This was originally posted on Twitter and Reddit, but I figured that we might as well make a blog series about these AI mash-ups, and I’m particularly fond of this one.
So if you haven’t read this before, let’s see what happens when the world of the Kingkiller meets the world of the Gentleman Bastards:
It was night again. The city of Camorr lay in shadow, and a faint silver light spilled out from the university.
Locke Lamora stepped out of the archives, hunting Denna.
He nodded to Jean and gave a strangled squawk.
Locke could hear the screaming of the Lethani coming from the crowd in the Fishery, and thought it was a young, red-haired musician.
“We should probably forego the drink,” said Jean, “But hell, there’s certainly enough money in the Fishery to steal.”
Locke Lamora fell backward, writhing in pain.
Inside the university, Kvothe was going to be a priest.
“I am ashamed of what I have done,” said Kvothe “I’ll admit that I had a pair of hatchets and killed a bondsmage.”
Calo nodded vigorously.
Galdo did not exercise his face.
“From now on, this particular assassin is not a loyal garrista.”
Everyone in the Fishery applauded enthusiastically.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him, and Ambrose was responsible for burning down the library with a grin.
“This isn’t funny,” said Chains. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I am not crass,” said Ambrose, taking a crossbow bolt from the ceiling thoughtfully.
The room was dancing with butterflies, and Kvothe was not entirely convinced.
“You are a miserly baroque lunatic,” he said quietly.
“That is a knife in my chest,” said Ambrose.
Locke Lamora and Jean Tannen crashed through the window and slammed into the crowd, who cheered.
“What the fuck is that? You are dismissed,” said Locke.
“With thanks, the Gentlemen Bastards,” said Jean.
“He doesn’t know what that means you fucking pissant warlord,” Locke said.
“And lick your ass,” said Galdo.
“When will you be apologizing?” asked Ambrose. “I will never wrestle peace without thinking about Stragos and the little girl in my cabin.”
“Fuck, you don’t want to know about this story,” said Galdo.
“Ridiculous rumors and mutterings,” said Calo.
“If you were my patron and knew what opportunities might present themselves, would you like to sneak a peek of my fist, cocksucker?” Locke whispered.
“Jean’s private humiliation is that he is never satisfied with his hands and feet.”
The crowd was drowned in horse piss.