#itkovian

[dunsparr0w]

"No, he was not simply a Shield Anvil, in the manner of all those who had come before... He would take upon himself mortal pain, yes, but not indiscriminately."

See, this right here is anathema to the role of Shield-Anvil but then again, did not the entirety of Toll the Hounds show us what happens when ones embrace is completely open in the form of The Redeemer/Itkovian? Fascinating, absolutely fascinating

[ulfrsmal]

TL;DR Itkovian and K'rul are the same in that they both embody malazan's thesis statement that Compassion Must Be Given Unconditionally Regardless Of Personal Cost (But Without Forgetting It Exists)

let me cook.

K'rul's entire thing was to create the warrens and give everybody access to magic as a way to eliminate disparity, because if everybody can access magic then there's no point in distinguishing mages vs non-mages for example (we know it doesn't work like that but we can't say K'rul did know, originally, I'm talking about his creator's intent towards the warrens). So his warrens are a form of compassion: to help combat discrimination, to have magic be an equaliser.

Contrast that to Itkovian who saw extreme pain in a race and decided to take that into himself so that the grief that made that race different, no longer existed. The Imass could move on because Itkovian took on their grief and pain etc. In this way, Itkovian acted as the equaliser making the Imass "the same as" everybody else, he removed what made them different . It was another act of compassion with the motivation of stopping that grief, so it's different from K'rul's more direct equalising intent, but Itkovian was still moved by compassion and he still made things (more) equal through his actions. Or that's what his intent was, at least.

And there's also the fact that their compassion came at a big, indeed a *HUGE* personal cost, but the books reinforce the fact that compassion is needed and good always, without shying away from how much it can take from someone at the same time. Both Itkovian and K'rul are perfect examples of this. People quote Itkovian's monologue about compassion ("we humans do not understand compassion....") and with good reason! But K'rul is just as central a figure to that thesis statement

(we could delve more into whether K'rul and Itkovian were successful, but I don't think that's necessary to make my point because malazan's thesis is that Compassion Is Necessary Regardless Of Consequence/Personal Cost, and both K'rul and Itkovian embodied that with their intent)

[ati-nevershut]

Memories of Ice destroyed me. That was incredible.

[chloristoflora]

Redemption. For everyone else, but not for himself. For that, he could only look to his god. But, dear Fener, what has happened? Where are you? I kneel in place, awaiting your touch, yet you are nowhere to be found. Your realm... it feels... empty.

Where, now, can I go?

Aye, I am not yet done. I accept this. And when I am? Who awaits me? Who shall embrace me? A shiver ran through him.

Who shall embrace me?

The Shield Anvil pushed the question away, struggled to renew his resolve. He had, after all, no choice. He would be Fener's grief. And his Lord's hand of justice. Not welcome responsibilities, and he sensed the toll they were about to exact.

Memories of Ice, by Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen #3)

[malazanquotes]

We humans do not understand compassion. In each moment of our lives, we betray it. Aye, we know its worth, yet in knowing we then attach to it a value, we guard the giving of it, believing it must be earned.

T'lan Imass. Compassion is priceless in the truest sense of the word. It must be given freely. In abundance.

Itkovian, Memories of Ice pg 1130

[malazansapper]

‘She was out there, down in the basin, on her knees, head hanging, her torso weaving back and forth to some inner rhythm. After studying her yet again, Seerdomin, with a faint gasp, tore his gaze away - something it was getting ever harder to manage, for she was mesmerizing, this child-woman, this fount of corruption, and the notion that a woman’s fall could be so alluring, so perfectly sexual, left him horrified. By this language of invitation. By his own darkness.

Behind him, the Redeemer murmured, ‘Her power grows. Her power over you, Segda Travos.’

‘I do not want to be where she is.’

‘Don’t you?’

Seerdomin turned and eyed the god. ‘Self-awareness can be a curse.’

‘A necessary one.’

‘I suppose so,’ he conceded.

‘Will you still fight her, Segda Travos?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Why?’

Seerdomin bared his teeth. ‘Don’t you start with me, Redeemer. The enemy never questions motivations - the enemy doesn’t chew the ground out beneath its own feet.’ He jabbed a finger back at the woman kneeling in the basin. ‘She has no questions. No doubts. What she has instead is strength. Power.’

‘That is true,’ said the Redeemer. ‘All of it. It is why those haunted by uncertainty must ever retreat. They cannot stand before the self-righteous. Instead, they must slink away, they must hide, they must slip behind the enemy’s lines - ‘

‘Where every damned one of them is hunted down and silenced - no, Redeemer, you forget, I lived in a tyranny. I kicked in doors. I dragged people away. Do you truly believe unbelievers will be tolerated? Scepticism is a criminal act. Wave the standard or someone else will, and they’ll be coming for you. Redeemer, I have looked in the eyes of my enemy, and they are hard, cold, emptied of everything but hate. I have, yes, seen my own reflection - it haunts me still.’

No further words were exchanged then. Seerdomin looked back down to that woman, the High Priestess who had once been Salind. She was naught but a tool, now, a weapon of some greater force’s will, its hunger. The same force, he now suspected, that drove nations to war, that drove husbands to kill wives and wives to kill husbands. That could take even the soul of a god and crush it into subservience.

When will you rise, Salind? When will you come for me?

This was not the afterlife he had imagined. My fighting should be over. My every need made meaningless, the pain of thoughts for ever silenced.

Is not death’s gift indifference? Blissful, perfect indifference?

She swayed back and forth, gathering strength as only the surrendered could do.

Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson

[jimtheviking]

...you speak of compassion. I understand something, now, of compassion...We humans do not understand compassion. In each moment of our lives, we betray it. Aye, we know of its worth, yet in knowing we then attach to it a value, we guard the giving of it, believing it must be earned...Compassion is priceless in the truest sense of the word. It must be given freely. In abundance.

Steven Erikson - Memories of Ice

[dunsparr0w]

Which campaign hurt more?

Coltaine's Chain of Dogs

The defense of Capustan

Voting ended onApr 5