin and not much else in her life it appears. She thus destroyed all of her drawing of him and resumed to curl herself into a ball at the bottom of her bed and cry, cry, cry, cry, cry because let's face: she is just a ridiculous girl, what else can she do in the scope of a break-up? Adolin... He had such gorgeous perfectly chiseled abs...

 

Luckily, she rapidly stumbled on Kaladin, a boy who spent all of his leisure time running into the wood, bare chest, with his equally bare chested friends, carrying a heavy bridge: a scared mission he received from the elders of his village. All thought of Adolin momentarily evaporated in front of Kaladin perfectly sculpted abs and broad shoulders because, let's face it, fencing was an adorable hobby, but lifting bridges, now that is sure to create a stronger musculature. 

 

Shallan thus ended up with a huge dilemma: who's abs did she prefer? Adolin was more athletic, but Kaladin looked so strong. Who's hair did she liked the best? Adolin neatly tousled and messy blond hair or Kaladin knotty and dirty brown locks? Who's smell did she prefer? Adolin's cologne or Kaladin freshly scent of sweat and musk? And what of their other anatomy parts? She giggled as she internally referred to them as fruits. If Kaladin was a banana, what was Adolin? A cucumber? English or regular? She could not help wishing Alethi fashion called for tighter pants...

 

Oblivious to the fact a war is about to explode outside, Shallan continues her internal struggle and what could possibly be more important than the heart-breaking decision she needs to make? Adolin or Kaladin? Kaladin or Adolin?

 

Unable to come to a conclusion, one would think she would choose Kaladin as she jumped down into the chasm with the clear intention of being rescued by wild Kaladin. However, in the mean time, Adolin got depressed. It turned out Shallan was his one true love, despite not being able to glow and smelling like food. Unable to continue this sad life thinking he had rejected her and incapable to foresee a future where he may simply go back to her, he enlisted himself to be sacrifice to Taranvangian, in desperate of dying people.

 

It is thus Renarin arrived, thankfully with his shirt on, on Shallan's door steps begging her to intervene. Horrified, Shallan flied to the rescue and prevented Taranvangian from extracting Adolin's death rattle. She immediately rekindled her interest with Adolin upper body, but not after having making him promise to grant her eternal youth and glowing in light ability.

 

After a much throughout inspection, it seemed as if Shallan dilemma had finally come to an end, but as the everstorm loomed and evil voidbringers rushed to exterminate humanity, she could not help but wondering how Kaladin's chest may feel like should she lay her head into his neck... And those eyes... Dark brown like the earth, firm, solid, smoldering even whereas Adolin eyes were blue like the sky on a clear day. Genuine, nice, playful...

 

As she heard the cries of the dead outside, she quickly drew he pad out and started the futile exercise of determining which young man was more perfect than who.

 

All the while, glistening Adolin still glowed like a diamond, dirty Kaladin still carried manly bridges bare-chested, but nothing else mattered to them than shy, snarling Shallan and her quiet eyes.

 

 

 

There….really isn't anything more I can say about it.  

[Quiver he/him]

Dibs on Terry Goodkinds Stormlight Archive.

 

(I'll write it up soon... just a little busy right now)

[maxal she/her]

Dibs on Terry Goodkinds Stormlight Archive.

 

(I'll write it up soon... just a little busy right now)

 

I can't wait. 

 

Dibs on Veronica Roth. I'll finish updating it today.

[ljósmóður she/her]

 

J. R. R. Tolkien

 

 

* Forty pages of info about the history of tobacco in Alethkar *

 

 

 

 

(This was awesome. ) 

 

I did, in fact, just log in to share my JRR Tolkien / Sanderson mash-up. I feel there is room for more than one - as awesome as yours is:

 

JRR Tolkien:

 

Kaladin peered out from behind the slate-grey rock. The Parshuk-Hai appeared to be retreating. He could no longer see their fell helms printed with the fell white hand of S-odium.

 

"I think they've gone," he whispered, sinking back in exhaustion.

"Oi think you're right, Mr Kaladin, sir", whispered Teftwise from beside him. "We're nearly at the chasm of Doom. Let's go Mr Kaladin, sir."

"I can't Teftwise, I can't. I'm exhausted - this quest is too hard for me. I've failed, Teftwise. I always fail."

"No you haven't Mr Kaladin, sir. Oi might not be able to carry that stormlight-infused, gem encrusted instrument of evil for you - but I CAN carry you!"

Shifting his bridge to his left shoulder, Teftwise hefted his limp master onto his right and set off on sturdy, hairy feet up the fell mountain leading to the chasm of Doom.

 

***

"We're here, Mr Kaladin sir", muttered Teftwise, peering gingerly into the broiling lava beneath them, "We've done it."

"No Teftwise. I won't do it. The ring is mine. I deserve it, I have suffered greatly, people have died - all the people have died and its all my fault. That makes me sad and angry and I deserve a present. The ring is mine". Teftwise had never seen his master look like this before; his face leered as he waved the ring aloft and stepped away from the edge of the fell chasm.

 

"A-r-gggh", screamed Kaladin, as a shardblade severed his finger. "Szollum".

 

A pair of large, childlike eyes gleamed behind the giant blade, wielded by the spiderlike creature in a billowing white loincloth.

 

"Stinker," screamed Teftwise, swinging his frying pan wildly at the fell assassin causing him to drop his blade which vanished.

 

"My precious", crooned Szollum, cradling Kaladin's ring-adorned finger. "You Truthless Bridgehobbits stole my precious. It's mine, mine."

 

Stepping backwards, he waved the bloodied finger and teetered on the edge of the precipice as Teftwise, enraged by the hurt done to his master, lifted his bridge and rammed the fell creature into the lava beneath.

 

"We did it, Mr Kaladin, sir", Teftwise yelled crawling towards his master who was lying on the floor, cradling his bloodied hand and attempting to regrow his finger despite the absence of any stormlight. "Let's go home."

 

"No, Teftwise. We can't. See how the land begins to shake. This land belongs to S-odium and, as he falls, so do the rocks. We have saved the Roshire - but not for us. It ends here for us - here at the end of all things." Kaladin lay back, exhausted.

 

"Well, if this the end, Mr Kaladin-sir, it don't seem right to end without a song to mark the occasion" and planting his brave, hairy hobbit-foot on the fell rocks, he began to sing:

 

.

.

.

.

 

Much rustling of pages and sounds of desperate thumbing as thousands [tens] of readers skip the song to the refrain of "Not a song. For the love of Stormlight, not a song, please"

.

.

.

As Teftwise finished the 427th verse, he heard the chitinous sound of a chasmfiend apporaching.

 

"Mr Kaladin-sir, we're saved. Look it's Gandalinor, on the back of a chasmfiend. The fiends, they've come to rescue us."

 

"So, they have Teftwise, so they have."

 

Fade to black, in preparation for the twenty 'final'  goodbye scenes.

 

(With apologies to anyone who doesn't skip the "epic poetry" in a Tolkien novel. You are a better person that I!)

[ccstat he/him]

(Note: an updated version can be found here.)

Dr. Seuss

 

One spren, two spren,

Lie spren, truth spren.

Are the blue spren truly glue spren?

This one makes a skyeel fly,

That one shows up when you die.

Oh what a lot of spren I spy!

 

You have light in your spheres, You have shards in your hand,

You have surges to help you to fly and to land!

So where will you go?  Somewhere high? Somewhere low?

To the great Reshi Isles, or somewhere with snow?

Perhaps you will dine on some Horneater Stew,

Delivered directly through Urithiru.

Or maybe the Shin will sell you a chicken

(eating it helps Thaylen eyebrows to thicken).

There’s so many places and people and spren,

It’s easy to wonder just where your path ends.

But please, don’t forget, it’s the way that you walk

that matters much more than the place that you stop.

Yes, the road that you take, whether straight, curved, or bendy

always matters the most—just ask the Parshendi.

Edited March 31, 2017 by ccstat

[ljósmóður she/her]

Dr. Seuss

 

One spren, two spren,

Lie spren, truth spren.

Are the blue spren truly glue spren?

This one makes a skyeel fly,

That one shows up when you die.

Oh what a lot of spren I spy!

 

You have light in your spheres, You have shards in your hand,

You have surges to help you to fly and to land!

So where will you go?  Somewhere high? Somewhere low?

To the great Reshi Isles, or somewhere with snow?

Perhaps you will dine on some Horneater Stew,

Delivered directly through Urithiru.

Or maybe the Shin will sell you a chicken

(eating it helps Thaylen eyebrows to thicken).

There’s so many places and people and spren,

It’s easy to wonder just where your path ends.

But please, don’t forget, it’s the way that you walk

that matters much more than the place that you stop.

Yes, the road that you take, whether straight, curved, or bendy

always matters the most—just ask the Parshendi.

 

If I could I would give this ALL my upvotes, I love it so much!

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

This is unbelievably cool.

[Quiver he/him]

In the hands of any other, Jezrien's blade was just another sword. In the grip of Szeth-Son-Son-Vallano, it became the Sword of Truthless.

 

Such violence, he thought with an inner, heavy sigh. I hate it.

 

He slashed the child mid-scream, her eyes burning and turning to steam as she fell to the ground. Her mother screamed as Szeth whirled, striking out. The Sword of Truthless struck her square in the chest, severing her spine with a visceral crack of bone. Her eye socket's sparked, caught fire, and she slumped over, dead.

 

Violence was his terrible burden, in this terrible land of magic. It was not the life he would have chose for himself; all he longed for was a simple home, a life as a woodsguide, and his beautiful beloved. But fate... fat had other ways of intervening.

 

Szeth-Son-Son-Vallano disliked violence. He disliked the need for it. But he was both Steel against Steel, his magic the Magic against Magic. He spoke only the Truth.

 

The flames that spread throughout Shinovar were not his fault. He told the priests of what he had seen. Rather than believe hi unconditionally -as men should- they had cried for 'proof', and dismissed his claims as heresay. They had exiled him across the boundary that seperated the peaceful, safe land of the Shin from the magic of Roshar.

 

He had responded by cutting them where they stood. If they weren't ready to listen, they deserved only to die. He would lead his nation.

 

"Sir!" Szeth turned. "Another group of protesters! They demand you show them proof of the Vidbringer's return!"

 

"My word is not enough for them?"

 

"No sir!"

 

Szeth wept. There would be more killing today.

 

The people of Hearthstone gathered in a huddle, murmuring amongst themselves. There were rumors -incredible things, about Lirin's son returning with a shardblade, of parshmen turning against their masters. But these were nothing as compared to the sight.

 

Lirin's son stood in front of the townhall. He was glowing. He held something in his hand- not a shardblade, but a spear... but no earthly spear.

Beside in, in stocks, were Roshone and Lirin.

 

Kaladin waited until the ground had settled, then raised up his hands.

"People of Hearthstone," he shouted. "You know me, and you know my word! you know that when I speak, I don't lie!"

A soft murmur of agreement went up throughout the crowd.

"So you know that when I say the Everstorm comes, I speak only The Truth!"

 

Some of the crowd spoke up, quickly silenced when some of the boys from village -those who had sided with Kaladin quickly- approached them with suits of armor, weapons pilfered from Roshone's mansion.

 

"To escape it, we must work together," Kaladin continued. "By which I mean, I'm in charge, and all of you have to do what I tell you to. We are going to head for Uritheru, on the Shattered Planes."

 

"That's madness!" A man stepped forward, eyes bulging. "We should head to the capital, to the Queen, and -arrgh!"

His objection was cut off as one of the village boys ran him through with a sword. 

 

"We must go to Uritheru," Kaladin said. "There will be no objections."

 

"Or what," someone within the crowd yelled out. Kaladin sighed. Why don't these people understand he asked himself.

The first Oath of the Radiants, Syl whispered in his mind. Kaladin nodded. The first Oath.

 

People were Stupid.

 

"We must stick together. We must work together. Anyone who is unwilling to do so," he waved at the lighteyes in the stocks, "will suffer the same fate as them. they shall be into slaves, and shall be forced to assist us. I have been a slave," he added, pointing at the brand on his forehead. "I make this decision not lightly, but out of Necessity. We march for Uritheru in the morning."

 

"The Assassin in White wore white," Sadeas shouted to the crowd. "Therefore, we shall outlaw the wearing of white clothing!"

 

Adolin stared in shock as the crowd- all the Lighteyes of Alethekarshouted out in agreement. They can not be this stupid. Beside him, his father murmured, rubbing his chin.

 

"I have been outmaneuvered," Dalinar said. "Brilliantly... Adolin, where are you going?"

"To throw myself in a chasm."

 

(Cheating a little, since the last one is my reaction... but there is a scene in Wizards First Rule where everyone cheers a politician suggesting the banning of fire.)

Edited August 17, 2015 by Quiver

[Curiosity he/him]

Dr. Seuss

One spren, two spren,

Lie spren, truth spren.

Are the blue spren truly glue spren?

This one makes a skyeel fly,

That one shows up when you die.

Oh what a lot of spren I spy!

 

You have light in your spheres, You have shards in your hand,

You have surges to help you to fly and to land!

So where will you go?  Somewhere high? Somewhere low?

To the great Reshi Isles, or somewhere with snow?

Perhaps you will dine on some Horneater Stew,

Delivered directly through Urithiru.

Or maybe the Shin will sell you a chicken

(eating it helps Thaylen eyebrows to thicken).

There’s so many places and people and spren,

It’s easy to wonder just where your path ends.

But please, don’t forget, it’s the way that you walk

that matters much more than the place that you stop.

Yes, the road that you take, whether straight, curved, or bendy

always matters the most—just ask the Parshendi.

 

Yes! I laughed out loud with delight, especially at the last stanza. Fantastic piece of work there. (I would consider showing this to Brandon. I bet he would enjoy it.)

[ccstat he/him]

If I could I would give this ALL my upvotes, I love it so much!

  

Yes! I laughed out loud with delight, especially at the last stanza. Fantastic piece of work there. (I would consider showing this to Brandon. I bet he would enjoy it.)

Aww, Thanks for the compliments. If I have time maybe I will flesh this out into something presentable to give to Brandon at the next signing, since it looks like I'll be able to make it to one of the Shadows of Self tour stops. I wonder if anyone with actual art skills wants to contribute some Seussian illustrations.  Hmmm.

 

@Mrs. K. I am glad you approve. I feel like I've been slacking in my squirely duties. 

[Kipper he/him]

I'm just gonna add my voice and say that CCSTAT YOU ARE AWESOME! Take all my upvotes.

[Darkness Ascendant he/him]

 

George Lucas 

 

Open on Kaladin, staring out at the battlefield. It is littered with both soldiers and Parshendi corpses. He stands alone in his vest and trousers, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

KALADIN: Dead. All of them….dead. Half of Bridge Four is gone, because of me.

 

Sylphrena floats up to him, a ribbon of light, before assuming the form of a young girl. 

 

SYL: Not-so, Mistah Kaladeen, sah! You-sa still have meesa! 

 

KALADIN: Uh, Syl? Why are you talking like that? You didn't talk like that in the last book. 

 

SYL: Mistah Lucas thought it'd be better for the KIDS! You-sa knows he loves dee children! 

 

KALADIN: Excuse me, Syl. 

 

SYL: Where-sa you-sa going, Kaladeen? 

 

KALADIN: To find the nearest chasm. 

 

J.K. Rowling

 

Dalinarbledore gripped Kaladin's shoulders, meeting his eyes. "Don't you see, Kaladin? You are the Chosen One. Of all the Radiants at this school, you alone can unite the Sprenly Hallows and defeat Voidemort!" 

 

Kaladin looked away from Dalinarbledore's eyes, which always made him feel as though he were being X-rayed. "But….this doesn't make sense." 

 

"Of course it does. Voidemort chose you as his equal, which is why you can fly and do all of those amazing things." 

 

"But wouldn't I have been able to do that anyway, being a Windrunner and all? And while we're at it, why did I get Windrunning while Shalmione got Lightweaving? I mean, seriously, why are there differences in our magic, anyway?" 

 

"Because it's magic. Duh." 

 

Just then, Professor Sadeas walked by, scowling at Dalinarbledore. "You're smiling, Professor. Ten points from Gryffindor." 

 

"I outrank you, Sadeas." 

 

"Fine. Ten points to Slytherin, because I have better fashion sense." 

 

George R. R. Martin

 

Sigzil stood alone on the battlefield. Around him lay the broken bodies of Bridge Four, Dalinar's warcamp, Sebarial's warcamp, and the entire customer base of a random tavern. 

 

"Looks like it falls upon me, then," he sighed. "I alone must carry this narrative to the end. And I shall. I shall." 

 

The arrow struck his heart from an unknown source, and there he died. 

 

Stephanie Meyer 

 

Pattern buzzed in deep chagrin. "Shallan?" 

 

"What?" 

 

"I know that your sketches are important….but shouldn't you be working on keeping the parshmen from destroying the world?" 

 

"In a minute," she said, chagrined. 

 

"Shallan, you have already made 499 sketches of Adolin Kholin's abdominal muscles." 

 

"And this will be an even 500." Just as she finished the sketch and held it to the light for a moment's admiration, the door swung open. Her chagrin was quickly replaced by delight. 

 

"Shallan," Kaladin breathed. "I'm sorry for intruding on you like this, but I had to see you. I didn't have time to put on a shirt. I hope you don't mind." 

 

Pattern's chagrined buzzing began anew, but Shallan ignored it. When the Almighty sent you a shirtless Captain, you didn't ask for details. 

 

I am sacred now. Thank god Brandon wrote this, not Stephanie Meyer. Twilight was so.....!@##$%@^!%^^&!^&^&@^&^*!^ &*^!^*&&!(&*(@@!&*^^*(@*()*!(^*@^(@&&*!^&*!.... Phew

[Kaymyth she/her]

I am sacred now. Thank god Brandon wrote this, not Stephanie Meyer. Twilight was so.....!@##$%@^!%^^&!^&^&@^&^*!^ &*^!^*&&!(&*(@@!&*^^*(@*()*!(^*@^(@&&*!^&*!.... Phew

 

It's just about enough to make me never want to use the word "chagrin" in my writing.  Dear gods.  I've read just enough excerpts of that monstrosity to recognize this all as a work of comic genius.

[Alfa he/him]

Shakespeare

 

Szene: Kaladin (in clothes that more resemble 16th century british clothes than bridgeman uniform), at his feet dying Maps (clothed similar, but with less gold to make sure nobody mistakes him for bridge captain) with a spear of an arrow (to make sure people see how maps died) in him; background: a painting of the shattered plains with the alethi warcamps on the left and Narak on the right with two chasmfiends in between. Syl: A girl in a long blue and white dress in the background, stands on a ladder to show that she is flying. (Szene-sized) Bridge and up to four bridgemen around it.

 

Maps:
This wondrous world was shattered!

And rocks, oh rocks! rocks! rocks!

they trembled with their stepping!

and stones to heavens reached!

from cursed lands! And death!

and death comes upon us!

 

(dies)

 

Kaladin

He died! Another friend has passed.

No honor left! Oh cruel world!

And I am cursed!

(Monologue over several pages with the three previous lines as a brief summary; also including half of his back-story, two flashbacks, his hate to lighteyes, something about Tiens death and a vengeance promise to Amaram)

I blame Sadeas!

 

Syl

Be silent! There he comes!

 

Kaladin, Bridgemen (with bridge) and Syl leaving, Sadeas and Dalinar coming. Both wearing Paper-Shardplate, Dalinar with a massive Shardblade behind his back, Sadeas with a big gemheart in his hands. Both followed by their armies, Adolin in the background.

 

Sadeas

We shattered them. The day is ours!

So let us have a feast for victory and glory!

 

Dalinar

So many dead. I ask thee, my dear friend,

is this war worth this many losses?

 

Sadeas

Men always die in war. And dont forget

thy brother's death! The murderer

was sent by them! Doest thou forget

what sworn we us then in his blood?

We sworn, that we will fight until

no Parshendi will live to kill his son!

 

Dalinar

And still. We fight now for so long

And victory is far,we are divided.

The way of Kings...

 

Sadeas

                     ...don't name this book.

Thy brother lost his will while reading it

The blackthorn shall not follow him.

 

 

NOTE: Parshendi has to be pronounced lik par-shen-DI to fit in.

Edited August 23, 2018 by Alfa
Old english grammar somewhat corrected (it's likely still wrong, but less so)

[Alfa he/him]

I always thought it is par-SHEN-di, but we do not know how Alethi (aside A-le-thi or a-LE-thi or a-le-THI?) pronounce anything.

[CarolaDavar she/her]

Guys, this is beautiful. I wish i could do somethig cool.... perhaps i could think of something....

[Allomancy she/her]

Edgar Allen Poe:

Once there was a bunch of people living on Roshar. Then they all died of tuberculosis.

[Kipper he/him]

Edgar Allen Poe:

Once there was a bunch of people living on Roshar. Then they all died of tuberculosis.

Quoth the skyeel, "Nevermore."