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  1. 47 points
    Hello, would you like to destroy some evil today?
  2. 42 points
    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
  3. 31 points
    I'm starting to think this is Taln speaking. When Kalak spoke of "that place of pain and fire" and "The flesh burning. The fires. The pain over and over and over..." initially I took this to mean that the Heralds finally broke because they could no longer endure repeated torture at the hands of Odium. That reeks too much of Odium being sadism incarnate. Sadism alone doesn't seem to mesh well with the nuances of the meaning of odium. Rather than Kalak dreading becoming once again the recipient of endless pain, I think instead he dreaded once more becoming a person who must mete out endless pain. What is the most loathsome thing one can do to someone sworn to protect others? Twist the oath so that, in order to uphold it, one must commit terrible atrocities against a small number in order to protect the greater number.
  4. 28 points

    From the album The Emperor's Soul Art Book

    Nights! It’s finished!!! My first digital art piece =) I had used about 200~300 layers (or more) and finally got this thing done… Woah. Promise fulfilled! Characters: Wan ShaiLu, Emperor Ashravan, Gaotona, Frava, Bloodsealer, Captain Zu, Imperial Fool (Hoid), Han ShuXen Original file (6527 × 3705) on Dropbox: [x] | DeviantART: [x]
  5. 28 points
    Here is one I made today, not specific but still I think it gets the feeling of being a Sanderson reader.
  6. 24 points
    How we think we look: How we actually look: When a newbie comes to the forum telling us about how they think most of Brandon's books are connected:
  7. 23 points
  8. 20 points
    Long Game 22, Day 1: The Color of Trust Today was the day. As soon as Twim woke up in the morning, that thought had popped into his head, the last vague impression left on him from the horrible nightmare that had continued to plague him. Those dreams just aren't bloody natural, he thought to himself for the hundredth time today, as the sun finished setting in the sky, the purple of dusk starting to slowly fade itself into the black of night. He had heard disturbing rumors and hushed talk between the villagers when they thought nobody was listening, conspiring secretly about the dreams that had been plaguing the entire village, not just the Mayor. And it was always the same, disturbing images of blood and gore, neighbor stabbing neighbor. Of trollocs and halfmen roaming freely through the streets, cutting down and destroying everything living. Visions of the entire village of Drell's Crossing going up in a great conflagration, the flames soaring up ever higher and higher into the night sky, waiting to be swallowed whole by the darkness waiting above. Or was there a shape hiding above in the darkness, somehow an even darker shade of midnight? Mayor Twim didn't like to dwell on such thoughts, lest they put him even more on edge than he usually was. The unseen eyes were back, watching from the shadows. Waiting. He didn't know how he was so certain, but he knew it was there.... whatever it was. The Dark One was bound by the Creator at the moment of creation, when the Wheel of Time was set in motion, he told himself the old catechism, repeating it again for what also seemed like the hundredth time that day. But he told himself it wasn't just paranoid fancy that made him start carrying his old sword again. The heron-marked blade had raised more than a few eyebrows from when Twim had lugged the trunk out from under his bed and brought it to The Golden Dagger. But a hard glare from Twim had silenced the unspoken questions and comments, making people lower the heads, peering back into their cups of wine and ale, as if to find the answers at the bottom of the glass. Twim had never seen the villagers so on edge before, everybody glancing askew at each other from the corners of their eyes, always trying to keep their eye on everybody, and the front door, while keeping their backs to the wall so nobody could sneak up behind them. It was as if the entire village was a dried out stack of hay and straw, and all it was going to take was one stray flame or spark to ignite the entire thing. Mayor Twim saw this happening, and felt the sudden urge to just.... give up and leave. Why should he try and get these people to trust each other? Despite all of his instincts screaming at him to open his mouth and say something, to do something, to tell these people they had no reason for the paranoia and suspicion. Nothing had even happened yet! But.... he just couldn't do it. Every time he tried to form the words, his mind slowed, as if trying to press through a thick, dense fog that formed into a wall every time he pressed against it. But no. That was wrong. Blood and flaming ashes! He screamed to himself, unable to form the words in his mind, covering his head in his hands and shaking his head. It was then that the rest of the villagers started to notice something was wrong, as more people began to take notice of him and his struggles. He saw concern and worry written on those faces. Not fear and confusion, not apathy. This village still had a chance to fight back against..... whatever was wrong. But it was then that the doorway banged open, turning every head to the silhouetted stranger shrouded in shadow standing in the door frame. They pointed a finger at the nearest person to them and shouted, "It was them, it's their fault!" Before darting back out into the night before anybody could even catch a glimpse of their face. It was enough. The inn's common room exploded like an illuminator's nightflower. Neighbors and friends were instantly at each others' throats, hurling insults and accusations, blaming them for actions that hadn't even been committed yet! Mayor Twim yelled out, trying to sort everything out and order back to the situation, to try and get everyone to calm down. Before anything that couldn't be undone happened. He stepped forward, getting ready to draw his blade -- just to grab everyone's attention -- when he felt the dagger slide into his back, forcing the words and the wind right out of him. "Oof," was all he managed, his legs giving out underneath him as he felt the hot, wet pain slowly begin to spread throughout his body. He could feel the burning as it worked it's way through him and to his heart, he could feel the dark, horrible hatred pulsing putrid evil through his veins. His vision began to swim black, as he distantly heard heard the shouting and chaos still going on above him, nobody seemed to notice as his skin slowly drained of color, his wound began to rot and ooze out a horrible black death. The death and shadow that was waiting for his village. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 1 begins! Day 1 will last 48hours, or until 9PM EST, Saturday, June4th! You can vote for each other on who to lynch, and can also decide on a new mayor for the village! Remember that you can not create any PMs until the Night begins! I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Warders or Ta'veren roles in this game, but I acknowledge the possibility that they could. I will work on getting PMs out as soon as possible, and feel free to PM me if there are any issues, questions, concerns, etc. Or if you want a Spec Doc. Best of luck everybody!
  9. 19 points
    I wondered who was in charge of TLR's hemalurgy department. And then it hit me.
  10. 19 points
    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...
  11. 19 points
    My signed copy of The Emperor’s Soul came in that I ordered on my birthday! In the personalization box, I asked for some new info about Renarin, and this is what Brandon wrote to me! To Alyx, Renarin sees a spren that nobody else does.Theorize, freak out, squee as you will. I’ll just be over here melting into a puddle of Renarin feels and occasionally making high pitched noises of glee. ALSO: Obligatory link to the ongoing discussion over on tumblr involving this new info. I am very much a fan of Emma (lunarubato)'s theory that Renarin might become a Skybreaker based on the idea that Radiant canditates exemplify one of their attributes and must learn to grow in terms of the other attribute. Really good stuff. I may just espouse that one.
  12. 17 points
  13. 17 points
    So, I got tired of waiting for the Future Mistborn Trilogy, so I decided to write it on my own. Also, Robots. Have fun! Mechborn: The Final Frontier Kelwin Atheme felt the shift as the USS Weathering dropped out of FTL. The scientist swore that there was nothing to feel, but all Allomancers swore they could sense something. The Allomancy Drive that propelled the heavy cruiser was a miracle of modern science, and one that Kelwin had absolutely no understanding of. He knew that it worked by allowing a ship to move along lines traced between stars, like the canals between cities in the Age of ash. However, the lines between stars were a natural phenomena, and impossible to reshape. They were certainly convenient, though. “Attention all crew.” Captain Erikeller said, his voice echoing from the ship’s PA system. “We have arrived in the Survivor’s Hope system. ETA three days to arrival at Kelsierport. All crew, be on your guard. Captain out.” Kelwin sighed, then turned back to his Cuirassier. There were a dozen ‘ports’ named after the Lord of the Mists throughout the Frontier, none of them much more than small towns. Few of them even boasted space stations, let alone enough traffic to be consider ports. The major population center on this planet was large than most, a few million people, but still small by core world standards. As Kelwin looked up at his Cuirassier, it took his breath away, as always. Six yards tall, the humanoid war machine was painted in an white-and-silver color scheme. It was impossible to hide something the size of Cuirassier from the Mk. 1 eyeball under most circumstances, so the Scadrial Republic Special Forces didn’t even try. Instead, they colored their machines so that squad members could easily identify one another. Several panels on Kelwin’s Cuirassier, a Mk. 7 Ascendant Warrior were open, exposing the inner workings of the machine. Wires, bundles of synthetic muscle, servomotors, I-field generators, Allomantic amplifiers, and all the other components needed to operate the mighty engine of war were exposed to plain sight. Kelwin knelt down next to a leg panel and held up a OmniTesTer. A member of Special Forces, particularly MistOpps, would have mechanics for this, but it was a poor warrior who left the care of his gear to another man. There was too much Cuirassier for him to check it all, but he could spot check, and make small mods. “Hey, that are you doing, Kelwin?” Kelvin turned. It was Rayid, another member of his MistOpps squad. While Kelwin was tall and lithe, Rayid was short and compact. Rayid’s hair was brown to Kelwin’s black, and the jovial expression and laugh lines on his face were almost exactly opposite the serious cast of Kelwin’s features. “Just doing some last minute tune-ups.” Kelwin said. “I figured I could get some more yield out of the legs if I improved the synchronization between the servos and the muscles.” “Whatever works for you.” Rayid said. “Me? I’d spend the time in the simulators.” “Fair enough.” Kelwin said. “I can’t believe they deployed us for this, though. I mean, aren’t Cults generally something that local governments can put down?” “Not when they infiltrate the local government and subvert a large portion of the PDF.” Kelwin said. “That’s when you send in MistOpps.” Rayid shook his head. “But how did that happen at all? I mean, it just seems so...” “We aren’t the Final Empire.” Kelwin said, not looking up from his work. “Outside the Core Worlds, we leave the colonies well enough alone. Otherwise, the sort of people who sign up to from colonies would rebel. This is the drawback, but I think its the only way the system holds together without stagnating.” “Seems kinda stupid if you ask me.” Rayid said. Kelwin put down his tool turned to face Rayid, giving him a blank state. “Seriously, how are you still part of MistOpps? I thought you had to be at least somewhat smart to be in here.” “They just want me for my allomancy.” Rayid said. “As long as you know that.” “Anyway, the briefing is in like five minutes. The Major told me to come get you.” Rayid said. The Major, Athren Marell, was the commander of the MistOpps squad. His rank was really only Captain, but he received a temporary promotion to Major while shipboard. He was a hard man, but a good commander for the six-man MistOpps squad. Kelwin put dropped his tool and closed the hatch on his Cuirassier. “Let’s go.” [x] The four men and one woman of the MistOpps squad sat at a long table, facing ‘Major’ Athren, who stood in front of a holoboard, which displayed the layout of the major city of Kelsierport. “Alright, men, I won’t lie. We’ve got a tough mission ahead of us. A large portion of the Planetary Defense Force has defected to this cult. They’ve got at least a hundred tanks, and at least as many Cuirassiers. The legislature doesn’t want the collateral damage that the regular army tends to cause, so they sent us in.” “What’s our objective?” Theria asked. The sole woman in the MistOpps squad, she was exactly as lethal as she looked. She was short, but the legends said the ascendant warrior was also vertically challenged. She had brown hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones, but her features came together to give her a predatory beauty. Kelwin was terrified of her. “We need to move in an eliminate the upper leadership of the cult, and destroy as much of there military equipment and war making ability as possible. Fairly straightforward, if challenging. However, there is another item to consider.” Athren tapped the holoboard, and it shifted to show an image of a gunmetal grey briefcase. “Recovering this is our second objective. I’m told that none of the weapons we’ve been issued can scratch the thing, so destroying it apparently isn’t a concern. However, we are to secure it at all reasonable costs if we have the opportunity, even if it means letting some of the cult leaders get away. Am I understood?” “Yes sir!” The MistOpps squad coursed. “Now, I assume you’ve all heard this, but since some of you have no brains to listen, I’ll go over it one more time. We will be approaching via orbital insertion, and landing just outside the city. From there, we will make our way in while the ship supplies us with air cover. Fourtanly, loyalist maintenance personable sabotaged upwards of ninety percent of the enemy air assets, so there is no real concern that they’ll be able to deny us air superiority. From there, we proceed to this compound in a park in the center of the city, where we eliminate the enemy leadership. After the cult refuses to surrender, the regular army comes in and mops them up. Are there any questions?” No one said anything. “Good. Now get to the simulators. There’s nothing like last minute preparation to get you ready for a combat drop. [x] Kelwin looked up at his Cuirassier. He was already wearing his pilot suit, complete with neural interface needles and Allomantic amplifiers, not to mention other... sundry... systems. Putting it on was an interesting experience, but one that all MistOpps soldiers learned to tolerate early in their training. By the time he turned twelve, Kelwin wore it like a second skin. He had swallowed metals until a lesser man would have felt sick, enough for hours of combat. “Looks like its you and me, girl.” He said, laying a hand on the machine’s lower leg armor. “Let’s go kick some chull.” He began to climb up into to the entry point on the Cuirassier. It was mounted behind the cockpit, with a single plate which swung upwards, allowing the control chair to slide out. The cockpit was already open, with the chair out. As Kelwin sat down, he tried really hard not to think about how crazy the action he was about to take was. He was going to drop several hundred miles from a warship, into the teeth of enemy anti-air defenses, with his only real defense against attacks being the hundreds of decoys and thousands of ECM ghosts dropped with the six man squad. Kelwin settled into his seat, and as his suit began to interface with the systems of the machine, the seat slid into the cockpit of the Cuirassier, the hatch closing behind him. He was plunged into darkness for a moment, which was quickly dispelled as the controls and panoramic monitors lit up, showing a dull grey. He took a deep breath as he tapped into the squad communication network. No one said anything for a few minutes. Kelwin took a brief moment to mutter a short prayer to the Survivor. I'm asking You Survivor, Kelwin began, to give me what You have left. Give me those things which others never ask of You. I don't ask You for rest, or tranquility. Not that of the spirit, the body, or the mind. I don't ask You for wealth, or success, or even health. All those things are asked of You so much, Lord of the Mists, that you can't have any left to give. Kelwin smiled. Give me instead Lord what You have left. Give me what others don't want. I want uncertainty and doubt. I want torment and battle. And I ask that You give them to me now and forever Lord, so I can be sure to always have them, because I won't always have the strength to ask again. Kelwin took a deep breath. But give me also the courage, the energy, and the spirit to face them. I ask You these things Lord, because I can't ask them of myself. Just as Kelwin finished, Athren began to speak over the intercom. “We’re coming up on the drop point in thirty seconds. I won’t count down, because none of you are newbies, but its almost time. Remember the plan, stick together, and watch your backs. Sliver be with you.” The Captain of the squad was a Sliverist. It was a bit odd, but worshipers of the Sliver of Infinity made up a sizeable portion of the population, though not nearly as large a percentage as Survivorists, and also made up a disproportionate portion of the military. Kelwin had no problem with them, despite the long history of rivalry between Survivorists and Sliverists. As Kelwin’s mental countdown reached five, the ship began to shudder. It was deploying decoys. This continued for endless seconds, then the Captain's voice came over the intercom. “Centerline tube, automatic fire!” Kelwin felt himself slide downward, then he was slammed against his restraints as his tube shot out of the belly of the USS Weathering and into space. He struck atmosphere almost immediately, his pod rocking as it peeled apart in the air, slowing him down as it slough off burning-hot strips of thermal cermaic. One of the things that helps a drop pilot to live long enough to draw a pension is that the skins peeling off his capsule not only slow him down, they also fill the sky over the target area with so much junk that radar picks up reflections from dozens of targets from each man in the drop, any one of which could be a man, or a bomb, or anything. It's enough to give a ballistic computer a nervous breakdown - and does. To add to the fun your ship lays a series of dummy eggs in the seconds immediately before and after your drop, not to mention a few in the middle, some of which will fall faster because they don't slough. The get under you, explode, throw out chaff, even operate as transponders, rocket sideways, and do other things to add to the confusion of your reception committee on the ground. As Kelwin shot downward, he resisted the urge to burn copper. It would cause him to disappear from enemy radar detectors, but would no nothing to hide his thermal signature. If the enemy had Infrared systems looking upwards as well as radar, it would be as good as giving them a neon sign saying ‘SMOKER INCOMING’. That, in turn, would make him a primary target, and get him shot out of the sky. Kelwin watched his display as, one by one, decoys dropped off his screen. You could tell the difference between a hit on a decoy egg and an ECM ghost by looking at what happened next. A hit on a decoy would throw off a cloud of chaff; when ghosts were hit, they simply vanished. The shaking intensified as Kelwin hit the lower atmosphere. Some of the bombs dropped with the MistOpps squad were hitting the ground, destroying enemy anti-air guns with lethal accuracy. Missiles rocketed down from the Weathering, smashing into major enemy radar installations and blowing back to the World of Ash. As Kelwin reached the troposphere, his pod opened, releasing his Cuirassier into the atmosphere. He squinted for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness on his panoramic displays, which showed the battle raging in the surrounding skies in brilliant augmented HD. His Cuirassier dropped, the path of his squadmates traced on his monitor. The mission called for them to be scattered over a one-hundred-square-mile area on the edge of the city, meaning that the MistOpps squad would be scattered over at least four hundred square miles, ranging from the city center to the suburbs. This was Kelwin’s third mission, and that was how the first two hand gone. If one listened to the veterans in the squad, that was how every mission went. Kelwin had no reason to disbelieve them. As Kelwin reached a mile above the surface, he burned copper and opened his parachute. Immediately, he blinked off of enemy radar. He fired his thrusters, pushing himself to the sided, just in case some sharp-eyed enemy radar operator noticed one of the thousands of radar contacts falling to their planet disappear, and decided to throw a missile at where it had been. Anti-grav would have been better than a parachute, but would have given off emanations that the enemy could have detected. Therefore, MistOpps went old-fashioned. At a hundred feet up, Kelwin detached from his parachute and burned steel. Immediately, the location and rough size of sources of metal on the ground appeared his mind. He pushed on one of the sources of metal, slowing the fall of his massive Cuirassier. Gently, Kelwin touched down. He looked around, the cranial sensor cluster that made up the ‘head’ of his Cuirassier swiveling in accordance with his wishes. That was the power of the Neural Interface Control. Kelwin had landed on a suburban street on the edge of the city. One of the nearby buildings was partially crushed from being used as an anchor for his Allomancy, and several plumes of smoke rose in the distance from bombs dropped by the Weathering. After a brief pause, Kelwin drew his weapon from his back-lock. It was a 1.75 inch autocannon, firing mass-reactive explosive slugs at a high velocity and rate of fire. The autocannon was a powerful weapon, made even more devastating when enhanced with Allomancy. Once it became clear that there were no enemies presently in the area, Kelwin pushed against a large source of metal in the ground, probably a water main or power line, and sent his Cuirassier surging into the sky. He used his Allomancy and thrusters to maneuver in midair, intentional setting a course that would be difficult to manually target. His thrusters fired metallic plasma, like some energy weapons, allowing him to use steel to enhance their thrust. Kelwin covered several hundred feet on his first jump. As he lept through the neighborhood, he searched for transistor beacons that would give him the location of his squadmates. Radio communications were no good in the area of a coppercloud, so Cuirassier squads communicated with each other via ultrasound pulses and laser comms. Of course, ultrasound had a short range, and you needed to see someone to use laser comms, so coded beacons were left by MistOpps soldiers to allow their squadmates to find each other. Kelwin had just spotted a beacon broadcasting Rayid’s code when the fist tank shell split the air next to him. Immediately, Kelwin burned Iron and Pulled himself toward the ground, avoiding the next shell. His Cuirassier landed in a crouch, autocannon ready. Kelwin burned tin, and the clattering of the treads of the enemy tank became clearly audible to him. There were two of them, a few hundred feet to the west. Taking off at a run, Kelwin moved in the direction of the enemy tanks. He was outwitted at least ten to one, but two last-gen tanks were no match for an Ascendant Warrior piloted by a Mistborn. Instead of rounding the corner to meet the tanks, he launched himself into the air, flying over the two houses separating him from the enemy tanks. He leveled his autocannon as he fell, and fired a burst at the first tank, burning steel and Pushing on the rounds as they left his weapon. The shells sparked off the top of the tank, tearing gouges in its armor. It didn’t have an external I-field; meaning that the shells were able to impact it directly. Kelwin landed on the top of the tank, his Cuirassier mourning the turret like a surfboard, and burned Bendalloy. As the world around the eighteen yard diameter bubble slowed to a crawl, Kelwin emptied his magazine into the barrel of the tank’s cannon, then stowed his autocannon and drew his blade, three yards of ultradense, superhard, invested metal. He activated the power field surrounding the blade, a mechanical Automatic device that disrupted material around the balade. He stabbed downward into the turret, sparks flying as his blade ground into the armor of the tank. A tank shell struck the edge of the time bubble and exploded. It had too much mass-energy to pass through without triggering its detonation mechanism. Solid slugs were better for penetrating time bubbles. Smoke rose from the breach in the tank’s armor as Kelwin withdrew his sword, then jumped off the tank and fired a projectile from his right-shoulder Pile Driver into the side of the tank. The Pile Driver was an Allomaticlly enhanced hypervelocity short-range slug thrower mounted on the shoulder of MistOpps Cuirassiers. It fired a spike a high velocities, capable of penetrating take armor with a direct hit. However, given its bizarre ballistics, it was effective at about the same range as Kelwin’s sword. Dropping his time bubble, Kelwin sprinted away from from the stricken tank. Secondary weapons fire from the second tank sparked against his I-field, and he retaliated with a missile from his left-shoulder ordnance pod. As the warhead blasted into the armor of the tank, silencing the machine gun, Kelwin sprang into the air and swung his sword, slicing through the barrel of the main cannon of the tank. He Pushed the severed barrel to the side and jumped, thrusters flaring, clearing the main turret the tank. Kelwin landed on the rear side of the vehicle, sword out, and was cutting at its weak rear armor before the vehicle could even begin to turn around. He cut several gashes in the armor, then fired his Pile Driver into one of them. Jumping away as the tank exploded, Kelwin resumed his search for beacons. The enemy would register the loss of their tanks soon, and send reinforcements. He needed to get clear before that happened. CODEX: Cuirassier: A humanoid war machine, it can be linked into the spinal cord of an Allomancer to benefit from their Allomancy as if it were there own body. It was first developed and deployed in the late stages of the Succession Wars, as the numerically inferior but Allomanctically superior Republican forces desperately sought an advantage over their Collectivist opponents. The Cuirassier gave the Allomancer Special Forces a decisive advantage, leading to a series of decisive victories, contributing to the survival of the Union. Given the nature of the I-Field offsetting its disadvantage in armor, it became popular among both the regular army and Special Forces. Allomancy Drive: A system using both mechanical Allomancy and feruchemy to allow faster-than-light travel. Details are classified. I-field: Investiture Field: This system exists in two flavors, fitting giving its mechanical Allomantic origins. External fields function like the ‘Force Fields’ of science fiction, deflecting projectiles and energy blasts away from the protected object. However, high mass and low velocity objects are unaffected. Internal fields increase the structural integrity of a material, causing it to survive attacks it otherwise couldn’t. Internal Fields are generally stronger than external fields, and protect from all attacks, but lack the regenerative properties of external fields, given that some damage is usually sustained by the protected material. I-fields are easier to generate with an Allomancer connected to the generating system, but the details of this are classified.
  14. 16 points
  15. 16 points
  16. 16 points
    Renarin gets some love (or, er, disdain from Elhokar) in the newly released teaser from Way of Kings Prime. http://brandonsanderson.com/want-to-join-bridge-four-the-altered-perceptions-anthology-final-week-drive/ There's a bit more of Elhokar being mean to poor Renarin in the chapters that will be in the Altered Perception anthology. I'm sure that will go over well around these parts.
  17. 15 points
    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.
  18. 15 points
    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.
  19. 15 points
    Buying a new Sanderson book like:
  20. 15 points
  21. 15 points
    A flock of migrating shorebirds landed in a field of marijuana to rest for a while. Before long, there was no tern left unstoned.
  22. 14 points
    I just realized I never posted it here. So, the story. @Slowswift and @Mistrunner had this idea here: And I memed that. Behold! Natasha as Vivenna nad Clint as Vasher/Zahel:
  23. 13 points
    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.
  24. 13 points
    Would someone be able to make a Kelsier-TLR version of this?
  25. 13 points
    Assuming everyone is average is a mean thing to do.
  26. 12 points
    We were all thinking it anyway
  27. 12 points
    You guys should all learn sign language, it's pretty handy.
  28. 12 points
    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.
  29. 12 points
    Does anyone else think Renarin is a suspicious character who is up to no good? It seems like he is a character who is overlooked for the most part. And aren't those the ones that tend to go on to major roles in Brandon's books? I think he is the one behind the shattered gems in the kings shardplate. -There are several references to him being curious about fabrials making me think he understands about the workings of the gems. -He suppossedly rushes into the chasmfiend battle out of bravery but was it really to draw support away from the king and his weakened armor? Hoid/Wit makes it a point to pest him because he is less fragile than people think. Why can't his bloodsickness be soulcasted away? Jasnah is able to soulcast shallan's blood - why won't that work here? I think there is something more to this bloodsickness. How does Taravangian know so much about the recent events that make Dalinar's death inevitable? I think Renarin is working with him. What do others think?
  30. 11 points
    Elantris: Stormlight:
  31. 11 points
    I am not sure your hypothesis works... According to the timeline, Dalinar went to the Nightwatcher circa 8 years ago which means Renarin would have been close to his teenage years. However, when he spoke to Kaladin, Renarin mentions he has had his "sickness" and his "seizures" since he was a child. Had they suddenly started as he was nearing 12 years old, surely it would have gone noticed. The reverse is also true, had Renarin been so sick his life was in danger, then surely he would have mentioned how they got better as he aged, but never truly left. It is thus I doubt the timing makes it possible for Dalinar to have asked/received anything with respect to Renarin. As for the scene you are referring to, I have a different reading. Dalinar has always struck to me as a very emotionally rigid individual having trouble expressing soft emotions such as love, care and kindness. Hard emotions such as anger, fury and hate easily found their ways into him, but the other ones? He seems to have repressed more of them which is why he comes across as cold to others except for those who managed to get under his thick skin: his youngest son, his nephew, Navani and to a much lesser extend Kaladin. All have in common Dalinar feels he needs to protect/shelter them. They are the only ones who truly see the kind and caring individual he can be, others get orders and more orders. In this scene, I have always thought Dalinar wondered about Renarin's reaction and not Adolin because he is naturally wired to worry about his youngest son, not his oldest. He hardly ever expressed worry over Adolin: he always took for granted Adolin would merely go along with whatever he decides. He'll adapt. He'll suck it in. Renarin however is the one he needs to shelter, to protect, to shield from life which is why, when he wonders about what his sons might think of him forgetting about their mother, he only thinks of Renarin's reaction, not Adolin's. It also echos Wit's comment stating how Dalinar needs to stop seeing Renarin as fragile and weak. This is how I read it anyway. This being said, it is highly probable, once the boys find out about their father forgetting their mother, Brandon will choose to present the Renarin angle, not the Adolin one even if the book indicates he should be the most affected by this news. It might thus be I am utterly wrong and Renarin has something to do with it, but my reading has made me come to other conclusions.
  32. 11 points
    A midget psychic assaulted one of his neighbors and then went into hiding. The next day the newspaper headline read, "SMALL MEDIUM AT LARGE."
  33. 10 points
    I'm afraid that I'm going to have to pull out of this game. I've greatly enjoyed catching up, and analysing the game, but doing so took me more than 40 hours last week, and has meant that I averaged less than three hours sleep a night. This would have been fine, but I collapsed after lunch yesterday, and had to be taken to hospital by paramedics. There appears to be something going on with my heart, and it's either caused or exacerbated by stress and lack of sleep. As such, ceasing playing seems to be a sensible, albeit sad, decision to make. Thank you all for providing such entertainment, and particularly Meta for running the game.
  34. 10 points
    A very obscure 17th Shard / Edgedancer in-meme. Props if you get this one. Also the above meme is ironic because Anakin failed right after saying that.
  35. 10 points
  36. 10 points
    Had an epiphany today: If you need an explanation... Ketek on the Coppermind / Definition of chiasmus / Definition of palindrome
  37. 10 points
    General Robert E. Lee was definitely a feruchemist. He primarily used 3 metalminds: Chromium, Zinc, and Electrum. Unfortunately (no pun intended), he emptied his Chromium stores in the early morning hours of July 1, 1863. Joan of Arc was clearly a rioter. Finally, I'm fairly certain that the man we knew by the name of "Benjamin Franklin" was actually Hoid.
  38. 9 points
  39. 9 points
  40. 9 points
  41. 8 points
    If he does, I'm pretty sure the answer would be 'Adonalsium, and by the way He's dead'. I'm also sure that Brandon would RAFO any question along those lines and tell us we're just gonna have to wait for Dragonsteel. Or possibly, Hoid is truly in on the secret, that all the Cosmere is just words on a page (like he says his own existence began, in The Way of Kings) and he's trying to spread the knowledge of this in a very subtle way by encouraging belief in the God Beyond whose holy name is Brandon Sanderson. xD
  42. 8 points
    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:
  43. 8 points
    Adolin's Law: As an online discussion about Stormlight Archive grows longer, the probability of Adolin's character arc being disputed approaches 1.
  44. 8 points
    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.
  45. 8 points
    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.
  46. 8 points
    We know a rough timeline of some events. He went after Ambition first, but couldn't find (him?) He then took out Devotion and Dominion on Sel (they were the first, so this is the best point to try mapping out timelines) After D&D, he took out Ambition at some unspecified time. Odium visits Roshar, gets trapped there for a long while and does Desolations Around 2 Millennia(by my best estimates) pass, and Honor is killed around the same time as the Recreance occurs. Remaining 2200-2500 years to the present date in Stormlight Archives. The problem with reverse engineering it is that we only have a statement by Brandon that is subject to change about how long ago the Shattering was. 6,000 years before Prelude in Stormlight. [2] Debate about how long the Desolations took ensues... I'm siding with the "there were only 9 Desolations" camp and using the Heraldic Epochs for this. Dalinar's vision with Midnight Essence gives us a lot of things. Midnight Essence are a sign of an impending Desolation. The date is the Eighth Epoch, 337. -If I combine those 2 things with the assumption that after each Desolation is a new Epoch, I can assume (for theoretical convenience) that each Epoch lasted around 350 years. -350 years x 9 Desolations (so that Aharietiam was #10 for you Vorin people) is 3,150 years, give or take a few decades. -This would give Odium about 2,800 years for Ambition and D&D Mistborn Era 1 takes place around 300 years before Stormlight(because Alloy happens around that time) Elantris takes place "far earlier. It's quite... It's not thousands" compared to Hero of Ages. I'll use 1,400 years because it'll be convenient in a minute. That puts Elantris a few centuries before Rashek's Ascension. The physical city of Elantris was built "hundreds of years if not over a thousand years" before the book takes place. If we put that at another 1,400 year gap, that puts the total time-gap at 3,100 years before Stormlight Archive. (Around the same time Odium got trapped, see? Convenient) Only Elantrians can draw Aons, and since the city is built as an Aon, the first Elantrians predate it. This is important, because we are assuming that the Aons being based on the land happened after D&D got splintered and shoved into the cognitive (where location and space matter) The early Elantrians learned the language by trial and error, which should preclude the possibility of divine shardic assistance. We have a 2,800 year timeframe left. Subtract from this however long of a time you think it would take for the early Elantrians to map out the Aons and build the city of Elantris. Take away an additional span of time after D&D were splintered for Elantrians to start appearing (maybe 200-300 years?) Note: I cannot find anything regarding timelines and the death of Ambition, so there is still room for doubt depending on if Ambition died before or after the events of Elantris. Edit: Yata's right. Ambition had to die before the events of Elantris(Book) so their death is irrelevant to the question
  47. 8 points
    Kaladin at the end of WoR:
  48. 8 points
    What's the difference between male cow puns and female cow puns? You can milk the latter for much longer.
  49. 7 points
    I can cut down a tree just by looking at it. It's true! I saw it with my own eyes.
  50. 7 points
    Good to see the memes coming through the 17th shard machine how about another (Notice: We interrupt Brandon Meme's to bring you an advertisement!)
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