[Daemonwolf]

Another funny one I remember from The Bonehunters

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'Iskaral's wife "began singing in the Woman's Language, which was, or course, unintelligible to Iskaral's ears. Just as the Man's Language - which Mogora called gibberish - was beyond her ability to understand. The reason for that, Iskaral Pust knew, was that the Man's Language was gibberish, designed specifically to confound women. It's a fact that men don't need words, but women do. We have penises, after all. Who needs words when you have a penis? Whereas with women there are two breasts, which invites conversation, just as a good behind presents perfect punctuation, something every man knows.
What's wrong with the world? You ask a man and he says, 'Don't ask.' Ask a woman and you'll be dead of old age before she's finished. Hah. Hah ha."


~~ The thoughts of Iskaral Pust

[Seatiger]

Hope this counts

page 958 TTH



"if we are to live ,' Rake went on, 'we must take risks. Else our lives become deaths in all but name. There is no struggle too vasty, no odds too overwhelming, for even should we fail - should we fall - we will know that we have lived."

[Bonecaster]

If it's one of your favorite passages, it counts! And it's a good one.

[Beezulbubba]

From Reaper's Gale, near the end of ch. 8

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'Togg's teats, Redmask, that's a long speech coming from you.'

'I hold words in contempt, Anaster Toc. What do you mean when you say "Togg's teats"?'

'Togg's a god.'
'Not a goddess?'
'No.'
'Then its teats are ---'
'Useless. Precisely.'
'What of the others? "Hood's Breath"?'
'Hood is the Lord of Death.'
'Thus ... no breath.'
'Correct.'
'Beru's mercy?'
'She has no mercy.'
'Mowri fend?'
'The Lady of the Poor fends off nothing.'

Redmask regarded the foreigner. 'Your people have a strange relationship with your gods.'

'I suppose we do. Some decry it as cynical and they may have a point. It's all to do with power, Redmask, and what it does to those who possess it. Gods not excepted.'

'If they are so unhelpful, why do you worship them?'

'Imagine how much more unhelpful they'd be if we didn't.' At whatever Anaster Toc saw in Redmask's eyes, he then laughed.

[D'ivers Leopard Sith]

One of the reasons why I think Shadowthrone is awesome

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A shimmer, further obscuring the House, then something like a vague figure, seated on a black throne.

A voice hissed out at him, ‘This had better be important. I’m busy and besides, even the idea of a Master of the Deck nauseates me, so get on with it.’

‘The Deragoth are about to be released, Shadowthrone.’ Obvious agitation.

‘What gnat-brained idiot would do that?’

‘Can’t be helped, I’m afraid—’

‘You!’

‘Look, I have my reasons, and they will be found in Seven Cities.’

‘Oh,’ the figure settled back down, ‘those reasons. Well, yes. Clever, even. But still profoundly stupid.’

‘Shadowthrone,’ Paran said, ‘the two Hounds of Shadow that Rake killed. The two taken by Dragnipur.’

‘What about them?’

‘I’m not sure how much you know, but I freed them from the sword.’ He waited for another bout of histrionics, but... nothing. ‘Ah, so you know that. Good. Well, I have discovered where they went... here, where they conjoined with their counterparts, and were then freed – no, not me. Now, I understand that they have since been killed. For good, this time.’ Shadowthrone raised a long-fingered hand that filled most of the card. Closed it into a fist.

‘Let me see,’ the god’s voice purred, ‘if I understand you.’ One finger snapped upward. ‘The Nameless Idiots go and release Dejim Nebrahl. Why? Because they’re idiots. Their own lies caught up with them, so they needed to get rid of a servant who was doing what they wanted him to do in the first place, only doing it too well!’ Shadowthrone’s voice was steadily climbing in pitch and volume. A second finger shot into view.

‘Then, you, the Master Idiot of the Deck of Dragons, decide to release the Deragoth, to get rid of Dejim Nebrahl. But wait, even better!’ A third finger.

‘Some other serious nasty wandering Seven Cities just killed two Deragoth, and maybe that nasty is still close by, and would like a few more trophies to drag behind his damned horse!’ His voice was now a shriek.

‘And now! Now!’ The hand closed back into a fist, shaking about. ‘You want me to send the Hounds of Shadow to Seven Cities! Because it’s finally occurred to that worm-ridden walnut you call a brain that the Deragoth won’t bother with Dejim Nebrahl until they find my Hounds! And if they come looking here in my realm, there’ll be no stopping them!’ He halted suddenly, the fist motionless. Then various fingers sprang into view in an increasingly chaotic pattern. Shadowthrone snarled and the frenzied hand vanished.

A whisper: ‘Pure genius. Why didn’t I think of that?’ The tone began rising once more.

‘Why? Because I’m not an idiot!!’ With that the god’s presence winked out.

Paran grunted, then said, ‘You never told me if you were going to send the Hounds of Shadow to Seven Cities.’ He thought then that he heard a faint scream of frustration, but perhaps it was only imagined.