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Week 8 The morning came, and Torwel remained in the tavern. It was a seedy place, but that was not surprising, considering the clientele it enjoyed recently. It was probably a fine establishment before the army arrived, but the sudden charge of the soldiers to the bar had destroyed any sense of decorum that it had once enjoyed. The innkeeper did a roaring trade the previous night, though he would have preferred it to be easier on him and his staff, even if it did mean it would be less profitable. But at least Dalinar's soldiers had some sense of propriety, and the repair cost wouldn't be too high. Speaking of Dalinar's troops, he was somewhat surprised to find one of them still there when he got up. He could have sworn that they'd thrown them all out at some point in the early hours of the morning, or their officers had dragged them out. But no, this one was still here. Whatever drink he was nursing had long since been drunk, judging by the stain on the glass he held. Approaching closer, he was rather surprised to find the man was not asleep. "You're finally up," he said, sounding surprisingly lucid for someone who appeared to be just a little dead on his feet. He placed the glass on the counter somewhat hard. "Another ale. Make it a decent one this time." "I'm sorry, sir?" The innkeeper asked. Whatever he had expected, that was not it. "I'm afraid I don't start serving until at least midday. Besides, I seem to remember you having quite a few last night, if you don't mind me saying so, sir." Torwel did not say anything for a brief while. Perhaps the alcohol had some effect after all. Eventually, he seemed to think of what to say. "You pay allegiance to Prince Aladar, right?" "Oh, well, you know sir," the innkeeper said quickly, "I have little choice in the matter." He had enough of those sort of questions the previous night. "I'm just as happy to serve Dalinar and his men, if not moreso." Torwel shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You still serve him, right?" He reached into his pocket, and took out a silvered seal, placing it on the table. "You see this?" he asked, rotating it around so the innkeeper could recognise the insignia. "This is the seal of Prince Aladar," he explained. "That means I am out and about on his business," he lied. So he stole it from Karlin's corpse when everyone was watching the head roll around, who was here to judge him? "That means you serve me ale. Best you have. Now. Make it several glasses." "Ah..." The innkeeper felt a little lost at this sudden turn, unsure of whether he should be professing his loyalty to Aladar again, but nodded, pulling the draft. At the very least, the man didn't seem to be a violent drunk, though he might be if he didn't get to quench his thirst any time soon. "Here you go, sir," he said, placing his original glass and two more in front of Torwel. "That will be... Hey, where do you think you're going?!" Torwel didn't look back, nor did he verbally respond. Instead, he continued to walk out the pub with his drink, though he did not start it yet. It was not for drinking. He did however hold the seal above his head by way of an answer, before opening the door and leaving. He had one last thing to do. * Dalinar's inner circle had changed quite considerably as of late. The only two constants remaining were the Brightlords Kaddar and Jost, with Jost's sister now taking up the role of scribe for the Blackthorn, and looking rather nervous about it as she did. Tal seemed to have settled in to his newfound place in society, while Newan was still somewhat perturbed, particularly with Dalinar shouting at him for killing Odysa like that. Jost sat where he always did in the command tent, at Dalinar's right hand, and feeling none too smug about such a thing. He might not have a Shardblade, but he was still his lord's most trusted advisor and soldier. Kaddar sat on Dalinar's left, something which Jost put down to being the best of the remaining, rather than any vote of confidence in Kaddar himself. "Let's go over the lists again," Dalinar said, with an irritated sigh. The five of them had been working on this throughout the night, attempting to solve this problem before the skirmish today. He had hoped that they'd be able to fight today with no worries about their equipment, or the surgeon's tools being damaged, or Soulcasters broken, or anything like that, but sadly, it seemed not. "I think we can at least cross us off," Jost said, nodding to himself. "I have been by your side for years, and Brightlord Kaddar - while strange - is perhaps too foolish to be trusted with such a serious matter as spying on a mortal enemy." "I thank ye kindly," Kaddar smiled, tipping his imaginary hat at Jost. "But if it is none of us, then who would you suggest it is?" "I don't think it would be either of you two," Jost added, waving a hand at Tal and Newan. "A Spy is no better than a thief, and would run off as soon as he laid his hands upon a Shardblade." "Yeah, and if I was a Spy, I'm not stupid enough to kill a Shardbearer who was attacking this camp," Newan added, his face lit up a little as he remembered that glorious moment. While his new Shardblade was a better weapon, he missed his bow, he had to admit. "Then I suppose that we'll just have to look through our Darkeyed suspects again," Tal sighed. "Let's just have that part of the list again." Kaddar held a hand out. "Before that..." he said, sniffing the air a little. "Does anyone smell ale?" "Ale?" Jost asked, completely confused by Kaddar's question. "Why would we smell ale? Unless perhaps you are soaked in it." "I think it's more of a burning smell," Newan commented. Then the tent suddenly collapsed inwards, and fire covered them. * Torwel sat atop the Lighteyed accommodations opposite the command tent, laughing, toasting the flames with a - sadly empty - glass. Shardblades wouldn't help them there, when they couldn't see and had no room to summon them or cut through the fabric that bound them. He watched with glee as the mass collapsed to the ground, and the motions within started to slow. The guards outside hovered around, unsure of what to do. One of them had the presence of mind to call for water. But gathering water at such a short notice would take time, time they did not have. One of the guards tried to grab the tent and pull it away, but he was unable to touch the alcohol-doused cloth for long enough to manage it. Another took a knife and started to jab at anywhere there was an opening, trying to rip holes in it large enough for someone to roll out of. Though it was hard to see, in the reflections of the sun on the knife, Torwel was glad to see it became bloody after the first few attempts. The first out through the hole was Dalinar, disappointingly. Looking worse for wear and slightly burnt, he took charge and started to order his men to cut the tent wherever they could. Wounded Lighteyes were better than dead ones, it seemed. One of the figures in the tent was ripped away from the rest, but with his rolling, managed to cover himself completely in the burning fabric. One of the soldiers watching panicked and started to try to beat the flames off, but resorted to using his feet rather than his hands. That ale burnt magnificently, didn't it? He let loose another laugh. At this, Dalinar turned to see the source. Their eyes met, and Torwel responded to his angered face with a smile. Dalinar summoned his Shardblade as his men continued their task. Torwel stood up, ready to leave, but stopped as he saw Dalinar draw his arm back. Surely, he wasn't going to... Dalinar threw his Shardblade forwards, and it cut through the air towards Torwel as though it were made for that very purpose despite its large size. Torwel couldn't help but watch, completely amazed by the spectacle. Then it hit him that he should probably move. Then Oathbringer hit him, and he no longer could. Torwel's eyes burned. * The first thing Kaddar did when he died was to wake up. That in itself was not a surprise, but the fact that the Tranquiline Halls looked very much like the infirmary back in Dalinar's camp did. He sat up, then immediately regretted it. Not only was he badly burnt, but his ribs felt cracked and broken. He grimaced and let out a small cry of pain as he lay back down. "Three ribs broken," he voice beside him said, "third degree burns across the left side of the face and smoke inhalation causing severe damage to the lungs." Kaddar turned to the voice, carefully. "Norlav?" he muttered, dredging the name up from Kenara's old list, "did you save me?" The surgeon shook his head. "No. If I had come across you, I'd probably have done a better job of it. That or let you burn. You have this man to thank for that," Norlav explained, nodding across Kaddar's bed, "if you can thank him while in this state. Before you ask, Brightlord Jost died shielding his sister from the flames. Aside from that, you are the only major casualty." And with that, he abruptly left, not bothering to draw the conversation to a proper close. Kaddar turned his head the other way. A Horneater sat beside his bed, looking concerned, but rather pleased with himself - though he did flinch a little as Kaddar faced him. Was that because he was a sight, or because the man had technically beaten up a superior officer? "Why?" he asked. Why didn't you let me burn? "Well, sir..." Alinel said, misunderstanding the question and smiling as best he could, "I tried my hardest to put you out, but that fellow says that all I did was break a couple of your bones. Still, it's better that then burning to death, right?" Dammit, he had just told Gavilar he was dead. What would the man think of him? * Kaddar was lynched, but saved by a Guardsman! Torwel was a Darkeyed Spearman, loyal to Prince Roion! Jost Joslin was a Lighteyed Swordsman, loyal to Dalinar! All the Spies have been slain. The Blackthorn's army is no longer under threat from sabotage and disruption, and will go on to win the war and unite Alethkar under the banner of King Gavilar. Dalinar's Army win! Master Spreadsheet Prince Roion Spies Prince Vamah Spies Prince Aladar Spies Dead Doc I will post an analysis tomorrow at some point. Thank you all for playing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed running it

(I'll be using the first date in the sequence as an example) 1173090605 separates out to 1173-09-06-05 in a year-month-week-day format. The modern Vorin calender has a 500 day year made up of 10 months with 10 weeks of 5 days. So the above is the fifth day of the sixth week of the ninth month of the year 1173. (which can also be referred to as Tanatashah 1173) Somebody was able to work out an exact chronology for the main sequence of Stormlight a while back, which I will try to find and link, and these dates sync perfectly with the highstorms. We do know that all of these dates have passed since by the end of WoR they are in the year 1174. Also, I'm not going to lie I expected this to be about some sort of dating simulator game when I clicked on it...

There were fields not too far from camp, grass not long enough to be a hindrance, but when lying down gave ample protection from the prying of unwanted eyes. Here Eoldren found himself, blades of grass poking through his fingers, wind spren floating softly before his face, his vision distant, yet immersed in the beauty of the night sky. The usual strict discipline that was present in camp had descended into a raucous celebration when the last of the spies’ identities had been revealed, and so here in this field, was the only place left where he felt a semblance of peace. His mind however, would not let him rest. One frenzied run, that’s all it will take. One short dash was all that stood between him and freedom. Eoldren raised his shield as a silent thunderstorm of ruin came arching overhead, and added his voice to the collective groan that shuddered through Dalinar’s army. It struck. A cursory glance of his body cleared him of any harm, and without another moment of hesitation he ran. Praying that the confusion of the volley would mask his retreat, he scampered between rank after rank of soldiers, sweat, blood and dirt congealed on his face, blinding his eyes, invading his nose and mouth but still he ran. Shouts started to echo from behind him, the clunking of armoured footfall drummed a constant beat in his head that only seemed to grow louder and louder, still he ran. Scarcely looking ahead of himself, not daring to look back, hands seemed to clutch at his clothes, his hair, his spear and shield, still he ran. Eoldren’s guilt added to the constant onslaught of fear and he began to slow. The shouts became a roar behind him, and the hands began to grasp just a little tighter. It was only the sudden sensation of open air that snapped him back to his senses. Any longer and he’d have collapsed under the weight of his torture. However one look and he could see that his respite had been short lived as before him stood, of all people, a Brightlord. The King’s Wit. And he was injured? Eoldren had been lucky. He’d been able to explain his mad rush as blind devotion to the protection of a Brightlord. Kaddar himself even thanked him personally, which to any other darkeyes would have been a high honour. But to the one man that knew the truth, it had felt hollow, and the memory had not left his mind for the last two weeks. In his mind’s eye, the arrows soared overhead once again as he stood to face the war camp. A decision had been made on that battle field two weeks ago, and it had not been changed in the weeks since. As he turned away, he could hear shouts over his shoulder, athough the absence of footsteps gave him the courage to step forward. As he began to walk, the grass felt like hands grasping at his legs, although this time he had the strength to push through. He left the field and once again found himself in the open air, but here the only thing awaiting him was freedom. It was time for a new home. Maybe somewhere sweet. Like a bakery.

When you're clearing out your family's very old computer games (I have found some that run on Windows 95/98) and you read "Myst: Uru" as "Urithiru" and get irrationally excited.

I will always find that moment amusing. "You, the person who is currently, literally killing me. I like the cut of your jib. Please guard this for me." EDIT: Something's always bothered me. Gavilar tells Szeth, when he thinks he's working for (Restares? Thaidakar?) "It's too late, even killing me won't stop it." ... Won't stop what? It's been six years. What thing happened that killing Gavilar did not prevent? It cannot be the Vengeance Pact because Gavilar thought he was tight with the Parshendi. Is it something that's just taken seven years for us to notice? Is it something we see, but don't realize it was because of Gavilar? Is it the Diagram?

And if I had matter manipulation, I would just make it rain pancakes. Why be creative and original when you can make it rain pancakes?

Vorinmingle.com, your #1 source for finding attractive, single, and faithful Alethi suitors! For a limited time, Brighteyes are automatically upgraded to Vorinmingle Platinum, while Darkeyes receive a miniature banner of their overlord highprince.

Recipe: Semester Project Add all ingredients in order described. Check multiple times to ensure every component has been added. Type frantically, shunning all human contact. Add a few more words to conclusion. Go back and add more to intro. Panic. Add more words; realize project is now over 40 pages long. Wonder if you'll be docked points. Panic. Finish project; let rest for a few hours. Return, edit, and send to online dropbox. Panic.

Dating on Roshar works when Jasnah convinces Shallan that Adolin is handsome and well-versed in amiable discourse, they establish a casual betrothal and begin courting.

0.o Blackwave will be a terrifying addition to Oregon, that's for sure. How long has Blackwave been scourgin' the high seas?

I tried to come up with some rp for Norlav but nothing really worked. So instead I decided to use Rolavs POV to make the connection between the two. It was raining, a chill persistent rain that swept through the camp. The rain did not noticeably dampen the celebration that was going on, since most of the revellers were too drunk to even notice the weather. Rolav was not drunk. He had work to do and he had nothing but contempt for those that drank on the job. Rolav wore a nondescript cloak of brown that covered him from head to toe. He went through the crowd as unobtrusively as possible, moving to where the lighteyes slept. Rolav stopped and drew back into a gap between the tents as the patrol tramped by. Normally they would be bribed to stay out of the way but with the last of the spies rooted out from the camp, they wouldn't be looking for anyone else. Their job was just to keep the peace and break up any drunken fights that got too out of hand. Rolav saw his destination, the building that was housing the lighteyes, and went into the foul smelling alley behind it. A ladder was placed against the wall as planned, and he went up and entered through a second storied window. He walked down the hallway and through the doorway leading to his targets bedroom. A former darkeyed servant having supplied the layout of the building and pointed out the room the targeted lighteyes was staying in. Once inside the room, Rolav laid on the bed. As long as he had to wait he might as well be comfortable. He could hear the sounds of dancing and stomping downstairs. It was less than half an hour later when he heard a heavy, slightly unsteady footfall on the stairs. He quickly rolled off the bed and moved silently to the door, pressing his ear against the panel. “It’s no trouble,” A slurred voice said. “I've got a copy in my room.” “Really, Brightlord Fenned, let us just enjoy the fun.” a female voice called from below. “I want you to read Gavilars latest proclamation to everyone. It’s the most idiotic thing I've heard.” The door opened and a man carrying a ruby firemark entered. It was the same man that Norlav had pointed out to Rolav four days earlier. Rolav wondered what the Brightlord had done to irritate someone enough to go to the expense of having them killed. He dismissed the thought. It was none of his business. The fact that the mark had his back to Rolav provided the perfect chance to try out his latest technique. Drawing a long thin blade out of his boot, he stepped up behind Fenned, and drove the blade into the base of the Brightlords skull with a steely crunch. He caught the collapsing body and quietly lowered it to the floor. A knife-thrust to the brain was always fatal, and it provided a quick, clean and silent death. Rolav set his foot on the body’s shoulder and tried to pull the blade out. But it was stuck fast, pulling a blade out of bone takes quite a bit of strength and Rolav just didn't have enough. Giving up on the blade, Rolav rolled the body over and looked intently into the dead face. Rolav always liked to make sure his targets were dead. Fenned was definitely dead. His eyes were blank, his face was turning blue and a little trickle of blood was coming out his nose. Pulling up the hood of his cloak, Rolav walked down the hallway and climbed out the window he had entered before. There were three more names on his list and with luck he could cross another off this night, but it was raining and Rolav hated to work in the rain. Norlav would understand if Rolav took the rest of the night off. This was a night to celebrate, after all, the Blackthorn had won a great victory as well as rooted out the last of the spies in camp. Kaddar, looks like you get your wish to be lynched after all.

In the Way of Kings, in the chapter The Weeping, Tien carves a photorealistic statue of a horse he'd seen the previous day, despite a generally regarded lack of carpentry skill. He also frequently "makes Kaladin feel better". It's noted in the epigraphs of Words of Radiance that the Lightweavers provided others with Spiritual Sustenance. Later, in the Chasms, when Shallan (a known Lightweaver) does the exact same thing to Kaladin, he even specifically thinks to himself, "This feel exactly like what Tien used to do for me." I think the case is compelling. I am sure enough to flat-out say it as true. If Tien wasn't ... well, getting into Semantics. Are you a Lightweaver before you say the first Oath? When are you a Surgebinder versus a Knight Radiant, and how do we divide up the ten kinds of Surgebinder if the terms for the Orders are reserved for the Radiants? (I've read different W's-o-B which confuse me on his personal use of the terminology. I like allomancy. You're an Allomancer, or you aren't. Snapping takes an instant, and lasts until you die or have that bit of your soul removed. None of this "potentially have a proto-bond which may or may not develop into something more concrete but can always be reversed under specific circumstances but then can be restored". Pah.) For the specific purposes of this post and only this post, I'm going to temporarily define "Lightweaver" as anyone starting to forge a bond with a Cryptic which has the potential to turn into a full Nahel bond granting access to the Illumination and Transformation Surges. If Tien wasn't a Lightweaver, he clearly had access to the same power Shallan has, a power referenced in Words of Radiance as belonging to the order of Lightweavers.

In one of the visions Dalinar mentions that he didn't have to do anything because it was a visions and not real life, But he had to because of his honor. My guess is that this was a test

Hmm...How long's it gonna be till the signup's posted? It's been... 6 hours since this game ended. How come JasonPenguin doesn't obsessively check this forum 200 times a day? Imean, um... I'm not saying I do that but, um, I... Know some people who... might... Mflblvxk

So, Matter Manipulators. Sightline wouldn't really know what to do with it. He's not very good with Engineering, so he'd just teleport above somebody and turn something into an Anvil. CorpseMaker would set about making the most Gothic Evil Lair he could possibly devise. Blackwave would just turn as much land to water as possible. I don't know what the others would do.

Hi Everyone! I'm Bridgette and I'm new here. I'm one of Sanderson's fan. I'm here to read more updates about him as well as looking forward to some other cool discussions about his works.

If my characters got matter manipulation along with their other powers... Mommy would make toys for her children, and a few things for herself. BusDriver wouldn't make buses anymore, and he'd probably be just as grouchy as always Reader would use it first to take over, then use it to recreate embarassing things from his subjects' pasts. Timeport....I don't even want to know what Timeport would do with it

Well at least until he was sleeping, I'm sure Sam would make sure he carries on the matter manipulator glitter tradition and just dump a bucket of glitter on him

Like, almost no glitter at all. Backtrack would probably continue to be lame and unimportant, completely unaware of how powerful he could actually be. Aldo would be pretty much the same.

Also less glitter. A lot less glitter.

Picture dark!Funtimes. Picture her with a raging case of PTSD and a disdain for everyone who isn't her. Picture her with no qualms against murder and more megalomania than is healthy. That's how I imagine matter manipulator Lightwards.

I also find it amusing that although he's powerful and can still potentially be as intimidating as the other two leaders Lightwards is really limited in immediate responses, which I think really does a lot to his character. Corpsemaker: Silence! Or I'll stare at you until you die while robbing you of your powers! Altermind: Silence! Or you'll be imagining bugs crawling over your for all eternity! Lightwards: Silence! Or... Or... I'll turn your clothes into a sheep! Yeah! That'll show you all!

I just like the idea of Nighthound creeping on someone and then suddenly being crushed under a sheep I suspect that if their powers were reversed that's all Funtimes would ever do.

Sables belong to the weasel family Mustelidae, and are officially designated as Martes zibellina. Sables are prized for their luxurious fur coats. Greater quantities of black hairs in an individual's coat makes for a pricier pelt. In heraldry, the color black is called "sable" as a reference to the animal's prized coat. Henry VIII banned all nobles below the rank of viscount from wearing clothing made from sable skins. Sables inhabit a wide range of Eurasian habitats, including the taiga of Siberia, the lowland forests of Mongolia, and the Japanese island of Hokkaido. The Soviet Union allowed colonies of religious separatists called the Old Believers to follow their traditional mode of life, in exchange for all sable skins the communities succeeded in catching. A Russian diplomat in the 17th century claimed that the soft fur of the sable inspired Greek legends of the Golden Fleece. The IUCN does not believe sables to be endangered, but admits data to be deficient in the case of the Japanese sub-population. The hybrid between a sable and a pine marten is called a kidus. This is a sable: This is a sable antelope: This is two sable antelopes: A Google Images search for "sable" will inevitably turn up countless pictures of sable fur coats, dead sable antelopes shot for trophies on the African savannah, and a model named Sable whom I've never heard of before today. Thus concludes today's lesson on sables in all their forms.

The entirety of the Unclaimed Hills, if I recall, is covered in grass. It's implied that grass is the default in most places. That said, there's a GREAT deal more variety in plantlife color than Earth typically sees. Apart from known-inhospitable places like the Frostlands or the Shattered Plains, I'd default most places to green, but don't be afraid to make a random forest of red or orange or white. Recall that Shallan's Middlefest flashback takes place in a basin filled with trees... I think they are stated as being predominantly white. And the lait she finds just outside the Shattered Plains had a psychadelic collection of plantlife.

Thanks to King for running this and everyone else who played! Also, thanks Araris--really appreciate the save. I'd pretty much said, "Sod this" and thrown the personal victory out of the window because I just wanted to survive one game as a Team Good player. (For the record, I've played eight games so far, including this, and I die in all but two of them. And the last time I survived, it was by riding on Team Evil. So yeah, I really badly wanted to survive but thought that explaining it in-thread would be kind of awkward. As in, major awkward. King knows, I had major sads in the game PM. So of course, he was hoping I got lynched, just so I wouldn't survive. Thank you for helping me achieve that.) One point of sadness for me is that I did figure Twei had the spanreed, thanks to having logged the base amount of time everyone spent in the Personal Messenger, and having been around to see her put in a really odd amount of time there in the cycle following Macen's death. And then I promptly forgot about it because that data table was lost somewhere in my notes >> The funny thing is, with regard to paranoia in this game, Ren and Wyrm are the ones I feel I really can't trust. With Wilson, it's this intellectual notion that everyone who trusts Evil!Wilson generally gets chulled over pretty badly, but at the same time, it's distant knowledge. With Ren and Wyrm, the scars run deep. Very deep Probably explains why I generally spend a lot of time suspicious of Ren in most of these games. Sorry, Ren! Most importantly, I'm saying it now: please don't expect this amount of activity from me in future games, much less assuming that it's my tell when I'm on Team Good Once my exams ended, I was in a pretty lucky period where I had the time to be a lot more active in this game than I really usually am. Otherwise, don't count on it! >>

Hey guys, I'm hoping to begin the coloring process for the planets tonight. I'm curious what you guys feel the planets look like. I've started with Taldain. Since White Sand is located there I've basically just made it a sand planet. I've attached a photo. Anyone have any idea what the surface of the planets would realistically look like? For Roshar I'll be making it mostly barren due to the highstorms. Except for the water obviously. I picture Braize looking like a hellish damnable place - lava canyons etc. Ashyn barren with a few patches of green. Sel... No clue Yolen I picture very ice-like First of the Sun mostly water, with islands Nalthis?? Scadrial I'll do a mix of brown and green. Threnody mostly green How do you guys feel about this? I'd like as much input as you can give. Especially for Sel and Nalthis. I've not read either Elantris or Warbreaker.

In that case: Look at what you got me to do. Now, I´m even turning characters into Ponies that don´t have anything to do with this RP.

"Not long enough." -Blackwave

Kaddar stopped, mid-glyph. Ink welled from the nib of his pen, smudging the half-written glyph. "Storms," he cursed, quietly. The letter wasn't ruined, of course, but... He sighed, and began again, writing by the light of the sphere-lantern. Old friend, By now, word of my death must have reached you. I believe we have successfully discovered all the eyes the Highprinces have placed within your forces, and as I write, those among us who remain loyal to you and to your brother will be moving to blind them. It is perhaps as well, Gavilar, for I tire of war. We have Roion and Aladar on the back foot now. If Dalinar has not yet written to you, then know this: we have fought numerous skirmishes against Roion, and two more against Aladar. Roion's forces are weakened and I have spoken personally to soldiers who wished to defect. They simply cannot afford to continue this war, and under Dalinar--the Blackthorn, they're calling him, have you heard?--they continue to lose ground. Eventually, Gavilar, you may be able to consider the resolution we spoke of. Incidentally, I'm absolutely sick of getting shot at. And I've tried insulting Roion from a safe distance, and behind my shield, which might explain it. The only other Highprince here to insult at this point is your brother, old friend, so unless I was put here to insult him...I did say I wouldn't question your decisions, did I? Well, I'm about to die. So I'm questioning them, now. Very hard. The other letters were perhaps written far too hastily. Now though, I think my death approaches for good. Hopefully, by the time word of my death reaches you, you'll also have received news from Dalinar that your forces have been purged of spying eyes. Just consider yourself fortunate we didn't have to slaughter our way through most of your army to do it! I admit, I was hoping it would not come to that. The first chapter of this new Alethkar will, unfortunately, be written in blood. To write it, however, in the massacre of good men, most of whom were innocent... He paused. Hulin squawked. "What is it, girl?" he asked, quietly. He added, on the very last sheet of paper as a post-script: Please take care of my warchickens, for me. One last favour to an old friend. Perhaps they'll fend for themselves, but if they remain with the camp, then I could think of no one else I'd prefer to entrust them to than you. Kaddar ran his fingers through the chicken's feathers, and thought long and hard about the skirmish on the morrow.

Pattern can hold Shallan´s illusions, so I don´t see why Syl shouldn´t be able to hold Kaladin´s lashings.

A friendly reminder, the Cycle will end in ~9 hours.

I would have revealed myself anyway, Ren I'd have died no matter what I did, and this was my first chance to do an Epic Evil RP. Plus, now you all get to wonder who the final sabotage will be! Norlav, for exposing Brightlord Ace and not dying when he should have? Reihmer, who wouldn't leave me alone in the last few cycles? Mek, who probably shouldn't be staring at Torwel while he's deciding who to kill? Alinel, for not being quite suspicious enough to help the spies out? Eoldren, since we've been studiously ignoring each other the entire game? Kaddar, to deny his personal victory in a bizzare change of order of actions? Jost, for his lucky hit on Jain? Tal, for killing my partner Damon? Newan, for killing the innocent Odysa?

Cool. Here's Blackwave conducting a (canon) Job interview. (No, Canon isn't meant to be a pun. There' unfortunately no Cannons)

I think we are misreading Gavilar a bit. Agreed in his heydays he was a war mongering overlord like his brother. Additionally he was associated with the Sons of Honor and their lunatic schemes (infered from Amaram's comment towards the end of WoR). But I believe we are missing the extent of Gavilar's transformation towards the end. Both Dalinar and Jasnah have remarked upon this. Let me point out two glaring things Gavilar did at the point of death. One, he quoted the Way of Kings. This is the same book that caused such an effective transformation in Dalinar who was no better than his brother and also perhaps the reason behind Gavilar's change. What did Gavilar's quote refer to? Most probably the first oath. If Gavilar believed in the first oath then it is certain his relations with Sons of Honor were souring. Here we come to the second point. Gavilar suspected Restares, the leader of Sons of Honor, to be behind the assassination. This tells me Gavilar was probably actively subverting their agenda towards the end. Also notice he gives the black sphere to Szeth and tells him it must not fall in wrong hands - presumably Parshendi but can also include Sons of Honor. We cannot ignore the effects of the visions on Gavilar. They were warning him of a coming Desolation and showing him the consequences of the previous ones. Knowing that I hardly think he would want to hasten the very Desolation which was already coming. I get the impression from Amaram's comment, implicating Gavilar in his plans, that he was in dark regarding Gavilar's intentions and it is likely Gavilar was trying to subvert their plans from the inside. In nutshell I think it is not justified to judge Gavilar solely based on Amaram's comment.

Meanwhile... Reihmer sat on a soulcast bench just outside of the training grounds, watching the other men walk off in search of Torwel. And what had he done the whole time? He had written poems for their dead. Reihmer still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d taken up that job; after all, it did appear to have a grim mood set to it, and Reihmer was not one for grimness. That said, Reihmer noticed that his poetry was actually getting… better. A little. Perhaps, one day, he’d get out of these storm-forsaken warcamps and write great poetry to be displayed proudly upon the walls of the Palanaeum. He was thinking of leaving the Warcamp, actually. Just after he fought in the next skirmish… Reihmer’s poems for the hundreds of wounded and dead soldiers began to change him. He felt less at ease in these Shattered Plains, and even more at ease with his poetry. He wrote about silly topics, at times, but he also wrote serious poems, in the hope that one day he’d get published. He’d already heard several of his fellow darkeyes praise his work, and he actually saved one man’s life with them, a man who was planning to commit suicide into the chasms far below. And Reihmer saved him. The Spies’ days were numbered, Reihmer had heard. The other Highprinces were beginning to yield to Gavilar. Grumpy old Dal had won the day. However, as Reihmer heard the men cheer for the Blackthorn’s return after the recent skirmish with Roion, he realized that there was another group of unsung heroes in these warcamps: the spies. They hadn’t done anything wrong; they were simply serving their Highprinces, as much as he himself was (reluctantly) serving his. “Sir!” Reihmer heard one of the Brightlords shout to old Dal. “The men have seen one of Roion’s spies in the camp!” The Blackthorn nodded, his face grave. The efforts of the spies had taken a toll on him, quite visibly. The battles over the past few weeks had been brutal, with their enemies anticipating every one of their moves, and retaliating. Reihmer counted himself lucky to still be alive, all things considered. But this Brightlord’s words interested him. The lighteyes told Dalinar that the spy had last been spotted somewhere near the command tent, and Reihmer took off, before anyone noticed. The spy’s description seemed to suspiciously match Torwel’s, one of his fellow spearmen. If that was the case, Reihmer knew exactly where to find that spy. Stormwall Tavern, a bar on the other side of the warcamp. --- Reihmer burst through the wooden door, nearly crashing into one of the barstools. A Horneater innkeeper nearly dropped the cup he was drying in shock. Panting, Reihmer looked around the tavern, seeing only three patrons inside. It was still midday, and Reihmer should have been out in the training grounds, with everyone else. Oh well. Hopefully old Dal wouldn’t execute him for it. Reihmer quickly spotted Torwel, and strode up to him. “Hello,” Reihmer spoke, causing Torwel to jump. The poor spy really was worried. He knew he only had minutes to live. Reihmer wasn’t exactly sure how drinking would help the fellow at this point in time, but who was he to judge? Reihmer reached into his folder, and gave a sheet of crinkled paper to Torwel. “I assume you can read glyphs?” Reihmer asked. Torwel nodded silently, taking a swig of his drink. “Well, here’s a poem. I figured you’d be the last spy, so I wrote this up in advance.” He paused, as Torwel began reading through Reihmer’s scrawling words. Reihmer sighed, hearing the approaching cries of soldiers. “It’s… well, it’s the best I could do. I hope you enjoy it." Scenes are set, and actors cast. Casting actors, and set are scenes. Now is our final act, the end of all. Of endings, the act finale, ours, is now. Before desolation, the cries of slain unite; united, slain of crying the desolations before. Spies shouting: “Fools! All fools,” shout spies. Stones tossed, revealing hands with towers. Towers with hands, revealing tossed stones. Endings are now, and now are endings. Noble adversary, your game played well. Well-played game, you adversary noble. Left us running from chasmfiends, your tricks did. Tricky, your chasmfiend from running us left. Aladar, Vamah, Roion, of spies all worthy of praise. Of worthiness, all spies of Roion, Vamah, Aladar. Jain’s death was simply lucky tosses, luck simply was death, Jain’s. Ace’s gambit did precarious positions put surgeons. Put positions, precariously, did gambits, Ace’s. Karlin and Damon stayed away from suspicions; suspicious from, away, stayed Damon and Karlin. If connections unseen, Aonar’s life would still be. Still, would live, Aonar. Unseen connections. If Longer we had delayed, manipulated greatly would he. Would great manipulations, delay had we longer. Now you, Torwel. Unfortunate death inevitable, inevitably dying unfortunately, Torwel. You now. A truly awesome road did you take. You did ride awesomely, truly. A Pity old Dal sees not the same. The not-seeing Dal, old pity. Caught are we, visionaries, in this war-stricken world. War-stricken, these in visions. We are caught. Trapped in wars, skirmishes, death… skirmishes, wars, in traps. You have evaded the traps this whole time, for that I applaud. Applaud I, that for time wholesome, this traps the evasion. Have you Wondered everything Alethkar could be, without corruption? Without being, could Alethkar everything wonderfully? Alas, this chapter is unspoken. For now. For unspeaking are chapters, these. Alas, True awesomeness art thou, in the face of war. Of facing in thou, art awesomeness true. Praise shall we, “Torwel!” We shall praise. Final spies, silent heroes, silent spy’s finale. Thorns in Blackthorn, have you poked. You Blackthorned in thorns, Causing disarray in armies. In disarray, causing Awesomeness, via spanreeds. Via awesomeness, Do we praise. And praise we do. All is done, and united we are. We, united and done, are all. Fare thee well, Torwel. Well thee fare. And there's that poem I mentioned. There is probably some sort of deep, underlying message in the poem... you just can't see it. (Or at least, I can't.)

Words of Radiance timeline for current events. Open to editing version It's probably still off by a day or two in a few places. I'd like to include some more of the Way of Kings dates, but the passage of time is much more vague in the first book. Notes: Peter stated in the Typos thread that Dalinar should have used "Eleven days." instead of twelve in chapter 67. The dates come mostly from Taravangian's list of Highstorm dates in the chapter 88 epigraph and partially from the countdown of the scratched numbers (Which Navani says leads to 10-10-3). Those are in agreement. From there I used PoV comments about when highstorms and certain events occurred/will occur. I haven't tried estimating any time frames yet. In chapter 31, Kaladin thinks "It seemed like too soon since the last one" despite a 4 day gap, especially since it was preceded by a 5 day and a 2 day gap. A 4 day gap is pretty typical, really. Maybe it's just that the week leading up to it was fairly boring and uneventful. In Interlude 11, Eshonai says that she's been in stormform for 15 days, and that the next highstorm is in two days. This works if she's only counting the full days between, otherwise it should be 16. Some chapters are hard to place, and some I just haven't felt like adding in yet. The Interlude chapters are especially hard to place, with the exception of the Eshonai chapters, which some good markers. Any criticisms or suggestions would be appreciated.

Survive long enough to get a shardblade: a statistically terrible plan of action, but it somehow worked out. Thanks everybody for a fun game! And thanks for being so nice and encouraging me despite past hiccups. It's all of you great people that keep me coming back to these games. Also, to the new people: thank you for sticking with it. I hope to see all of you in future games!

Eh, worth it. and since you inferred that the books still maintain their magic properties, Then I can start by reading all the Tamriel Skill books.

My plan is coming to fruition! Nice pony. Who is it?

It was down, then up, and now it's down again. It's like a drunk windrunner. I'll just keep refreshing this: http://downforeveryoneorjustme.com/brandonsanderson.com

First, thanks to all previous posters for warning me off some of these series (with good explanations why) - you've saved me some time! Here are my contributions: Stephen Lawhead's Celtic Crusades series was a severe disappointment, especially after his initial Arthur trilogy and the Song of Albion Cycle were so great. Not sure what happened to him. I gave his newest series, Bright Empires, a chance, and I enjoyed the first 4 volumes; but the final book was again a real disappointment - it's like he didn't know what to do with characters/situations, so he just ended them abruptly or glossed over things. He was my favorite author in the 90s, but I think this is the end of the line for me. Like others above, I thought Divergent didn't live up to the hype - like a poor cousin of the Hunger Games IMO. And I am one of those people who did not care for most of WoT. The only reason I read any of the books was to be able to read Brandon's final 3. #6 was such grinding agony that, for #7-11, I opted for Leigh Butler's re-read at Tor.com + the WoT Encyclopaedia. To me, all the pages and pages of excessively florid description and all the naked people hitting each other with sticks for no discernable reason just got to be too much - take all that out, and each book would have been maybe 100-150 pages, or at least that's how it felt to me. I did enjoy #12-14, and was pretty satisfied with how things ended in AMoL. Someone else mentioned Michael Grant's Gone series; that was another one I didn't like. The first book was OK, but by the middle of #2 it seemed like it had changed from a paranormal/modern fantasy story to pure horror - as if the author was thinking, "What can I put the characters through that will be even more horrifying than what they've faced so far?" I cheated and looked up the series synopsis on wikipedia, and quickly determined not to expend any more effort in that direction. Wish I could delete the 1st volume from my iBookshelf because I will never want to read it again. I very much enjoyed A Fire Upon the Deep by Vernor Vinge, but was badly disappointed by the sequel and could not finish it. The first book in the Patricia Hutchins series by Jack McDevitt, The Engines of God, was the best in that series; IMO they got weaker as it went along. His Alex Benedict series is much stronger, and #1 A Talent for War is one of the best SF books I've ever read. I tried **Ringworld, because it's supposed to be a classic (and because I got it at the library's thrift store for 25 cents). It was OK, but what I noticed most was how slow-moving it was. I think the reason is that novels and movies are just more action-filled now: my expectations have changed. I bet if I'd read it right after it was published, I'd have liked it better. [**edited Jan 1 2015] The same goes for Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders series. It just seemed too slow-moving and too predictable. But (as someone posted above for another series) I suspect that this is because I read it years after I'd read newer works that were patterned after it but written in a more contemporary style. Finally, I have to add the classic Lensmen series, by E.E. "Doc" Smith. These were written 1948-54 and are considered very influential early SF works. While it's interesting to read these short novels for historical perspective ... well, if you look at the original Star Trek series from the 60s and the way it portrayed people, Lensmen is even more guilty of stereotyping and the bad kind of old-fashioned attitudes than ST-TOS was.The science is old too: In the first book, the author apparently didn't know how destructive atomic bombs were (!). I would not recommend this series except as a study in historical ways that American men viewed women and other people in general. Mostly, I think it would just make modern people angry, and why go out of your way for that? Sorry this entry was so long - wish I'd found this thread sooner. :-)

The kandra worldhopper doesn't have access to a magic system (and can't, really, unless you're proposing Harmony spiked a few people to help out his kandra followers, or is acting as a universal taxi service or something), nor are there any signs that Mraize and Iyatil do, nor are there any signs that Nazh does (as he's from Threnody which has no Shard and sort of can't have started with any magic). Hoid himself only had access to Lightweaving at the start (which, uh, doesn't exactly allow one into the Cognitive), but managed to "jumpstart" himself into being able to go anywhere somehow. Demoux only has/had access to atium, and we know by WoB that atium is not related to worldhopping on Scadrial. I'll also note our worldhopping Terriswoman only theoretically has access to Feruchemy, and we've not seen a metal that would let a Feruchemist enter the Cognitive (though I'd not be surprised if a God-Alloy metal stored your Physical presence and shunted you off into the Cognitive... but why would she have atium or lerasium?). I find it to be a difficult argument to make that worldhopping requires a magic system, and after a nice long sleep and re-reading the WoB, I still think my arguments make sense for the WoB. Plus, there's always the Shardpool argument. Rock can swim in the emerald pools no problem. I imagine if he had the intent to do so, he could use that Shardpool to end up in the Cognitive. Doesn't explain Demoux or Nazh, though...

No! I don't wanna be tortured! I'll tell you anything, just don't make me read them! Please, I beg you!

And nothing at all to do with a limited supply of Investiture or new laws regulating the selling and purchasing of Breath. Someone found some ancient documents about his life (way back in the day) and made a movie about him that won the equivalent of 11 Oscars and 4 Golden Globes. It was so successful it made him skedaddle for the price of one Nightblood and 200 Breath (the first delivered to a certain Herald, the later to Hoid). Indeed, the truth revealed at last! ​Brought to you by the Cosmere Enquirer: Get your Cosmere Gossip Here. In our next issue, "Where is Marsh? And how to attract Kelsier's Shadow to you!"

Elhokar's eyes were described as two different colors in different places in the first book. It also said that he looked very much like his father. So we decided to change his eye color to match Gavilar's. We need to update the first book.

I think that perhaps Tezim gets a brief shout-out in book two as well.

So, while rereading a portion of Shallan's interaction with Mraize (chapter 54), I came upon this: "No, I'm not worried about that one. The old fool sows chaos, but does not reach for the power offered by opportunity. He hides in his insignificant city, listening to its songs, thinking he plays in world events. He has no idea. His is not the position of the hunter. This creature in Tukar, however, is different. I'm not convinced he is human. If he is, he's certainly not of the local species..." Local species of human? That makes it sound as if Mraize thinks there are more kinds of species. It's a thin thread to hang on, but it almost implies that Mraize could be a world hopper. Interestingly, it also has the implication that Darkness (which must be the creature in Tukar, if you ask me), could possibly be a world hopper as well. So yeah, there's my first wild theory.

This might have been mentioned already, and it's not really a typo, but page 780 needs some serious math work: (Spoilers ahead, btw!) 2 blades, 3 plates. 1 blade, 1 plate. 2 plates. Uh, nope, it doesn't. It leaves one Shardblade, that's all. Moash is now in possession of magical non-existent plate. Or am I missing something?