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I was thinking about SA the other day, and for some reason I made a connection I never had before. Kaladin = Buzz Lightyear.

This is a guide to Doctor Who by someone who doesn't watch the show. It is hilarious. Edit: Wow, that moment when you have another thing to post on random stuff, but no one is on there right now and you can't do it without double posting. I'll just edit this post. I find this true:

Term 2: Month 1 - Endless Dreaming [writeup to be edited in] Aeaieis (ostrichofevil) has gone insane! Wilem (Mailliw73) was brought On the Horns but the charges were dropped! Dow (Dowanx) was brought On the Horns but the charges were dropped! Touka Kirishima was brought On the Horns but the charges were dropped! Mind of Akasha (Bridge Boy) was brought On the Horns and charged with Undignified Mischief! He needs to RP an apology. Sasuke Uchia (Weaving Webs) was brought On the Horns and charged with Undignified Mischief! He needs to RP an apology. These students were elevated: Touka Kirishima, Amari, Haelbarde, Pyra Ghetti, Mind of Akasha, Delta Warning: As per the rules, every player must PM the GMs once per term to state where they are lodging (or send in an order in perpetua for your current location). If you do not PM the GMs, you will be on The Streets, even if you can afford the location you are in. Because this is the first term and so many people forgot to send in orders for this, we will give you 12 hours from now to place an order for lodging for Term 2. If you do not let us know in that time frame, you will still be on The Streets.

Brandon says he specifically remembers this question, and he remembers saying that Threnody and Sel were not in the same system. In any case, Threnody and Sel do not revolve around the same star. (And they're not in a binary system system either, for those trying to salvage something out of this.)

The Potter household, Halloween 1981 Voldemort: Knock knock. James: Who's there? Voldemort: You know. James: You know who? Voldemort: Correct. James: ... James: Rust.

Hey Everyone, I always wanted to participate in this forum, just never really got around to it. I completely love the Cosmere and just about everything that Sanderson has written. First time on a forum. So any kind of pointers would be appreciated.

Hello all and greetings to everyone, welcome to the tautology club! The tautology club is a super exclusive club that you can only join by joining the tautology club. *The Tautology club is not affiliated with the Dark Alley because it is unaffiliated with the Dark Alley.

So I received my beautiful slipcased copies of Shadows of SIlence in the Forest of Hell and Perfect State today, and there was a preface in SoS that wasn't included in the previous versions of the story - I have typed it below for you, word for word, as I think it provides some interesting insight into Threnody... "When George R.R Martin approached me to ask if I'd be willing to contribute a story to Dangerous Women, I was ecstatic. George is known best for his Westeros books, but he is also an excellent author, having put together many anthologies. His recent themed anthologies with Gardner Dozois ave become something of a "Who's Who" in the fantasy and science fiction world. It was a real honor to be invited/ After he told me the theme was "dangerous women", I at first thought of Perfect State, the other novella in this collection. I had a very rough draft of that done, but hadn't submitted it anywhere for publication I sent that to George and Gardner, and they felt it wasn't on theme enough, and asked if I had anything else. I didnt, not yet, but something had happened recently that had planted a seed in my mind. I had been involved in some genealogy work, and had run across the name of a Puritan woman called Silence. That intrigued me. Who would name their daughter Silence, and for what reason? Charity I can get. Faith makes total sense. But Silence? Perhaps she was late int he birth order, and her parents were really hoping to sleep through the nights this time. Either way, the name stuck with me. I'd had the idea for Threnody, the Cosmere world when a group of pilgrimesque people fled the Old World because it was overrun by a terrible evil long ago. It was actually a very early Cosmere world, developed around 1999 or 2000. (Though the name didn't get assigned to it until Isaac gave a suggestion upon reading this novella.) Having an intriguing Puritan name and a world that took inspiration from early American history seemed a ready-made match, but I had to ask myself, how was Silence going to be dangerous? I was worried that the anthology was going to be stuffed full of women either in the "femme fatale" vein or the "I wear black leather and kick demon butt" vein. I've often felt that we, in fantasy, sometimes do a poor job of representing people (both male and female) who are powerful and capable in ways other than their ability to stand in a fight. Yes, giving a woman a sword is one way to make her dangerous, but I resist making every powerful woman into one who has become so by forcing her way into a traditionally male-dominated realm of face-to-face combat. The world was mostly formed in my head, though over the years I'd added the diea of the shades for various reasons. One was to show off a few hints regarding the Cosmere afterlife, and another came during my initial research for the Stormlight Archive, where I read a lot about classical Hebrew life and philosophy. The original idea for Threnody was to make a system of magical rules with their roots int he Law of Moses and Jewish tradition. (Not mixing blood with milk, not kindling flames after nightfall on the Sabbath etc.) Many of these rules transformed over the years, leaving their roots behind in the same way that the Stormlight magic system left behind its roots in the fundamental forces of physics. But you can see those hints still having an influence on the tone and setting of this story. This intersection of these ideas developed into this story, one that soon became one of my favorite Cosmere tales. I hope you enjoy it! (And no, for those searching, Hoid does not make an appearance. Unfortunately, he needed to be somewhere else in the timeline at this point.)

Hey guys I'm Bryce, big fan of Brandon's Cosmere Books and im glad he finished wheel of time, I haven't read any of his other works but maybe I will. I don't write myself but listen to "Writing Excuses" because I enjoy listening to the process. You'll likely see me mostly on the copper mind but just wanted to say hello.

"We've lost most of the west side of town! The missiles are relentless, sir. I don't kno..." Surveillance's voice was drowned out as Quicksilver smashed another missile. His concentration was unbreakable, but missiles were still slipping through his grasp. Arsenal must be nearing his limit. This volume of raw material is incredible! I need to hold out for a little longer. He caught another missile with a tendril of metal and launched it towards the city below. This tactic wasn't working. Time to try something different. Quicksilver channeled massive amounts of metal through his arms, creating two huge streams of silver that poured towards the guard's HQ. They flowed like mercury until they hit the building and began to engulf it. Every surface was covered in a gleaming metal coating that found every nook and crack. Quicksilver pulled every minute bit of metal he could find, from window frames to gutter pipes. The missile launch pads were swallowed and crushed, every piece of metal extracted. Quicksilver knew he didn't have enough metal to cover the entire building, so he concentrated on the windows, blocking every viewpoint he could find. From there he pressed inwards, ripping the very wires from the wall and the locks off of doors. He didn't need to be able to see the metal, he just needed to touch it with the metal already under his control. Even as he destroyed the missile pads, more sprung up to replace them. Arsenal could hit what he couldn't see, but it made it much more difficult. As more and more windows were covered, the missiles grew wilder and wilder while there were fewer missiles now, Quicksilver had less metal to catch them with. Three tendrils were all he could spare, and already the pillar he moved on had shortened. Arsenal could create his weapons from nothing, Quicksilver had to use what was already there. The odds were not in his favor. He'd have to utilize his resources carefully, or he'd find himself coming up short. And in a battle of this magnitude, that would be a death sentence. Pulling back all but the window coverings, Quicksilver focused once more on the missiles. Most of the west side of town was gone, along with patches throughout the rest of town. He would have to focus on the eastern side for now. Better to salvage some and lose most of the system than to lose all of it spreading himself too thin. Now he focused on destroying the east and north bound missiles, as well as the missile platforms. He made sure that he continued to hit the missiles heading west and south so as not to draw Arsenal's attention to his main objective. He purposefully let some missiles that were headed towards residential areas pass him. The more innocent lives ended by Arsenal, the stronger the conflict Vondra would feel. Quicksilver shouted to Surveillance over his com, "Surveillance, tell the men to head for the bridge. They are not to stop for anything. Then put me on all radio frequencies you can find, the guard's, the emergency broadcast, all of them. I have a message for the Dalles, and for Vondra." "On it." Surveillance replied, the sound of exploding missiles echoing in the background. Using the radio they'd taken from the guard woman they'd captured earlier would expedite the process, but configuring it into a mass broadcast system was by no means instantaneous, even with Surveillance's abilities. Quicksilver continued to battle the missiles as he waited in grim silence. Even with all of the missiles he was letting by, this was nothing short of demanding. Precious seconds passed until he heard Surveillance's response. "You're on boss. All the available signals I could find everything from FM to HAM radio. Just use your com's second channel to mass broadcast." Quicksilver grunted in acknowledgement. It was time for some propaganda. "People of the Dalles, HEAR ME!" Quicksilver's gravelly baritone resounded throughout the city as every available radio played his words. Even the missiles stopped firing, though Quicksilver was sure the respite was not to last for long. "I ask you to look at your city, at this haven for humanity amidst a world ruled by Epics. This city, where those sworn to protect you rain missiles down on your heads even as the one branded as an outlaw fights to stop it. Your protectors allow wild animals to roam the streets and sanctioned epics to destroy your homes. And still Vondra claims he can protect you! He maintains that Arsenal is under his control, that Deathwish follows his strict orders, that he is still in charge. But even as he says these things Deathwish and his ilk continues to molest the city while Arsenal's totalitarian hold grows tighter and tighter. "I have been here for years! Not once have I gone on rampages through your homes, or one by one stolen your freedoms. I fought the invaders when they came just yesterday and even now I stave off missiles aimed at your children in hopes that I might preserve what remains of this city. Ask yourself who is the true villain in the Dalles. Because I guarantee you Stephen Vondra knows. "Don't you Stephen?"

"A modern reinvention of the superhero genre, focusing on the subversion of societies preconceived ideas on power and the individual. This cutting edge collaborative endeavor highlights the implied but unaddressed consequences of super "heroes" and displays brutally realistic characters that showcase every flaw imaginable. From serial sexual abuse perpetrators to narcissistic murderers, this brilliant satire of the golden age of comic heroes doesn't shy away from the dark underbelly of the world. Tossing aside gender stereotypes, narrative conventions, and even common sense, What Happened in Oregon is a story you wont want to miss!" Also there are dinosaurs.

Congrats on finally get out Twi, New Orleans (or "Nor-lins" as you will quickly find out) is a really fun city. With that said, I'll just leave this here...

This obligatory XKCD comic about tautologies is a tautology comic that I am obliged to post.

Folks, I hate to be a killjoy, but I just asked Brandon about this, and he says that he answered that question with "No, they are not."

Ok, I have a good one. A man is walking through a dark alleyway when he hears a voice behind him, and jumps. "Wasing the wanting of knowing." He turns around, and he sees a boy with a strip of cloth around his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," the boy says "I didn't mean to Spook you!"

"She approaches this destruction with the same childlike whimsy she destroys everything else. Except for when she traps Lightwards in tar. He used to be a college professor." "A symbolic representation of young people, rebelling at last against the ignorance of academia, are often forced to destroy a world that no longer accepts them as they are!"

This is the best club ever (better than the dark alley) because it's better than all other clubs. To begin with, I would like to state a quote that has already been stated by the original author of the quote. "When more and more people are thrown out of work, unemployment results." — Former U.S. President Calvin Coolidge. Tautologies are great, as they possess the quality of greatness. Now, I would like to reduce tautologies to the bare minimum by removing everything except for what I'm about to state in simple, logical terms: A implies A. Math Tautologies! 4=4! i=i! x=x! (the !s are not factorial signs because they do not denote factorials.) TLDR: I would like to join the tautology club. TLDRWTLSDR (TLDR was TL so DR): 17th Shard = 17th Shard.

Edit: You definitely just read that in Morgan Freeman's voice...

So, all the connections we saw: Svrakiss/Shades, Odium/Evil, Sel Magic/Simple Rules... we see what we want to see. It's the Wizard's First Rule: People will believe a lie because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it might be true. (Not accusing the OP or question-asker of lying; just that we ran with it way too eagerly.)

This is actually the second post I believe, but I figured what the heck, might as well do one of these! Gotta get my forum rank up somehow I have a few questions for some helpful souls on the forums - What is Brandon Sanderson? No mere human can write books that fast... - Are there actually any beggars in the cosmere who aren't Hoid? I can't find one..... - what order do the cosmere books occur in? - will we ever see some fights between between characters with different magic systems?

I've mentioned this speculation once before, but thought I might give it its own thread where it can be shot down by a wider audience on its own small merits. Everyone's favorite quote about the Dawnsingers is the following conversation between Kabsal and Shallan: (Irrelevant side note: does it seem ominous to anyone else that Kabsal is vouching for these 'caring healers' while he is using his 'caring priest' persona to plot murder, within shouting distance of a hospital where other healers were committing mass murder?) So, what would be the 'opposite' of a Voidbringer? I guess the closest opposite would be a spren being possessed by a Parshendi. But that doesn't seem likely at the moment. We know, however, that there are two nonhuman sapiences on Roshar: Parshendi and Aimians. We know that Aimia and the Shattered Plains are on opposite sides of Roshar. We know that blue and red are commonly used as opposites, and Aimians are blue and Parshendi are red. We know that Slaveform Parshmen are inhumanly dull and passive, while (presumably unbonded) Aimians are commonly seen as superhumanly clever and devious. So, if the Parshendi are the Voidbringers, and the Dawnsingers are the opposite of the Voidbringers, it would seem to make sense that the Dawnsingers were Aimians.

So I was rereading The Final Empire and something occurred to me during the scene when Marsh teaches Vin tips on bronze. Full disclaimer, I haven't spent nearly enough time thinking this over so it might be shaky; I just thought it was interesting. Firstly, some things that we know: Using Allomancy produces waves that can be sensed by those burning bronze These waves have varying "pulse lengths" and an experienced Seeker can differentiate the metal being burned based on this These waves can vary in strength as well (this seems to be implied when Vin describes pewter as "a bold beat, and quick"). Copper makes these these pulses essentially undetectable within a given radius The enhancement metals can nullify or enhance the affects of Allomancy The first three facts make Allomancy seem suspiciously similar to electromagnetic radiation. There appears to be an Allomantic "spectrum" which Seekers can detect, and the nature of these Allomantic waves is defined by pulse length (wave length) and strength (amplitude of the wave). So my guess is that these waves are not simply a byproduct of Allomancy, but the actual investiture itself propagating through some realmatic field. Viewed in this way, some things begin to make sense. For example, we know that metals themselves do not fuel Allomancy directly, but act as a "catalyst". The mists (raw gaseous investiture, the body of Preservation) fuel Allomancy externally. This can be viewed like white light (investiture) being filtered into one specific wavelength or color (the Allomantic effect). This also gives some insight into how the enhancement metals may work on a realmatic level. Waves can interfere with each other constructively (peaks meet peaks and troughs meet troughs) when two waves are in phase, creating a stronger resultant wave. Or alternatively they can interfere destructively and cancel out (peaks meet toughs and vice versa). So Duralumin for example, may simply be producing a wave that constructively interferes with another Allomantic wave, making a wave with greater amplitude and consequently greater strength. On a similar note, this explains how copper clouds can be pierced. If copper is exploiting destructive interference to cancel out bronze waves, then it is to be expected that any bronze wave with a great enough amplitude will not be canceled out entirely (specifically any amplitude greater than that of the copper wave). *Takes long breath* So, I'm sure this has to be at least somewhat intentional, Brandon does like to make his magic grounded in physics (maybe not to this point but such is the role of a sharder). If I'm right this means investiture is a kind of fundamental force in the Cosmere along with gravity, electromagnetism, and the strong and weak forces. It seems to interact with them all in some way as well (similar to the electro-weak interaction). Take surgebinding, you have the surge of gravitation (force of gravity, duh), the surge of illumination (electromagnetism), the surge of division (possibly the weak force). Additionally investiture does seem to act like radiation in how it reacts with spiritual DNA. Too much of it can damage or mutate your sDNA as seen with savants, and invested objects can alter your spritweb. That's about all I have, I hope it wasn't too technical or I didn't explain it well enough. I'd love to hear your thoughts

Foreword: I, evidently, have the worst memory ever because half of the terms used I use because I have forgotten the actual word Sanderson uses. "Attuned", etc. is one such term. <- not anymore it isn't. So, one of the (admittedly few) WoB I know of states that the weapon used to kill Adonalsium and make the 16 shards does not exist as it once did, or something to that effect. My proposition, although it may have already been disproved in a different WoB or another source, is that Hoid is the weapon. A theory I saw recently suggested that Adonalsium was not a great being to kill in terms of difficulty, because he, like Preservation in Mistborn, added parts of himself to everything, severely weakening himself in the process. From BoM we know that Feruchemical stores attune to one's soul have an Identity specific to the Feruchemist, but also that they can be specially made (IIRC only by full Feruchemists) to not be attuned to anyone. This makes such items, like the titular Bands of Mourning, valuable weapons and artefacts, because anyone, Feruchemist or otherwise, can use them. The way I think Hoid could be the weapon used to kill Adonalsium is if he has nothing in his soul, like one of the Bands, which makes him attuned to a specific thing. Therefore, in theory, Adonalsium might not be able to have any control over his actions and so Hoid, or whatever he was before killing him, could do what he likes. This would explain why Hoid did not gain a Shard while the others did (possibly). It had nothing to bind to him with, because he is like a blank sheet of paper. Endnote: before anyone questions a detail I might end up contradicting, I mostly posted this to see what the community would come up with, and it seemed more appropriate to add some reasoning instead of having a 2 line post quoting the WoB then saying "'Oi d'ya think it's Hoid?". That said I hope I don't contradict myself as it wouldn't exactly add any credibility to the theory. EDIT 2(?): I have no clue how this affects it, but in WoK I stumbled upon this most interesting of quotes regarding Hoid's beginning which I hadn't considered: when he speaks to Kaladin on the Shattered plains (or rather, plays to Kaladin for a large portion of the meeting) he says that he "began life as a thought, a concept, words on a page. That was another thing I stole [at this point he is talking about the fact he is a thief]. Myself."

Hey I'm Ryan I found this site after scouring through Coppermind while having nothing else to do at work. I've read and listened to the first Mistborn trilogy and the Stormlight books a few times now and I've been trying to walk the fine line of avoiding speculation and theories, and jumping in and reading everything I can. I've been a part of many forums, owned and managed a few, and no matter what happens I always find myself crawling back to a new one.

The Stormlight Archives Regency Romance PART FIVE The morning constitutionals – if that was what they were – were still ongoing when they had arrived at the North Courtyard. Jasnah, after eyeing the butler directing the footmen in raising a large white tent outside their viewing pavilion, summoned a servant to run back to their rooms to collect some personal items for their diversion. Shallan now had her satchel of sketchbooks and pen boxes, and Jasnah a few books. The North Courtyard was a sunny area screened from the drive by a row of ornamental topiary. It was paved with large square tiles of smoothly pebbled concrete; unlike the courtyard and entryway at her father’s house in Scotland, this Courtyard had no cracks from which persistent weeds crawled out of the ground. A hemi-circular colonnaded pavilion jutted from a wing of the House, and was furnished with an oval table and cast iron chairs that servants had cushioned before allowing them to be seated. Aproned servants were now setting up a smaller table by wall, snapping out crisp white cloths and pushing trolleys clattering with porcelain settings. Shallan was now sketching the capitals – the elaborate twining reliefs on either end of the sandstone columns. They were stylised grapevines and leaves; it was a novel drawing exercise for her – she was an amateur scholar of natural history, dabbling now and then into botany, but she had few specimens on which to practise her taxonomic skills. The estate around her home, she thought rather wistfully, had thistle and heather, hare and dogs and deer. There was a considerable amount of each, but the lack of variety was – one might admit – not particularly rewarding. After turning to a new page in her sketchbook and scraping a fresh point onto her charcoal with a folded paper sleeve of emery, Shallan noticed a sharp clack, clack, clack-ing had risen above the general murmur and hubbub of servants at work. It was something that one got used to, after a time - the sounds of servants were like creaking cicadas. They eventually faded into the background and you forgot they existed until you needed something - at that point they were nowhere to be found. She supposed that was why the best butlers and ladies’ maids were habitually poached from one Grand House to another: everyone found valuable in a servant the rare talent of having at hand what you needed before you had even realised it yourself. On the courtyard, two men were whacking one another with sticks. They were not plain peasant sticks, as one could find on the ground or in a stack of firewood, but polished and weighted sticks three feet long, with round leather guards to cover the hands. The men were wearing thick white quilted jackets and peculiar hood-like head coverings with stiff wire netting over the face; flat muslin pockets of coloured chalk were pinned to cover the tops of their heads and half their foreheads. One man had pink chalk, the other had blue. Smears of chalk were evident on their chests and shoulders. She had seen the middies and cabin boys of the Wind’s Pleasure being taught to hit each other with sticks in a similar fashion by a sailor. Shallan had been told that it was a way for the boys to strengthen their arms and reflexes in order that they be prepared for the day when they might bear cutlasses to repel unwelcome boarders. She could scarcely enjoy watching people willingly – or not – be hit by sticks for sport when the idea of it made something in her chest quail with uncharacteristic panic. She turned her thoughts away from that dark path, and picked up her charcoal to continue her sketching - this time of the tall and strangely shaped kettle device that the servants had set up in the corner. It looked like a teapot perched on an urn; it was enamelled with an elaborately colourful flower design where its gold plating didn’t peek through. “It’s a samovar,” said Jasnah. “A wedding gift from the family of my late aunt the Duchess. It is rather convenient – you can make chocolate and tea at the same time, and it stays warm for hours, which unfortunately has the effect of encouraging guests to linger when–,” she paused, “–it seems now is the time to tread the boards.” Shallan looked up, startled, then hurriedly swept her pencils into their wooden box; she rose to her feet. Two men were approaching the pavilion, followed by servants. One was the tall and uncomfortably familiar figure of Doctor Kaladin – she felt her ears going red in humiliation – and the second was only slightly shorter but more solidly built; he walked with the carelessly confident poise of the high nobility: was this –? “Jasnah!” he called, waving an arm at her. He jogged up. He wore a loose shirt with collar unbuttoned under a blue waistcoast, and he had no neckcloth; a darker blue coat was slung over an arm. On the courtyard, the tent was being efficiently dismantled. Behind Shallan, Jasnah sighed and stepped forward. “Cousin Adolin.” She closed her eyes and inclined her head for the requisite kiss. The Duke did not have to bend to kiss her on both cheeks; her dressed hair with its carved hairsticks gave her the impression of equal height although she was a few inches shorter. “May I present my new ward?” “Yes, of course, one ought to do things properly,” said the Duke. Doctor Kaladin had caught up with the servants; they exchanged meaningful glances and turned towards Shallan. Shallan’s breath felt as if it were rising up to choke her; she thought that if she coughed, she would not be surprised if it fell in curd-like chunks from her lips. “Adolin, this is Shallan Davar, daughter of Lin, Laird – Baron by our measure – of Loch Davar, of the Clan McValam. She has been my travelling companion and ward these last six months.” Shallan drew up her skirts and dipped into the low curtsey one made as a social inferior in a formal setting. When was the last time she had properly practised it? Before her mother’s unfortunate death? The last time she could recall needing to curtsey perfectly with straight back and shoulders and bent knees was when she was thirteen years old, pledging herself as kinswoman in front of The McValam for the one time necessary to confirm her entry to the clan. She held the position for two beats and stood upright; when she straightened, she saw she was eye level with the Duke’s chin. He really had the most remarkable hair: she had thought it blond with stripes in the firelight last evening, but the stripes were actually individual strands of black upon closer inspection. His brows were the same mottled colour. Upon gazing at his chin – she hadn’t met his eyes, and hadn’t wanted to – she found herself curiously contemplating the colour of his beard; he was clean shaven now, but if he grew it out, would it match his hair? … Would his – other – hair be like that as well? Her ears remained unbecomingly warm at the brazenness; she was suddenly pathetically grateful that her own hair was red and that she had worn it down to-day. “Shallan, I present my cousin, His Grace the Duke Kholinar, Adolin Kholin. Major–“ “–Lieutenant Colonel.” “–Lieutenant Colonel,” Jasnah corrected smoothly, “of His Majesty’s Home Regiments.” He gave a courtly full bow – more appropriate for someone his own social equal, like Jasnah – and took her right hand with his left. She looked down at their hands: hers was slim and freckled with grey smudges of charcoal over the knuckle and down the wrist where she had brushed against her sketched pages; he had larger squared fingers with callused palms, and blue chalk dust was caught under a few of the nails. He held her hand unexpectedly gently and raised it to his lips. She met his eyes. She had always thought that blue eyes were neither rare nor special – everyone in her family had them – and she was satisfied in this confirmation: his eyes were not a particularly unique shade of blue. They didn’t glow or twinkle or sparkle or appear mysterious in any way like the novels said they should. They were not mysterious at all; rather, they were friendly and open, but in the whole, quite ordinary. It was a pleasant contrast to Kaladin; his looked like he was thinking about all things you were doing wrong, even if you just happened to be walking past minding your own affairs. His kissed the air above her hand. Of course that was correct and proper for a bachelor greeting an unwed lady for the first time, but Shallan couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. She quashed the thought. She was supposed to feel heartsick at leaving her beloved highland home, and becoming Jasnah’s ward was a hard-won childhood dream that she had desired ever since she had found and read that very first essay. To put a halt to her research, to throw it away, all for the sake of a handsome man – even at Jasnah’s behest – that felt like weakness and wrongness. It was to be borne – or rather, suffered, however uncomfortably – as the necessary price of so advantageous a connection. If Shallan were to do it, to become a sorrowful but willing sacrifice on the altar of matrimony, aching regret ought to be the very least of her emotions. He winked, then released her hand. The disappointment could not be suppressed. “Now,” Jasnah said, clapping her hands. “That’s done with. Shall we to luncheon?” Author's Notes: The exercise they are doing is the traditional British stick fighting sport, singlesticks. It is used as practice for swordfighting, because I thought that foil fencing was too "continental" for Adolin and too fancy for Kaladin. The tent that was being set up is a changing room, in case you were wondering. And yes, in this universe, Kaladin is aware of what colour Adolin's "other hair" is. I'm only writing from Shallan's perspective because romance novels are mostly all written from the girl's PoV. And I think she's the only one I can write while keeping consistently on-character. Post feedback if you like - I haven't done fiction writing in years and keeping to the Bronte/Regency tone is a real struggle. If you're reading closely, you can tell when I'm lapsing in and out of it, ugh. We are nearing the end of my plot skeleton and drafted notes, sadly.

I was actually super stoked at Dumbledore's Death. Not because i didn't like him, he's awesome, but because that whole scene was spectacular, and Snape is so great. Dumbledor's death has never saddened me because of that. Unrelated, but everyone needs to go type loser.com into their URL boxes and see where it takes you. It's great.

"She stole her boyfriend from a casino where an evil precog was going to murder him. She turned the guy's gun into a hamster." "This sounds stupid." "She wears a brightly colored dress as a representation of the gender-fluid spectrum and her relationship with Nathan is a poignant deconstruction of traditional gender roles." "Exquisite. Tell me more."

-Either Brandon knows which metal can make Hemalurgic spikes to steal writing speed, or he's the God Beyond. We're not sure -No. Hoid just cloned himself -I'm not sure, and the order hasn't been confirmed yet. But Elantris is first so far. -I sure hope so!

We should advertise this club with some advertisements.

Night 7: Rotten Luck In a dark street that most would have thought twice before traversing, a handful of people met. They did not intend to meet there, in the pouring rain and the dim light, amongst the vagrants and unfortunates that lived in these slums, but they had no choice; their regular meeting place was closed. They had long-since given up on hammering on the door, peering in through the windows and attempting to break the locks. It was somewhat reassuring to know that the building was practically impregnable, but at the same time, it was a real pain when you were standing in a heavy shower such as this. They had gathered in the portals of buildings nearby, almost appearing to be the down-and-outs that they passed every day in the slums. Glances were shared between them, not quite trusting but at least not outright hostile yet. The previous night had, by all accounts, been successful. Not a single person missing, which was nice to see. But they were not complacent; they would not have survived this long if they were. There was a tension in the air, thick and heavy, with only the sound of the rain to keep them company. It drowned out the other sounds, and only a Tin-Metalborn would have managed to see through the cloud and haze it produced. But that may not have been a bad thing. The feeling of isolation it produced was welcoming in these circumstances. “Soddit,” Lopen muttered, looking at the locked door. “Anyone able to jack in and open the damned place? I'm freezing my nethers off here. And I'm sober. I don't know which is worse.” Ripple sighed. “She'll be here soon, Lopen. And I doubt Feis would appreciate you B-and-E-ing his place.” “Bah, the git probably has hundreds of these places. Hell, maybe he's even got nine other gullible bunches to try his luck with the other corps too. Bastard's probably richer than anyone except the ten anyway, judging from what he's paying us.” “What if he is one of the ten?” Avis asked. There was no response, but there was a small measure of understanding from most of them. It was a fairly common concern, at this sort of point in a mission, that the Mr Ventures might not be on the level. Indeed, the most common employers of Mistrunners were the Megacorps themselves. But the idea that it might actually be one of the ten themselves? That was an entirely different concern. That didn't mean they were simply working for a Megacorp – They were known by them, at an almost intimate level, if someone so lofty was handling this personally. “...Can't be,” a man standing rather further away from the rest said. It wasn't his choice, more of a defensive mechanism by the others attending the meeting. “I mean, why would one of them do that? It'd be like...” he cast around for a comparison. “I don't know, it'd be like if The Lord Ruler personally fought against The Skaa Rebellion.” “He did personally kill The Survivor though,” Avis pointed out. “Well, yes,” the pungent man allowed, nodding briefly, “But that's different. I mean, none of us are exactly leaders amongst Mistrunners, are we? We didn't start this on their most wanted list. Makes no sense that one of them would do it personally.” “Assuming they're logical,” Citona said. “I mean, maybe this is how they relax in an evening, by plotting a few murders and stuff. We know they're petty, right?” Lopen snorted. “Almost makes them seem human.” “They can't be petty,” the skunk-human crossbreed argued. “Otherwise they'd never be ruling this place. Stands to reason they're actually at least fairly clever. Can't all be Allomancy and Feruchemy, right? Though I guess compounding their smarts helps a lot there...” “You do seem fairly well acquainted with how they're thinking,” Exisa said, looking at the filthy man with narrowing eyes. “Something you would care to mention?” “You think they'd let me even near them?” he responded. “You're pretty crazy if you think that. I mean, even you can't stand to be that close to me.” “Yeah...” Lopen nodded slowly. “Or it might be the perfect disguise! Someone so obviously a dirty, degenerate street-dweller can't be what they look like! That's too obvious! You're really a clean, dapper gentleman, aren't you?!” “What?” He blinked. “What?” He repeated. “What about these guys?” he said, gesturing at the homeless people sleeping rough nearby. "Are they all secret lords and ladies?" “They're not Mistrunners,” Clanky said, nodding sagely. “So obviously they aren't the ones infiltrating our group, and they aren't in disguise.” “I've heard enough,” Lopen said, pulling out his knuckledusters. “Let's see what this guy knows, eh?” When Lord Yolen's assistant arrived half an hour later (and about two hours late), she was greeted by the sight of a bloody corpse in the middle of the road, slowly being cleaned by the rainfall. Everyone nearby tried very hard to look innocent, forgetting that the first thing to do in order to seem innocent was to get rid of the evidence. She sighed and pointed round the side of the building. “Corpse over there. I'll deal with it later.” She watched them haul the body away, grimacing as they did. Why they had to work with these psychopaths, she would never understand. “Now that that's done...” She opened the door and let them into the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the alleyway to the side. Well, she should probably deal with it now, really, even if the Lone Shard rarely entered the shadier parts of town this late. Besides, anything to put off having to pretend to be the barmaid for a while. IrulelikeSTINK was a Mistrunner! IrulelikeSTINK (4): Avis, Dragonsight, Exisa, Clanky Avis (3): IrulelikeSTINK, Alexandrius Venturia, Lopen Player List Night 7 has begun. PMs may now be sent again. The Night will end on Saturday at 8PM GMT. Alexandrius Venturia has been chosen to select people for the mission! I will need to hear back from him by Friday at 8PM GMT.

Alright, new thought on the mechanism. The WoR Ars Arcanum states that five types of fabrials have been discovered so far. Conjoiners, Reversers, and Warning fabrials all require specific gems, and none of those are smokestone. So the fabrial clock must be either an augmenter or a diminisher. The AA states that augmenters can create "heat, pain, or even a calm wind". Since smokestone's essence creates opaque gasses, it seems likely that a smokestone augmenter would create a "calm wind". So, the moving air is forced down a channel, where it drives a paddle or a piston. The fabrial clock is essentially a steam clock. Of course, the force of the moving air will probably diminish as the stone loses stormlight, so you'd need something like the balance wheel of a spring-driven watch to maintain constant motion in the dial. *** Sheep, you asked how the clock would be reset after the gem was re-infused. Probably the same way that clock-towers were reset before timezones came into existence: you set the clock to noon at solar noon (which you can easily and accurately determine with the shadow of a leaning stick oriented north/south). And since it's the only clock in town, it doesn't matter if it says it's 12:15 when it's really 12:20--what matters is that it divides time up evenly, and when it says that a patient has been under anaesthesia for an hour, he's been under for exactly an hour. Patrickstar: But how would the bridgemen know how to walk at a constant rate if they didn't have a stopwatch to allow them to keep that pace? Tabitreader: Yep, you have it pretty much right. Note that the upcoming Desolation is the True Desolation, and so will be different from prior Desolations in several ways (none of the previous Desolations had an Everstorm, for instance). You might want to check out the desolation page on Coppermind, enter "desolation" in the searchbar, or browse older threads in this forum.

It makes weird noises when it's being fried. Islands are like bottles of water.

Was this really necessary? I am posting from a smartphone, some typos will eventualy escape my double-checking.

I'm so uninteresting, when they do a police sketch of me they arrest an unpainted mannequin.

Granted. Your bane is that you are undergoing psychosis, and I am actually one of your split personalities... I wish to become my own distinct being, and to be free of the depths of Car'a'carn's unstable psyche (while leaving the prior banes still resting on him, obviously).

Worst when artificial, canned, or (interpret as you like) re-used. Best when made on the spot, or by a professional. Piano tuners in New York are like crystal balls.

The Pits didn't have an eldritch god of destruction and entropy stuffed into them.

Nazh and Khriss we standing on the Cognitive equivalent of water (a lake), which Kelsier remarks to be like rock, whereas the Cognitive equivalent of ground is like mists. So Hoid needed a boat because he was going where there was ground.

Haha I love how cryptic we are being: "we may have seen someone we may not have met yet" "a question was asked to see if the person we are thinking of is the person that we are asking about" "yes, what I am thinking is probably what we are all thinking in regards to the person that might be the person who we are all thinking of" "the person who is the sister of that guy from the reading?" "the very same" "indeed" "quite"

I like the name "Unity" for a Devotion/Dominion hybrid Shard.

In Ender's Game, they were squatting while "flying" in zero gravity. They were looking and shooting from between their legs. It sounds like a practical solution, but it looks really, really stupid.

Here is what I suspect happened. You asked the question. Brandon's Intent was to say "no". For reasons related to the total number of hours he spent sleeping in the past week, what he actually said was "yes". But as we know, in Cosmere, what rules is the Intent.

The only thing necessary for Nighthounds to triumph is for Funtimes' to not try to kill them at every opportunity.

Hello, i see you would take a spike for a mint oreo. I've got a batch in the forge *oven that you can have And yes, Stormlight is better (please don't shoot me)

My theory is that future Mistborn Trilogy will have some cyberpunk. Feruchemical implants! Imagine the possibilities!

I've been rereading Secret History for a serious theory I'm working on, but I had to stop in the middle because... I need to learn more about Spanky. Could he SpanKey, the Kandra spirit? What secret murmurings does he carry to the denizens of the Cognitive Realm? And then, what happened to him after He was so kind to give Hoid a ride (proving that Ati and Leras aren't the only vessles in Scadrial), but once Hoid leaps off of him to use the Shardpool... where does he go? There's no more mention of the once-great ship, the U.S.S. Spanky. (U.S.S. stands for Useful Sailing Spirit). Where did he go? Did he sail away? Did he set a open course for the virgin sea? Alas, Spanky, we hardly knew ye. Silliness aside, I am surprised no one has discussed this macabre detail. (Or if they have, I just couldn't find it.) Hoid refers to Spanky as a spirit - is he a Cognitive Shadow, like Kelsier? Did he pass from the Cognitive Realm to go Beyond after Hoid was finished with him? Since he stuck around long enough for Hoid to use him as a boat, does that mean he was Invested, a user of some world's magic system, and he stuck around just long enough for Hoid to use as a boat? And then, where did he come from? All we know is that he had white robes, and I speculate that he was a magic user. What magic users had white robes? Not Awakeners, obviously; they need more colors. Not a Radiant, either, since they have armor. (Though the Soulcasters wore robes, right?) Elantrians had robes, and I think they were white, but I'm not confident. The White Sand preview pages show a character in white robes. So, Hoid might have been coming from either Taldain or Sel, and hitched a ride on a heavily Invested individual to reach the Well of Ascension. As to why Hoid needed to use Spanky... the Pits are just as far inland as Luthadel, so doesn't that mean Hoid would always need to use a boat like Spanky? Same with everyone else who used to use the Pits; how did they get there?

See, I was going to go with "emotional abuse" or "Obsession" but on second thought, I like "Unity" better.