Friday, August 04, 2006

Goodkind meets Richard Morgan - Altered (Leather-Clad) Furies

'When the enemies of Truth laugh at you. TAKE IT PERSONALLY. When they try to force you to self sacrifice. TAKE IT PERSONALLY. If you want freedom from Altruism. KICK THEM IN THE FACE. And make no mistake about this when you are in front of those who try to oppose you, being taken seriously, being considered dangerous and a bit crazy, marks the difference. It's the only difference in the eyes of little people that want to constrain the free will of their betters and shackle them to their solidarity. They tell you that IT’S NOTHING PERSONAL that is for the common good. Well, fuck them, make it personal.

Things I already knew by then. Volume XXII. '

- Agulla

Altered Celery

I checked over the new sleeve they'd put me in. Erect, masterful, masculine - War Wizard, from the looks of things. Nice. Armed, too - seems like the body came with a sword. The branding on the hilt said it was from TruthCorp - one of the rare Seeker blades, bioengineered to respond to rage, with a whole load of built-in moves and an optional Sculptor function. I remembered Zeddicus telling me about these back in the Westlands.

"Bags! What have I told you about blending in with the natives?" Zedd stalked through the lines of recruits like a raptor would if it could walk as elegantly as it could fly. "Never blend in! You are denying your individuality, and you might as well be dead, like a dirty commie hater of life and freedom! When you arrive in a hostile new country, on no account try to learn their ways and fit in. You must impose your own values on everyone you see! They will respect you for that and make you their king."

Zedd laughed. I laughed. All the men laughed. But they weren't laughing any more.

"Prepare to die, Richard!" came a voice behind me. My mind raced. I spun around to see an arrow flying towards me, but my War Wizard neurochem had been expecting that and I grabbed it from the air, inches from my face. I was already up and running before my assailant had had time to blink, and instantly I had ripped out his spine, leaving him helpless and squirming on the floor. He staggered to his feet for a moment, but my sword shot out and carved a melon-sized hole in his belly; the internal pressures soon caused his intestines to fall out. At last! I had captured one of my elusive enemies. I wasn't going to waste time grilling him for information; instead, he could listen to me explaining why I was right and everything he stood for was wrong. Torture was too good for this scumbag.


Post a Comment

<< Home