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Koyan
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atrelegis, θέλεις να βάλεις ένα ακόμα κείμενο από το βιβλίο αυτό?

ή ακόμα καλύτερα και κάποιο hint μαζί;

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Σόρρυ, όχι, αλλά θα βάλω και άλλο τμήμα.

 

"His followers called him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. He preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, and called himself Sam. He never claimed to be a god, but then he never claimed not to be a god."

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Ο Άρχοντας του φωτός, Ζελάζνυ!!!! :D (και ναι! επιτέλους βρήκα και κάτι :tongue: )

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Nια νια νια :tongue:

 

Ορίστε άλλο ένα, ελπίζω να μη σας δυσκολέψω....πολύ :tongue:

 

His lordship was waiting in his trophy room. That was what i came to call it, at any rate; What he called it, i never knew. There were frescoes of hunting scenes on two walls. A third was taken up with a hearth, in which a fire was laid, and above which hung the D'Essoms coat of arms and a panoply of weapons.

Against the last wall was something else.

Edited by trillian
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χά δεν τα χω διαβασει ολα αλλα θυμαμαι τ΄ονομα :p

 

ειναι απο τη σειρα Kushiel's Legacy και νομιζω οτι ειναι απο το black jewels trilogy

Edited by Celestial
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... thirteen thousant. i kid you not. thirtheen thousant dollars for an one dollar stake. I sta at Fangio's all the next day just waiting for God to show. I figured he 'd want his share or something. But i guess i figured a lot more. Like how he picked me from the theeming millions, how he came to do that. All kinds of stuff. I had the whole day to do it. Around six he comes by. He was drynk but he was smiling. he says he's sorry he's late, like as if we 'd arranged something, wich we hadn't. He asks if i m feeling lucky again, except the way he says it, it dosen't seem like a question. then he hands me this day's sheet. The first five of the evening's races out of the coast are ringed. I ll need a new bookmaker says I. He hands me a list of names. When you 're on a million, says he, we do wall street. And we do.

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  • 2 months later...

εεεεε!!!!

ξεχαστήκαμε ή μου φαίνεται;

celestial, θέλεις να προσθέσεις καμιά ακόμα παράγραφο;

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οκ, παίρνω πρωτοβουλία.

κάνω ανταρσία, αν προτιμάτε.

 

ιδού ο άντρ... εεε, το απόσπασμα:

 

it wasn't a dark and stormy night.

it should have been, but that's the weather for you. for every mad scientist who's had a convenient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who've sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while igor clocks up the overtime.

but don't let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad. they're abroad all the time. they're everywhere.

they always are. that's the whole point.

Edited by araquel
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Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett - Good Omens !

 

Και από την ώρα που το έβαλες έλεγα ότι σίγουρα είναι Pratchett αλλά κάτι έλειπε... Και το όνομα του Neil Gaiman μου ερχόταν στο μυαλό. Πρέπει αν είναι από το πρώτο κεφάλαιο με το Order of the Chattering Nuns... (Αν είναι πές το, μόλις πάω σπίτι να ψάξω να βρώ κάτι να βάλω).

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ναι, το θυμάσαι πολύ σωστά. good omens, πρώτο κεφάλαιο.

:thmbup: :thmbup: :thmbup: :thmbup:

Edited by araquel
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A window burst open high above the market. A basket flew from it and arced towards the oblivious crowd. It spasmed in mid-air, then spun and continued earthwards at a slower, uneven pace. Dancing precariously as it descended, its wire-mesh caught and skittered on the building's rough hide. It scrabbled at the wall, sending paint and concrete dust plummeting before it.

 

The sun shone through uneven cloud-cover with a bright grey light. Below the basket the stalls and barrows lay like untidy spillage. The city reeked. But today was market day down in deleted name, and the pungent slick of dung-smell and rot that rolled over deleted name was, in these streets, for these hours, improved with paprika and fresh tomato, hot oil and fish and cinnamon, cured meat, banana and onion.

 

Για να δούμε...

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Δεύτερη παράγραφος μιας και δεν βλέπω κίνηση. Και ένα clue: ο συγγραφέας είναι σχετικά νέος και έχει γράψει 4 η 5 βιβλία και αρκετές ιστορίες.

 

The river twists and turns to face the city. It looms suddenly, massive, stamped on the landscape. Its light wells up around the surrounds, the rock hills, like bruise-blood. Its dirty towers glow. I am debased. I am compelled to worship this extraordinary presence that has silted into existence at the conjunction of two rivers. It is a vast pollutant, a stench, a klaxon sounding. Fat chimneys retch dirt into the sky even now in the deep night. It is not the current which pulls us but the city itself, its weight sucks us in. Faint shouts, here and there the calls of beasts, the obscene clash and pounding from the factories as huge machines rut.

 

Εαν δε βρεθεί και σήμερα, θα βάλω την απάντηση αύριο το μεσημέρι.

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There was a cheese-rind moon and a sprinkling of stars, small and bright and pitiless. The forest around her was a pattern of black shadows and pale snow and, she was aware, not all the shadows were standing still.

Everyone knew there were wolves in the mountains, because on some nights their howls echoed down from the high Tops, but they seldom came near the village - the modern wolves were the offspring of ancestors that had survived because they had learned that human meat had sharp edges.

But the weather was hard, and this pack was hungry enough to forget all about natural selection.

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Αναρωτιέμαι.... Equal Rites?

 

(και θα το εκτιμούσα παρ'όλα αυτά να πάρεις τα χέρια σου απο εκεί.)

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In closing, I will add, for those who might be interested, that the Wave continues to ebb and flow. The Patryns and the Sartan now live together in an uneasy peace. The Sartan have split into two factions: one led by Balthazar, which desires alliance with the Patryns; the other led by Ramu, who—though still somewhat bothered by his unfortunate injury—refuses to trust the Patryns at all.

 

Headman Vasu is leader of the Patryns. He and Haplo and Marit have formed bands of what are known as Rescuers, brave men and women—both Patryn and Sartan—who risk their lives venturing deep into the Labyrinth to try to aid those still trapped in the prison. I am proud to say that I am myself a Rescuer.

 

The evil serpents are diminished in power, but are present still and will be forever, I suppose. They are kept in check by the dragons of Pryan, however, and by the concerted efforts of the Rescuers.

 

We have no knowledge of what is transpiring in the worlds of the mensch, but I hope all is well with them. I like to think of them traveling between worlds in fantastical ships, propelled by hope and curiosity.

 

Haplo and Marit set out on a search for their daughter—and returned with numerous daughters, all orphans whom they rescued from the Labyrinth. Haplo states proudly that any one of them could be his child, and Marit always agrees. They have several sons now as well. They all call me "Grandfather Alfred" and tease me unmercifully about my big feet.

 

Haplo has a dog now. A real one.

 

The mad old Sartan Zifnab wanders the Labyrinth happily, watched over by his dragon. He hardly ever remembers the bad times, and we take care not to remind him.

 

He has decided, now, that he is God.

 

And who are we to argue with him?

 

 

 

Επειδή είναι κάπως σπάνιο να το έχει διαβάσει κανείς Ελλάδα (δεν ξέρω κανέναν άλλο πέρα του ατόμου που μου το πρώτεινε.) Έχει όσα στοιχεία θέλετε. ΑΛΛΑ! θέλω και απο ποιο βιβλίο της σειράς είναι.

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Ε αυτό παραείναι εύκολο.

Μήπως είναι το "Into the Labyrinth" των Margaret Weis και Tracy Hickman;

Φυσικά τον τίτλο τον έμαθα πριν από είκοσι δευτερόλεπτα. Τους συγγραφείς πριν από δέκα.

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