Paul of Dune Excerpt

    Abandon all sanity ye who enter here

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Paul of Dune Excerpt

Postby Mr. Teg » 13 Aug 2008 08:15

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Postby Secher_Nbiw » 13 Aug 2008 10:13

i actually can't read all of that without wanting to throw up.
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Postby Lisan Al-Gaib » 13 Aug 2008 11:25

OMG, the apocalipse has began.
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Postby Lisan Al-Gaib » 13 Aug 2008 11:37

I'm reading it, and in the second paragraph I find a inconsistency. In the SECOND Paragraph!

here it is:

Just that morning, Paul had sent Stilgar and his legion off with a rousing speech that included the words, “ ‘I bestow strength on you, my warriors. Go now and perform my holy bidding.’ ” It was one of his favorite passages from the Orange Catholic Bible.

favorite passages??? Paul never liked the Jihad! And he never omitted that from his direct headeds! It is in the firsts chapters of Dune Messiah, where he discuss with Stilgar and Korba about the Jihad!

fuckers.
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Postby Freakzilla » 13 Aug 2008 11:46

Part One

Emperor Muad'Dib

10,194 AG

One Year After the Fall of Shaddam IV

Much more remains of my father than these few fragments. His
bloodline, his character, and his teachings have made me who I am.
As long as the universe remembers me as Paul- Muad’Dib, so too
will Duke Leto Atreides be remembered. The son is always shaped
by the father.
—inscription on the Harg Pass Shrine

A serene ocean of sand stretched as far as the eye could see, silent and still, carry ing the potential for terrible storms. Arrakis—the sacred world Dune—was becoming the eye of a galactic hurricane, a bloody Jihad that would rage across the planets of the crumbling Imperium. Paul Atreides had foreseen this, and now he had set it in motion.

Since the overthrow of Shaddam IV a year ago, millions of converts had joined Paul’s armies in addition to his own Fremen warriors, all of whom had pledged their lives to him. Led by his fanatical Fedaykin and other trusted officers, his holy warriors had already begun to fan out from staging areas, bound for specific star systems and targets. Just that morning, Paul had sent Stilgar and his legion off with a rousing speech that included the words, “ ‘I bestow strength on you, my warriors. Go now and perform my holy bidding.’ ” It was one of his favorite passages from the Orange Catholic Bible.

Afterward, in the heat of the afternoon, he had taken himself far from the bedlam of the city of Arrakeen, from the agitated troops and the fawning clamor of worshippers. Here in the isolated mountains, Paul required no Fremen guide. The high desert was silent and pure, giving him an illusion of peace. His beloved Chani accompanied him, along with his mother, Jessica, and his little sister. Not quite four years old, Alia was vastly more than a child, pre-born with all the memories and knowledge of a Reverend Mother.

As Paul and his companions ascended the stark brown mountains to Harg Pass, he tried to cling to a feeling of serene inevitability. The desert made him feel small and humble, in sharp contrast to being cheered as a messiah. He prized each quiet moment away from the devoted followers who chanted, “Muad’Dib! Muad’Dib!” whenever they glimpsed him. Before long, when news of the military victories started streaming in, it would get even worse. But that could not be avoided. Eventually, he would be swept along by the Jihad. He had already charted its course, like a great navigator of humanity.

War was one of the tools at his disposal. Now that he had exiled the Padishah Emperor to Salusa Secundus, Paul had to consolidate his power among the members of the Landsraad. He had sent his diplomats to negotiate with some of the noble Houses, while dispatching his most fanatical fighters against the defiant families. A number of lords would not lay down their arms and vowed to put up fierce resistance, claiming either that they would not follow a rebel or that they’d had enough of emperors altogether. Regardless, the armies of Muad’Dib would sweep over them and continue onward. Though Paul sought to reduce and even eliminate the violence, he suspected that the bloody reality would prove far worse than any prescient vision.

And his visions had been frightening.

Centuries of decadence and mismanagement had filled the Imperium with deadwood—tinder that would allow his firestorm to spread with startling speed. In a more civilized time, problems between Houses had been settled with an old-fashioned War of Assassins, but that solution seemed quaint and gentlemanly now, no longer plausible. Faced with the tide of religious fervor approaching their worlds, some leaders would simply surrender, rather than try to stand against the invincible onslaught.

But not all of them would be that sensible. . . .

On their trek, Paul and his three companions wore new stillsuits covered by mottled cloaks to camouflage them in the desert. Though the garments looked well worn, they were actually finer than any Paul had used when he’d lived as a fugitive among the Fremen. Their makers claimed that these durable offworld imports were superior to the simpler versions that had traditionally been made in hidden sietches.

The manufacturers mean well, he thought. They do it to show their support for me, without realizing the implied criticism in their “improvements.”

After selecting the perfect position high on the ridge, a small natural amphitheater guarded by tall rocks, Paul set down his pack. He uncinched the straps and pulled aside the cushioning folds of velvatin cloth with a reverence comparable to what he saw in the faces of his most devout followers.

In respectful silence he removed the clean, ivory-colored skull and several broken bone fragments—two ribs, an ulna, and a femur that had been brutally snapped in two, all of which the Fremen had preserved for years after the fall of Arrakeen to the Harkonnens. These were the remains of Duke Leto Atreides.

He saw nothing of his warm and wise father in the bones, yet they constituted an important symbol. Paul understood the value and necessity of symbols. “This shrine is long overdue.”

“I have already built a shrine to Leto in my mind,” Jessica said, “but it will be good to lay him to rest.”

Kneeling beside Paul, Chani helped him clear a spot among the large boulders, some of which had just begun to show a mottling of lichen. “We should keep this place a secret, Usul. Leave no marker, give no directions. We must protect your father’s resting place.”

“The mobs will not be kept at a distance,” Jessica said in a resentful tone. She shook her head. “No matter what we do, tourists will find their way here. It will be a circus, with guides wearing false Fremen clothing. Souvenir vendors will chip off flakes of rock, and countless charlatans will sell splinters of bone fragments, claiming that the objects come from Leto’s body.”

Chani looked both disturbed and awed. “Usul, have you foreseen this?” Here, away from the crowds, she used his private sietch name.

“History has foretold it,” Jessica answered for him, “time and time again.”

“And it must be done, to build the appropriate legend.” Alia spoke sternly to her mother. “The Bene Gesserit planned to use my brother in this way for their own purposes. Now he creates the legends himself, for his own purposes.”

Paul had already weighed the options. Some pilgrims would come here out of sincere devotion, while others would make the journey simply to boast that they had done it. Either way, they would come. He knew it would be folly to stop them, so he had to find another solution. “I will have my Fedaykin mount a round-the-clock vigil. No one will desecrate this shrine.”

He arranged the bones and carefully set the skull atop them, tilting it upward a little so that the hollow, empty sockets could look toward the cloudless blue sky.

“Alia is right, Mother,” Paul said, not looking at either his sister or Jessica. “While we manage the business of war, we are also in the business of creating a myth. It is the only way we can accomplish what is necessary. Mere appeals to logic and common sense are not enough to sway the vast population of humankind. Irulan is uniquely talented in that area, as she has already demonstrated by the popularity of her history of my ascension to power.”

“You are cynical, Usul.” Chani sounded disturbed at the reminder that Paul’s wife, in name only, served any useful function at all.

“My brother is pragmatic,” Alia countered.

Paul stared for a long moment at the skull, imagining the face of his father: the aquiline nose, gray eyes, and an expression that could shift from anger toward his enemies to unmatched love for his son or Jessica. I learned so much from you, Father. You taught me honor and leadership. I only hope you taught me enough. What he knew he must face in the coming years would go far beyond the greatest crises Duke Leto had ever confronted. Would the lessons apply on such a grand scale?

Paul picked up a large rock and placed it in front of the skull, beginning the cairn. Then he gestured for his mother to set the second stone, which she did. In turn, Alia contributed to the pile, sounding wistful. “I miss my father. He loved us enough to die for us.”

“It’s too bad you never actually knew him,” Chani said quietly, placing her first rock on the cairn.

“Oh, but I did,” Alia said. “My pre- born memories encompass a trip my mother and father took to the Caladan wilderness after little Victor was killed. That was where Paul was conceived.” Alia often made eerie, unsettling comments. The lives crammed into her mind stretched far. She looked up at her mother. “You even caught a glimpse of the Caladan primitives then.”

“I remember,” Jessica said.

Paul continued piling stones. As soon as the cairn completely covered his father’s bones, he stepped back to share a poignant, solitary moment with those who had loved Leto best.

Finally, Paul touched the communicator stud on the collar of his stillsuit. “Korba, we are ready for you now.”

Almost immediately, loud engines shattered the searing calm of the desert. Two ’thopters bearing the green-and-white Imperial crest of Emperor Muad’Dib rose from behind the sheer ridge and dipped their wings. The lead ’thopter was flown by the leader of Paul’s Fedaykin, Korba, a man who displayed his allegiance with religious fervor. Yet he was more than a mere sycophant—Korba was much too smart for that. All of his actions had carefully calculated consequences.

Behind the small fliers came a train of heavy-lift vehicles, with polished stone blocks dangling by suspensors beneath their bellies. The stone blocks, carved by artisans in Arrakeen, were embellished with intricate images that, when assembled, would make a continuous frieze of great events in the life of Duke Leto Atreides. Now that the respectful communication silence had been broken, squad commanders barked orders to their teams of laborers, calling them to begin their work at the new sacred site.

Silent and stoic, Jessica stared at the small cairn of rocks as if burning Leto’s shrine into her memory, rather than the monstrosity that was about to take shape.

The echoing noise of machinery reflected back upon the amphitheater of rocks. Korba landed his ’thopter and emerged, reveling in the grandiose production and proud of what he had arranged. He looked at the handmade pile of rocks and seemed to think it quaint. “Muad’Dib, we will create a proper monument here, worthy of your father. All must stand in awe of our Emperor and everyone who has been close to you.”

“Yes, they must,” Paul said, doubting that his Fedaykin commander would notice the wryness in his tone. Korba had become quite a student of what he called “religious momentum.”

The work teams threw themselves into the job like gaze hounds attacking prey. Since the haulers had no room to land in the small natural bowl at the top of the pass, the pilots disengaged their suspensor tethers and deposited the carved blocks on a flat, stony area, then retreated into the air. Paul’s advisers had designed the shrine memorial by committee and distributed the blueprints to all crew chiefs. The substantial pyramid would symbolize the foundation that Duke Leto had been in the life of Muad’Dib.

At the moment, though, as Paul considered this ostentatious memorial, he could think only of the dichotomy between his private feelings and his public image. Although he could not abdicate his role in the ever-growing machinery of government and religion around him, only a very few loved ones saw the real Paul. And even with this select group, he could not share everything.

Jessica stepped back and looked at him. Clearly, she had made up her mind about something. “I feel I am done here on Arrakis, Paul. It is time for me to depart.”

“Where will you go?” Chani asked, as if she could not imagine a more preferable place to be.

“Caladan. I have been too long away from home.”

Paul felt a yearning in his own heart. Caladan had already accepted his rule, but he had not returned there since House Atreides had come to Arrakis. He looked at his mother, the stately, green-eyed beauty who had so captivated his gallant father. Though Paul was Emperor of the Known Universe, he should have realized the simple fact himself. “You are right, Mother. Caladan is part of my empire as well. I shall accompany you.”

Excerpted from PAUL OF DUNE by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson.
Copyright © 2008 by Herbert Properties LLC.
Published in September 2008 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.


I'll comment later...
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Postby Serkanner » 13 Aug 2008 12:07

my favourite this far:

“My pre- born memories encompass a trip my mother and father took to the Caladan wilderness after little Victor was killed. That was where Paul was conceived.”
"... the mystery of life isn't a problem to solve but a reality to experience."

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and wrote a Dune Novel."

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Postby Lisan Al-Gaib » 13 Aug 2008 12:08

"...cloudless blue sky"

Have Arrakis a blue sky????
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Postby Ampoliros » 13 Aug 2008 12:39

i debated about posting on this and not bothering to read it. Anger and rage won.

But that could not be avoided. Eventually, he would be swept along by the Jihad. He had already charted its course, like a great navigator of humanity.

THEN WHY DO WE NEED 4 EFFING BOOKS TELLING US EXACTLY HOW IT HAPPENED.
A number of lords would not lay down their arms and vowed to put up fierce resistance, claiming either that they would not follow a rebel or that they’d had enough of emperors altogether. Regardless, the armies of Muad’Dib would sweep over them and continue onward. Though Paul sought to reduce and even eliminate the violence, he suspected that the bloody reality would prove far worse than any prescient vision.

And his visions had been frightening.


Yeah, we know this. I read it in DUNE and DUNE MESSIAH, where did you find it? Frank wrote it better in hinting paragraphs than you will over 4 books.

Paul and his three companions wore new stillsuits covered by mottled cloaks to camouflage them in the desert. Though the garments looked well worn, they were actually finer than any Paul had used when he’d lived as a fugitive among the Fremen. Their makers claimed that these durable offworld imports were superior to the simpler versions that had traditionally been made in hidden sietches.


Wrong. this sums it up. Fuck you Kevin. "superstillsuits" made off world. you don't get more wrong than this. This isnt an "Epic Fail" this is a deliberate fan-boy jerkoff.

The manufacturers mean well, he thought. They do it to show their support for me, without realizing the implied criticism in their “improvements.”


You mean the stillsuits? Or do you mean your "improvements" on Dune.

He saw nothing of his warm and wise father in the bones, yet they constituted an important symbol. Paul understood the value and necessity of symbols. “This shrine is long overdue.”



Correct me, I might be wrong about this...but wasn't the Shrine to Duke Leto built before book 3 of DUNE. You know, before the Jihad.

“Alia is right, Mother,” Paul said, not looking at either his sister or Jessica. “While we manage the business of war, we are also in the business of creating a myth. It is the only way we can accomplish what is necessary. Mere appeals to logic and common sense are not enough to sway the vast population of humankind. Irulan is uniquely talented in that area, as she has already demonstrated by the popularity of her history of my ascension to power.”


Right, isn't the myth already created? Doesn't Paul already know his myth would go on and on raging across the universe even if he was already dead?. Also KJA apparently steals a gag from Spaceballs here: Irulan has already written a popular history of Muad'dib's rise to power...wait i thought that was what these books were supposed to....ARRRGH. Heh heh heh I guess all authors write as fast as Kevin.

Well on the other hand, are we really that surprised? I mean a real surprise would be if the book was readable.
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Postby TheDukester » 13 Aug 2008 12:55

Has there ever been a worse violator of the basic "show, don't tell" writing rule than Kevin Fucking Anderson? I mean, he doesn't even try ... I suppose that's what happens when you think "writing" means the same thing as "hiking around and sodomizing squirrels."

How can the preeks even read that shit? Worse yet, how can the HLP possibly justify handing over such an all-time classic series to such a low-rent hack? It just defies understanding ...
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Postby Seraphan » 13 Aug 2008 12:58

:puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :puke: :crazy: :beat dead horse: images speak more than i can. GamePlayer bring forth thy mighty demotivators! I shall need to work further on my KJA's Dune/LotR analogy, for this new book is an act of war. :evil:
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Postby A Thing of Eternity » 13 Aug 2008 15:01

TheDukester wrote:Has there ever been a worse violator of the basic "show, don't tell" writing rule than Kevin Fucking Anderson? I mean, he doesn't even try ... I suppose that's what happens when you think "writing" means the same thing as "hiking around and sodomizing squirrels."



These guys are the kings of poor characterization. The fucking Kings.
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Postby Ampoliros » 13 Aug 2008 16:05

we need an emoticon that symbolizes fundamental rage and disbelief in the same symbol.

just combine all these :mad: :crazy: :Adolf: :crazy: :mad: :cat fight: :beat dead horse:

someone removed 'prolific' from KJA's wikipedia page. heh heh heh.
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Postby A Thing of Eternity » 13 Aug 2008 16:23

Ampoliros wrote:someone removed 'prolific' from KJA's wikipedia page. heh heh heh.


I saw that. It made me smile just a little bit.
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Postby Worm » 13 Aug 2008 16:26

maybe this is better

Image < after reading excerpt


Image < meeting KJA in a bookstore


Image < mowing down the preeks in line at the bookstore
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Postby GamePlayer » 13 Aug 2008 19:53

Seraphan wrote: GamePlayer bring forth thy mighty demotivators! I shall need to work further on my KJA's Dune/LotR analogy, for this new book is an act of war. :evil:


LOL :)
All I got for this one is my recently created demotivator, but if I'm inspired by something really stupid from the books, I might be able to make more :)

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Postby Tleszer » 13 Aug 2008 20:32

It was such a good read! Except that there was already way too much repetition:

Part One

Emperor Muad'Dib

10,194 AG

One Year After the Fall of Shaddam IV

[...]

Since the overthrow of Shaddam IV a year ago...{this was in the second fucking paragraph}


...the whole Alia being pre-born and having memories of a character that didn't really add anything to Duke Leto's character, and the reiteration of the BG's plans for Paul (which is bound to be repeated several more times throughout the novel, much like Alia being pre-born)... or even the fact that Paul is showing next to no prescient ability in regards to Korba or his terrible purpose. I don't think a tarot is clouding Paul's abilities here, though maybe I'm expecting Paul to be too powerful. And look, I know that Leto was an important figure in Paul's life, but did KJA & BH really have to destroy a quote of FH in order to make it there own thing?

Frank Herbert wrote:How do we approach the study of Muad'Dib's father? A man of surpassing warmth and surprising coldness was the Duke Leto Atreides. Yet, many facts open the way to this Duke: his abiding love for his Bene Gesserit lady; the dreams he held for his son; the devotion with which men served him. You see him there—a man snared by Destiny, a lonely figure with his light dimmed behind the glory of his son. Still, one must ask: What is the son but an extension of the father?
—from "Muad'Dib, Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan


vs.

Pinky and the Brian wrote:Much more remains of my father than these few fragments. His
bloodline, his character, and his teachings have made me who I am.
As long as the universe remembers me as Paul- Muad’Dib, so too
will Duke Leto Atreides be remembered. The son is always shaped
by the father.
—inscription on the Harg Pass Shrine


Oh, since Baraka Bryan mentioned writing a sex scene between Jessica and Gurney I will finish my post with this:

Tleszer wrote:Jessica of Dune

En garde!
Your eyes threaten.
Thrust, parry, "Gods below!"
Your Voice commands.
Parry, stab, stab!
Your voice echoes untoward eternity!
Thru~st.

Enough foreplay, Madam,
I'm ready for ample lovemaking!

~love song to Lady Jessica from Gurney Halleck


You mean something like this, from my Excerpts from "Heroes of Dune" topic? Man, I really need to work on new material for that thing!
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Postby TheDukester » 13 Aug 2008 21:55

My new theory: KJA lets Brian write those chapter headings ... sort of throws him a not-too-challenging bone.

Sadly, they are just terrible. If I'm right about this, they are striking examples about how writing ability is not necessarily a genetic trait. The example posted above is an excellent one: compare FH's sweeping, majestic prose with BH's so-flat-it's-horizontal fanfic. Night and day, all the way.
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Postby SandChigger » 14 Aug 2008 01:59

One Year After the Fall of Shaddam IV

I haven't seen anyone comment on this aspect of this yet: Is this going to be how the "chapters" or sections are named in this one? Like "XX Years After Escape From Chapterhouse". Just give the fricking A.G. dates, fer chrissakes. Dune fans will get it.

Oh...right...the intended audience isn't Dune fans, is it?

So...from that interview Omph posted the link to over on T(A)U, are we to conclude that Kevin is writing Dune for his stupid Star Wars fans? (I haven't listened to the interviews yet myself, am just going on what people have written about it and Teg said on the phone earlier.) That would explain a lot from the last decade, wouldn't it? :roll:
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Postby leagued » 14 Aug 2008 18:53

About the stillsuits thing, it isn't said that the new stillsuits ARE better than desert-made stillsuits, only that their manufacturers CLAIM that they are better. Which is not a contradiction to when Frank wrote that non-Sietch stillsuits were crap. Paul's internal thoughts about them, putting the word "improvements" in quotes even implies that he does not think they are better.
And before anyone mentions that the omniscient narrator calls the garments "finer" here are some non-quality-judgment definitions:

very thin or slender
delicate in texture; filmy
delicately fashioned

Also, read the passage again, its unclear whether the narrator is talking about the stillsuits or the cloaks. Everything that is described as offworld is called "garments".

On their trek, Paul and his three companions wore new stillsuits covered by mottled cloaks to camouflage them in the desert. Though the garments looked well worn, they were actually finer than any Paul had used when he’d lived as a fugitive among the Fremen. Their makers claimed that these durable offworld imports were superior to the simpler versions that had traditionally been made in hidden sietches.


Actually, based on the order of the first sentence (cloaks comes after stillsuits) and the basic rules of English (yeah, granting KJA/BH knowledge of the rules of English is probably a stretch) the reader is supposed to assume that the following descriptive sentences refer to the last object mentioned in the preceding sentence, which would be the cloaks and not the stillsuits.

There are going to be plenty of horrendous things about these books, but that doesn't mean every paragraph is a direct attempt to rape Frank's corpse.
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Postby A Thing of Eternity » 14 Aug 2008 19:33

I do think that we sometimes jump the gun when it comes to these things. I almost snapped when I read that too, but then I got to the part where Paul is thinking that the stillsuits being better is just the opinion of the makers (and it does imply that he dissagrees) - once I read that I couldn't really complain about it (I was still unsettle, because I know how these idiots work, everything has to be bigger and better than the old books). NOW - if it the book goes on to show that the stillsuits are in fact better, then the corpse raping has begun.

I honestly think that we weaken ourselves by making mountains out of some of the things we do, some of which are really quite ambiguous like this example. If we'd let the smaller fish go we might catch a bigger one someday and actually get them to admit a mistake.
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Postby SandChigger » 14 Aug 2008 19:45

I wouldn't hold my breath on that. Kevin doesn't make mistakes.

Look at this stillsuit issue from another point of view: why are they wearing them in the first place?

This trek to Harg Pass to enshrine Leto's skull is a personal matter, to memorialize someone lost and the past he represents. It's not some sort of media event. If they're burying Leto's skull (and now some bones as well) in a Fremen-style tomb, why wouldn't they just clean and wear their old stillsuits?

If they know the offworld suits are inferior, even with their "improvements", why wear them? Have they become such namby-pamby fawners in one year that they seek to curry favor with offworld suit makers?

Sure, it's a minor point. But it still doesn't make sense.
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Postby Freakzilla » 14 Aug 2008 19:46

It's hard for me to believe Fremen would wear off-world stillsuits even if they WERE better.
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Postby A Thing of Eternity » 14 Aug 2008 19:54

I agree completely, but they'll just say that Paul's wearing one to apease the manufacturers.

Trust me, I'm sure they're up to no good on this one, BUT - we look bad when we shoot to quickly and it turns out to be nothing. We should just concentrate on the clear cut problems, like the timeline of this tomb. IMO. Then again, it's not like theres anyone but us OH here anyways, so I don't know who I think we're looking bad to.
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Freakzilla
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Postby Freakzilla » 14 Aug 2008 20:05

I agree with you about maybe benig too quick on the draw and the offworld stillsuits, they don't bother me as much as the tomb. But the trent was for water discipline becoming lax as the novels progressed such as with the pills, stillsuits without hoods and living in houses with loose doorseals, not for them to look for better ways.
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Lisan Al-Gaib
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Postby Lisan Al-Gaib » 14 Aug 2008 20:09

Freakzilla wrote:It's hard for me to believe Fremen would wear off-world stillsuits even if they WERE better.


Ye, exactly. It cant be a inconsistency, but is really anoying how they care about the details, the congruencies and the "life style" of the character. it's non-existent.

sandchigger made a strong question: Why Muad'dib, a accepted fremen, would use fine clothes from offworld? Only to insult his people? it's non-sense.
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