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This post was poor form. When you write another character's reaction, that's called godmodding. People are invested in their characters. They work hard to create and develop them. You don't know what they have in mind for their character. Only their creator can properly write a reaction. It is proper form to give people the opportunity to do so. For example, I have publicly said that I intend to kill off Mace in the 1000th post, but you don't know how I intend to do it. To deprive me of the opportunity of detailing his death (and using the writeup I have prepared) is annoying. It's also against the rules. So that you fully understand this concept, I would like you to read Voidus' Guide to the Alleyverse, @AxeliustheGreat. It should help you understand that the parts I bolded in the above post were godmodding. A better post would have been to describe reasonable actions given your characters capabilities and position, then given Gancho Libre a chance to react. Say, 'hoping to remove his metalminds, Tena reached out their arm.' Gancho Libre would likely get the hint, and respond saying that he felt you steal some of his metalminds, or, knowing his character better than anyone, respond in another reasonable way that fits Naermen's character. You are fortunate Gancho Libre was so easy-going about all this. You still owe him an apology though. He's totally within his rights to react the way he has. Note to everyone else: This situation seems to have sorted itself out. It doesn't look like I need to retract anything (posts etc.), but if you feel differently, give me a shout in the PM. EDIT: Lets not redo anything, because that would be complicated and confusing, unless there's a good reason. Gnacho Libre is the one who had the most reason to want one, and he declined the offer, so lets roll with this. EDIT 2: In response to this comment 'And did Gancho discuss killing Mace with Archer? 'Cause if so, I missed it.' No he didn't. But he didn't do anything wrong. He was attacking, I was defending/counter attacking. That's how the war works. He didn't do anything beyond his character's capabilities. And the final call about if Mace died was still mine to make. Besides, Mace can take a few hits. The Nature of the Alleyverse: To quote the pinned post The Alleyverse Explained, 'The Alleyverse is a fictional alternate universe in which all Brandon’s magic systems exist together, as well as all of the locations he has written about.' Some of his characters exist in it as well. This applies to everything he has written, including cosmere (SA, Mistborn etc.), other published works (Reckoners, Alcatraz, Wheel of Time etc.), and publicly available non-published works (Aether of Night etc.). This does not include non-publicly available unpublished works (like Death by Pizza), or works by other authors (exceptions have been made because they're fun, but usually we create equivalents that would fit in a Sanderson book if we want to include something from another author). The Phoenix: The Alleyverse is an interesting RP because the DA and Newcago Court worldbuilding predates the imposing of limitations on character power. As such, they are perfectly within their rights to use any worldbuilding, character creation etc. that they have. Sometimes this stuff will be crazy powerful. That's just something you have to live with. They're all great sports, and don't abuse this quirk, but we've forced their hand. They gave plenty of warning how they would react if we attacked. We're technically going after the heart of six years of work, so it's understandable how they've fought back. So if you're looking for quantifiable success, prepare to be disappointed. Voidus has stated his reason for making the Phoenix, it's his call what he does with it. I get that it's a tempting target, and understand the urge to kill it, but I want to make it clear that no matter what you do, somethings are unchangeable/beatable. We'll see if this applies to the Phoenix. There's plenty of other spiked fish in the sea to fight. The city is crawling with NPCs. No one minds if you kill those. *takes off mini-mod hat* Mace stumbled away. Everything hurt. He stepped over shards of amberite, running away from the bodies. He saw Tena poking at the fallen- his head swam, and he blacked out for a moment. What's going on? Why, death? Death? Cookies. He tapped a reserve of speed, and ran away. He wanted to be alone. He headed for an alley, not caring where it went. When he got out on the other side of it, he found himself on a ledge, overlooking a street of bodies being picked at by strange metallic crows. Not caring what they were, he threw up a coppercloud and hoped they'd leave him alone. He needed time to think.

This may have already been stated and I missed the thread, but I had a thought about the possible origin of the Sibling. I don't have a lot of textual evidence, but I will do my best. To simplify in the most criminal way: Spren are the cognitive manifestation of something people think about or experience. The Stormfather is the "memory men create" of the Almighty. So what is as big a thing in the mind of humans as god? Themselves What if the Sibling is, rather than the shadow of a god, the sibling of humanity, the cognitive manifestation of their thoughts about themselves, mankind, civilization as a whole? When Uritheru was occupied by a significant fraction of humanity and they had a common concept of what being human meant it was powerful and sane. But as the kingdoms and cultures formed the idea that brought it about became weaker and less coherent. Humans weren't trying to harm it, but they would be, in effect, ripping it apart into lesser spren manifestations of each group. Its current state may be the result of that wounding, or something it did to protect itself. The current state of humanity on Roshar is still very fractured, but as people start to come together again the idea of a unified humanity could also gain traction. As Dalinar continues to "unite instead of divide" and "bring men together" the very state necessary for this pan-human Spren to grow strong again could reoccur allowing it to return.

After getting my girlfriend on board of the Sanderson train about half a year ago (I cunningly used The Emperor's Soul to lure her...) I had been pondering for a while on how to make her Cosmere-aware without spoiling everything. She has finished everything Mistborn as well as The Way of Kings now and I decided to create a little booklet for her. I'm quite proud how V 1.0 turned out. It's 28 A5-pages long and home-produced. Edit (Spoiler-clarification): Since I have sent the .pdf to some people I wanted to make everybody aware of the spoilers of this - let's call it 'document'. First and foremost it includes major Mistborn-spoilers. It does not make sense to give it to someone, who has not read everything Mistborn (that includes Secret History). Furthermore, there are minor spoilers for The Way of Kings, and technically also for Words of Radiance and maybe even Oathbringer. That, however, only refers to the names of Shards on Roshar. So, technically a spoiler, but as far as I remember, it was quite commonly known before WoR and OB that Cultivation, Honor and Odium were active on Roshar, so in my opinion these spoilers are hardly relevant. Anyhow, since I specifically compiled the whole thing to be read before/during Words of Radiance it probably makes most sense to give it to somebody at that point of their reading journey.

*glares pointedly at you* First of all, all of Brandon's magics are in the Alleyverse, and have been since the beginning. We're not going to stop people from using magic that they want to just because other people haven't read it. At this point, it's slightly irrelevant, because Gancho decided to roll with it. But still something to keep in mind for the future. Edit: I did realize that my glaring may have been taken the wrong way, so to be clear that was mainly joking.

@Fifth Scholar and @Devotary of Spontaneity, I greatly dislike you both at moment. Do you have any idea what your write up did to me? I have spent the past 20 hours wondering how sacrificing different animal crackers affects the Gods of Luck and Chance. I just brought five boxes of them to try out different combinations. Fair warning, if the Gods of Luck and Chance are offended by what I'm going to do tonight, I'm pointing them in your direction!

So Sigzil and Kaladin have a discussion about Drehys sexuality. To me the roles felt oddly reversed. I woul expect the azish to allow various froms of marriage as long as the proper forms have been submitted. The Alethi on the other hand... Their entire culture depends alot on gender specific roles. Homosexual couples would have it hard in vorin culture. I mean to guys would be illiterate and two women couldn't trade or defend themselves. Maybe it isn't that different for darkeyes but the lighteyes need marriage to fullfill their roles. I just think it would have made more sense if Kaladin had been the uncomfortable one with Sigzil not understanding what the fuzz is about. I just wanted to know if anybody else thought that was weird

I’m a long time fan of Sanderson. I was working my way through the Wheel of Time series and suddenly the next book was by Brandon Sanderson! I felt he breathed fresh air into the WoT series, so I looked him up and quickly made my way through his then-available bibliography and have been with him ever since. I tend to lurk a lot, but I’ll chime in if I’ve got something to add. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you ^_^.

I have three versions of a new epic, and I don't know which I want. In order from least powerful to most powerful. The other versions just have different powers. I definitely didn't make this with Taylor Swift in mind. Nope. Total coincidence right there.

On pg 214. This reread is going very well when it’s going very well. Lots and lots of brooding/philosophy mumbo jumbo can cause me to stop though. Quite a lot of it in TTH. Dang I dread cracking open FoL for the 1st time later on in this massive Malazan re/read.

She chased the creature up, up, finally breaching the over the top of the storm as it continued to ravage the city below. Finally the Phoenix stopped, waiting patiently in the air as its quarry slowed and turned towards her. She had worried that this foe would simply attempt to flee, but it seemed she had resolved herself for this fight. The Phoenix gave her a final moment, as with the other. They floated for one endless moment, a pocket of calm and quiet above a city torn apart by violence, savagery and the fury of the storm. Suddenly, the creature firmed its gaze, clenched its muscle and pulled something from the shield it carried. It began to glow white, the Phoenix recognized in an instant the signs of a rapid drawing of heat. In an instant the blast enveloped her, burning her feathers away before beginning to char her skin. At the same instant her healing kicked in. Forty of her seventy five spikes included some means of healing, she used all of them to keep this blast at bay. Her skin healed a fresh layer under every layer that was charred by the blast, her feathers regrew as fast as they burned. But her spikes were not a biological entity, they were a part of her but they had no means of healing themselves so accelerating the rate that the rest of her healed did nothing to prevent them from melting under the heat radiating over her. But she was no stranger to heat, she was the one who controlled fire, who weaponized this force of nature. She reversed her usual flow from her metalminds, storing instead of tapping. She felt her body begin to cool, sucking the heat in from the surrounding air and the metal that still resided within her. She filled, filled and filled, replacing much of what she had already lost that day. Finally the heat began to subside, she slowed her storing, keeping pace with the heat as it diminished. The light faded, the creature no longer visible. Breathing heavily, she held herself in place for 10 more wingbeats, watching the ash fall to the ground, waiting for her body to finish regenerating. Several of her spikes had been evaporated in the instant before she could start storing, but she still had enough to continue. She looked down, towards the city, then back towards the ash falling from the sky. This one was not the hated one, but its goal had been clear, it drew her up, away from the rest of the city. They had sacrificed themselves, but they still tried to save others, and they had only resorted to death as a last resort. They had put life before death, journey before destination. These words are accepted. She thought towards the last few pieces of ash that fell. With tired, lopsided wingbeats, she flew her way back to her nest. Enough of this death. She had life that she needed to protect as well.

The Beyond was getting crowded. Rhazien, Nei'an, Leya, Kalmar, Voidus's Rock, Rohan, Rashan, Shelan, Soul, Hellbent, Brother Daniel, Mac the Unbiased, Mack and whoever else had died sat on a bench, chatting. "So who do you think is going to come next?" Asked Rohan.

*Car Salesman* Slaps top of Brandon Sanderson This bad boy can fit so many chekov's gun in his books.

when you have a panic attack when you can't remember what kind of sword Nightblood is, and you immediately send a text to your friend who works for Brandon to find out.

when this makes your day at work.

This Epic, unlike most Jacklyn had interacted with, seemed to appreciate her standing up for herself. She had gambled that he would to some extent. Maybe it was just because he thought she was powerful, but she would have to go along with it, even if all her post-Calamity instincts were screaming at her to do otherwise. What did she know about the woman in red? Jacklyn couldn’t tell Epoch the truth, because he seemed to think she was powerful, and no one powerful would run away from someone begging to be their slave. Maybe if she told him about the woman, but not their meeting… “Before today, I’d never met her. She must have been an Epic of some sort, as she bore scars that no Maple could survive. She carried a knife. Most interestingly, she was able to detect that I was an Epic as well. Oh, and she’s probably insane.” Jacklyn spoke in a self-confident, assured tone, even though her emotions told a different story. Great, she thought, Steelheart becomes Superman, and I get a makeover and bluffing skills. She had to admit that she executed the flippant remark at the end rather authentically though.

I know that the Azish are not accepting in the canon. And that confused me... Let's hope they learn from the Alethi in that regard.

You have to take a couple of things into account here. First the gender roles have become so intertwined with Vorinism that they are pretty inseparable... But these aren't actually religious rule. They're set roles on specific actions outlined in the book Arts and Majesty. They don't cover every aspect of life, only specific tasks. And as far as the broader sense of it goes, it only comes down to, "does this activity require one hand, or two?" There are a couple of exceptions to that, notably literacy, but that was a purely power based political move. Spoilered for length. Secondly, Sigzil's culture is not "accepting." it has a horrible form of enforced gender roles that make you basically live as the opposite sex if you are homosexual, whether you want to or not. This WoB covers that, and is relevant to this thread in general.

Hah Fisher...I love it. It's a shame that practically everone on the water will not get it :). People have a tendency to exagerate size in their catches so maybe when you meet other people fishing you could ask them, "When a fisherman speaks of truth to another fisherman , what hope has truth? Let me ask this, then. Does one find memory in invention, or will you find invention in memory? Which bows in servitude before the other? Will the measure of greatness be weighed solely in the details? Perhaps so, if details comprise the full weft of the world; if themes are nothing more than the composite of lists perfectly ordered and unerringly rendered; and if I should kneel before invention, as if it was memory made perfect. Do I look like a man who would kneel?"

Naermen could feel the blow, feel the pain that accompanied it, feel the foreign investiture ripping away her nerves. She collapsed, barely feeling the pushing on her face. She was blacking out. Only the mist kept her awake. That, along with the pain fabrial that she kept on her person 24/7. It took away an insignificant amount, but it helped to know she was being guarded. She was angry, a bit of her felt angry. She was the only person in the entire cosmere who felt her pain. Nobody would understand her. Except for him. He would. But he was not here to comfort her. She was alone. Then the thought came. Like an injured cat, it slinked into her conscious mind from her subconscious. A tool she has always had but always neglected. She could use it now. Slowly, but surely, she brought her hand to her pocket and removed one of her items. She didn't register the shout of the one who had knocked her out or the rumbling of the suit beyond them. She was alone, in a place so flat she couldn't see it's end. Only herself and the item. A foreign hand tried to wrestle the object from her hand, while another foreign force used some form of investiture on her. She couldn't feel it. She was about to sleep. Then, she pressed the Bestower's Len's to her face and sent everything she was feeling at that moment to her unsuspecting attacker. Her mind cleared. And another body crumpled to the ground beside her. Naermen didn't know the body's condition; her task was at stopping the suit. She paused, uncertain of what to do. Then she smiled. And smashed the Patji bomb that had been in her hand into her own head. Ants crawled down her face. She turned to the suit, gasping once the pain she had given away came back to her, but in a suppressed form than before. She had a plan. The ants bit. Death flowed through her veins. She was going to die. The body that had fallen started to rise. She was starting to fall. And Naermen gave all of it, the venom, the sensation, and the terror to the suit and anyone inside.

Storm looked down at the piece of paper before him. Swing buzzed on his shoulder. How could he make peace with the traitor? By signing this document you agree to make peace amongst the Black Crusade and TUBA for the betterment of the Alleyverse, to protect civilians, and to quell the outbreak of Hemalurgic monstrosities. For the betterment of the Alleyverse.. _ _ _ Storm left the document where Devaan had said. But it was not signed. instead it had a note attached to it, reading: Devaan, I am sorry. I cannot sign this. I do not have the strength.. But I will agree to end the conflict among us temporarily, in order to save the Alleyverse. I will work with them for now. I will Honor Rashan's final wish. By Harmony, I will.. ~Storm _ _ _ Storm walked towards the fighting. Remembering his Oaths, his truths. Life before death, strength before weakness, journey before destination. I am a coward, I save myself at the peril of others... I do not know who I am, I wear one thousand faces... He wouldn't be a coward this time.. He would help, somehow... He would find himself. He would wear his true face. He would take a step towards that. He saw Kane and Mace fighting up ahead, in an Amberite suit, hammer striking down abominations. He ran towards them, speaking as he ran; "I have hidden behind a fake name, but truly, I, Am, Deveraux." For a moment, he was in another time, another world. _ _ _ "Devvy, com here!" Anna shouted gleefully, "Look at what I got you!" Deveraux smiled at his younger sister, following her up to her room. She rummaged in a drawer, pulled something out and hid it behind her back, grinning. "What is it Anna?" He asked her, crouching down so he was eye level with her. She waved it out with a flourish, "Tada!" she exclaimed showing a ring with The words "To Devvy from Anna" carved into it crudely. "And its made of tin, so you can use it for your magic!" she said, grinning even more broadly. "I love it Anna, thank you storm said, taking the ring from her and giving her a hug. _ _ _ Just a day after that, his house burned down, killing everyone but him. Storm looked down at a tinmind on his pinky finger, the same ring his little sister had given him, nine years ago. Tears fell from his face. Why did he think of that now? Swing buzzed from his shoulder again, "This is a powerful truth." Realizing what he had just done, Storm summoned his Shardplate. Armor fitting him exactly, locked together perfectly. He summoned Swing as a blade and leaped to assist Mace and Kane, bringing his blade down on one of the Hemalurgic monsters. "Want some help? Storm called to the two, in their dual person Amberite armor.

That is an assumption that I don't agree with. There are plenty of reasons why a kind and gentle person would take up Ruin. One which I've proposed before, and why I think he was turned into the version of Ruin that he was, is because he felt that Ruin was a monster to be contained. Wanting what Ruin represented wouldn't have been the only reason to take it up.

That's... I'm in danger of really liking this idea.

I'm hungry. Aaaaaah I'm so hungry. aaaaaaa wait. I just remembered I got food. Will update you later. EDIT: Best sandwich I’ve ever had. Still a bit hungry, though.

So, my kitten is about four months old, now, and he is finally big enough to access things he once could not. This means he is CLIMBING ALL THE THINGS. So I am in the position, fully aware that I have done this to myself, of bleating in alarm as a pure white kitten tries to scale a table lamp or a tower of DVDs (multiple times a day) and shouting "Silchas Ruin!", while I scurry to prevent immanent disaster. This name has now and will likely forever have lost any majesty or gravitas it once held. Really helps you to get over the oddness of a name, though, shouting it multiple times a day.

@Ark1002 How about right now? Chapter Two: Love

The best theory I've seen on this topic is that originally there were 16 "god spren" on Roshar that were made by Adonalsium: the Stormfather (pre-Tanavast), the Nightwatcher (pre-Cultivation), the Sibling, Cusicech, the Unmade (pre-Odium), and 3 other spren we don't explicitly know about yet. Then Odium shows up, and since his Shardic number is 9, he goes and corrupts 9 of the Adonalsium spren, making the Unmade.

When you start freaking out cuz someone in a magazine article said they like Brandon Sanderson books and you immediately check to see where they live and if there's any way you could get in contact with them. I am not ashamed.

I can see child bloodmakers storing health to get out of school. At least that's what I would do

I honestly hope you're wrong. If lift is the same mentally in the back half as she is now I'm going to have major issues with her as a focus character.

I'm imagining a story. The eleven living Vessels arrive on Yolen to attend a party thrown by Frost, with Hoid acting as the butler. Sazed arrives late because he has trouble finding his way there. Just after dinner when everyone has retired to the sitting room, the spheres all go dun and the house is plunged into darkness. A scream. The lights are restored and Rayse lies dead in the center of the room, Nightblood run through his body. Everyone looks at one another and wonders: 'Who murdered this chull?'. Everyone is a suspect...

Amusingly, this may actually be part of why Hoid still has some sort of feud with Bavadin. We know that Hoid likes instant noodles but we also know that they aren't Yolish and Hoid's using his 'Hoidsense' to know where he can eventually get them; I got that out of him at a signing. xD The root cause of his feud with Bavadin can't be that, as he wouldn't have had any instant noodles for her to steal before the Shattering. However apparently he has had them since then... on Taldain. So he already had some reason to dislike Bavadin but now he may really dislike her because in interdicting Taldain she cut off his supply of instant noodles until some other planet manages to invent them.

I meant the shard. That is why I stated shard. With that being said. After a time there is little to no distinction between shard and vessel. Good and evil are meaningless when discussing things like Preservation and Ruin. Both are necessary for life. Preservation which you'd label as good would see life put in stasis. Preservation was disappointed by the death of a ruthless, bloodthirsty, tyrant. Simply because the Lord Ruler was a constant. Devotion is not a benevolent force. I know this is overly used cliche but Hitler was devoted. His followers were devoted. These are all raw forces divorced from the whole which gave them context. Good an evil are pointless arbitrary abstracts. Shards are raw forces that must obey their intent. Sure Rayse was a PoS to begin with. As we saw Ati it doesn't matter who you were to begin with. The intent in the end consume you. After a few thousand years it is pointless to even distinguish between shard and vessel. They are one and the same.

Ruin and Preservation are a part of all of their souls inherently, and exclusively. That's definitely enough on its own.

WfY, if you're voting with someone, its generally better to vote with someone that's voting with arguments, rather than their gut. (Araris, I figuratively don't even...) @Steeldancer, If possible I'd like to hear you expand a bit on your gut-read. its obviously something from D1, as you mention that you hadn't seen my accusation of you yet when this gut read came up. @_Stick_, why did you mention Coop being part of the Synod? That's a role, right, and nothing of the sort has been revealed about him. Anwyay, ITIAH ended up being village, which expands the group of potential elims significantly (namely, everyone who isn't dead yet), and weakens the case against Steel, Kidpen and Snipexe somewhat, though I still remain suspicious of the first two. It also means that the elims had no particular reason to be voting one way or another last cycle. I'll start by taking a look at those late on the ITIAH bandwagon in a bit (probably this evening, about 10 hours from now). One thing of note is the suspicions based on last-minute claims. I've been thinking back to the last bunch of games, and I can't remember a single instance of an elim trying to survive by false-claiming something (while I can remember several instances of a villager claiming to try and survive). I'm sure it happened in the past, but it seems to be a bit of a dead horse trope these days. Am I wrong?

Thank you so much for reading, @shatteredsmooth. That's good , and yes, it probably was... There's nothing previous; it is a possibly clumsy attempt to underline J's limited worldview. Hmm, yes. I'm not saying you're wrong. I suppose that's the difficulty with J accepting, or trying to accept what P is telling him. Unreliable internal monologue? Yeah, ok. There is dialogue earlier on about J crossing the rest of the group to keep more of the swag for himself and get a bigger share. Maybe there isn't a good basis or that, and maybe I need to call out his unreliable nature more. He is a thief, after all, and therefore inherently dishonest. Still... I will try and start out on the edit with a clear set of goals (which I don't always manage to do), one of which is to show that J ultimately is a nefarious wee sh1t. This is great news. I like the word 'rot', and will include it here somewhere for sure! Thanks so much for the comments. Much appreciated

Over all a nice, caring and polite guy, but also with a rather dominant personality and little hesitation to take action when needed. I could actually see him leading a Reckoners cell or something along the lines. I remember that. I also remember being robbed for the painkillers. Facing it for the sake of another person. Important condition there. For the whole Endbringer topic. I'm fairly sure Voidgaze could kill one of them. Though she may need some help with the set up.

I can assure you that they are completely sanitary and absolutely scrumptious. And by the way @Wondercat, I love the 'stache.

It just so happens I keep a selection of culinary surprises for times like this My cookie pie is famous

Why the rusts would you be ashamed? Potential new friend! So, er, could you get in contact with them? Who are they? Where do they live?

One I just read is my favorite. It's called Oathbreaker...

This is why I really enjoyed Hrathen’s storyline in Elantris. At the end of his arc, Hrathen comes to the conclusion that the church abuses the authority of Jaddeth, and identifies the Church and God as separate entities. His whole plot line was a wonderful battle of personal vs group conscience, which I think highlighted the depth of the moral ambiguity Brandon created in Elantris.

Relevant:

Well, that was cheery... I mean, I love emotional devastation as much as the next guy, but wow. It's good though..

Marsh is a typical fan-favorite. A somewhat minor character, but one who gives off a badass feel. He also looks cool, struggles between the light and the dark, and has awesome magical powers. I love the guy, but Kelsier is my favorite character in fiction, so I go with him. He is brilliant, both as a character, and as a concept. The themes Brandon explores with him are fascinating. He is a hero, a villain, a trickster, a theif, a murderer, a magician, a fighter and a martyr. He was the one who died, but at the same time, he always finds a way to stay alive and keeps on hanging around. Also, he is funny. Least favorite is Spook. I thought his development in HoA felt rushed, and I am not very fond of him. Yeden kind of feels like the easy way out to that question, since he dies early and is pretty unsymphatetic until then. He never got the chance at being as developed as the others. Whoever picked Dockson as the best one is awesome. He is underrated.

"As for your request Mr. Creepy, you should know better than to offer underage girls wine shouldn't you?" Reader smiled. It'd been a while since he'd had a real challenge, someone who would actually stand up to him. That just made it all the more fun. For the taller one stood, the farther one fell. The twins were only nineteen, but he and they both knew that they didn't care if they were underage or not. "Of course," he said, packing as much sarcasm into those two words as he could. He looked at one of the soldiers guarding the door with his gun raised. "Bloom, fetch this girl a soda. Her favorite is root beer." The soldier grunted, then left, leaving the other two behind. Reader looked back and forth between the twins, drilling his eyes into theirs. "Now, no more funny business. Tell me everything you know about the Dalles. Why are you here? And if you don't comply, I'll have Richard over there shoot both of you." He glanced at Steven, as though just noticing that he was still there. "And Steven, of course." His eyes trained back on the twins. "And you may think you are invincible, but I'm sure you wouldn't want me to see you without a stitch on, now would you?" BusDriver waited in--wait, you guessed it--a bus. It still had a half tank full of gas, so it would take a few hours of driving it around before it would automatically revert back into the rock it had once been. BusDriver groaned, adjusting his rear end on the uncomfortable driver's seat. He had some control over what happened to the buses that he made, but unfortunately, the comfortable-ness of the seats was not one of them. "I'm too old for this," he mumbled, though what was he whining for? He was only forty-something, he still had a good half of his life left before him. Unfortunately, the outlook of that future was bleak. He'd joined up with Quicksilver, hoping to be given a good job, but NOPE he was still just a simple bus driver. Even though he could make a sparking bus out of anything he sparking wanted to, like say an enemy's shirt--killing them instantly--he was still stuck as the head of transportation. BusDriver shifted again. Where are Aura and Event Horizon? he thought. Though they'd said it was going to be a quick mission, they'd been in there for a while. BusDriver wasn't allowed to go in, oh no. No, he had to sit out and wait in a sparking bus while they got to do all the fun stuff. He groaned and laid his head on the steering wheel, making the bus let out a loud blare that had become familiar to him. BusDriver scowled and sat back up. Sparking bus.

He owned them. Two years after Koschei the Deathless slit a little girl's throat, a man in pink sunglasses fell to the farmhouse floor, vomiting over the moldy carpet. The man shook continuously in an effort to recover himself. A pair of twins stood in the old farmhouse doorway, staring at him with confusion and a hint of disgust. For once, Backtrack didn't care what the pretty girls thought of him. He retched a few times more before he was able to stand. When he did so, he stumbled a few times, a headache pounding in his skull and the world seeming to blur before his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he croaked hoarsely, trying--and failing--to crack a smile. He thought it turned out more like some sort of grimace. "You'd be throwing up too if you'd seen," he informed them helplessly. "I mean..." He trailed off, well aware of how ridiculous the complaint would sound to their ears. It wasn't the sight of a little girl being murdered. Backtrack had seen worse before in his visions of the past. He'd seen ancient Indian braves scalping women and children. He'd seen settlers come along and extirpate all the Indian braves. He'd seen Epics appear in the world and murder those same settler's descendants centuries later. No, the blood of the past didn't bother him any more. It was that crazy slontze's brain that he had issues with. He'd thought it would be useful to not just witness the scene, but see what Koschei had been thinking at the time. To see if he had any extra information he could use. He hadn't counted on Koschei's mind being so twisted. It was more than just the willingness to kill--lot's of Epics had that. It was the way the man had relished being in such genuine control of them. The way he'd smiled with genuine delight as the child's parents were thrust under his command, given the most sinister blackmail imaginable... Backtrack shook himself off again, casting another look at the twins. "Sorry," he repeated. "We should keep going. I don't want to go back to Portland without something to pique Lightwards' interest." They'd come, ostensibly, to find out about Remington Springfield's life story. Backtrack had hoped that if he came back with info on the hunter's family, then Lightwards would be able to use it as a means of controlling the man-- He owned them. Backtrack winced, trying to get the nasty taste of Koschei's thoughts out of his head. The man was just so twisted. And the worst part? Blackmail, murder, and leverage was the whole reason Backtrack was here in the first place. A small part of him that had once been Steve Lawrence rebelled at that. He was no better than Koschei. Trying to ignore this line of thought, Backtrack instead devoted his attention to the young women in front of him. Impact and MV were indeed identical, and right now their faces still had identical expressions of impatience and contempt. For a moment, he wanted to speak to them. To tell them that though going to the Empire was his idea in the first place, he really couldn't be blamed for the way it had turned out. The way Lightwards had threatened to kill him, the way Nighthound had threatened to violate and murder them, the way the whole thing had culminated in the three of them being forced to jump out of an enormous floating jungle filled with dinosaurs... Honestly, there was no way anyone could have predicted all of that. He started to open his mouth to say so. He was interrupted, perhaps mercifully, by the sound of a large truck pulling up in the farmhouse's driveway. Frowning, Backtrack rushed to a window and peered outside. There was indeed a large truck. An armored truck, with a bunch of very surly-looking men with guns pouring out of it. "Right," Backtrack began jabbering, looking around the farmhouse for weapons. "We need guns, we need guns... but wait, Koschei took the guns. So we're pretty much just sparking out of luck." There was a pounding on the front door. "By the authority of The Dalles City Guard," a thick voice boomed from outside. "Come out with your hands in the air. If you attempt to use Epic powers, you will be terminated at once. You have one minute to comply." Backtrack felt his jaw beginning to drop, sweat forming at his brow. It seemed like there had to be something he could do. Something he, small little Backtrack, still tasting the vomit in his mouth, could do to overwhelm a legion of armed men. "Ladies," he said with a weak smile directed at the twins. "I think we should do what the nice policeman says."