Wheel of Time Humour

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Thought this might be of interest to those who haven't found it yet:
http://student-www.uchicago.edu/~kor2/WOT/WOTindex/humor.html

PS there are a few duff links on the page. One that was worth chasing was the WoT adverst page. This is now at:
http://www.datajack.org/wotads/index.php3

Hope this provides some light relief.

 

LOL! Slappy how do you find this stuff?? Those ads are a riot!!

 

Anti-lol.

Not funny at all.

 

You can't "anti-LOL"

It's not allowed!

 

Allright! It seems that sorcerers is home to alot of wotidiots. I myself is hopelessy addicted ive read that damn series 5-6 times
Im having some serious withdrawal troubles and this will hold bsck the need a little longer. I was about to go to the US and force RJ to write faster

 

No you can't anti-lol, because it should be col then, Crying Out Loud

 

Shouldn't 'anti-lol' be crying in silently?

 

Wow, Slappy the Wheel of Time Index has been my favourite WOT info site since I found it about 2 years ago.

But I've got something else pretty funny, I can't post the link since it seems to have gone but I saved a copy so I'll post it here.

The Wheel of Time Creaks

The myrddraal that called himself Shaidar Haran favored the assembled with an eyeless gaze of terror. Shaidar Haran was a myrddraal like no other. For one, he stood head and shoulders taller than any other myrddraal. He also had abilities unlike those of any other creature in existence--like being able to extinguish flows of the One Power... But why am I telling you this? If you had really wanted to know, you would have read the first 7 books. The only purpose of all these flashbacks is to make the books a thousand pages when they could really be half that. I guess I'll stop. Well, anyway, Shaidar Haran looked out upon the gathering and... They all wore masks of black silk, trying to hide their identities, but unsuccessfully. Through the rows of people, servants walked, moving jerkily, like marionettes. From outside the room he could hear the protests of the old servants, and his heart (such as it was) went out to them. It was not their fault. It seemed to be like this everywhere. As soon as you were secure in your job you would be stilled, or severed, or balefired, or replaced by machines. The myrddraal that called himself Shaidar Haran mentally shook itself. This line of thought was depressing. After one last sweep of his eyeless gaze, Shaidar Haran mounted the platform, and prepared to address the gathered darkfriends.
"Friends of the dark, I am pleased to see that so many of you received my summons. You do not know how hard it is to get the mailman to come to Shaul Ghul and pick up invitations. Of course, you gathered are the most powerful of darkfriends, dedicating your lives to serving the Great Lord of the Dark." At this point, a masked man slowly, hesitantly, raised his hand. Shaidar Haran gave him the GAZE. The man trembled, but slowly lifted his eyes from the floor. "Um, sir, is this Terisa's wedding to Geraden?"

Shaidar Haran once more GAZED at the man. "What took you so long to realize this wasn't a wedding?!!!"

"Well, you see, you're all dressed in black, and well, with that stiff collar I just sorta figured you were the minister. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but I couldn't see Terisa anywhere."

Shaidar's face showed a flash of annoyance. "Down the hall, third door on your right." The man bobbed his head and quickly left.

Looking on, another man raised his hand. "I believe I am in the correct place, however, in light," Everyone stared at him with menacing gazes, "pardon me, in dark of the recent mistake in finding the proper meeting room, I would like to make sure: this is where the artist formerly known as 'He who calls himself Prince Galad' is supposed to preform in concert, correct?"

Shaidar's face flashed even fiercer annoyance as he Gazed the gaze of fear at the man. "No, no, no! The Whitecloak reunion of '96 is up the hall, second door to your left."

Then two women stood up. One had the look of a fisher woman, the second was a tall Domani. The first one spoke "Then is this the hall meeting were we are finally going to decide what to do about Elaida?"

Shaidar's face was a mask of fury. "NOOOO!"

Another woman stood up. "Then is this the meeting were we decide how to crush the rebel tower?

Pointing to the fisher woman Shaidar intoned "You want the little tower's hall. Fourth door to your right." He pointed to the last. "You want the normal tower's hall. Fourth door to your left."

The women took their leave.

Shaidar Haran was infuriated, and he gave all the assembled the GAZE. "Now, is there anyone else who isn't here in hopes of becoming immortal and basking in the glory Great Lord of The Dark?" he asked, in a voice like snakes crawling in leaves.

One man raised his hand. On it he deftly balanced a plate, covered in crumbs. In his mouth was a fork. His voice had a strange slur to it, probably from talking around the fork. "I come here every year for the cheese cake," he said.

Shaidar Haran's face lit up with pleasure. "You like my cheese cake? You really do? I learned it from mom." Shaidar stepped down from the platform and approached the man. "The secret is in the preparation. If you let it ferment on the shores of Shaul Ghul for a few days it really adds flavor," was the last heard before Shaidar Haran led the man, nodding his head in agreement, from the room.

After a long while the room quieted once more. People looked up expectantly at the great platform, and to their astonishment saw a man standing on the dais. They released a gasp, sounding as if from one throat. "Ba'alzamon" the whisper went around. Soon it was a chant. "Zamon Zamon Zamon!" Then to the gathered disappointment, the man turned to them and said: "I'm not Ba'alzamon. I was just hoping I would be able to see the sign for the men's room if I got up here." With a start the man saw the sign and walked out of the room.

After an even longer wait the room filled with quiet chatter. A flash of light and sound like thunder filled the room, and on the dais stood a huge man, perhaps 10 feet tall. One of the assembled shouted to him "Why are you up there? You should be able to see the men's room sign over our heads."

The man upon the dais looked into the crowd. "Fools! I AM BA'ALZAMON!" Those in the room were shocked into silence. "I HAVE INSTRUCTIONS FOR YOU!!!" He waved his hand and the image of three equines appeared on the dais before him. "THIS ONE IN THE MIDDLE IS BELA. SHE MUST BE CAPTURED AND TURNED. BEWARE. SHE IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND PLAYED A PART IN THE DEATH OF ASMODEAN. SHE WILL NOT HESITATE BEFORE DISPOSING OF ANY OF YOU ONCE DISCOVERED." Ba'alzamon pointed to the other two. "THESE ARE MANDARB AND ALDIEB. BEWARE. THEY ARE IN LEAGUE WITH BELA AND TOGETHER THEY SEEM TO HAVE REDISCOVERED THE LOST TALENT OF HAY BANISHING AS WELL AS HAVING FOUND A WAY TO SUMMON FLIES TO PLACES THEY HAVE BEEN. THIS TALENT MUST BECOME MINE. FLIES ARE MUCH MORE PLENTIFUL THEN RAVENS. THEY ALSO MAY HAVE FOUND A STASIS BOX POSSIBLY CONTAINING OBJECTS USING THE THIRD HALF OF THE ONE POWER. THIS MUST ALSO BE BROUGHT TO ME." The instructions took well into the night, but elsewhere, more important plots were forming.

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The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the city of Caemlyn. The wind was not the beginning . There are neither beginnings nor ending to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Among the five women the wind blew causing their skirts to ruffle. Nynaeve gave the men across the room a scowl as she briefly caught a whiff of the wind. "It sometimes seems that all men are good for is breaking wind and making fools of themselves." Elayne and Aviendha nodded in agreement and muttered something about wool-headed sheep herders always finding a way to cause embarrassment.

"They're good for other things too," Min put in, "as long as you can get one of them alone." Birgitte gave a knowing grin and at that the three other women's cheeks crimsoned, Nynaeve's hand stroking a leather cord that hung at her neck in a familiar manner.

"What are you going to do?" Faile was addressing Min, and although she didn't say what about, the name seemed to hang in the air. Rand. He caused them so much trouble.

Then Elayne joined their huddle. "We have found a very sortable plan." She said. "I'm going to be green, so I will bond Rand. Aviendha will bond me, and Rand will bond Min. Now the only problem is trying to decide who gets him for tonight."

Faile began a laugh, thinking Elayne was joking, but quickly stifled it when she saw the serious look on her face. Shaking her head, Faile left the group. They were already to engrossed in conversation to notice.

"I get him tonight 'cause I called him a woolhead." said Min.

"So? I sniffed at him for no apparent reason, and I had my nose stuck in the air while I did it." said Elayne.

"That's nothing. I sniffed at him twice for no reason at all and once just to see him squirm while he tried to find out what he did wrong." said Aviendha.

"Wow." Elayne and Min said in unison.

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"... Anything you say Mat. I don't get it though. Why would you want me to send embassies to search for a foreign noble who can channel and is called the Daughter of the Nine Moons?"

"Because I am supposed to marry her. I already explained this to you."

"Yes, I know all that, but how do you know she is a noble who can channel?"

"O.K. Let me make it simple. It is a fact that I really dislike nobles and women who can channel, right?"

"I'm with you so far," Perrin nodded.

"And it's also a fact that the Creator made me a ta'veren simply for comic relief to balance out all this seriousness with you guys, right, the whole thing with Queen Tylin proves that, so just put two and two together. What's between your ears, wool?"

"Okay. I see it now. Let's move on to other matters." Perrin said before turning to Rand. "You know, we have to do something about these rumors of you killing Morgase."

At that point Mat, who had been fiddling with his dice cup, said "No we don't. Elayne will clear everything up."

Perrin smirked. "How would you know? You can't even raise Olver. He's acting just like you, and you blame it on Nalesean, but you can't anymore, 'cause he's dead."

Then, unexpectedly, Mat dropped his dice cup. He stood bolt up, and, in a voice like a robot's intoned "Morgase is not dead. She is coming here even as we speak. She has just escaped from the white cloak stronghold in Amador. She will marry Tallanvor, and Lini will perform the ceremony. The honeymoon will be in Master Gill's Inn's Stable's Hayloft. Olver is not who he seems. He is Gaidal Cain reborn. Birgitte the hunter is Birgitte the Hero. She will realize who Olver is, but will be to late to correct the past. Olver will still like her, because I have raised him to goggle at older women. Elayne is leading 1,700 kin to join Egwene. The kin can Channel. The dark one has gained a Gholam. Aran'gar and Osan'gar are forsaken, reborn of the opposite gender. Halima can channel Saidin, and is, in fact, Aran'gar. Alviarin is a dark friend. Moraine will come back from the dead and marry Thom. Siuan will marry Gareth Bryne. Logain will draw Callandor from the Heart of the Stone of Tear. The Seanchan have attacked and captured the Fortress of the Light. Bela killed Asmodean, who had been masquerading as Jasin Natael. Padan Fain is now Ordeith--a mixture of Fain, Mordeth, and The Black Wind. I am bonded to the horn of Valere. Gaidal Cain and Birgitte will be reunited when the horn is sounded. Rand will die on Shaul Ghul, but his killer will be balefired, and Rand will return. Nynaeve has married and will bond Lan. Elayne will throw a tantrum when she finds Rand already bonded to Alanna, then Elayne will bond Rand indirectly by bonding Alanna. The CREATOR is really the DARK ONE's split personality. Loial will write his story under the pen name Robert Jordan. Book Eight will be a New York Times Bestseller, brining in millions of dollars. Tarmon Gai'don will occur in book 13. The information Fel recovered was a complete text of all the skills of the Age of Legends, and how to use them. THIS I FORETELL!" Mat finished in a roar as he collapsed back into his chair.

When Mat looked back up at the table he was met by startled looks from all the others.

"Was that Mat?" asked Rand, "the old Tongue?"

"What? Uh, did I say something?" replied Mat.

"Nevermind," said Rand, "Let's go over there," he said pointing toward the women in the corner, "and ask them if they want to join us for dinner. Come on, it's my treat."

Mat looked around the room, and then muttered to himself "Bloody holes in my flaming memory. Why can't I remember?"

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"All right." The man who called himself Rob said. "Now, CREATOR, it's your turn.

"GOOD. I WANT MY TA'VEREN TO MOUNT AN ASSAULT AGAINST ONE OF THE DARK ONE'S FORSAKEN."

"Okay. DARK ONE, role for initiative.

"I GOT A FOURTEEN."

"CREATOR? What did you get?"

"A TWELVE."

"Oh, that's to bad. You can't continue your attack until the DARK ONE's turn."

"OH, MAN."

"Lord of Chaos, your turn now."

"I WANT TO HAVE SOMETHING SURPRISING HAPPEN. CAN I ROLL FOR CHAOS?"

"All right. Make your roll." Chaos rolled his dice and no one said anything when they bounced and spun on their corners in a very suspicious way. For the other players it was more surprising when they didn't.

"I GOT A TWENTY-FOUR!" No one even blinked at the highest possible roll from the four dice.

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Back on Randland, a sudden storm sprung up, filling most of the sea. The Seanchan fleet continued into the heart of the storm, all seventy of their remaining ships. After their long voyage, only one sank, and, due to the commander's excellent navigation, land was in sight. In fact, they hadn't been blown off course at all. Ever since the commander had been hit by that strange lightning months ago, his sense of direction was as accurate as the stars.

The city was right were it should be, jutting out from the coast. This time, Falme would be theirs. Without hesitating, the command to attack was given. Lightning bolts shattered the ground, while fireballs seared the skies. The Sul'dam did their work well. The attacks were coordinated so that within an hour, every part of the city had been hit. The vessels took port, and, much to their amusement, found only a single survivor. The commander ordered the man to speak, and jerked him to his feet when he failed to do so. Finally the man spoke. "Welcome to Seanchan," he said, "I hope your stay will be enjoyable." With that the man's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and, in the silence that consumed all noise his death rattle echoed throughout the once fine city.

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"Wow. That was pretty chaotic."

"THANK YOU."

"DARK ONE, your turn."

"I WANT TO HAVE ONE OF MY FORSAKEN ORDER A GREYMAN, NO, THREE GREYMEN, TO ATTACK ONE OF THE CREATOR'S TA'VEREN."

"All right, roll."

"I GOT A TWELVE!"

"Sorry. One of the greymen killed some Aiel. The second and third made it into the ta'veren's bedchamber before they were balefired."

"THAT'S NO FAIR!"

"If it's any consolation, Rand will have an ache in his side for a few hours. Now that the DARK ONE's turn is over, you may continue your ta'veren's attack now, CREATOR."

"GOOD. I WANT TO...."

The game continued long into the night, and elsewhere, others played as well.

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Mat suddenly sat up from his game of snakes and foxes. He did not notice Olver's startled look, nor would he have cared if he had. "Blood and Ashes." he murmured. "Why do these bloody dice keep rolling in my head?"

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It was hot in the great dining hall of the royal palace of Caemlyn. Then again, it was hot pretty much everywhere. Elayne and Nynaeve had brought back a large crystal bowl that was supposed to Heal the weather, but when they channeled flows of spirit and water into it all it ever did was make its contents disappear in a gurgling swirl of water. Rand didn't think it would ever Heal anything, but it made a good enough chamber pot.

Rand was just as hot as everyone else, but it didn't show. Not one drop of sweat showed on his face or the faces of anyone at his table. Today was a special occasion. He had gathered all of his friends in celebration of the death of Sammael. Everyone he trusted was there with him--Perrin, Mat, Egwene (who was taking comp time from being Amyrlin Seat), Elayne, Min, Aviendha, Faile, Nynaeve and Lan along with the normal honor guard of Aiel Maidens that accompanied the Dragon Reborn.

Just as he was raising his glass to give a toast to himself as always, he was interrupted by noises from a loud scuffle just outside of the doors. Just when everything quieted down outside, the two great gilded doors burst open. Through them he could see two neat piles of Royal guards at either side of the entrance... and coming through between them was the last person he expected to see.

"No need for alarm," said Rand as he glanced at all the veiled Maidens, "Moraine, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead."

"You know that nothing can keep me from my cause--not even death. You are in great danger... One that is great enough for the Creator to bring me back from my grave." she gasped as she quickly approached the table. Rand saw for the first time the large bag that she was carrying over her shoulder.

Moraine briefly channeled flows of air to clear the table and proceeded to dump out the contents of the sack while saying, "We've got a major problem." Everyone gasped in horror as they realized what it was they saw. Disks. Black and white, the size of a man's fist. Each with a sinuous line separating the two teardrops. What came as a shock was that there were fourteen of them in all... And each one was spider-webbed with cracks as if they had broken and been carefully reassembled.

"FOURTEEN!" Egwene exclaimed with pure shock, "There were supposed to be only seven! What is wrong and why isn't the Dark One standing here among us if they're all broken?"

"There were only seven seals in the first five books of this series" Moraine replied, "Somewhere in the last few books Robert Jordan lost track of how many there were and where they were. Now they're turning up all over the place. I think I've found all that exist."

"What's holding them together?" Rand broke in.

At that, Moraine picked up one of the seals and turned it over. On it's back it was the mirror image of the front except for narrow silvery strips covering all the cracks. "It's duct tape," Moraine replied, "but even that can't hold the Dark One at bay forever."

"Wait a minute," Perrin interrupted. "Look closely at this one. It's different." A closer look revealed to everyone that that particular disc had one small dot centered in each teardrop. Each dot was the opposite color of the teardrop in it's background. "Half of them are like this," he continued as he scanned the others.

"That's not the ancient symbol for Aes Sedai," Nynaeve mumbled, "I've never seen anything like them."

"Um, I guess I made a mistake," Moraine said while making a close study of her feet, "I think I'll go now." She headed back the way she came, but began to slowly fade like a ghost. She had disappeared completely before reaching the doorway.

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Bob stared intently at what was hidden from the rest of the players behind his cardboard stand. He gave nothing away by his features, and after a moment's pause he addressed the DARK ONE.

"Your decoys scared the shit out of the Damodred woman, but in the end it failed. MORDETH, your turn."

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"Now that was really quite interesting," Rand commented while the others returned to their seats, "Sulin, why don't you take these seals to the treasure chamber. And while you're at it you can ask Hal, the chief librarian, if he can dig anything up on these strangely altered Aes Sedai seals."

Sulin looked at Rand for the first time that night with icy contempt. "Don't you think that's too risky? Maybe you should send for a Thunder Walker instead, or maybe a Stone Dog."

Rand turned around to give her a frown, but she was already out the door with the bag of seals over her shoulder. Rand quickly surveyed the room and found all eyes on him, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Could you please pass the potato salad?"

Taking his precedent, everyone in the room returned their attention to their plates and conversations. Rand had just remembered that toast he was going to give a while back, and raised his glass once more, but was forestalled by a noise at the doors.

"Hello, is anyone left alive in there?" came the voice of Del, an asha'man newly raised to Dedicated, as he stepped over the still bodies of the unconscious guards. "I have important news for the Dragon Reborn."

"Yes Del, we're in here. Is your news more important than the Lord Dragon's dinner?"

"Yes it is my lord," Del replied hastily, "I would have come sooner if I could have, especially if I had known you were having a party without me." Del gave the fallen guards one last look as he approached the foot of the long table.

"Well, out with it Del. What's this important news of yours?" inquired Perrin over his half raised fork.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." For not the first time Mat wondered to himself over the sanity of Rand's asha'man. "I was down at the docks and I saw the most horrifying thing..."

"Yes I know," cut in Rand, "They're bubbles of evil that come up from Shayol Ghul like methane bubbles in a bog until they attach themselves to the Pattern and burst. I call them miasmas. There beginning to show up everywhere. It won't be long now before the Dark One walks among us."

"Yes, I know," Del's voice broke Rand out of his brief reminiscing, "I know what a miasma is, and that's not what I saw... Well, actually I did see a miasma, but that's not what was so terrible... The miasma was actually rather thrilling. The horrible thing was behind the miasma and a little to the side." Del noticed the curious looks on the faces of the dinner party and hurried on. "I saw a great ship approaching from down-river. It was bigger than even a Sea Folk raker, and made entirely of steel. What's more is it didn't have a mast or sail or oar, but it frothed through the water as if the Dark One himself was pushing it. When it docked, the gang-plank extended by itself and I sensed no channeling."

"We must find out the intentions of this obviously foreign craft," Perrin spoke up, "if we are to believe even half of what Del says."

"Um, sir, I do believe that I already know their intentions." Del stammered.

"Well, go on then, don't hold back. Let's hear it," Mat demanded.

"Well, it's like this. When the plank lowered a group of men wearing clothes like none I've ever seen and all carrying strange short metal clubs stepped off. Their leader came to me and said that he claimed this land from the Aryth Ocean to the Aiel Waste as a possession of Shara."

"That's nothing," Rand interjected, "No more than two weeks ago some strange man sailed up and claimed it in the name of some country called Spain. I gave the fool some gold and spices and told him to be off, but all he did is grin and repeat, 'I was right. They didn't believe me, but I was right'."

"But that's just the thing Lord Dragon," broke in Del, "this guy didn't claim it in the name of Shara. He claimed it as a possession of Shara, but in the name of his prophesied leader 'He who Bathes with Twilight'. He said that 'He who Bathes with Twilight' is a resident of these parts."

"All these flaming prophesies," exclaimed Rand, "and each one keeps getting more and more personal! Well you can just go back and tell them that I don't need their 'claim'. I can bloody well claim this land on my own. And tell them that I will expect them to start sending me their fastest boats full of armed soldiers. It's about time the Dragon Reborn had a navy."

"Um, sir, the Sharan at the dock gave me this," Del replied as he fished a rectangular device out of his pocket. "He said it will allow you to communicate with him directly. All you do is push the red circle and talk into it. It must be a ter'angreal of some sort."

"Give that here," stammered Rand as he reached for the device. Pressing the red button he yelled into it. "Now you hear this, I want you to march right back to Shara and bring back as many..."

"Now you hear this," came a voice out of the rectangle, "you will meet our embassy in the central courtyard of your palace in five minutes. That will be all , thank you."

Rand's face reddened and his knuckles whitened on the Dragon Scepter. "We might as well hear them out. They probably want to make sure I won't destroy all of their people before Tarmon Gai'don. Come on."

As the party entered the courtyard, they gasped as they saw a huge flying beast approaching. It could have been a biteme if bitemes were ten spans across with wings that swirled around in a circle and made noise enough to raise the dead.

The beast came closer to land on the stone paved walk in the center of the courtyard, and Rand saw that it was really some sort of flying carriage that contained people. As men began to climb out Rand noticed the 'short metal clubs' they were holding. "Sho-wings, shocklances?" Rand muttered, receiving questioning glances from his companions. He had to keep a tighter reign on his thoughts. Lews Therin's memories had a way of mixing with his own, but these were his. Something that he had seen once in a ter'angreal in Rhuidean.

"Welcome to Caemlyn," Rand greeted as the men came nearer. "As you can see, I don't need your help to claim land. What I do need is..." Rand trailed off as the group of men walked straight past him... to Mat. "Wait a minute. I'm the Dragon Reborn. You know, the one you're looking for."

One of the men in the center of the circle muttered something to the man walking beside him in what sounded like the Old Tongue.

"He says that we seek 'He who Bathes with Twilight'. The Dragon Reborn is no concern of ours. Please be silent."

The unarmed man turned addressing Mat, "Our prophesies say that He who Bathes with twilight will twice be marked." One of the armed men aimed his shocklance at Rand when he pulled up his sleeves and began waving his twin dragons in the air. "The first mark is said to be a spear with an engraving in our language. I see you are in possession of it. I assume you have the other as well?"

"You wouldn't mean this?" Mat asked as he lifted his fox head medallion out of his shirt.

"The prophesies do not lie," replied the unarmed man before addressing his compatriot who was clearly the leader of the group of men.

Mat was truly astonished when the group of men gave a regal salute and began shouting in the Old Tongue. "All hail He who Bathes with Twilight. All hail the Aardvark Reborn."

"The Aardvark Reborn?" Mat looked confused, "What is that supposed to be?"

The leader of the Sharans gasped, "You speak the Old Tongue? We had anticipated the need of an interpreter. I guess we were wrong. The Aardvark was the King of Manetheren in it's Golden Age. He was The Great Savior of Peace, and in his free time, The Great Weaver of Carpets. His last words on his deathbed were, 'Fear not. Should I die, I will return, as I have not woven my last rug yet. ... Doctor, what are those leeches for? ... I know they draw bad blood out, but do you need so many? ... Yes, I know, but an entire bath tub full? ... Oh, all right. ... Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch Ouch Ouch OuchOuchOuchouchouchouch.... OUCH!'"

"No, that's not what I meant," Mat said, "What is an Aardvark?"

"Oh, I misunderstood. Well, and Aardvark is kind of a large rodent type of thing. My men brought the Aardvark banner; I can show you when we take you back to our Carrier."

At this point Rand was practically fuming at having been ignored all this time. "Mat what are they saying? You speak the Old Tongue."

"They say that I am prophesied to bring peace to their land as I did in the Golden Age of Manetheren. That and also to weave the greatest carpets in the world. They want to take me back to Shara."

"I'm sorry but I won't let you go." Rand replied, "I need you here with me."

The Sharan interpreter exchanged a few words with the armed escort and they promptly aimed their shocklances at Rand's head.

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but I can wrap you all in air and throw you out with yesterday's trash," Rand said sardonically as he reached into his pocket brushing the fat man angreal." Moments passed and a worried look passed over Rand's face. Mat felt the air cool around him and his fox head medallion grew cold. "How can that be? My flows just dissolve around you. This can't be happening."

Once again the interpreter had a few words with the apparent leader and turned to Rand. "He says that he is using an old Jedi mind trick on you. You see, in his mind, he doesn't believe in channeling. Therefore it doesn't effect him. Shara has been without channelling since the Breaking of the World because of this trick. Damn third-world countries. It's amazing you survived the Breaking."

"Then this is totally worthless?" asked Mat fingering his medallion.

"Pretty much," the leader of the Sharans replied. "The only reason that it works is because you believe it does. Channeling still won't effect you even if you don't wear it as long as that's what you believe. It's just a placebo. Now if you don't mind, will you accompany us to your ship?"

"I suppose." Mat was still in shock, but he followed the men back to the Sho-wing anyway. "By the way, who are you? I mean, what do I call you?"

"I am the head of foreign relations to Shara," the man replied. "You can call me Goran di muer'ni. That is my official title."

Mat stopped dead in his tracks and gave the ambassador a startled look. "But in the Old Tongue doesn't that translate to 'Daughter of the Nine Moons'?"

"That is one possible translation," the ambassador said, "you see, goran means daughter, but it also means hunter. It's called a homonym. They occur frequently in the Old Tongue. I am called the Hunter of the Nine Moons."

"Blood and bloody ashes," Mat exclaimed, "Well, I should have figured it out when I realized that women didn't satisfy me." He should have first realized it back when he and Rand and Perrin would go swimming in the Waterwood and he would get tingles up his spine when they took their clothes off. Mat mourned silently once again for the loss of Nalesean. They had had such wonderful times when they were together. He remembered when Nalesean would wrap himself up in a big red ribbon and nothing else and wait and hide...

"What should you have known?" asked the ambassador, interrupting Mat's train of thought.

"Last year I entered a ter'angreal, and the owners of it told me I was fated to marry the Daughter of the Nine Moons--Goran di muer'ni--The owners of the ter'angreal spoke in the Old Tongue."

The ambassador gave an astonished look and then squinted as if he vaguely recognized Mat from somewhere. "Pooky-Bear, is that you?" he asked.

Mat jaw dropped as he responded to the familiar name. "Love-Button. I thought you were just a recurring dream I had."

"That's what I thought too," whispered the ambassador as he rushed to give Mat an affectionate embrace.

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Rand blinked again as the Sho-Wing took flight and it disappeared into the distance with Mat in it. I would go to Shayol Gul and dance the Sa'sara while swearing allegiance to the Dark One to have understood what just went on back there, he thought to himself. Shaking his head he started back to the palace muttering about other peoples secrets.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Watcher stared intently as the figures below progressed without ever seeing him, and thought not for the first time that he sure was lucky to be transsexual and able to harness the third half of the One Power. That enabled him to use flows completely invisible to everyone but him.

A voice rose from below. A voice that rang of power that only the Watcher himself could surpass. It was the voice of Bob.

"Chalk one up for CHAOS."

...And the Lord said 'build them an empire, and they will come'
and it was done with the speed and grace of a duck-billed platypus...
and Judgment came down to the people from on high and all bowed down
'cept for one lone figure standing firm through it all,
single finger raised in salute while saying "Go away!"
... and it was so

Fragments from the Legends
of the Light-- by Siram ki
Venin BadgersNose
the Fourth Age circa 457 ade.

 

that was funny if kinda hard to read on the screen. That much text is killing my eyes.

And Cerryl the Recluce books are rather nice i have started reading them for the second time now.

 

Sorry about the length, but like I said the site has gone so I can't just post a link.

And yes the Recluce books are great, I can't count the number of times I've read them, but they rule!!

 

ROFL! Cerric, I was gasping for breath all the way through that one. Excellent! Too bad you didn't claim ownership yourself.

 

Now that's high quality Humor!

But now I'm even more confused about the WOT books.

Maybe I'd better start again from the beginning to refresh my memory. . .


[This message has been edited by Darien Noella (edited July 07, 2001).]