[Aptorian]

I'm on p. 799.

Kalam scatters his last shadow diamonds and blows the bone whistle full force releasing not just his last five demons but the ones across the continent he sold, some awakening to fulfill clearly intended purposes. I guess I shouldn't be surprised at this level of planning from Shadowthrone but it suggests a level of planning and also metaphysical manipulation/perception that is quite stunning.

Also interesting that three Azalan demons Vs one or two Deragoth didn't end with any casualties.

This post has been edited by Aptorian: 02 May 2020 - 06:18 PM

[Aptorian]

P. 821. Greyfrog! I'd forgotten how much I liked that demon though I remember it's description being more frog like. Like the demon from MOI. A sirinth demon?

Quote

‘This one might suit Kurald Thyrllan,’ Osric said. ‘What kind of demon is it?’ L’oric asked, staring down at the creature. ‘I have no idea,’ Osric replied. ‘Reach out to it. See if it is amenable.’ ‘Assuming it has any mind at all,’ L’oric muttered, crouching down. Can you hear me? Can you comprehend? The four eyes blinked up at him. And it replied. ‘Sorcerer. Declaration. Recognition. We were told you’d come, but so soon? Rhetorical.’ I am not from this place, L’oric explained. You are dying, I think. ‘Is that what this is? Bemused.’ I would offer you an alternative. Have you a name? ‘A name? You require that. Observation. Of course. Comprehension. A partnership, a binding of spirits. Power from you, power from me. In exchange for my life. Uneven bargain. Position devoid of clout.’ No, I will save you none the less. We will return to my world . . . to a warmer place. ‘Warmth? Thinking. Ah, air that does not steal my strength. Considering. Save me, Sorcerer, and then we will talk more of this alliance.’ L’oric nodded. ‘Very well.’ ‘It’s done?’ Osric asked. His son straightened. ‘No, but it comes with us.’ ‘Without the binding, you will have no control over the demon, L’oric. It could well turn on you as soon as you return to Raraku. Best we resume our search, find a creature more tractable.’ ‘No. I will risk this one.’ Osric shrugged. ‘As you like, then. We must proceed now to the lake, where you first appeared.’ L’oric watched his father walk away, then halt and veer once more into his dragon form. ‘Eleint!’ the demon cried in the High Mage’s mind. ‘Wonder. You have an Eleint for a companion!’ My father. ‘Your father! Excited delight! Eager. I am named Greyfrog, born of Mirepool’s Clutch in the Twentieth Season of Darkness. Proudly. I have fathered thirty-one clutches of my own—’ And how, Greyfrog, did you come here? ‘Sudden moroseness. One hop too far.’ The dragon approached.

This post has been edited by Aptorian: 02 May 2020 - 07:47 PM

[Aptorian]

P. 846.

First appearance of Nefarias Bredd.

Now I'm wondering if Nefarias Bredd is another one of Fiddler or the other Sergeants tools of distracting or shaping the 14th? Only in becoming myth he gained power?

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Moak squinted at Strings for a long moment, as if seeking to conjure recognition, then he drew out a fish spine from his belt pouch and began picking his teeth. ‘Anybody else hear about that killer soldier? Heavy infantry, not sure what company, not even sure what legion. Named Neffarias Bredd. I heard he killed eighteen raiders all in one night.’ Strings lifted his gaze to meet Gesler’s, but neither man’s expression changed. ‘I heard it was eighteen one night, thirteen the next,’ Thom Tissy said. ‘We’ll have to ask the slope-brows when they show.’ ‘Well,’ Strings pointed out, ‘there’s one over there.’ He raised his voice. ‘Flashwit! Come join us for a moment, if you please.’ The ground seemed to tremble with the woman’s approach. She was Napan and Strings wondered if she knew she was female. The muscles of her arms were larger than his thighs. She had cut all her hair off, her round face devoid of ornament barring a bronze nose-ring. Yet her eyes were startlingly beautiful, emerald green. ‘Have you heard of another heavy, Flashwit? Neffarias Bredd?’ Those extraordinary eyes widened. ‘Killed fifty raiders, they say.’ ‘Which legion?’ Moak asked. She shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’ ‘Not ours, though.’ ‘Not sure.’ ‘Well,’ Moak snapped, ‘what do you know?’ ‘He killed fifty raiders. Can I go now? I have to pee.’ They watched her walk away. ‘Standing up, do you think?’ Thom Tissy asked the others in general. Moak snorted. ‘Why don’t you go ask her.’ ‘Ain’t that eager to get killed. Why don’t you, Moak?’

[Aptorian]

P. 852. I love this little exchange and Cuttles remark. It reminds you that while we the reader, and many of the characters are familiar with magic, to the masses magic is still a weird and scary thing.

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‘It’s not moving. The doll. I can feel the Rope . . . close, way too close. There’s power, pouring into or maybe out of that doll, only it’s not moving—’ ‘You’re right,’ Strings said, a grin slowly spreading across his features. ‘It’s not moving. But its shadow is . . .’ Cuttle grunted. ‘Queen take me, he’s right. That’s a damn strange thing — I’ve seen enough.’ He rose suddenly, looking nervous and shaken. ‘Magic’s creepy. I’m going to bed.’

[Aptorian]

P. 888

What is it with those Eres and sexual assault?

First Trull, then Bottle. Why doesn't anyone speak of the victims of prehistoric ghost rape? The struggle is real!

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Monok Ochem gestured, and the scene around them blurred, the light fading. A moment before the darkness became absolute, a faint shout from the Tiste Edur drew Onrack’s attention. The warrior turned, in time to see a figure standing a dozen paces away. Tall, lithely muscled, with a fine umber-hued pelt and long, shaggy hair reaching down past the shoulders. A woman. Her breasts were large and pendulous, her hips wide and full. Prominent, flaring cheekbones, a broad, full-lipped mouth. All this registered in an instant, even as the woman’s dark brown eyes, shadowed beneath a solid brow, scanned across the three T’lan Imass before fixing on Trull Sengar. She took a step towards the Tiste Edur, the movement graceful as a deer’s— Then the light vanished entirely. Onrack heard another surprised shout from Trull Sengar. The T’lan Imass strode towards the sound, then halted, thoughts suddenly scattering, a flash of images cascading through the warrior’s mind. Time folding in on itself, sinking away, then rising once more— Sparks danced low to the ground, tinder caught, flames flickering. They were in the crevasse, standing on its littered floor. Onrack looked for Trull Sengar, found the Tiste Edur lying prone on the damp rock a half-dozen paces away. The T’lan Imass approached. The mortal was unconscious. There was blood smearing his lap, pooling beneath his crotch, and Onrack could see it cooling, suggesting that it did not belong to Trull Sengar, but to the Eres woman who had . . . taken his seed. His first seed. But there had been nothing to her appearance suggesting virginity. Her breasts had swollen with milk in the past; her nipples had known the pressure of a pup’s hunger. The blood, then, made no sense. Onrack crouched beside Trull Sengar. And saw the fresh wound of scarification beneath his belly button. Three parallel cuts, drawn across diagonally, and the stained imprints of three more — likely those the woman had cut across her own belly — running in the opposite direction. ‘The Eres witch has stolen his seed,’ Monok Ochem said from two paces away. ‘Why?’ Onrack asked. ‘I do not know, Onrack the Broken. The Eres have the minds of beasts—’ ‘Not to the exclusion of all else,’ Onrack replied, ‘as you well know.’ ‘Perhaps.’ ‘Clearly, this one had intent.’ Monok Ochem nodded. ‘So it would seem. Why does the Tiste Edur remain unconscious?’ ‘His mind is elsewhere—’ The bonecaster cocked its head. ‘Yes, that is the definition of unconscious—’ ‘No, it is elsewhere. When I stepped close, I came into contact with sorcery. That which the Eres projected. For lack of any other term, it was a warren, barely formed, on the very edge of oblivion. It was,’ Onrack paused, then continued, ‘like the Eres themselves. A glimmer of light behind the eyes.’

[Aptorian]

Less than a hundred pages left. The convergence in this book is very satisfying. So many characters deserving of the grim fate they are promised.

[Aptorian]

P. 938

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A hand light as a leaf settled on Kalam’s shoulder, and a voice rasped, ‘Eyes forward, soldier.’ He knew that voice, from more years back than he’d like to think. But that bastard’s dead. Dead before Surly took the throne. ‘Granted,’ the voice continued, and Kalam knew that acid-spattered face was grinning, ‘no love’s lost between me and the company I’m sharing . . . again. Figured I’d seen the last of every damn one of them . . . and you. Well, never mind that. Need a way in there, right? Best we mount a diversion, then. Give us fifty heartbeats . . . at least you can count those, Corporal.’ The hand lifted away. Kalam Mekhar drew a deep, shaky breath. What in Hood’s name is going on here? That damned captain went renegade. They found his body in Malaz City the morning after the assassinations . . . or something closely approximating his body . . .

It's been a very long time since I read Night of Knives but is this ghost that Bridge Burner that shows up in a bar, I think... He may have killed himself using a munition trying to kill a Hound?

[Aptorian]

P. 945

Good riddance

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A hand shot out of the darkness and closed about Bidithal’s neck. He was lifted into the air — flailing — then thrown hard to the ground. Blinded. Choking. His shadow-servants swarmed to defend him. A growl, the hissing swing of something massive that cut a sweeping path — and suddenly the wraiths were gone. Slowly, Bidithal’s bulging eyes made out the figure crouched above him. Toblakai— ‘You should have left her alone,’ Karsa Orlong said quietly, his voice devoid of inflection. Behind and around the giant were gathering ghosts, chained souls. We are both servants of the same god! You fool! Let me speak! I would save Sha’ik! ‘But you didn’t. I know, Bidithal, where your sick desires come from. I know where your pleasure hides — the pleasure you would take from others. Witness.’ Karsa Orlong set down his stone sword, then reached between Bidithal’s legs. A hand closed indiscriminately around all that it found. And tore. Until, with a ripping of tendons and shreds of muscle, a flood of blood and other fluids, the hand came away with its mangled prize. The pain was unbearable. The pain was a rending of his soul. It devoured him. And blood was pouring out, hot as fire, even as deathly cold stole across his skin, seeped into his limbs. The scene above him blackened, until only Toblakai’s impassive, battered face remained, coolly watching Bidithal’s death. Death? Yes. You fool, Toblakai— The hand around his neck relaxed, drew away. Involuntarily, Bidithal drew in an agonizing breath and made to scream— Something soft and bloody was pushed into his mouth. ‘For you, Bidithal. For every nameless girl-child you destroyed. Here. Choke on your pleasure.’ And choke he did. Until Hood’s Gate yawned— And there, gathered by the Lord of Death, waited demons who were of like nature to Bidithal himself, gleefully closing about their new victim. A lifetime of vicious pleasure. An eternity of pain in answer. For even Hood understood the necessity for balance.

[Aptorian]

P. 984.

Tavore put a sword through Felisin. Tragic.

I wonder though, with the intelligence I assume the Empire had on Shaik and Dryjhna. Why did Tavore accept the challenge? She must have known that if Shaik wasn't outright an Ascendant then she was a Champion of Dryjhna abd would be enhanced.

Did Tavore have T'amber/The Eres backing her going into the fight?

[Aptorian]

Finished the book. I think HOC was better on a re-read. It's always sorta been overshadowed by the book that came before and after it but it's a solid story. I think that the characters of the camp of the Apocalypse hurt the feeling of threat as they're too busy scheming and hating themselves or others to form picture of a true enemy.

There was a lot of behind the scenes stuff going on I didn't recall though. Bidithal attempting to usurp Shadow and/or merge it with Darkness. The House of chains trying to usurp the power, Dryjhna actually planning to sacrifice all the soldiers to feed her weird death resurrection transformation and absorbing Raraku. I didn't remember Korbolo Dom supposedly being the Talons master. I thought that was Mallick Rel.

Onwards to Midnight Tides!

[Tavvar]

Aptorian, on 03 May 2020 - 09:51 AM, said:

P. 938

Quote

A hand light as a leaf settled on Kalam's shoulder, and a voice rasped, 'Eyes forward, soldier.' He knew that voice, from more years back than he'd like to think. But that bastard's dead. Dead before Surly took the throne. 'Granted,' the voice continued, and Kalam knew that acid-spattered face was grinning, 'no love's lost between me and the company I'm sharing . . . again. Figured I'd seen the last of every damn one of them . . . and you. Well, never mind that. Need a way in there, right? Best we mount a diversion, then. Give us fifty heartbeats . . . at least you can count those, Corporal.' The hand lifted away. Kalam Mekhar drew a deep, shaky breath. What in Hood's name is going on here? That damned captain went renegade. They found his body in Malaz City the morning after the assassinations . . . or something closely approximating his body . . .

It's been a very long time since I read Night of Knives but is this ghost that Bridge Burner that shows up in a bar, I think... He may have killed himself using a munition trying to kill a Hound?

I just finished Night of Knives, and there were Bridgeburners in Malaz for that, most of them died. I think the leader was called Sargent, but that could've been cover, and he was dead at the end. But I don't remember the description of the character.

[Traveller]

I'm still working through.

I was wondering during MoI how Kilava was still young and healthy and alive, after rejecting the ritual.

I've just reached a bit with Onrack in HoCs, who says to Trull that by trapping her in time (painting her) he made her immortal. Is that how it happened? How did painting her likeness make her immortal?

This post has been edited by Traveller: 15 May 2020 - 04:58 PM

[Aptorian]

I think that Kilava may have already ascended or been on the cusp. Remember she was strong enough to kill her whole clan and nearly took out Tool in his prime before the ritual.

But the Imass were all about rituals and traditions, secret meanings in gestures, words are powerful, paintings maybe even more so because of the religious nature.

It's like how tribal people supposedly worrying that cameras could steal or trap your soul.

[Keysi]

Well, wasn't she a Soletaken? I thought Soletakens (what's the plural? )automatically get some sort of biological immortality, i.e they won't die of old age, just when they get fudged up? At least some/most if the time.

[Keysi]

With the fight between Tavore and Shaik, is it literally over in one move? Shaik barely even defending herself? I never really got the mechanics of that fight.

[Aptorian]

Felisin was suddenly stripped of her god invested power. She was dazed from waking up from having her personality suppressed. Also, she didn't know how to fight and probably didn't realize that Tavore wasn't interested in exchanging pleasantries.

[Traveller]

That moment she visits Heboric in his sanctified tent and suddenly finds herself without the goddess is the same.. its also quite horrible the way he propels her out when she starts to think for herself again, and how quickly the goddess retakes her and blocks her memories.

Same thing when she leaves her in front of Tavore.

[Traveller]

I am absolutely loving everything with Karsa in it. His development is so much fun to read.

[Aptorian]

Karsa is indeed fun. I wanted him to just keep riding and going on fun barbaric adventures.

I can't believe Erikson isn't using him in the upcoming Teblor/Toblakai book.

[Traveller]

Aptorian, on 17 May 2020 - 06:01 PM, said:

Karsa is indeed fun. I wanted him to just keep riding and going on fun barbaric adventures.

I can't believe Erikson isn't using him in the upcoming Teblor/Toblakai book.

He's... not? How can he not! I've been waiting for his return home for about 10 years...!