/lit/ - Literature

"Outstanding."

Princess Violet glared at him. "My mother says that Confessor Kahlan will come back and that we'll have a surprise for her the next time she comes here. I just want you to know because my mother said you'll be dead by then. My mother says I get to decide what to do to her. First, I'm going to cut off her hair. " Her hands were in fists, her face red. "Then i'm going to let all the guards rape her, every one! Then I'm going to put her in the dungeon for a few years so they'll have someone to play with! Then when I get tired of hurting her, I'll have her head chopped off and put it on a pole where I can watch it rot!"
Richard actually felt sorry for the little Princess. The sadness for her came over him in a wave. At that feeling, he was surprised to feel the thing in him that had come awake rise up.
Princess Violet squeezed her eyes shut, stuck her tongue out far as she could.
It was like a red flag.
The strength of the awakened power exploded through him.
He could feel her jaw shattter like a crystal goblet on a stone floor when his boot came up under it. The impact of the blow lifted the Princess into the air. Her own teeth severed her tongue before they, too, shattered. She landed on her back, a good distance away, trying to scream through the gushing blood.
~Terry Goodkind, Wizards First Rule.

"No war! No war! No war!" the people shouted as Richard led the men up the street at a dead run.
"Out of the way!" Richard yelled as he closed the distance. This was no time for subtlety or discussions: the success of their attack depended in large part on speed. "Get out of the way! This is your only warning! Get out of the way or die!"
"Stop the hate! Stop the hate!" the people chanted as they locked arms.
They had no idea how much hate was raging through Richard. He drew the Sword of Truth. The wrath of its magic didn't come out with it, but he had enough of his own. He slowed to a trot.
"Move!" Richard called as he bore down on the people.
A plump, curly-haired woman took a step out from the others. Her round face was red with anger as she screamed. "Stop the hate! No war! Stop the hate! No war!"
"Move or die!" Richard yelled as he picked up speed.
The red-faced woman shook her fleshy fist at Richard and his men, leading an angry chant. "Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"

>>520652

On his way past her, gritting his teeth as he screamed with the fury of the attack begun, Richard took a powerful swing, lopping off the woman's head and upraised arm. Strings of blood and gore splashed across the faces behind her even as some still chanted their empty words. The head and loose arm tumbled through the crowd. A man mad the mistake of reaching for Richard's weapon, and took the full weight of a charging thrust.
Men behind Richard hit the line of evil's guardians with unrestrained violence. People armed only with their hatred for moral clarity fell bloodied, terribly injured, and dead. The line of people collapsed before the merciless charge. Some of the people, screaming their contempt, used their fists to attack Richard's men. They were met with swift and deadly steel.
At the realization that their defense of the Imperial Order's brutality would actually result in consequences to themselves, the crowd began scattering in fright, screaming curses back at Richard and his men.

haha, i love these threads.

these books were so stupid, but they seemed so awesome to the retarded 12 year old i once was.

How did I ever read this crap? I really need to cull my old library next time I go to my parents' house.

Her power, her magic, was also a weapon of defense. But it would only work on people. It would not work on a chicken. And it would not work on wickedness incarnate.
Her gaze flicked toward the door, checking the distance. The chicken took a single hop toward her. Claws gripping Juni's upper arm, it leaned her way. Her leg muscles tightened till they trembled.
The chicken backed up a step, tensed, and spurted feces onto Juni's face. :rofl:
It let out the cackle that sounded like a laugh.
She dearly wished she could tell herself she was being silly. Imagining things.
But she knew better.
<snip>
Kahlan frantically tried to think as the chicken bawk-bawk-bawked.
<snip>
"Mother," the chicken croaked.
Kahlan flinched with a cry.
<snip>
[Kahlan knocks over a candle by mistake, plunging the barn into darkness]
In the dark, the chicken thing let out a low chicken cackle laugh.
It hadn't come from whre she expected the chicken to be. It was behind her.
"Please, I mean no harm," she called into the darkness. "I mean no disrespect. I will leave you to your business now, if that's all right with you."
She took another shuffling step toward the door. She moved carefully, slowly, in case the chicken thing was in the way. She didn't want to bump into it and make it angry. She mustn't underestimate it.
Kahlan had on any number of occasions thrown herself with ferocity against seemingly invincible foes. She knew well the value of a resolute violent attack. But she also somehow knew beyond doubt that this adversary could, if it wanted, kill her as easily as she could wring a real chicken's neck. If she forced a fight, this was one she would lose.
<snip>
The chicken thing let out a whispering cackle.

>>520668
[she's trying to find the door, she's crying and panicking, she stubs her toe and falls down.]
With the next flash of lightning, she saw chicken feet standing between her and the crack under the door. The thing wasn't more than a foot from her face.
<snip>
The beak pinched the vein on the back of her hand over her eyes. The chicken tugged, as if trying to pull a worm from the ground.
It was a command. It wanted her hand away from her eyes.
The beak gave a sharp tug on her skin. There was no mistaking the meaning in that insistent yank. Move the hand, now, it was saying, or you'll be sorry.
If she made it angry, there was no telling what it was capable of doing to her. Juni lay dead above her as a reminder of the possibilities.
She told herself that if it pecked at her eyes, she would have to grab it and try to wring its neck. If she was quick, it could only get in one peck. She would have one eye left. She would have to fight it then. But only if it went for her eyes.
Her instincts screamed that such action would be the most foolish, dangerous thing she could do. Both the Bird Man and Richard said this was not a chicken. She no longer doubted them. But she might have no choice.
If she started, it would be a fight to the death. She held no illusion as to her chances. Nonetheless, she might be forced to fight it. With her last breath, if need be, as her father had taught her.
The chicken snatched a bigger beakful of her skin along with the vein and twisted. Last warning.
Kahlan carefully moved her trembling hand away. The chicken-thing cackled softly with satisfaction.
~Terry Goodkind, Soul of the Fire

tldr: goodkind is shit as both a writer and a person.