[DarkFox]

This is an idea i got from an english project. Take a moment or time from a book or series that went completely unnoticed. that was unremarked by the Author, and illuminate it. I had a lot of fun doing it and i was Amazed at what i came up with, I don't even write! lets ee what other MBotF fans can come up with.

[DarkFox]

Here's what i came up with. It's from GofM, when Crokus is watching Uncle Mammot die.

907^th Year in the Third Millennium

The Season of Fanderay in the Year of the Five Tusks

By Malazan Reckoning, 1163^rd Year of burn’s Sleep

T’lan Imass Reckoning, The year of the Gathering, Tellann Arise



Estate district; Darujhistan






<br style="" clear="all"> He couldn’t believe what he was actually seeing! Uncle Mammot would never do this! He was a kind and calm scholar; he would never claim the right to harm a single human being, Let alone kill so many so indiscriminately! The silver spears of power were unlike anything he had ever heard of, they lanced in every direction like chain lightning. Where they struck stone it showered anyone nearby with dust, where they struck flesh it had much the same effect to his horror.

All these thoughts pierced Crokus’ mind like needles, paralyzing him in his hiding spot. Crokus was a young man with silky black hair and a fine fit body, he was an accomplished thief who treated his profession like a game.

“I have to do something about this!” he thought feverishly, yet remained unable to move.

Suddenly the tall wiry black man, who had just appeared a moment earlier to warn everyone that the man was “Jaghut possessed” started unleashing unbelievable waves of pure power at his uncle. It quickly became evident that this strange newcomer stood barely a chance against this “not quite my uncle.” And then for some inexplicable reason this strange mage dashed aside.







“What is going on Crokus thought to himself” thoroughly jarred by a large explosion. When he could gather his wits he looked up.

“By Hood no!” Where Uncle Mammot was standing there was just a large smoking crater.

“What was that smell? It was like sulphur, and a little bit of coal. Not like the gas that ran through pipes throughout the city. Nothing like anything I’ve smelled before”

Then it really hit home. “My only family in the world! Gone! to a smoking crater!”

“What was it that he had heard his Uncle say the other day? Something about Jaghut…. That they were a… an elder race, very powerful, lived alone.”

“But why did that have a familiar ring to it?” “of course! Kruppe told him just the other day, “this city was born on a rumour.””

“That of a legendary hidden Barrow containing riches, one belonging to a Jaghut Tyrant”

His Uncle also told him that tyrants were anathema to this race, that they were considered abominations and that they were so powerful they could rarely be killed.

Crokus almost could not believe what this could mean but it did give him some Solace. Though his Uncle, the only caretaker he had ever had that he could remember, had just died a violent death, so had a very terrible creature. He had just witnessed the death of a legend.

After realising all this Crokus was able to put his mind to other things.

“I still have a job to do” He ran to the streets from the D’arle estate and started in the direction of Baruk’s.

[MTS]

Endless they stretched across the dark horizon, flung from the arms of a mage and heading towards him like an inexorable tide of doom. Wave upon coruscating wave of potsherds.
'Hood's Balls on a pointy stick,' said the lank-haired man, his lambent eyes studying the wall of sharp, ceramic death about to come crashing down on him. 'That's a lot of potsherds!'

[DarkFox]

Nice, i really like it. Full of the hopeless death and the morbid ironic humour that marks all of Ericksons writings.

I applaud you

[MTS]

'Beru fend!' the lank-haired man cried, appalled at the sheer power on display. 'How is this even possible?'
Knowing it was futile, but doing it anyway - for rationality ever wars with instinct - the lank-haired man flung up his arms to shield himself from the certain death coming towards him. He heard the potsherds whistle in the air, their speeding forms heading straight towards him as surely as night follows day. Yet in the glimpse of the harsh sunlight, he witnessed the painted decorations on the exterior of the potsherds. Scenes of battles, seafaring, farming. He smiled a rueful smile. It was the nature of humanity to destroy, to corrupt, to exploit everything beautiful in its path to pure domination. Humanity invariably strives to control every aspect of their existence, in a vain hope to grapple with the uncertainty of death. But the lank-haired man knew death was certain, and he was not afraid of it. The Death Wanderer stretched out his rotting hand for everyone in time, and this was his. Before the innumerable potsherds shredded his body to a sickly pulp, there was a beaming smile on his face, as he took consolation in the only thing he could - at least he wasn't an advocate.

This post has been edited by MTS: 17 August 2010 - 05:09 AM

[T'renn]

Erikson fanfiction ?????!?

BLASPHEMY!!!

[D'iversify]

MTS, on 17 August 2010 - 05:07 AM, said:

'Beru fend!' the lank-haired man cried, appalled at the sheer power on display. 'How is this even possible?'
Knowing it was futile, but doing it anyway - for rationality ever wars with instinct - the lank-haired man flung up his arms to shield himself from the certain death coming towards him. He heard the potsherds whistle in the air, their speeding forms heading straight towards him as surely as night follows day. Yet in the glimpse of the harsh sunlight, he witnessed the painted decorations on the exterior of the potsherds. Scenes of battles, seafaring, farming. He smiled a rueful smile. It was the nature of humanity to destroy, to corrupt, to exploit everything beautiful in its path to pure domination. Humanity invariably strives to control every aspect of their existence, in a vain hope to grapple with the uncertainty of death. But the lank-haired man knew death was certain, and he was not afraid of it. The Death Wanderer stretched out his rotting hand for everyone in time, and this was his. Before the innumerable potsherds shredded his body to a sickly pulp, there was a beaming smile on his face, as he took consolation in the only thing he could - at least he wasn't an advocate.

Needs more actinic propitiations inducing lassitude amidst the calcretions of shattered megaliths.

[DarkFox]

D, on 15 October 2010 - 08:53 AM, said:

MTS, on 17 August 2010 - 05:07 AM, said:

'Beru fend!' the lank-haired man cried, appalled at the sheer power on display. 'How is this even possible?'
Knowing it was futile, but doing it anyway - for rationality ever wars with instinct - the lank-haired man flung up his arms to shield himself from the certain death coming towards him. He heard the potsherds whistle in the air, their speeding forms heading straight towards him as surely as night follows day. Yet in the glimpse of the harsh sunlight, he witnessed the painted decorations on the exterior of the potsherds. Scenes of battles, seafaring, farming. He smiled a rueful smile. It was the nature of humanity to destroy, to corrupt, to exploit everything beautiful in its path to pure domination. Humanity invariably strives to control every aspect of their existence, in a vain hope to grapple with the uncertainty of death. But the lank-haired man knew death was certain, and he was not afraid of it. The Death Wanderer stretched out his rotting hand for everyone in time, and this was his. Before the innumerable potsherds shredded his body to a sickly pulp, there was a beaming smile on his face, as he took consolation in the only thing he could - at least he wasn't an advocate.

Needs more actinic propitiations inducing lassitude amidst the calcretions of shattered megaliths.

how long did you spend with a dictionary to configure that nuisance? i thought it was another good piece of writing. very descriptive, inciteful, if maybe just a tad more bloodthirtsy in imagery than some of Erikson's works.

if you want an opportunity to test your expansive, unpracticed, and woefully misused vocabulary, why not add a piece of your own? personally i think if Steven Erikson wants a true fictional world, which is what he first set out for, he needs diversity, a true difference of opinion, of view points. not to say the characters aren't all diverce, but just how different can they be when everything they say is concocted from the same mind? he's set up an amazing base for it with histories, continents and nations, right down to hundreds of different personalities, but i want to see what happens when readers try to infuse their own personalities into characters, or even create their own based on this world. there is no reason why the story has to stop if others are willing to follow the line, a different plot, that is not illuminated in the original story. ummm... I've' kinda rambled.... I'd like to see though what you could come up with. just cauze erikson hasn't created a character with quite as much love for expanded proliferation? as you doesn't mean you can't illuminate such a story within his grand scheme, hell in the whole series there isn't a single view point from a regular or light infantry.