Jump to content

Leaderboard

Popular Content

Showing most liked content on 02/14/17 in all areas

  1. Eshonai awoke to the sound of trumpets. Trumpets, and footsteps. Eyes bleary, she rose while humming to the Rhythm of Anxiety. Judging by the dim light filtering into her makeshift chamber, it was early. Instinctively she clenched her left hand, red energy crackling along her knuckles. She was becoming more accustomed to that reaction every day, and less inclined to summon her Blade whenever she was in danger. Maybe she was just getting used to this new form, but the scream buried deep inside her had another thought on the matter. Questions ran through Eshonai’s head at the pace of a Highstorm. Who blew those horns, and who was running the tunnels? Was it possible that the Alethi had finally found them, and were now attacking with hopes of finishing them off? It was futile, of course. The Alethi may have won the battle in Narak, but they were too late to stop the Everstorm, which meant they already lost the war. Still… she was not quite ready to die. Not yet. Both pieces of her agreed that she had so much left to live for. When she heard the trumpeting again, this time she understood. “General!” a familiar voice yelled from outside her chamber. That was Melu, one of the few survivors from the first legion of warriors that took stormform. Exiting her small, square room, Eshonai turned to face the approaching soldier. It was hard to tell before, but she could now hear the rhythm she was attuned to. Excitement. Cycling through the new Rhythms, Eshonai found Craving. “You look eager. What do the scouts report?” “Alethi, sir. No more than thirty, alone in Narak, fighting a Greatshell.” “What?” Eshonai laughed to the Rhythm of Derision. “Are they mad?” “Not quite. Sir, they’re glowing.” A second later she was sprinting. Eshonai knew these tunnels better than anyone. In those weeks before the battle, she had spent countless hours carving them herself. Confident of her newfound strength or not, she was a General long before she was gifted this form of power, which meant she knew better than to not have a contingency plan. It was inevitable that the Alethi would find Narak. The city was ancient, and not easily disguised. But a system of tunnels and caverns hidden in the chasms, with doors of stone carved to seal out the brunt of the storm and drains to take care of the rest? Even if they knew what to look for, it would take the Alethi a long time to find it, and by then, the listeners would be long gone. More waking soldiers joined Eshonai and Melu as they ran. They didn’t need an explanation to know when to follow. After all, they had heard the Chasmfiend too. Its cries of fury and pain. Eventually the tunnel widened and began sloping upwards. This incline was natural, unlike the perfectly flat walkways she had made. Ahead of her, the sun was dawning, a horizon free of clouds burning as deep a red as her own eyes. Bursting into the light with a legion of listeners trailing in her wake, Eshonai stepped towards the ledge and looked. Narak was far, but not so far that she could not see the figure of a man standing just above it. Even at this distance, she could see the faint wisps of light smoking off his skin. Through her eyes it glowed like fire. She knew that man and what he could do. Besides Blackthorn and his brother, he was the most dangerous man she had ever known. And today, she thought, humming to the Rhythm of Determination, I will kill him and anyone who stands in my way. “Gather everyone!” Eshonai commanded. “We attack at once!” With a wide grin, Kaladin watched as the battle unfolded below. Though he could not hear the words the Initiates shared before they charged, he could tell who were the leaders and who were content to follow. Ranatar, the man he had pushed off the ledge himself, was one of the former. He didn’t look it, but that man had experience leading troops. The Shin man, Sareth, had the potential in him too, though his was a different sort of guidance, more like Dalinar’s than his own. “This isn’t right,” Syl told herself, her voice not much louder than a whisper. A warm breeze flowed through her, her hair and dress stirring as it passed by. The Initiates were winning. Kaladin knew they would, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t putting their lives at risk. It wasn’t an easy decision, especially for him, but he saw what the Everstorm was capable of and knew that these men and women needed to develop faster than he had, and that meant pushing them to the extreme. Please, no one die, he shuddered within, though his body may as well have been soulcast into steel for all the movement he made. And to think it was Shallan who bonded the Cryptic, rather than he. Where was that woman now, anyway? Forcing her out of his mind, Kaladin took note of those who were brave enough to attack the Chasmfiend directly. Araon and Arionium, Hithon and Teresh. Fifth, too, and Balthazar as well. They weren’t a very well coordinated team, but the Stormlight made up for their inefficiencies. So long as Shinon kept firing his arrows and Kintas kept playing at medic, it was just a matter of time until they won. This trial was little more than a battle of attrition, after all. Kaladin knew better than anyone what Stormlight could do. So long as they had it, they could keep fighting. But he also knew how they would feel when it was all gone. Deflated, like an empty wineskin, and so painfully sluggish that it’d take all their willpower to move. Worse than any hangover, waking up the next day would be a trial all its own. Sadly not every Initiate would get that lesson. Many of them hesitated or refused to fight outright. Dalinar had told him not to expect everyone to become warriors, and Shallan had quoted enough passages of that book to make him understand that not every Order was comprised of warriors, but still. It seemed so odd to him how anyone with powers like his could be a coward. Whenever he breathed in, he felt an urge to move, to fight. Was it possible that Stormlight affected people differently? Maybe that was a question worth asking. Now that he thought about it, that brooding man Jonly didn’t even glow when he fell, nor did he when he rose from the tiny crater created by his descent. Looking at him, the man was strong. Determined, too, by the cold fire of his eyes and the set of his jaw. So why did he linger on the sidelines now, doing nothing? Kaladin would have to talk to him after this, he decided. Ralaani, the girl who figured she’d be more helpful drawing the battle than participating in it, suddenly gasped at his side. Instead of looking at her, his eyes darted to the Chasmfiend, praying that someone hadn’t just been killed. “What happened?” he asked, expecting to see a man cut in two, or a pile of blood and gore. “Baltahzar just jumped in the Chasmfiend’s mouth!” she said then began sketching madly, presumably to capture the scene. Fool man, Kaladin thought. Not of Balthazar, but himself. Sure, Balths was a fool, too, but this trial was his idea alone, and no one else could be blamed for what happened during it. Kaladin only hoped the Initiate’s death was quick, unable to imagine how terrifying being digested alive would be. After being dazed by a rockfall and having a few of its claws cut off, the Chasmfiend didn’t look like it had much fight in it left. There were a few more close calls, as even Kaladin could only dodge so many furious swipes at once, but it looked like no one else would die today, and for that he was thankful. At least until the Chasmfiend began to collapse, with that young boy Rea weaving underneath the creature’s legs, as if playing some kind of game. A cloud of dust whooshed away from its body, obscuring the forms of its challengers. Had Rea made it out? Kaladin couldn’t tell, but he certainly hoped. Nearing death, the Chasmfiend flailed wildly, nearly knocking Fifth and Sareth off its head. Miraculously, the pair had managed to regain their footing and continue towards its head, quarterstaves in hand, looking like they aimed to finish it off, once and for all. What happened next, no one could have predicted. The Chasmfiend rolled. Even from this far, he could see the violet globs of fear manifest around them. They were trapped on all sides by the creature’s spines, rapidly lurching towards the earth. Towards Kintas and Uther, and someone else whom Kaladin didn’t recognize, lying down and covered in dust. It was done. In its death throes, the Chasmfiend had flipped on top of his foes. There was room enough for them to squeeze, but the spikes were so many, what were the chances that not a single Initiate had been pinned, or worse? Spren like arrowheads steamed off the Chasmfiend’s body, dissipating as they drifted towards the sky. It’s mouth lolled open and began spewing blood and gore. Even a few rocks, and what must have been Balthazar’s sword. All four of his Squires were there now. They had begun running when they saw what was happening, but were too far to interfere. Kaladin breathed in a wealth of Stormlight, and they began to glow. Skar, Drehy, Teft and Leyten reached the corpse at once, each wrapping their arms around one of the Chasmfiend’s spines, and began lifting with all of their might. Slowly but surely the monster was lifted, revealing pools of blood and the soldiers underneath. Uther was crawling on his face, dragging Hithon behind him. The blind man had been knocked unconscious, but fortunately he was still breathing. Kintas, who somehow seemed shorter than before, stood up unscathed, eyes locked on Sareth whose gut had been ran through with a spine and was now dangling from it, grabbing at the point and pulling himself towards it, like sliding meat off a kebab. Fifth was nowhere to be seen. Glancing over his shoulder at the Initiates who remained atop the Oathgate with him, Kaladin barked at them to jump now, or else be exiled for refusing to follow orders. Hess shrugged without a word and, reluctantly, Veriq approached the ledge. He didn’t have time to wait. Riding on the wind, Kaladin soared. More and more every day, what he did felt less like falling and more like flying. Before he knew it, he was there beside his Squires, helping them hold the corpse up before they lost all their strength. Behind him, a few lingering Initiates ran to their fellow’s aid. Shinon helped Uther to his feet, then slung Hithon over his shoulder. Petrik, his arm still limp, let Sareth lean on his other shoulder and, along with Kintas, led him out into the open air. Once free, the Initiates fell to the ground, exhausted. Some of them even had the audacity to laugh at what just happened. The rest just watched them as if they were crazy, their faces apprehensive. Kaladin let go of his spine and spun on them, his Squires letting theirs down slowly. “What about Fifth?” he yelled, voice echoing loudly in the city within the chasm. “Rea?” he added, remembering the little boy. “Here,” a man coughed, rounding the other side of the Chasmfiend. It was Fifth, and in his arms, he cradled the child Initiate. Kaladin breathed a sigh of relief. Only Balthazar had died, then. A terrible loss, still, but better than it could have been. “Uh, Kal?” Teft said, voice laced with concern. “What is it, Teft?” Kaladin asked as he turned. “The Chasmfiend…” It was moving. “Syl!” Kaladin shouted, brandishing his hand. Drawn from her reverie, she zipped to his arm as a ribbon of light, spinning round it until she reached his palm and formed into a glistening spear. No one else would die today. Their trial was done, and Kaladin would finish this once and for. The Chasmfiends mandibles twitched and Kaladin prepared to lunge. Then, with a wet slosh, Balthazar slid out of its mouth, covered in blood and slime, but smiling still. In his hands he held a massive gemheart. Ashetvl was no longer alone. It’ll be okay, the voice told her. It was beautiful and comforting like her mother’s. All night it had assured her that the worst was over, that she was going to be fine. At first she thought the Highstorm had driven her insane, but then she saw the spren - not completely, but it was hiding there, in the corner of her eye - and she understood that she really was a Radiant. Or at the very least was on her way to becoming one. Only the spren was wrong. Nothing would be okay. The worst had not yet come. She was not going to be fine. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?” a different voice said from the darkness beyond her cell. “To let me free?” Ashetvl said, not hopeful, but with a sneer. It might be too dark to see, but she could feel the tension in the air. It reminded her of that final minute before yesterday’s Highstorm. “In a sense,” the voice said. Metal scraped as a sword was drawn from a scabbard. “Any last words?” “None for you,” Ashetvl answered. Not with a whimper, but a bang. It was strange how ready she was for this. How cold she felt inside, and yet how hot were words felt as they passed her lips. She had spent so much of her life crying, she decided she would greet death differently. “Very well then,” the voice replied with a hint of morning. “Let justice be done.” Arionium sat away from the other Initiates, alone and uninterested in having a conversation. His stomach grumbled, but he didn’t feel like eating. Balthazar was boasting, again, a pair of gloryspren circling his head like a halo. Arionium knew the man had an ego before, but after ripping that beast’s heart free and presenting it to Kaladin like a prize, he had gotten even worse. Honestly, he just wanted to return to his bed, but that Dullbrain Kaladin had insisted they remain here for lunch, only a few dozen meters away from that monster’s stinking corpse. One of his men, that giant who had woken him by banging on a cookpot the day before, had emerged from one of the ancient buildings with the very same cookpot, though this time it was filled with fresh stew. It really did smell good and the others seemed to be enjoying it, but Arionium wasn’t in the mood for building camaraderie, whatever the damnation that was. Dullbrain had used the word in another one of his speeches. He also talked about the importance of following tradition, and how the best of friendship’s could only be forged on the field of battle. Arionium saw his words for what they were, though. Useless blathering. He chuckled to himself, thinking it fitting that a Windrunner would have so much air filling their head. Silence. Why was everyone suddenly quiet? “What’s so funny?” someone asked. Arionium didn’t try to memorize the other Initiate’s names, let alone their voices. Ignoring the question deliberately, he turned away. “Hey, I’m talking to you!” the man yelled. Arionium’s only response was him cracking his neck. Behind him, a few of the Initiates rose loudly. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by a handful of them. Not that he even made an effort to acknowledge them. “Why are you being so reclusive?” someone else asked, this one's voice softer than the other’s. He wasn’t challenging him, but his tone was probing. Arionium hated people who didn’t know how to mind their own business. Arionium turned the soulstamp for his sword over in his hand. In the fight it had been crushed slightly, and with a tiny blade, he was trying to fix the mold. He was quite fond of that blade, and would hate losing it. “I don’t like this, Shinon. How can we be expected to trust someone who never talks to us?” One of the other men grunted at that. “Do you think… I mean, I’m no murderer. But if I was one and didn’t want anyone to know, I’d probably keep my mouth shut, to make sure I don’t say anything suspicious.” “Now that you mention it, Naihar, something does seem off about this guy. Before I thought it was just because he’s a foreigner, but… maybe you’re right. What should we do? Arionium’s hand slipped, the scalpel cutting the the tip of his thumb. Without thinking, he tapped one of his golden rings and wiped the blood on his cheek, the wound underneath freshly knit. “Did you see that?” “He didn’t even breathe.” “What the storms is he?” “Arionium,” barked one of the men, prompting him to look up, surprised he knew his name. “Earlier I saw you with a sword. Where is it?” Shrugging, he went back to his work. “Now that you mentioned it Jonly, he didn’t have a sword when he jumped off the Oathgate. But when he landed, there was suddenly one in his hand. Could it have been…?” “A Shardblade!” three of them gasped at once. Beyond the men, the group of less violent Initiates sat up abruptly. “It was you, wasn’t it? You killed Lomot! But why?” This time Arionium couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was one thing to talk about him behind his back, another two feet in front of him, but to accuse him of murder? Where he came from, those were fighting words. “I didn’t kill the man,” he answered, rising. “Now step off.” “What’s the problem here?” Dullbrain yelled, drawn to them by all the commotion. “We’ve figured it out, sir. This man’s the one who killed Lomot.” The men parted ways, letting Kaladin through. He wasn’t smiling now, but Arionium could still picture his ugly mug grinning. It made him mad. “I didn’t kill him,” he growled. “He’s lying, sir! Ask him about his Blade!” “Blade?” Kaladin asked, then surveyed the man’s equipment. Everything the man owned was laid out on a sheet before him, and the closest thing he had to a sword was the dagger that he stamped. “Where is it?” “That’s exactly it, sir! Arionium never carries a sword, but when we were fighting, he had one! There’s only one logical explanation!” Kaladin considered the words. The way the Radiant looked at him made Arionium want to beat in his face. “Skar! Leyten!” Kaladin yelled. A moment later, two of his Squires were by his side. “I’m going to need you two to escort Arionium to Urithiru. Dalinar needs to have a word with him.” Unhesitant, the Squires reached for him. “Leave off!” Arionium recoiled from their touch with a shout. “I’m not going anywhere!” “You don’t have a choice, Initiate,” Kaladin said, flexing his hand by his side. “Stand down and follow my orders. You will return to Urithiru and speak with Dalinar at once.” “No!” Arionium yelled in defiance. “I ain’t the one who killed Lomot!” More of the Initiates were watching now. Between the bodies of the Squires, Arionium could see that little boy peeking his head, trying to see what was happening. In the blink of an eye, one of the Squires got behind Arionium, the other blocking his vision in front. He felt a tug on his arms behind his back, and then they went cold. No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t remove his arms from where they were bent, as if they had somehow been bound together. They began dragging him away. “Listen!” he began. “I have done many bad things that I don't consider criminal, and I’ve lied to many people many times but all that means nothing…” All my life I thought that I was a selfish person who loves only myself. I was wrong, but I understand now, even if it is too late. “Only crime I will admit is this one! It was so long ago, now, but it’s the only one that matters! “Her name was Leiren, and yes, I killed her. At first I thought I did it to save my brother. Yes, he loved her, and she loved him. She nearly convinced him to break the First Deal. I don’t expect you to know what that is, but understand that it’s as good as treason. She had to die. “But that was the lie I told myself. Truth be told, that was only an excuse, and it took countless years for me to realize it. “Now I understand I killed her out of selfishness. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever met, and I was jealous she didn’t feel the same as me. In my heart, I believed that my brother didn’t deserve her. And if I couldn’t have her, then no one should. As simple as that.” He was so far away now. Could they even hear him? “I have killed before! But I did not kill that man! Trust me! Believe me!” Why wouldn’t they believe? “Who’s there?” Renarin shouted, leaping at the sudden crash. “Don’t worry, Brightlord!” yelled Skar. The young Kholin could now hear a few grunts and the sounds of struggling. A moment later Skar and Leyten, along with an Initiate whom they clearly bound and gagged with Stormlight, descended into the circular chamber. “Mind helping us get to Urithiru? Captain’s orders.” Swallowing hard, Renarin beckoned for Glys in that strange, wordless way he always had. The spren didn’t like becoming a Blade, but he had no qualms about acting the Key. “This isn’t right, Kaladin,” Syl said, quivering in the sudden gust of wind. “You don’t think I made the right decision?” he asked, feeling the urge to walk somewhere more private. Teft and Drehy were his Squires, however, and should be allowed to hear what she had to say. A drop of rain hit his brow and without thinking, Kaladin wiped it away. “Not that,” Syl dismissed thoughtlessly, and for the first time, Kaladin really felt her fear. Glancing at her, he found her watching the sky. When had it got so gray, anyway? A flash of red lightning, followed by the immediate pounding of thunder. That could only mean one thing. “Voidbringers!” one of the Initiates shouted. There were dozens of them - no, hundreds - standing upon the ledges of the plateaus above, looking down. Many of them were chanting, though some were gathering energy in their hands, preparing to cast their fury down upon them. Among them, a single Voidbringer wearing Shardplate raised a Blade above her head and screamed. By the tens, they dove off their perches, landing in the massive chasm no further than a thousand meters away. There was no way the Initiates were ready for this. Exhausted from their battle with the Chasmfiend and at least half of their infused spheres drained, their only hope would be to flee to the Oathgate and escape. “Initiates, behind me!” he commanded, surprised how quickly many of them obeyed. “Rock, take them to the Spire and up to the Oathgate,” he yelled, referring to a massive, needle-like structure they discovered while scouting, containing nothing more than a ring of stairs that would take them to the plateaus above. “Teft, Drehy! Protect their rear and their flanks! Try to prevent as many of the Parshendi from reaching them as you can!” he looked at them both in the eyes, satisfied by their solemn nods. “And Initiates… watch each other’s backs. There’s no guarantee that the scouts will report this in time to do us any good, so don’t hope for reinforcements. Just get to the Oathgate as fast as you can. I’ll meet you there.” “Meet us there, sir?” Drehy asked. Without answering, Kaladin charged forward, towards the line of Parshendi forming ahead. Several pulses of red lightning shot forth from them, some arcing to the ground, others hurtling towards him. Blessed Syl manifested as a silvery shield, then, the azure glyph of the Windrunners emblazoned on her front, crimson bolts of energy glancing off her and hitting the ground. Please, no one die, Kaladin prayed for the second time that day. If his foolish trial cost those people their lives, he was certain he could not survive the guilt. Not this time.
    13 likes
  2. Well, I officially started my business today. Avalon Woodcraft, LLC- specializing in custom cabinets and fine woodworking. Bought myself a CNC router and everything. Just thought I'd share. And now I'm going to bed. I'm beat.
    8 likes
  3. I have digital valentines for all of you! There's no way to label them so you can just . . . mentally claim one for yourself. I guess. This has been valentines. Thank you.
    7 likes
  4. I sent my husband roses. He likes them.
    5 likes
  5. It's funny. because of them, i have to redistribute all the roles. So now Alv and mage aren't coinshots. ah well. =P
    4 likes
  6. The notion that because I'm a white, straight, christian male, I belong to an oppressive patriarchy who seek to do nothing but assert his dominance on the poor minorities.
    4 likes
  7. Talking about valentines, I feel you all would appreciate this... (by the way, yesterday was the fourteenth for us) So, one of the boys in our group and is single decided to show off this fact with his waterbottle. What was his bottle, you may ask? An empty bottle of extra virgin olive oil.
    4 likes
  8. Adolin's Law: As an online discussion about Stormlight Archive grows longer, the probability of Adolin's character arc being disputed approaches 1.
    4 likes
  9. We were all thinking it anyway
    4 likes
  10. Cycle 1: The Curious case of Temaun Renaud The skaa are weak, and weakness doesn’t deserve food or life. “No. Everyone deserves food and Life.” Everyone? Why do they deserve it? “Emperor Elend ordered me to watch after the Skaa while he was away.” And are not his orders best kept by keeping his citizens strong? You are strong, you seized power, your armies and loyal citizens are strong. “I can, hmm. . . We do need to cut down on food consumption.” And if you try to ration food, people will grow hungry, and weak. Best to cut the weak out now. “Indeed.” “Sire?” King Penrod of Luthadel jerked up from his musings, snapping to attention as one of the guards hesitantly called out to him. “What Regiie?” “Er, you’ve been muttering to yourself ever since the Emperor’s men arrived an hour ago. You’re expected to make a speech to the populace soon. Are you alright?” Of course you are. King Penrod smiled with all the royalty he could. “Of course Regiie. I’ll be out in a moment.” The spike in his chest had never felt so comfortable. The citizens of Luthadel gathered in families, and shops, and labor unions and parties. All sorts of groups commingled in the square before Keep venture, awaiting the news of relief sent by the Emperor and the Heir. Temaun Renaud waited with them, but he already knew the news. There would be no food coming. The shortages would continue. The death would continue. The beautiful destruction of the world would continue. Life was so much simpler, since the coming of his God. Before, he had spent endless days trying to find the most efficient solutions for the housing and feeding problems of the city. He had been one of Penrod’s closest advisors. And then the Inquisitor had come, and God had come, and everything was easy. He no longer needed to search for the most efficient solution, God told him the most elegant solution. The words to say, the prices to pay, the foundations to lay. Cutting away the chaff. The crowd begin to quiet as the upper balcony doors were flung open. Two royal guards walked onto the balcony in sync, taking positions on either end. Between them walked the Stately king Penrod, still rubbing his chest. He was rubbing the same place Temaun was rubbing right now actually. Could the King hear God? “Noble citizens of Elendel!” The king’s voice resonated across the entire square, quelling the last pockets of conversation. “Your emperor has received our pleas for more food, and sent his reply. There will not be more food being shipped. There will not be relief.” There was a stunned silence throughout the square. Temaun didn’t care. God was with him. The people around him though, began to yell. King Penrod raised his hands, gesturing for silence. Noble soothers sprang into action, dampening the incipient riot before it could even began forming. “That is not to say there will be less food. For, as the Survivor taught, we must be strong to survive. We have no room for weakness. For the next hundred days, until we have more food, we will be executing 100 people each day. These hundred people will be chosen by you, the people. Their food will be distributed amongst the rest of the people, those who survived.” There was a different kind of silence following this announcement. A mixture of horrified, shocked, and eager. Temaun grinned. “Well this will be fun then. A bloodbath.” He watched as the king turned, and left the balcony. The two guards following behind him. The crowd began to murmur about the news. Well, said God, That was stupid of you to say outloud. Temaun blinked, then looked around. Four different citizens were staring at him open mouthed. One of them glanced around, then smiled. “So, we have to choose who to execute then? How many people heard Temaun here just say that bathing in blood is fun?” More of the crowd was taking notice. Several people around Temaun looked horrified at him. “I say we execute Temaun before he kills the lot of us!” Another woman called out. “He’d want to do the same to us!” “Listen, people, we can’t just kill him, we have to take care of each other!” “You heard the king. We have to kill 100 people a day. If not Temaun, then who? Are you willing to volunteer?” “I, uh, that is to say, uh. . . Let’s kill Temaun!” Temaun had heard enough, pivoting about he tried to run, but was met by a crush of bodies. There were too many people focused on him now. They grabbed his arms as he desperately tried to force his way through. They threw him to the ground, and begin to throw down anything they could find at him. Rocks, shoes, bricks. Disappointing. I could have used you for— A chunk of stone his his chest, right where the spike was. It drove the cursed thing deeper into him. He felt it stab into his heart, and he screamed as God’s presence fled. Amanuensis was Lynched! He was a Spiked! Votes: Amanuensis(3): Elbereth, Wilson, Mailliw Remember! Only Tineye’s can start PM’s! Player List:
    3 likes
  11. My Valentine spent a whole minute sniffing the ground in hopes of finding a stray French fry.
    3 likes
  12. Teresh (Drake), that thing about calling out our bluffs would be a lot more dramatic had you waited a few more hours to say that. We're being chased by storming Voidbringers! At least wait for us to get somewhere clear before lobbing around accusations, yeah? Rollover is at midnight for me. Now, I don't know about you, but I try to go to sleep by 10:45 PM. Then I also have school. I got up at 6:40 AM today and had fifteen minutes to read through Aman's writeup while eating breakfast. School starts at 7:30 for me. I cannot use the phone in first period unless I want it taken away from me. It's not even my phone, so if I have to go to the office to pick it up after confiscation, bad things will happen. After that class, I have another one with intermittent, unpredictable computer use. Sometimes I can check SE, and sometimes I can't. It depends on what I'm supposed to be doing. Then I have a 15 minute recess where I can choose to check SE. I say "choose" because I don't always want to spend my 15 minute break on SE and SE alone. Sometimes I buy food. Sometimes I get outside and socialize. If I choose to check SE, I can either use a school laptop, if it's available, or a phone, if it's available. The laptop is connected to very poor internet. The phone is a pain to type on. Then there's a class with more frequent computer access, and afterwards I have lunch. Again, for lunch, I can choose to check SE. I can also choose to eat and socialize. Sometimes I don't have a phone to check SE with. At the time you made that post, I effectively had 15 minutes total (maybe less) to check SE. I spent a lot of that time reading Aman's writeup. Would you like it if 15 minutes after rollover, someone said that you were being suspiciously silent? I have a life outside of SE, and sometimes I haven't posted anything 10 or 11 hours after rollover. That doesn't mean that I've pulled an all-nighter, skipped school, and was in front of a computer the entire 10 or 11 hours between rollover and now. Please try to consider the schedule of players before calling them out for supposedly being silent. I spent a lot of time typing that up. Now the teachers want me off of this laptop. I will respond to what you said. I just can't do it right this very moment.
    3 likes
  13. Today I was given a heart. It was delicious
    3 likes
  14. Looks less like a Sanderson, and more like generic pulp sci fi...'a huge robot has landed in [probably some American state], and is threatening to kill everyone/unless a deadly virus/destroy the city/make bad puns unless the inhabitants do something!' Also Ah, Brightness Shallan, what a lovely dress you are wearing...very flattering...really brings out your eyes...you look positively radient...
    3 likes
  15. I can cut down a tree just by looking at it. It's true! I saw it with my own eyes.
    3 likes
  16. Reminds me of this video:
    2 likes
  17. So I saw that Josh Groban did a song for the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack. My initial thought of "Oh, that's nice" gave way to wondering which artists would be exactly wrong to write a song for that movie. Immediately, I thought of My Chemical Romance*. But then I thought about it for half a second more. And I realized that MCR would be exactly wrong to do a single song for the soundtrack….because if anything, they should do the entire soundtrack. Think about it: Their best work delves into the darker sides of the human experience and human nature. Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge is all about anger toward an unjust world. The Black Parade is about fear of death and the pain of remorse. Although the more unsavory subtexts of the tale are glossed over in Disney and Disneyfied retellings to make it palatable for children, if Belle's anger toward the Beast for terrorizing her father and upending her life, and the Beast's pain and self-loathing were explored in full, that could make for an excellent adult-oriented reimagining of the story. Imagine it: not a sweet fairy tale, but a sad, dark, ultimately hopeful story of two broken people coming together and making each other better and more decent. Now imagine it set to an intense prog rock score, complete with Gerard Way belting out lyrics about the beast in the mirror. I know. I want it too. *Yes, I know MCR broke up four years ago. Let me have my dreams.
    2 likes
  18. Scratch that, now I'm a human Terminator. you have no idea how long i've been waiting to post that
    2 likes
  19. How about people who deliberatly try to talk to you when you're reading something?
    2 likes
  20. Sanderson Quantum Linguistics is basically a fancy name for what Ruin can do - given text can be everything until you look and read it.
    2 likes
  21. You're out on the floor, helping a patron with the printer. Two of your coworkers are at the desk. They aren't busy. They are ready and willing to offer assistance. While you're with the first patron, a second appears. They have walked past your two coworkers to ask you and only you for help with the copier. So you help this person. A third approaches, and a fourth, and a fifth. The desk has afforded your coworkers a cloak of invisibility, making you the only librarian patrons can see. Apparently. Even when approaching the desk would be quicker and easier, the patrons have chosen you, and only you, to answer questions they could easily answer themselves if they simply read the directions you posted. The more patrons you help, the more patrons decide you are their champion. This is your life now. You are now trapped in Dumb Question Purgatory.
    2 likes
  22. *Surfaces from the depths of forgotten seas* Hello again guys, it's been awhile. Between recording music, travelling abroad, applying to become a firefighter, and trying to kill myself through sheer amount of classes at college, I had all but abandoned hope of ever being able to post again. But the storyteller that I enveloped in an act of dark science cannot let a story go unfinished, so I have returned to try and contribute once more, if you'll let me. As far as the Dalles goes, it seems like the whole Quicksilver situation hasn't progressed since the last Edgerunner post. Is there anything else I should be aware of while writing the next Quicksilver scene?
    2 likes
  23. You know your a sanderfan when you're doing a read of The Magician's Nephew (chronicles of Narnia) and you read about the forest... well um *spoilers* ... and your only thought is SHARDPOOLS! Literally.... *spoilers*
    2 likes
  24. Mrw people lynch you even after Mage just keeps saying that he is basically agreeing with what I say.
    2 likes
  25. @A Budgie XD That's amazing! I made a couple more non-Sanderson ones.
    2 likes
  26. Vin, the mighty Mistborn potato. (did that work?)
    2 likes
  27. I think it's important to keep in mind that Taravangian went to the Nightwatcher after Gavilar's death. I dont recall hearing that Taravangian had his own plans at all before then. I always thought that he was working toward the same purposes as Gavilar - and by extension Amaram. Heck he may even have been in the Sons of Honor. Consider the following: King T is happily draining people of blood to help Gavilar and the Sons get an idea of what they had to do. Gavilar is the main figure the Sons are gathering behind, but then he gets himself dead. King T then visits the Nightwatcher (I would presume because he didn't have confidence that the Sons of Honor could fully carry out the good work without Gavilar). So he went and asked for the capacity to save the world or whatever, and sometime after (I don't know... Days? Months? Years?) he had that one day of beatific scribbling. I suspect his divergence from Amaram and the Sons of Honor really started to pick up from there. (but it might have already begun before that during the Gavilar days or in the fallout after Gavilar's death). I mean, that's all just speculation, and please let me know if my timelines are messed up, but it makes sense to me if Amaram and Taravangian were working together until Taravangian began doubting, and then received a different plan.
    2 likes
  28. Another possibility is Rashadium Horses. They do seem to bond with their Rider. Perhaps they allow an individual to absorb a small amount of investiture (enough to heal the body a bit but not enough to completely override the expectation of scars).
    2 likes
  29. I saw the ISS! I don't remember if I've mentioned it before or not, but I signed up to get text alerts from NASA every time the International Space Station passes overhead (link here, if anyone's interested). This is only the second time I've seen it, even with billions of alerts: usually it flies over ridiculously early in the morning, or it's cloudy, or I forget. It's so cool, though, to see that bright, speeding little dot and realize that it's a spaceship with actual people living on it orbiting the Earth right now.
    2 likes
  30. I have once linked Adolin's character to the Prince Charming trope: dashingly handsome, blond headed, blue eyed, mighty warrior in standing proud in a shinning armor, yielding a magic sword mounted on his pristine white stallion. There is a lot of imagery involved in drafting Adolin's character and I for one do believe it was done on purpose. Not at first as Brandon Now, the horse is dead. I see it as a symbol. The white stallion is such an iconic item killing it appears to me as clear foreshadowing for Adolin to lose his former status. It is the disbanding of the trope: what happens when Prince Charming is made irrelevant in a world where he does not fit? I personally find this potential story so interesting it overshadows all others.
    2 likes
  31. I see your Inquisitato and raise you Potatodin!
    2 likes
  32. I don't think Brandon's a secret Sharder. He's too busy with his writing. My theory: GRRM and Pat Rothfuss are secret Sharders. They're always hanging out here, making bad puns and theorizing about Trell. Which, we can all agree, is the best possible use of their time. Bad puns are certainly more important than finishing my novel.
    2 likes
  33. I wondered who was in charge of TLR's hemalurgy department. And then it hit me.
    2 likes
  34. I once asked about the wording in this line, and here is the answer I got from Peter: The answer is almost one year old, and I hope it still works...
    2 likes
  35. I made these and wanted to share. Comes in two flavors. That's all! Latest Revision: Old Revisions: 1: Original. 2: Ishar at top and divine attributes. Numbers removed, numerals moved. 3: Surge symbols, gemstones, and essences. Divine attributes moved. 4: Made from scratch for clarity and misalignment problems. Colorful order names. Minor moves and resizing. Multiple black options. 5: A few more varieties of black, just with different shades for the white text. 6: Fixed spelling of Pailiah
    1 like
  36. Night 13: The Most Dangerous Game “What are you doing?” Carmichael stopped in the middle of the street and turned to see half of the village staring at him quizzically. He set the chair he had been carrying on the ground. “What does it look like,” he replied as he dusted off his hands. “I’m moving my furniture back to my house.” This seemed to confuse them more. Was it really that hard of a concept to grasp? Carmichael knew that he was the smartest person in the village (not to mention the strongest and best looking and funniest and so on, but those weren’t important at the moment), but he expected better than this. “It’s really simple,” he explained. “See, I had moved most of my belongings out of the town last night, because I was planning on leaving. I couldn’t allow myself to get trapped here after all. Out of everyone, if I were to die, it truly would be a great loss. For all of humanity. “But, then I thought about it and decided that I just couldn’t do it. I knew that if I wasn’t here to help you, you’d all wind up dead. And while that might not be the tragedy that if would be if I were to die, I just couldn’t leave you all to such a fate. I mean, you might all be stupid, lesser people, but you’re my stupid, lesser people. “And after I made up my mind, since I had already moved everything out, now I need to move everything back in, of course. “Here,” Carmichael said as he picked up the chair and handed it to the closest villager. “In return for me saving you from yourselves, you can help me pick up the rest of my stuff and bring it back in!” *** And that was how Carmichael found himself back out in the wilderness. The villagers hadn’t been as gracious as he had expected and they had chased him out of the town. Of course, since he was obviously the fastest out of everyone in the village, he’d easily outran them, but now he was turned around. If he could get back to the little cave he’d found, where he’d stored all of his stuff, he could leave those ungrateful people to their well-deserved fate. The sun was getting close to setting and he was pretty sure he was slightly south of the cave, so he started north. Suddenly, he heard a snap and felt something yank his feet out from under him. In a blink of an eye, he was hanging upside down in what appeared to be a very big snare trap. What could possibly need something so ridiculous and large? He pondered as he swayed side to side. That’s when he heard it. The sounds of grunts and large footsteps approaching and it all clicked into place. Carmichael went white as a ghost and broke out in a cold sweat. They’re so close! He desperately tried to free himself before the Koloss arrived. He was unsuccessful. Day 12 has ended and Night 13 begins! You have 24 hours. Magestar was lynched! They were a Village Smoker! PMs are NOT open! Player List
    1 like
  37. Something interesting came my way recently... Apparently, Adolin used to be jealous of Renarin because of all the attention he got (which oddly coincide with many character theory making I have been making). While this was when both brothers were very young, I would hazard myself into saying feelings we have as youths never truly go away and while they may may dormant for a long period of time, they can resurfaced, if the right trigger buttons are being pushed. In other words, it isn't rare for grown-ups to suddenly be faced with forgotten feelings they developed as children upon encountering a similar endeavor or a similar context. These tend to be... powerful and hard to get over. So while Prince Charming had seemingly everything going on for him, it seems the one thing he craved for was the one thing which was denied to him: attention which to a young child often is the equivalent of love. I thus don't see Adolin growing envious of his brother's powers (he never was into his character's motivations), but he might resent watching his father (his aunt, Bridge 4 and potentially the king as well) pander endlessly on Renarin once their new status become known which is consistent with how I have been reading him. Obviously, I am extrapolating quite a bit and there is no way to tell if Brandon will capitalize on this or not, but were he to do it, I think it would round up the character in an interesting way. It would sure add an additional layer and I love the idea that, just because you are "normal" and just because you haven't been "traumatized", it doesn't mean everything in your life is picture perfect. Yes, I forgot to add the bout about the princess not needing to be saved: he is a powerless knight made obsolete by the arriving of more powerful, more formidable and more impressive knights. Also, he doesn't even get to save the girl... Instead, he is the one constantly needing to be saved by others. I personally find the imagery Brandon has going on here is very interesting which is one other reason why I hooked up on Adolin's character. I once had a very lengthy discussion with one other reader as to how Adolin was a play out of the obsolete trope of Prince Charming, typically a voiceless, nameless character.
    1 like
  38. Kintas threw himself on the ground as the greatshell rolled over, watching the spikes and attempting to position himself where they wouldn't impale him, but knowing it would just be a matter of chance. One of the spikes slammed into the ground less than an inch from his arm, grazing it and sending a shock of pain up into his shoulder, but leaving him alive and otherwise undamaged. The chasmfiend's bulk was just above him, keeping him from rising for now, and he didn't have the strength to push it up at all. He lay there breathing, sucking in a bit of Stormlight to keep him alert, until the chasmfiend was lifted up. Storms, were those Kaladin's squires lifting the beast? Kintas was shocked at their strength, considering there was only four of them, with Kaladin swooping in to help as well. He flipped onto his belly and began to rise, stooping and making his way out from under the greatshell's back, when he noticed Sareth, who had still been lying on the ground next to him, recovering from his ordeal. He wasn't on the ground now. He was skewered on one of the spines, shoved far through his belly and lifting him up as the chasmfiend was lifted to make room for them to escape. Amazingly, Sareth reached out and grabbed the end of the spike, or as close to the point as he could reach, and began pulling himself off. Kintas couldn't believe the man's resolve and strength, and to his shame, stood there gawking for a moment. He quickly shook that off, though, and jumped to help. He pulled Sareth the rest of the way off the spike and threw him over his shoulder, hoping there were still infused spheres close enough for the Shin man to breath in and heal himself. Running out from under the beast, he moved to a safe spot and laid Sareth down, feeling as if he could have carried him much further with the storm surging through his veins, but also not wanting to be too far from where he could look for others to help. Then the beast moved again, and his mind nearly blanked from panic. He was no warrior. What was he doing trying to help kill a chasmfiend? And then, the smug face of Balthazar emerged, a giant gem in his hand, acting as though he was one of the heroes of ages. I almost wish he'd been digested, with that face. He'll be insufferable now. Gloryspren, several of them, were popping into existence around his head, and while Kintas couldn't really blame him, he still groaned internally. Kaladin and his squires moved among the Initiates, distributing more infused spheres to those who had run out and needed healing, and finally Kintas found the opportunity to relax. He didn't let go of all the Stormlight he held within, though, still breathing in a little bit at a time, holding onto the strength of will it granted him. Without that, he feared he would lose his mind. Supposedly Returned couldn't go crazy, but he was willing to bet this Alethi nutjob could prove all the Nalthian scholars and priests wrong. As some of the other Initiates began harassing Arionium and goading him into what Kintas could only assume was an adrenaline-laced fury, he winced to hear the accusations they flung about. He knew it was possible that Arionium had been the one who murdered Lomot, but this wasn't the way to figure that out. When Arionium screamed out his pained confession of the murder of his brother's lover, Kintas's heart fell. Yes, the man had killed before, but he sounded like a man broken by that pain, and Kintas wasn't sure Arionium would have had it in him to kill again. The bit with the sword was odd, but Kintas had seen the soulstone being rolled around in the man's hands and knew what that meant, so it didn't concern him the same way as the others. As the initiate was dragged away kicking and screaming, arms stuck together behind his back and his jaws eventually clamped together against his will as well, Kintas pushed the matter aside for now, knowing the Blackthorn would get to the bottom of the matter. Voidbringers? It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Kintas knew the Voidbringers were back, of course, and were very real, but for them to find the exhausted group, some still trying to recover from the wounds they'd incurred, as they tried to rest before heading back, was simply not fair. When were the worlds ever fair, though? As red lightning began to fall around them, Kintas grabbed several of the Initiates who had been non-combatants and pushed them ahead of himself, yelling at them to run for the Spire, per Kaladin's orders. The man was insane, but Kintas wasn't going to argue if he wanted to charge the Voidbringers and buy the rest of them some time. Most of the lightning shifted and was aimed towards the crazy Radiant, bouncing off his glowing shield (where did that come from?), but many of the Parshendi above continued to target the relatively unprotected Initiates as they fled or fell into battle stances. Kintas scooped up an abandoned bag of spheres from the group, not bothering to check if they were infused, but hoping he'd have enough for himself and anyone who was struck on the way. He didn't know how much damage those bolts of lightning could do to someone with Stormlight in their veins, but he didn't want to find out, either. He did anyways. A bolt struck him in the leg as he ran, sending him sprawling and rolling in a tumble as his leg spasmed and burned. A quick inhalation of Stormlight pushed the pain away and began healing the wound, but somehow it seemed to heal slower than the other wounds had, as if whatever was causing it was somehow fighting the Stormlight inside him. It took a moment before he could rise and begin to flee again, and as he did, another bolt struck just above his head, sending a small flurry of rocks crashing down over him. They weren't nearly enough to pin him, but he staggered out from under them into pure chaos. A Voidbringer lept down from the top of the chasm and landed with a thud in front of him, staggering slightly but amazingly on it's feet and ready to fight. Kintas might not have been a fighter, but his survival instincts were still very strong, and before he knew it, he had his sword out and buried to the hilt in the creature's gut. Shocked red eyes stared back at him, and then Kintas noticed the hand that had grabbed the blade and tried to divert it was beginning to crackle with red lightning. Diving away, he just barely avoided being electrocuted once again, and when the shock cleared, he turned back to see the Voidbringer's corpse had been completely charred. Kintas thought briefly about recovering his sword, but the metal was glowing red-hot and he didn't feel like waiting. No one else was close enough to the blast to have been harmed, so Kintas sprinted away towards the group of fleeing Initiates, knowing he could only hope to survive, not fight away this danger. Aman, you're both genius and terrifying. I didn't quite expect Voidbringers this early, especially not in such a strategically dangerous position (above us, firing down into the chasm like shooting fish in a barrel). Good thing that lightning of theirs isn't particularly accurate. As for the arrest yesterday, it felt just like a giant bandwagon to me, and with poor reasoning from those that did provide it. Granted, I don't necessarily think Arinian is clear, but the reasons given for accusing him didn't hold a lot of weight to me. I am a little surprised that Sheep was killed by the Unjust, but as others have said, it was probably a good value for them: one Unjust could execute him, while others investigated people or perhaps used a spren ability if they were one of those who bonded a spren. Of course, only two people had bonded a spren at that time, and I didn't see anything that indicated any abilities were used unless there was a vote manip that I haven't confirmed yet (I haven't gone back through the list yet). Also, since I said I was keeping track, many of us have earned 6 Honor so far, which is awesome, but there are a few with less. Only three people have none, now, but there are a couple with only 1, and several with only 4, which is probably the minimum to bond a spren, and most of those with 4 didn't get there this last cycle, so if they were going to bond a spren they would have already (unless they just didn't allocate it). That means our five bonds are probably among those with 6 Honor, possibly some of those with 5. Still a decent list, but if I assume that only those with 6 Honor earned have managed to bond a spren, then actually over half of them will have one now, since there are 9 people with 6 Honor, and 5 bonds. Even if some bonds went to people with 5 Honor, that's only 14 people total (with 5-6 Honor), out of which 5 are bonded, so still should be possible to guess or determine who has some of those. I'm hoping most of them are Honorable, but statistically, there's a fair chance at least 1 of those spren is bonded to an Unjust. I'm almost certain that several of the more active players are likely Unjust, since it would put them at a disadvantage to lurk and not gain Honor, and since it's relatively easy to earn (as long as you make 2-3 posts at least, and a lot of players have been doing far more than that).
    1 like
  39. Great glad to help! Btw its a good story. A little different than most of Brandon's work but I enjoyed it.
    1 like
  40. We often do actually! Probably romance does dominate but there have definitely been friend questions before. I'm sure we were all dying to know that.
    1 like
  41. Credit for this meme idea goes to @bleeder. Possible minor spoilers for... the Cosmere in general, I guess? I also have two more Joseph Ducreux memes with Sanderson quotes.
    1 like
  42. 1 like
  43. Have you seen Kobold's tale of Darkbinder? You should read it What's the difference between a nicely dressed man on a bicycle, and a poorly dressed man on a tricycle? A tire.
    1 like
  44. I'll play is Nikel Fain, Padan Fain's brother who is on a mission to find and remove his influence from the world.
    1 like
This leaderboard is set to Los Angeles/GMT-07:00
×
×
  • Create New...