Happy October! Chapters 6 and 7 have been condensed into one sporking entry because Chapter 6 is ridiculously short and almost nothing happens in it. I didn’t see the point in giving it its own entry.
I considered just skipping over Chapter 6 entirely. Why? Because, well…
Washing a filthy Irish wolfhound is entirely unlike washing a Chihuahua.
That’s the first sentence.
The only thing that happens in Chapter 6 is that Atticus gives Oberon a bath. That’s it. Bath time is apparently also story time, so this is when Atticus tells Oberon about historical figures, and that’s how the dog got obsessed with Genghis Khan in the first book. This time, explaining an earlier reference to the Merry Pranksters, Atticus decides to explain who the fudge they were.
In short: they were a bunch of jackholes who went around in a bus in the 60’s handing out acid, and Atticus has to explain that that’s the street name for LSD.
I thought the street name for that was Mormon.
“No, that’s LDS.”
I hate these characters.
LAUGH, DAMNIT!: 5
Atticus characterizes the Merry Pranksters as being great trickster figures who “Stuck it to the Man!” and that to be like them, they need to screw with Mr. Semerdjian because he’s “the Man” even though Atticus could easily snap his fingers and destroy his house with magic? Look, I don’t know much about the Merry Pranksters, or the 60’s, but you’re not the underdog in any scenario if you have all the power. Atticus and Oberon aren’t sticking it to The Man; they’re harassing an elderly neighbor who has every right and reason to be suspicious and contemptuous of him.
Oberon becomes obsessed with the 60’s now, I guess (he gets a tie-dye scarf), and as he goes on about it
my subconscious chose that moment to allow a bubble of memory to boil up to the surface: Did Mr. Semerdjian really say he had a rocket-propelled grenade in his garage?
Yes, Atticus is finally thinking about the delightful moment in Chapter 3 where his neighbor admits that he has explosives in his garage and offers to use them to help him fight the demon bug.1 Atticus finds memory this weird, because he doesn’t know where his neighbor would have gotten it. And what does Atticus do with this information? Why, the same thing that he does with any concerning information: absolutely nothing. He goes to sleep.
That’s the end of Chapter 6.
Chapter 7 begins thusly:
I made sure to make a proper breakfast in the morning, since I would be off fighting demons: a fluffy omelet stuffed with feta cheese, diced tomatoes, and spinach (sprinkled with Tabasco), complemented by toast spread with orange marmalade, and a hot mug of shade-grown Fair Trade organic coffee.
I’m sorry, but the Plot and action just stopped for a (admittedly short) chapter about Atticus giving his dog a bath, and then we’re getting all too many details about his breakfast. We should be revving up to his fight with a demon, and instead we have… this.
Also this isn’t that fancy, as far as breakfasts go, but it’s kinda fancy? It sounds good, I suppose, but for a guy who, by his own words, “lives simply” this is not that simple. He’s not just eating eggs, he’s making a vegetable omelet. He’s not just putting in cheese, he’s putting in feta cheese. He’s not just eating toast, he’s spreading orange marmalade on top. He’s not just drinking coffee, it’s “shade-grown Fair Trade organic coffee.” Look, when I live by myself, my basic breakfast is: a fried egg, fried ham, and a cup of apple juice. Sometimes I spoiled myself with something special, but the way he describes his breakfast here sounds like a menu at a brunch place. And nothing in his wording makes it sound like this is out of the ordinary for him.
If nothing else, “Fair Trade” and “organic” to describe your coffee screams “more expensive than the usual brands,” and once again, along with living in a comfortable suburb near a big university and owning his own store, Atticus throws around more money than someone who “lives simply” might. And look, I’m not saying he’s a bad person because of all of this. If you have breakfasts like this and have a house in a nice suburb: cool, whatevs. Live your life. But Atticus explicitly tells us that he’s someone who is trying to stay under the radar and not bring attention to himself, all the while pretending to be a twenty-one-year-old (college-aged) man in modern America, living an upper middle-class life by himself, with no apparent family support or reason to be this independently successful in life. Almost everything he does, from the way he acts, to the way he spends time, to his groceries, apparently, draws attention in one way or another.
This is another one of those moments where it’s quite easy to suspect that Atticus is not so much a character living a life that makes sense for the story as much as living the life that the author wishes he was living.
So having slept well and had a good breakfast, and he’s about to go to battle with a demon, what does he think of the Plot so far? The very next sentence after that last quoted bit tells us:
Having slept on it, I decided that the only thing to do about the Bacchants was to make somebody else get rid of them.
Make It Easy!: 4
I’m sure that at this point, you’re not surprised, but I still find it mildly unsettling that he’s straightforwardly telling us, the audience, that he doesn’t care enough to handle the problem himself. His excuse is that even though it would “cost me—perhaps dearly—but I’d live through it and so would Granuaile” he would “still have twelve or so insanely strong women to defeat and no defense against catching their madness.” And instead of thinking how to overcome their advantages or his own limitations, Atticus would rather put this all in a box labeled ‘Not My Problem.’
I also think this is weird? Iron doesn’t hurt Bacchants, but he also has control of earth, plants, and winds? And alchemy/potion-making? He could very easily make the ground swallow them or have them strangled with roots/vines, or use his control of wind to suck the air from their lungs, or make a potion to poison them, or make a corrosive chemical to kill them. But because he doesn’t really think about any of these options, or anything really, none of these options are so much as mentioned.
His first phone call is to Gunnar Magnusson, the leader of the local werewolf pack, because “Werewolves wouldn’t be affected by the Bacchants’ magic.” Wait, what? Why not? Atticus suspects that their madness-inducing magic works by pheromones, so why would werewolves, who have stronger senses than humans, be immune to it? I suppose the pheromones thing is a suspicion, not an established fact, but one might think they’d be more affected by it? Wouldn’t a madness-inducing spell that makes people give in to their baser urges be stronger on werewolves, who apparently in this universe regularly struggle against those urges? This doesn’t make any sense.
We don’t get much more on the subject though, because Magnusson shuts him down.
“My pack will not be getting involved in your territorial pissing match,” he said. “If you have legal matters to attend to, then by all means call upon Hal or Leif. But do not think of my pack as your personal squad of supernatural mercenaries to call on every time you get into trouble.”
I am loving this trend of there actually being consequences, however small, for Atticus’s actions. Basically, after the climax of the last book, in which Atticus roped the werewolves into the Plot and had two of them die and one of them take a bunch of silver needles for him, they decide that they don’t want to be dragged into another Plot. And that’s fair. Atticus quietly apologizes and hangs up. He seems to think that this is a mood, but Atticus, dude: you called on these guys and asked them to go into battle for your personal crap, without any sort of reward or payment or basic friendly decency. Realistically they would shut him out entirely.
Atticus decides he can’t call Leif, because it’s day time and also because Leif would just beg him to go kill Thor again. So he calls Laksha, the Indian witch who used to possess Granny—remember her? Atticus acts like working with her is making a deal with a shady character despite his own unsavory dealings and repulsive personality. Laksha is currently possessing a Pakistani woman in North Carolina named Selai Chamkanni, a former coma patient that wasn’t using the body so she took over. When asked how she was adjusting, Laksha said,
“He is disturbed that I emerged from a coma with a strange accent and a new sense of independence but so thrilled that I seem to have lost all sexual inhibitions that he’s willing to overlook my disrespect.”
Right. Of course. Because everyone in this book is a perv, I forgot (no I didn’t but I wish I did). I should think that no matter how great the sex he’s having, a functional human being would be very disturbed that his wife woke up from a coma as a completely different person. As would that woman’s family.
“Men are so predictable, are they not?” I grinned into the phone.
“For the most part. You have managed to surprise me so far,” she replied.
Atticus isn’t surprising at all. Hence Brighid playing him easily in the last book. Just think of the laziest and/or skeeviest way to approach any situation and that’s what Atticus does. If it’s witches, expect him to throw insults right and left because he hates them. If it’s a beautiful woman expect him to drool and barely stop himself from groping. The only way to get him to do something active is to kidnap his dog.
Our “hero” invites Laksha back to Arizona to deal with the Bacchants, offering to pay for the flight. Laksha negotiates that along with the plane ticket, Atticus will owe her. He tries to make it a large sum of money because he can do that I guess, but she tells him it’ll be something other than money—a favor, because this task will apparently give her some bad karma so she thinks it’ll be costly.
He then calls Granny to give her instructions. She asks if he’s alright because he was clearly off when he last saw her, and he’s embarrassed but tells her that it was just that he was shaken by the demon attack. He tells her to deliver the requested ingredients to Malina, though is sure to specify that to have them delivered by courier because he doesn’t want Granny caught in the enchantment that collects DNA samples. Atticus also asks her to work with Perry at the store to go through applications and interview potential staff members. Granny points out that the store’s hardly busy, but because Atticus is going to be gone more often someone needs to be running the store.
That dead patch of land out by Tony Cabin needs my attention. It won’t come back for centuries without my help.” Aenghus Og had killed many square miles of the earth by opening his portal to hell, and while he would be paying for it by spending eternity burning there, the land was still barren and cried out for aid.
Um.
Hm.
When he faces Aenghus Og at the end of the last book, Atticus acts as if this ‘opening a portal to Hell’ business and killing the Earth around it2 was a horrible sacrilege and crossing a line that made Aenghus irredeemable. That a Druid’s sacred duty is to protect the Earth, and he would be oath-bound to heal it after this profane act.
Except he didn’t. Heal it. It’s still sitting there. It hasn’t been that long since the last book, but it’s been some time, and that thing that Atticus regards as his divine calling as a Druid, his actual job, the thing he values most in the world3… he’s not doing it. He hasn’t been doing it. He’s been farting around like he always does.
I’m sure you’re surprised.
After that call, Atticus goes into his garage, which includes (instead of a car) “a shuriken, sai, a couple of shields, fishing tackle, and plenty of gardening tools” but what he’s really looking for is his compound bow. Remember how I said in the last book things would have been easier if he had a bow? Well he does have one, he just didn’t use it because Reasons. He grabs some arrows and sets them out, and before he cares about Plot he [sigh] goes and talks to his neighbor, the Leprechaun (my name for the Irish stereotype that is the elderly widowed Mrs. MacDonagh, who speaks worse than the Lucky Charms mascot).
[rubs forehead and pours a large glass of apple juice] Alright, let’s get this over with.
“Ah me dear lad Atticus!” she cried, setting down her novel but not her glass. “Yer a fine bloom o’spring on a cloudy fall day, an’ that’s no lie.”
Okay, I can’t… what was that thing TMary advised I do? Oh yeah:
“Ah me dear Irish lad Atticus!” she cried, setting down her Irish novel but not her Irish glass. “Yer a fine Irish bloom o’ Irish spring on a cloudy Irish fall day, an’ that’s no Irish lie. I’m Irish!”
You know it does make me feel a little better.
The narration reminds us a bit of who the Leprechaun is, and how she knows about the supernatural right now because Atticus talked to her about it. And she was… weirdly cool about it? As I mentioned in the last sporking, the worldbuilding, as Atticus explains it to her, should make her question everything. Instead she’s just like, “Oh okay, everything’s real? That’s great.” Because character consistency and complex thought are two things Hearne threw out the window when approaching these stories.
When Atticus explains that he’s off to fight some demons, the Leprechaun tells him that her priest would be happy to hear that. Atticus is worried that she’s been blabbing, but she assures him that she hasn’t said anything to him, and that he wouldn’t believe her if she did. After all, he’s a priest for a college parish, and she comes to Mass every Sunday a little drunk anyway.
We’re supposed to think of the Leprechaun as a faithful Catholic, by the way. In fact it’s a Plot Point right now. So it’s kind of weird that we get this exchange:
“Ye said all the gods are alive. All the monsters too.”
[some stupid “witty” dialogue]
“And the impression I got was they’re alive because we believe in them, right?
“Um. With lots of fine print, right.”
“So in a sense it’s we with faith who create the gods, not the gods who create us. And, if that’s the case, then it’s we who created the universe.”
“I think that might be taking a big step into the windowless room of solipsism. But I see your point, Mrs. MacDonagh. A person like you with such powerful faith should not be ignored.
Again, as I said in the sporking of Chapters 20 and 21 of the last book: this should be earthshaking for the Leprechaun’s faith. And it evidently is but we’re acting like she’s still a faithful, orthodox Catholic. Look, if you’re Catholic and regularly attending Mass, you’ll notice that we recite the Nicene Creed, a summation of beliefs, which includes
I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.
And
God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made,
This is basic stuff in the Catholic faith. And I get it, this is a fantasy novel and Hearne’s allowed to do whatever he wants with the cosmology of it, even though as I explained there’s still a lot hinky with lifting this ‘belief-makes-things-real’ system from Gaiman and Pratchett without bothering to make it work within the setting. But here he’s acting like a woman declaring that humanity made all the gods can still be someone that’s a faithful Catholic Christian, and that’s nowhere near the case. She’s essentially denying the divinity of the Christian deity, and fairly explicitly implying that God is invented. That’s not remotely what Christians believe.
Also, faith shouldn’t count for jack if you know that these things only exist because they’re made up. That’s not really faith at all then, is it?
Anyhow, the real reason that Atticus is here is because he wants to summon the Virgin Mary, and he wants the Leprechaun’s faith to make her appear. No really. Basically, he asks her to pray very hard that Mary appears, and hopefully she’ll show up somewhere in town. Atticus explains that people having visions of the Virgin Mary are caused by faith, and—eh?
Okay I don’t… I’m not an expert on the subject. I know if you asked for every story about an apparition of Mary you’d probably get thousands of stories, many from everyday people, and I couldn’t tell you how they go. But the really famous ones? The big ones? Like Our Lady of Guadalupe or Our Lady of Lourdes? They don’t go like this at all. They aren’t stories about a very faithful person who prays and then sees the fulfillment of their prayers in an apparition. Generally they’re normal people who just happen to come across Mary and are just as surprised about it as anyone else would be. I suppose someone could be praying that Mary appears in front of these people, which is kind of what happens here—the Leprechaun gets Mary to appear ministering to homeless people in town. But that’s not mentioned in any of the stories, so it’s weird for Atticus to claim that’s how it goes.
For instance Juan Diego, the fellow from the Our Lady of Guadalupe story, is told by Mary to go ask the bishop to do a thing, and the bishop explicitly doesn’t believe his story because Juan Diego is a indigenous peasant. And Mary also specifically talks to Juan Diego in his own language, Nahuatl, which is another thing that doesn’t quite match up with the idea that she acts according to pre-established beliefs. I imagine the most faithful Catholics in Mexico at the time would have been Spanish, and expected Mary to talk in either Spanish or Latin.
I’m not asking you, dear sporking reader, to believe in Marian apparitions, but I am asking you to look at the explanation that Atticus gives for how they work in-universe, and realize that in the details they don’t match up to real-life examples he’s referring to. And I suppose that in the Iron Druid universe there’s no reason to assume that Marian apparitions happen the same way they do in our world, but you’re clearly meant to think that they are, given he’s invoking real world religions and mythologies, and these books mention details from history (like the Merry Pranksters), albeit in a way that suggests that the narrator has a high school understanding of history.4
In short, Hearne didn’t do his homework again, but is talking out of his armpit and acting like he did research.
Did Not Do Homework: 6
Figures.
This conversation goes on for a bit, and I’m going to summarize this because I don’t want to sit here and type out half the chapter from my Kindle, and I don’t want to expose you to too much of this accent. I’m not that sadistic.
Atticus is asking the Leprechaun to visualize Mary and they go into a lot of unnecessary detail about what she’s wearing. Not in the usual pervy way that he does for most female characters (thank goodness), mind you, but still goes on for too long. Also when Atticus asks if she’d be wearing “one of those habits, the elaborate headgear you always see in churches”, and, um…
Hearne, what are you talking about?
There are plenty of statues of Mary with crowns, of course, and maybe he’s referring to that, or the halo? But he mentions the habit specifically, and a lot of times in religious art, in terms of actual clothing, Mary’s wearing fairly simple headcovering:
That’s not “elaborate headgear.” That’s not even a habit (which is also not usually a piece of “elaborate headgear”). That’s a cloth veil. Some artwork embellished it with patterns or icons, but that’s still not that elaborate. I don’t know why Atticus looks at a habit, or a veil, and thinks of that as particularly ornate. When it comes to headwear, it’s pretty modest and it’s meant to—from what I understand it was meant to reflect common garments for a woman of her station, albeit prettied up in the religious art. This is like looking at a man wearing a baseball cap and assuming it’s some kind of expensive fashion statement.
Did Not Do Homework: 7
Also the Leprechaun insists she wouldn’t wear it because “it’s hardly the fashion anymore.”
[sigh]
The Kids These Days: 5
The Leprechaun tells Atticus that she’d be “ministering to the homeless and the whores” on Apache Boulevard, which because Hearne thinks references is what the Cool Kids do, Oberon compares to Mos Eisley because “wretched hive” and all that and I don’t care. Even if Atticus tells us that it took “all of [my] will not to dive into a Star Wars nerdfest”. Apparently he’s a fan, which is odd given his depiction of nerd culture thus far.
So Atticus asks the Leprechaun to pray that Mary will appear on Apache Boulevard. Now just because someone with faith prays for this, doesn’t mean it will happen—Atticus explains that she’s got free will, and can decide whether or not to actually manifest in the way a believer expects. Which is an interesting touch, but ultimately goes nowhere.
Also Atticus says this, which 171 people have highlighted:
Science cannot close the fist of reason around the miracle of consciousness any more than I can turn my sword into a lightsaber.”
…I know this is one of those things that’s supposed to sound deep and meaningful, but Atticus is saying this to convince his neighbor to do something for him that’ll make a shortcut. See, he’s hoping that Mary will bless some arrows for him that he can use against the demon Coyote’s making him fight. And Atticus tells us that if this doesn’t work, he’ll just go to the local parish and ask a priest to bless his arrows. Which wouldn’t be as strong, but wouldn’t be nothing either.
I’d like to see how that conversation goes. I’m not saying a Catholic priest wouldn’t do it, because I know some that would, but he’d have a lot of questions even if he did agree.
In any case, it’s a bit frustrating that the Plot takes this detour, only for Atticus to be like, “If this thing doesn’t happen then I’ll just do it in a much more mundane and boring manner.” Him having a backup plan, for once in his life, undermines the importance of this conversation.
Also—_Atticus_ doesn’t believe in the power of the Christian God. So why should the blessing work for him? I call out Hearne for shamelessly ripping off urban fantasy tropes, but one that comes up a lot is that for holy objects and stuff to work, the user needs faith that they will. Hence why Wolverine using a cross against Dracula doesn’t work, but Nightcrawler (a practicing Catholic) doing the same thing does.
Atticus explicitly says he doesn’t have the faith necessary because he doesn’t believe in Christianity, so…he’s just hijacking someone else’s faith? But the Leprechaun isn’t told about the details of this plan, so it’s not like she’s believing in the blessed arrows for him.
This entire thing’s a mess! I think Hearne just wanted to exposit more about how the ‘faith makes things real’ part of the worldbuilding works, and instead he just mucked it up even further!
So after mowing the lawn, the Leprechaun gets all teary-eyed from praying and thinking about her deceased husband, and when he leaves she asks Atticus to tell Mary she loves her, and also advises he maybe wear a helmet this time, because last time he fought demons he got part of his ear bitten off.
And that’s the end of the chapter! Join us next time as he meets with Coyote to kill this demon.
1 Honestly Mr. Semerdjian is a much better neighbor than Atticus is. Were their positions reversed, I can easily see Atticus letting his neighbor get eaten.
2 Considering he’s referring to actual Hell, that word should be capitalized, as should ‘Earth’ because he views the planet as a living entity that he occasionally talks to.
3 Allegedly. I imagine the thing he actually values most in the world is his own life.
4 Which normally wouldn’t be that bad of a flaw, but considering our protagonist is an immortal character, it sticks out pretty badly.
The Smith of Lies on 6 October 2021, 14:55 said:
!bq I thought the street name for that was Mormon.
“No, that’s LDS.”
You know that I hate giving any credit to Hearne. But this one is not as aggressively unfanny as some of his other stuff. Not hilarious by any means but good enough to rate a slight raise of a corner of my lips.
The fact that Atticus only remembered this after 3 chapters is a great bit of characterization. It shows how deeply his head is shoved up his own anus and how little he cares about everyone else.
Now if this happened to better character I’d say he was distracted while fighting a demon and did not understand the implications of what Smerdijan said. But given that his response amounts to “ah fuck it, I don’t care” and going to sleep I stand by my former interpretation.
Can’t say it isn’t in character for him to try and make a problem sombody else’s.
Because Atticus needs to pass the buck and Werewolves apparently not suffered enough for the sin of consorting with him in the first book. Then again by this point I can only say it is their own fault for nor cutting the ties with this asshole ages ago.
Once again, as much as it hurts me, I can see a semblance of sense in this. Pheromones don’t seem to translate all that well between the species, differences in endocrine systems, lack of proper receptors and whatever else. If this was purely biological phenomenon I’d gladly assume that shifter werewolf is different enough from human on physiological level to not be affected. With magic involved one has to question the shoddy job that Bacchants are doing if their madness pheromones have such a design issue.
Ok, I take back what I said about them. Kudos for the pack for telling Atticus off. I doubt it will stick, but maybe at least for this book?
As if he himself was not the honiest of the horn dogs with no personal control…
On one hand having someone with Atticus undeserved powers owe you a favour is great. On the other we have seen his work ethic… I think I’d take the currency. Maybe some blood diamonds (I am sure Atticus keeps a stash of those under his bed or somewhere) or half a metric ton of cocaine (see the former statement). I am half expecting Atticus to put in some half assed effort to help her with some inconvenience and then claim they’re even at some point.
Ok, you have been harping on the store for a while, but we all agree that it is only a front and Atticus money comes from some ill-gotten loot, right? I am not the only one who is sure that he stole and plundered for centuries and that is the only way he can afford this?
Shocked, shocked to the core my dear sir! What an outrage!
Because apparently making he an accomplice to a deicide was not enough.
Ok, head canon time. She is such a parody of an Irish Stereotype that of course she must be an alcoholic, because that is also the stereotype. So she takes everything in stride because she is always plastered and can’t be arsed to care.
I swear I did not read ahead before making up my previous hypothesis.
I mean you mentioned that he mees her and is as irreverent as he is to everyone but boy, that is unexpected.
And all he needed was to make the whole metaphysical mechanics up and not reference the visitations. Little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing.
This actually kicked of a chain of associations that made me think of a “certain rather blasphemous song“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrDmD7Wv96k. And since I am alreadyt thinking of it. Is “Bird of Prey” as used to call a woman a piece of slang you guys are aware of? Because I never heard of it before this song and I couldn’t find any evidence of it, which makes me think Powerwolf came up with it, but who knows?
Probably because Star Wars is mainstream enough not to be embarrassing
Ok, since Coyote was mentioned, lemme go ahead do a little bit of plug. I recently read Trail of Lightning and Storm of Locusts by Rebecca Roanhorse. They are a sort of post-apocalyptic fantasy novels set in Dinetah, the former Navajo reserve. They are deeply rooted in Dine mythology and from my quick and dirty research (read – checking few articles on wikipedia and an interview with the author) they do try to be faithful to the spirit of the original tales. And they make for a good, light reading. And yes, Coyote makes an appearance and he is very fun character.
Juracan on 6 October 2021, 22:13 said:
The man is so driven to be completely disinterested in anything interesting that happens around him that you wonder why he even gets up in the morning.
I think that’s fair. Considering how aggressive Atticus is about not doing anything and he’s apparently loaded enough that he can hand out money like party favors, I don’t get why one wouldn’t take the money unless there was really something only Atticus could provide.
I would be sure if I thought Atticus had anything like enough of a work ethic to plunder. Really, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hearne writes him a backstory that involves him just happening to find a giant pile of gold that no one else was using.
Kind of makes you think about the quality of the book when you can call it ahead of time as a joke headcanon, huh?
…no? I can’t say I’ve heard of it.
Probs.
AW MAN these books are GREAT! How the fudge have I not mentioned them before now that Coyote’s a character? Now Rebecca Roanhorse is not Dine/Navajo, but she IS half Native American, has lived with the Dine for several years, and her husband is Navajo. There are divided opinions from the Navajo people on how well she represents them, but from what I understand plenty of the nation are just happy that she cares enough to do her research and tell a great story without resorting to the stereotypes white Americans tend to go with.
Faranae on 8 October 2021, 12:03 said:
I was reminded this week (because of Octocon) that there’s an actual Irish writer who does the “gods are real” trope so much better. Admittedly, Gareth Hanrahan’s books aren’t comedies (except in a black humor sense. He’s Irish, after all), but KB Spangler recently described the books as “Gods […] are basically this world’s version of natural disasters where you can’t hope to change them so you must endure them instead, the gods’ ongoing wars have destroyed any semblance of normalcy, and each society is unique in how they try to survive.”
Also if Hearne would like to hear a real, strong Irish accent, we’ve got some videos with Gar up on Youtube, and auto caption absolutely cannot handle that broad Cork accent, and it sounds nothing like the Leprechaun. Then again, glossing a Cork accent is nearly as impossible as glossing a Kerry one, but I would salute an actual attempt, unlike whatever Hearne’s consultant for the Leprechaun was phoning in.
The Smith of Lies on 10 October 2021, 04:50 said:
To smugly proclaim his superiority over anyone and anything to the whole world. And to spite us. Us specifically, as we are here gathered on the Impish Idea.
I can see the argument here, but let me remind you that Atticus riding with the hordes of Genghis Khan (and I do hate myself for bringing it up almost as often as the prick himself does) is a confirmed canon. This tells us that he has the proclivity for raiding activities. Given that it’d give him a chance to hurt innocents and prove how much stronger he is than his victim I could see how he’d apply himself to it.
A big hole in that is the fact that he does nothing as overt in the narrative we observe. It certainly is not the strength of him moral fiber that stops him, as we know he thinks nothing about lives of others (vide, Morrigan and the stoners incident and his adamant refusal to clean up his messes). Hence your assumption of laziness on his part. Without any evidence to either side we can’t make conclusive statements, but I’d say him just retiring on the mountain of loot is still a plausible option.
They certainly were a breath of fresh air when it comes to the portrayal of native Americans. I was quite skeptical at first given how much of a minefield the genre is and how the Magical India and Noble Savage are the Tropes du jour but I was very pleasantly surprised to read what seems like a reasonably well researched interpretation of the culture that is foreign to me.