ShinsoBEAM! posted:

Umm I'm pretty sure their magic does work that way though in a sense, because throwing the live chicken into the tailroader actually did fix it, there are a few other clues hanging around that their stuff is real too. It's just that some of the characters think it's bullshit/luck.

Orthodox Rabbit posted:

If an orc becomes a vampire does that make it double racist if you shoot it

Orthodox Rabbit posted:

If an orc becomes a vampire does that make it double racist if you shoot it

Renegret posted:

The racism is in two opposite directions so they cancel each other out and it becomes racist to not shoot the vampire orc.

Zanzibar Ham posted:

So when Skippy convinces his orc friends that Owen is a demigod will he become the Emperor of Mankind?

There's a lot of discussion about the racism in this book, but barely anything outside the updates themselves about what a loving creep Owen is to Julie, and I can't decide if I hate it more that Julie is reacting sensibly to his advances at the moment or not considering the inevitable eventual hookup.

The worst would be if it turns out Julie resisted his "charms" and stayed with Grant because of some dumb hypnotism or love-potion-esque shenanigans or something and surely no Real Woman would have thought Owen was a creepo to stay away from.

Professor Bling posted:

Like, I actually *enjoyed* trailer trash elves, I thought that was a cool little up-ending of the "graceful and wise elves" trope, but goddamn y'all the orcs in this series are depicted in a real fuckin' racist way

Clipperton posted:

The elves are definitely the high point of the worldbuilding so far and I would have liked to see orcs flipped the same way. Maybe an ex-British Army orc who went to Sandhurst and talks like Denholm Elliot.

Darth Walrus posted:

I mean, Tolkein’s orcs were the purpose-bred soldiers of an evil empire...

quote:

Dreaming. Pleasant dreams, just the normal disjointed clearing of the human subconscious. I slept deeply, able to tune out Trip's snores from the other bunk, and my only visions were good ones. Julie's beautiful smile and full-auto assault shotguns.

Then it changed. Events came into focus. My consciousness shifted gears. The pleasant normal dreams evolved into something sharper, with seemingly real physical sensations. Cold snow under my bare feet, and the smell of smoke in the air.

I was standing in the remains of a small town. The nearby buildings had been shelled into rubble. A light dusting of snow covered the broken stone, shattered wood and rusting metal. There were a few signs and torn advertising on some of the crumbled walls. I did not recognize the language, but it seemed familiar. The style of the art was simple and old-fashioned. A gray winter sky loomed fat and heavy overhead. The world was totally and impossibly silent.

The Old Man leaned against a piece of rubble, cane in hand. He took a pocket watch out of his homespun coat and examined it absently when he saw me.

"You are late, Boy. Much work to do."

"Sorry."

"No, I the one that is sorry. Almost killed, I got you last time."

"When the Cursed One saw us on the beach?"

"Too dangerous to take your spirit out of body. I not know what I doing. I new at this. Too, how you say . . . stupid to do again. But I had to show . . . show Cursed One to you so you know what I know. Too dangerous. No more out of body."

"What would have happened if he had caught us?"

"For me, probably stay same. For you, you end up like me. Something else probably come and take your body while it empty." He shivered when he said that, drawing his collar up against the winter cold. "Would be bad."

"Something would inhabit my body?"

"Yes, there are things that not have body of own. They are, how you say . . . jealous. We not leave your body again. Not safe. I have to find new way to show you things."

"So where are we right now?" I gestured at the silent town.

"In your head, Boy. Where did think?"

"I don't know. I've never been here. I've never been to that field we met in before either."

"In your head. But from my memory. I am friend, I am guest here. I can show you thing that I know. Is hard to show, but I getting better. For smart boy, you are sometimes dumb."

"Hey now," I said defensively.

He laughed deeply. "Is fine. I forget. Real world is different where I am. Rules change. Come, I show you." He pointed with his cane, and walked away through the snow. I followed.

quote:

Confusion, resolving itself into a hazy vision from long ago.

The jungle road was hot. My horse was exhausted by the heat and lathered with foam. My plate was splattered with the blood of my enemies, and my helmet and plume sat heavy on my sweat-drenched brow. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of powder. I rested my battle-ax across my saddle and passed my matchlock to my secondary to be reloaded. Large carrion birds circled overhead, eager to have their chance at the carnage on the jungle road.

My men were following after the routed, scattering enemy, cutting down as many as possible. Worried about possible counterattacks, I signaled my northern mercenary captain to call the men back. When the undergrowth became thick, the advantages of our muskets and plate were negated. The big man spurred his horse forward, shouting for the men to rally at his position.

I dismounted my steed as a prisoner was brought struggling before me. My men shoved him to his knees. The prisoner was obviously a man of some importance, adorned with gold jewelry and wearing complex armor made of hide, and crowned with a helmet constructed from a jaguar's skull. The prisoner babbled in his incoherent pagan language. I took my helmet off and waited patiently for Friar de Sousa.

The priest came. As a man of many letters, he had made a study of the enemy's language, and was able to communicate with them in a very rudimentary fashion. I waited as the priest and the pagan spoke in a mixture of words and hand signals.

"He is a leader of his people. He says that a great ransom will be paid for his return," the priest said. Shots echoed through the jungle as my men happened upon a few other stragglers. "His city is wealthy and the very streets are paved in gold."

That was more like it, for gold was the very essence of this conquest. Legends of the natives' Dorado, their land of endless gold, were what kept my men focused. "Where is his city?" I asked. The priest translated. The prisoner pointed down the road and said something, holding up a pair of fingers.

"Two days' march."

"Excellent . . . Why take a ransom when you can take the whole city?" The priest understood and stepped away to avoid splattering his robes. I casually raised my ax and brought it swiftly down on my captive's head.

NO!

Calm down, Boy. It is not you. These are Cursed One's memories. You see world from his . . . how you say . . . perspective.

But I just killed a man. I couldn't stop it.

No. Cursed One killed him. Killed him five hundred years ago. He is . . . I think you would say, mean son of bitch. We just observing.

How?

I am attached to him. Hard to explain. I have gone back too far in memory. Must go forward.

quote:

If I was truly viewing the Cursed One's memories, that would explain why I somehow understood medieval Portuguese.

quote:

The occupants of the city lined the street. Almost all of them bowed in fear. I ordered my men to kill the few who did not bow as a warning to any who would dare challenge their new rulers. My small army had penetrated further into the interior of the continent than any previous conquistadors and I intended to claim the riches of this city as my own. I led my men toward the central palace, lances up, muskets ready. Many of the people averted their eyes rather than see us in our armor and upon our horses. Bah . . . primitives.

quote:

The priests were happy. We were going to send souls to the Lord, one way or the other. My men were content. There was more plunder, gold and women than they could have ever imagined. It was only through fear and loyalty to me that I had kept them from immediately looting the city. My troops worshipped me, and an entire country feared me. It was a good day.

I had a dream. Dare I say a vision? I saw myself riding forth at the head of a great army, conquering all of this land and making it my own. Returning home in glory, not as a failed merchant, not as just one of the many sons of a nobleman, but rather returning home in my own glory and with my own riches. I ordered no messengers to be dispatched to the sea. This was going to be my bounty, and mine alone. King Manuel would learn of this only when I was ready for him to learn.

My troops marched toward the city center, where the largest palace loomed. I called a halt as we entered the central courtyard, and had my men set up the cannon just in case a trap had been prepared, for surely not all of these backwards people could think that we were gods.

The royal entourage met us in the courtyard. They were brilliant in their finery. A contingent of jaguar-helmeted guards surrounded the royal family. Scores of priests and priestesses, wives and concubines, scribes and courtiers filled the square. A man stood at their head. His skin coated in gold dust, his raiment a robe of brilliant feathers, surely this was their king. He was frail and weak with age. The king approached, ahead of his personal bodyguard, and laid his staff upon the ground in front of my horse's shoes. His eyes were the sad eyes of a broken man. I summoned Friar de Sousa to translate.

"In the name of his Royal Highness, King Manuel the Great of Portugal, your kingdom has been conquered, and must pay tribute. I am General Joao Silva de Machado. My word is law in this land. You will provide gold and treasure as I see fit. You will provide food, lodging and clean women for my soldiers. You will provide able-bodied men to join my army in the continuing pacification of this land as I see fit. Your people will learn the true Catholic faith and receive the blessings therein. Failure to follow my orders will result in your death and the deaths of your people. Trickery will not be tolerated. For each of my men attacked by your people, I will kill five hundred of yours. For any of my priests attacked by your people, I shall kill five hundred of your priests. If any of you tries to harm my officers or me, I will raze this city to the ground until no two stones stand upon another. I will kill every man, woman and child, feed your flesh to our hounds, and salt the earth so that nothing will ever grow upon this blighted land ever again." I waited for the friar to catch up. He spoke loudly so that the whole crowd could hear. I imagined that de Sousa's gift of languages would only carry him so far, but as long as the heathens understood the fundamentals of what I was trying to convey, I would be satisfied.

"But do not think that you can harm us. For we are gods to you." The priest stuttered a bit as he translated that bit of blasphemy. "You have witnessed the power we control. I can call fire from the heavens and smite you to dust. You cannot harm us, but you can try. If you try, you will be punished. Is that understood?"

quote:

She cut him off. "I am Koriniha, High Priestess of the Temple of Neihor."

My hand moved away from my ax. "How do you speak our tongue?" Many of my priests and soldiers began to murmur at this surprise. We were the first civilized Christians to make it this far into the interior of the continent, that we knew of at least. Had some of the blasted Spaniards beaten us here?

"There is power here, untapped for generations. I have learned your language in preparation for this very day. The spirits burned your words into me so that I may speak with you," she boldly retorted. "I have been waiting for you. Your coming was prophesied by the Old Ones. Your men come here, searching for riches, like pigs, simple in their greed. Your priests come for souls, numbers to feed their machine. But you, my Lord Machado, you are different. Your quest is for power. It is what you seek in your heart. I can offer you power. Power beyond your dreams."

"She is a witch," exclaimed Friar de Sousa. "Kill her, Lord Machado, the devil has given her our speech."

"Silence, priest. Do not presume to tell me what to do." The friar bowed his head in submission. I was interested. Something about the beautiful priestess provoked something deep in the back of my mind. "What do you speak of, woman? Make it good or I will be most displeased by this interruption."

She bowed slightly. "I can offer you much, Lord Machado. With my help I can keep this city docile and willing to serve you."

"They will do that now," I stated.

"But only out of fear. You are a wise general. You know that eventually they will rebel. Brave ones will rise up, as they always do. I know that you are only men. Mighty and wise men to be sure, but you must sleep, and you must eat our food, and your flesh can be pierced by an assassin's blade when your guards are not alert. You need not rule this city out of fear, if I can make this people serve and worship you. Why plunder one country, one people, when you can instead bend that city to your will and use it to build your own kingdom out of this land?"

I found myself intrigued by the ruthless cunning of the witch.

"Tell me more, Priestess."

quote:

"Guardian of the artifact. Do not trust. He wants one thing. Just one thing. Get in his way—" The Old Man dragged his bony finger across his throat and made a gack sound. "You go now. Help your lady friend. Keep her safe. She is good girl. You two make cute babies someday." He patted me on my arm.

"Huh?"

"Go, stupid boy. Try not to get dead!"

quote:

However, it came from such a tortured mind, so filled with hate and darkness and pain, that just the brief second I felt the connection was enough to knock me to the ground and leave me gasping for air in a blind panic. The Old Man must have made a mistake. I could feel the Cursed One as he sensed me intruding. I could feel his anger, and his promise to destroy me and the very fabric of my world. He sent me a message. I screamed in agony and clutched my face as I was wracked with spasms of unspeakable pain. Crashing out of the chair, I twitched wildly as thousands of invisible blades stabbed at my flesh. Tears streamed from my eyes as I thrashed about, trying to evade the pain. Everything went mercifully black.

quote:

"How do you feel?"

"Like crap. That wasn't a seizure. Lord Machado sensed me. I had another vision."

"While you were awake?" Harbinger asked sharply.

"I requested it. Last night in my dream. I asked for a picture, a current memory . . ." The other Hunters looked at each other in confusion. "I'll explain later, look . . ." I tried to sit up but I was too dizzy. I gave up and embraced the cold floor. "I saw one of his memories. I saw the world through the Cursed One's eyes. I don't know from when, but it was a recent memory."

"Owen, take it easy. Tell us what you saw." Julie's voice was soothing and relaxed.

"He was in some sort of vehicle. It was dark. I just saw the road illuminated in the headlights. They were approaching a sign . . ."

"What did it say?" Julie asked.

"Welcome to Alabama."

Clipperton posted:

The elves are definitely the high point of the worldbuilding so far and I would have liked to see orcs flipped the same way. Maybe an ex-British Army orc who went to Sandhurst and talks like Denholm Elliot.

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Yeah it would be interesting to see someone of a different race act exactly the same cognitively as a human. Like, have the racial distinction turn out to be irrelevant when compared to education, class, opportunities, etc.

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Yeah it would be interesting to see someone of a different race act exactly the same cognitively as a human. Like, have the racial distinction turn out to be irrelevant when compared to education, class, opportunities, etc.

chitoryu12 posted:

A later book has a similar depiction of a fantasy race as low-class trash.

Gangsta gnomes. G-nomes.

Samizdata posted:

Not so much all orcs. Mainly the Uruk-Hai.

quote:

... my only visions were good ones. Julie's beautiful smile and full-auto assault shotguns.

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Well yeah but are they gangsta gnomes or gnomes who are gangsta.

The second is infinitely more interesting than the first

Darth Walrus posted:

Naah, the orcs were modified elves weaponised by Sauron. Saruman just had better quality-control.

ShinsoBEAM! posted:

book 4:

They meet a dragon who is a ultra wealthy investor, that is part of a self help group online over their addictions his is of course hoarding valuable items. So far it enabled him to be able to sell valuable things and spend money as long as it was never physically in their presence.

chitoryu12 posted:

I think the second, like the elves in the trailer park are just redneck elves and there's presumably "normal" ones out in Europe where they originated.

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Current status: an ever-growing that eventually engulfs the sun

chitoryu12 posted:

Darth Walrus posted:

There’s a bunch of dealers in Belarus who’ll hook you up with that poo poo - relatively above-board, too. Seriously, not kidding.

Monocled Falcon posted:

The abomination is where I realized that, for all the knowledge of civilian firearms he possessed, Larry had no better idea of military weaponry than a teenage COD player who thinks the m203 is used like an alt-fire to his assault rifle.

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Well yeah but are they gangsta gnomes or gnomes who are gangsta.

The second is infinitely more interesting than the first

chitoryu12 posted:

Guess the cat’s out of the bag on just what Skippy is now!

We see some orc magic in this book too. Basically they can do things that simply shouldn’t work according to the laws of physics or make healing potions from mundane ingredients that otherwise have no correlation to actual medicine. Throwing a chicken into the tail rotor isn’t just a “silly tribe” joke, it works.

sky shark posted:

9/11 isn't present in the storyline

Mel Mudkiper posted:

I've often learned that "customized" is the key word in the arsenal of those who subscribe to the Tom Clancy school of "gently caress it, magic"

chitoryu12 posted:

Also, at the point I’m at in the book (63%) it’s been established that MHI exclusively hunts supernatural creatures that have been found to be dangerous, but the PUFF applies to any non-human creature regardless of danger. This is a source of friction between MHI and the government because they actively harbor non-humans or keep their existence secret to keep the MCB from hunting them down.