mail-mi

I really liked the Shannara series--until the Dark Legacy. All of the characters were wimps, there was little-to-no action plot, there was no series-long villain, and he was basically saying through that whole series "Who cares about family, let's just have sex with whoever we want!" and wasn't even subtle about it. I swear, every fifth chapter was a lead-off chapter (which means that it says something like "Then they laid down together, and then they kissed, and they couldn't stop" and then a chapter break).

Your signature means a little bit more now, doesn't it.

I'm glad my thread is being put to good use.

And so it begins.

Kobold, I think you'd love the poem my dad wrote about God and Satan playing a chess game: The Chess Game, by [REDACTED]: Imagine now a chess game played for an eternal prize, With white controlled by Father, God; black by the Lord of Lies The strategy our Father had was strange, you might agree. His hands were lifted off the board; his pieces would be free. His pawns were given freedom and His players given choice; And if they chose to call to Him, He'd guide them with his voice. The devil, fighting fiercely, forced his followers with fear. He set his traps quite subtly, but his motives were quite clear. "I'll capture all your pieces, fool! I'll win this senseless game! Your wisdom will then cease to be. Creation dies in shame!" The game's start time has come to pass. The pieces start to move. A white knight jumped out quickly; he had something he would prove. "Don't worry Father, I'll be back," he called behind his horse, But horse's hooves drowned out God's call, "No, take a diff'rent course." The devil saw the knight advance and set his traps quite well. "His pride will bring him to me and I'll cast him down to hell!" Grim Satan's eyes were filled with lust, lips curved with sick intent He caught the knight in shining white. To Sheol his soul was sent. The pawns, advancing one by one, went straight with cautious care. But one by one they made mistakes and fell to Satan's snare. The rook took the straight path in life, his battle nobly fought. A bolder life one never lived, but still he too was caught. With grace and charity the queen stepped out to aid the cause; But she, too, took a stumble, and was snatched by Satan's claws. White bishops, God's true holy men, were aided in the fight. They called to God in fervent prayer, were guided by His light. Sick Satan stared so selfishly, just watching cleverly. The bishops made one small mistake, and trapped they'd ever be. You see, it only took one slip. Just one mistake. One sin. And each white piece was lost to God. The devil had to grin. "You fool," he laughed across the board. "You're losing, can't you tell. You see I've got your pieces, yes, I've got them all in hell! "I told you 'fore the game began, 'Don't let your souls go free! Just force them to your presence, yes force them to follow me!' "I could have borne your glory, God. I could have been the One. I could have brought them all back home. I could have been your Son!" Around God's neck there hung a chain of gold and steel combined. It made him look quite dignified. It made him look refined. A medal hanging from that chain that had God by the throat. Contained a word that Satan knew, and he began to gloat. "That trophy 'round your neck, my foe, it makes you what you are. But, 'JUSTICE,' etched on your medal, has bound you in so far. "You cannot save your children now, for all their sins you know. That chain around your neck will grant the vict'ry to your foe!" God simply stated clearly that the game was not yet done. He still had one more piece. It was His King, His only Son. The white King stood by God alone then began to advance. The Devil licked his lips and stared like he was in a trance "If I can get this King," he thought, "the vict'ry will be mine. I'll crush the Rock of Hope he has. I'll snip the One True Vine." He set his pieces moving, and he tried to catch the King But found that trapping this One was not an easy thing. For ev'ry step the King took was dictated from above, And ev'ry square He stood upon was brightened by His love. When Satan saw his traps all fail, he couldn't call "check mate." His hatred boiled up inside. The Jailor got irate. He hated God. He hated man. He hated everything. But what he hated most of all was that one last white King. Then suddenly, a silence fell. The time had been fulfilled. For God to turn the game around and do things as He willed. "He's yours," God said to Satan, "With their sins laid to His charge." And Satan's muscles tensed and then his eyes got very large. He snatched the King up quickly, and he shook it violently. God sat still. Tears poured down his face. He watched it silently. The King cried out in pain from all the twisting He received. Administered by Satan's hate, the pain was not relieved. When Satan wrought upon the King the pain just He could bear, He put the bleeding, stained white King back on the checkered square. Black bishops found the suff'ring Lord with a betrayer's kiss They spat on Him and slapped Him, and their trial ran amiss. "Sin! Blasphemy! and Death!" they cried, and greed was in their eyes. They took Him to their magistrate and told him all their lies. The black king met the white King and was trapped in a stalemate. He sent Him to the people and let them all debate. He promised the black bishops that he'd let the pawns decide. The black pawns cried with one accord "Let Him be crucified!" Black knights took the white King and they whipped Him 'til He bled. The placed upon His blood striped back a robe all colored red. Black castles drove nails through His palms, His wrists, and through His feet. Black bishops came to mock him, sure that he had met defeat. His life the white King never gave until it was God's time. To go into the spirit world and leave the board behind. But after thee days absence, he stepped back down on the board. A medal on a chain of gold and steel He wore as His reward. His new medallion had a word--a word that all could see. He held the medal high aloft. Th'inscription read, "MERCY." The King called forth the pris'ners, brought them back into the game. They flocked to His new ensign and they took on them His name. The devil's hosts began to shake. The white pawns all returned. And at a word from the white King, all the black pieces burned. And Satan stared, pale, horror-struck. His kingdom turned to ash. His earthly domain vanished in a single brilliant flash. Then all his power left him cold; no force behind his hate. He wallowed in his misery. The Good Lord called, "check mate." And thus the game will end one day, and Satan's plan will fail. The white King and His followers and God will all prevail.

When shall we expect the WHOOC?

Wait, is this for real?!

Reader doesn't learn everything at once: that's why he takes time to study people. So maybe he just hasn't learned it yet

Slow dancing at prom with your crush: who knew that walking in circles could be so amazing?

Good point. Thanks.

Well I kinda figured after writing him in Mommy's post that he was kind of awkward, and sorry if I took over your character, but I figured that he was also kind of mine now.

It won't. But I'm pretty sure sidestep will survive.

New post up, titled "In Which Timeport gets Dazed by a Rock."

Neverthere vanished, leaving Timeport stranded with Electro and the dinosaur. The holy freaking Calamity sparking dinosaur. Timeport looked almost longingly at where Neverthere had stood. She was....well, kinda cute, actually. She knew how to treat those underneath her. What faction did she say? Timeport thought, his eyes straying towards the dinosaur carcass. Lightwards, she said....? Electro snapped him back into reality. “Timeport, the boss won't be happy with whatever her 'gift' is. We need to get back to the armory. Quota ran off to hide somewhere, but I assume he's smart enough to walk back on his own." With that, he stormed off back to the armory, leaving Timeport stranded next to the undead fossil. Lightwards...is he the one in the floating museum? Timeport was pretty sure about that, and ever since he and the Reckoners had seen it fly up into the air he’d wanted to explore it. Maybe I could join up with them... Lightwards would be sure to give a High Epic like Timeport a spot in his dominion, right? Looking up, Timeport could just barely see the floating museum, outlined in the red light of Calamity. Calamity. God. His sacred mission. Not even feeling in the mood to teleport, Timeport tore his eyes away from the museum and the dinosaur and, with a sigh, trudged back to the armory, his battle axe, suddenly much heavier than before, dragging along behind him. Sidestep’s bravery faltered more and more the closer he got to the Dominion. Even using his powers to get through the wall, which usually boosted his confidence in his abilities, didn’t help. He didn’t want to die. Corpsemaker was invincible! How could they, simple Minor Epics, think to even have a chance of beating him? Mommy... With a hoot and holler, the other Epics charged into the Dominion, but Sidestep slowed his pace. Feeling like a failure, he turned around to go back. He couldn’t die. Not now. That’s when he spotted him. Someone was sulkily trudging down the street with a battle axe dragging behind him. He doesn’t look powerful... Sidestep thought hopefully. Maybe I can take this one. Sidestep moved into his dimension, holding his breath. His dimension didn’t have any oxygen, so he’d gotten pretty good at holding his breath--he could almost hit four minutes now. Running to where he’d spotted the Epic before, Sidestep suddenly realized something: He didn’t have a weapon. Sparking idiot! he yelled at himself. He only had a few more seconds before he had to leave; he could already feel his muscles burning. Scanning frantically for something, anything to use, he found a sizable piece of brick, just sitting on the ground. He reached down for it and quickly flipped back into the normal world, taking a second to get a breath of fresh air, grab the brick, and check the Epic’s (at least, he thought he was an Epic, considering no vanilla would tote around a battle axe of that size) position, then shifted back into his dimension. He ran forward, carrying the brick and searching for the place the Epic had stood. He was there in less than a minute, and, steeling himself for a fight, swapped out of his dimension. Sidestep appeared behind the Epic, who still hadn’t noticed him. Feeling courageous, he snuck up behind the Epic and, holding his breath for maximum silence, raised his piece of brick and smacked him in the back of the head, sending the Epic to the ground. The Epic didn’t get up. Well, Sidestep thought happily, reaching down to pick up the axe as a prize, that was easy.

Not that kind of sad. Not even close to that kind of sad.

Well so far it involves Timeport being depressed, so it's not too bad.

This one probably won't be too bad. I hope.

I'm feeling morbid, I'll put up something for timeport.

What's that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over how much win this post has.

And is anyone surprised?

Okay, that makes sense. I'd rather be bothered by a little uncanon than the F-bomb. Also, new reader post.

Brandon gently shook Reader's hand, emotions so conflicted that even Reader couldn't see through them. But he did notice one that resonated within every part of the vanilla's being, no matter how small: Fear. Reader smiled. This was what he'd gone to Vondra for, this is why he loved his job. Not the Epics who could kill him with a glance, but the vanillas who looked up to him like someone to be feared. Reader loved being feared. "I'm sorry, what were your questions again? I must have missed them while you were demonstrating that you already know everything about me. He paused, and Reader could tell he was mentally smacking himself in the face. "But, if you repeat them, I'd be happy to answer anything you ask. So what do you want to know?" Reader opened his mouth to comment on this puny vanilla's snark, when he realized something. He didn't have any wine. Reader smacked his lips. Holy Calamity, he was thirsty. And tired. And just plain done with today. If Reader postponed all the important questions to get on Brandon for his snark, this interview would only take longer. And Reader wanted to get to his church and just be done. He cleared his throat. "I want to know who Taylor is, and if she's here in the Dalles with you. If she is I must interview her. You seem like you're clean, except for this mission you keep thinking about. I need to know what that is to let you stay here, so you can tell me, or else..." Reader reached for his pistol, only to remember that he'd left it on his desk after shooting Stephen. Sparks! He let the sentence trail off, studying Brandon and waiting for his response.

Kobold, I'm going to channel Edgedancer for a minute and nitpick your swearing: I mean no offense, but this really bothers me. The Reckoners isn't cosmere, "storming" isn't a curse word.

Um, dude, spoilers. I've read the book, but there are several people who haven't.