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WoR spoiler: Edgedancer(not really a spoiler): Congratulations to everyone who gets that beautiful reference. Also, I found this and I think it's pretty darn accurate.

About the residue. The harmonium reaction with water doesn't cause nuclear fission - it's entirely chemical in nature, and there's also a release of Investiture tied to subatomic particles that produces energy and makes the reaction more violent. Lerasium and atium aren't alkali metals, so there would need to be a nuclear reaction occurring to produce them from Harmonium. If it is just the electrons that are Invested (the nucleus itself might be too unstable if protons and neutrons had additional repulsion), then the transfer of an Invested electron from a harmonium atom to a hydrogen ion is probably the place to begin our search. The Investiture structure (not the atom itself) of harmonium could be destabilized, since it doesn't match an allowed configuration (harmonium, atium, or lerasium), and all that Investiture is released as energy, leaving behind a regular cesium ion. But, when we look at the electron that was transferred, it will be sitting there all alone as a Hydrogen radical. Let's assume that's an allowable Investiture structure. These radicals can interact with everything else in the reaction environment - cesium ions, water, hydroxide ions, you name it, and in most cases the resulting molecule wouldn't be legal for being Invested, and the additional energy of this final electron would be released through Investiture decay. But, when two radicals interact with one another, they would form a hydrogen molecule, H2, with two Invested electrons. If that's a legal conformation, then there would be small amounts produced in every reaction. (It wouldn't be every molecule of hydrogen produced in this reaction, it all depends on the specific reaction pathway that is used to produce H2. Radicals are extremely reactive, so most of them will probably interact with a water molecule before they encounter another radical.) So, from a chemistry point of view, putting cesium in water will get you cesium hydroxide and hydrogen gas. Nothing else is possible without a nuclear reaction. If the hydroxide isn't Invested, that only leaves the gas. If harmonium is unbalanced towards Ruin (as I suspect it to be), then the reaction with water would release small amounts of Ruinous Hydrogen, also known as Ruin's Mists. Oh, the humanity!

This is what I remember from my questions at the signing. Really can't wait to get the exact words, since I got some great answers.

Please tell me if this idea has been proposed before. WoB's: These three say to me that the Listeners have Odium-related forms and Cultivation-related forms. They have no Honor-related forms. Their other, less magical forms, like artform, dullform, workform, nimbleform, etc. probably predate shardic influence on the planet. They obviously couldn't survive on their own in slaveform. -Song of Secrets Stanza 17 So, Nightform basically predicts the future, something that Cultivation is said to be good at. Also, it whispers "As the gods did leave". If the gods are the unmade, it wouldn't make sense for nightform to give a new prophecy as Odium's influence is retreating. -Song of Secrets Final Stanza I'm assuming that the nightforms refers to the a group of Listeners in nightform. I originally thought that that meant that there were multiple nightforms, but this interpretation makes more sense to me. We know that Honor thinks that a champion might work against Odium because all the Shards are bound by rules. The last line probalby refers to this event, so I think that the future predictions are probably accurate, as Cultivations woud probably be. There's also the "but" inbetween when the song talks about the Unmade and the nightforms. To me, this suggests a contrast between nightform and the Unmade-influenced form And we have the similarity between "nightform" and "Nightwatcher" going for this theory. Most of the lines about the other forms of power speak about the danger of them. Examples: I copied these straight from coppermind so there is still that large blue box there. Sorry. The songs never mention the dangers of Nightform. It's odd. It occured to me that one of the objections to this theory might be the Vorin prohibiotions on predicting the future. But if Cultivation, Honor's girlfriend/wife is good at it, why would Honor's religion object to it? I think that this was probably caused by the Hierocracy, which I personally believe was influenced/caused by Odium. It seems to me like there are a lot of small hints that add up to a pretty clear conclusion. Maybe I'm missing something though. Thoughts?

That face you make when you say a pun. At least I make this face. I say a lot of puns, so this face is regularly made by me.

I just realized I've become a lurker. I'm totally caught up on every thread I follow, but I just don't have anything to say . . . Also, I made this and I already posted it on my art thread, but I'm super proud of it, so: Yay for my second digital portrait ever! (First one I didn't even know how SAI worked, so it doesn't count)

Night 15: Omens The others couldn’t see it, but Mr. Hoid could. The writing was on wall- err walls, you could say. Everywhere he looked, he saw what the future held for the town of Tyrian Falls and all he could see was more blood, more burning, and more destruction. It was most disconcerting when he started to see the futures of the people themselves painted over their regular faces like masks. As he passed the butcher, he saw that the man had the bulging eyes of someone that had been suffocated or strangled. The seamstress looked as if she had been beaten upside the head with a club. Even those few that looked like they might live had a cast around them that suggested, if not death later on, at the very least a lot of pain and misery. When surrounded by such foul omens all the time, perhaps it wasn’t as surprising as it was for the rest of the villagers what happened next. *** Those few that were left were startled out of their now daily routine of casting accusations and glares at each other by the sounds of someone shouting near the edge of town. They couldn’t make out what was being said though until they drew closer. They all seemed to arrive at the small, no taller than 2 meters at best, “wall” that surrounded Tyrian Falls around the same time. There, standing on top of the wall, was Mr. Hoid. He was facing out and shouting at the countryside. “What are you waiting for?!? Attack already! Come and satiate yourselves! Can’t you see that we are beaten? Can’t you end this misery? You will come and you will conquer! I have foreseen it! So why not now? Let us end this charade, once and for all. Don’t make us- make me wait any longer! End this already! Attack!” The villagers, realizing what he was doing, reached up to grab at him and pull him down. To taunt Koloss? Surely the man was insane! But on the off chance that they did heed his call…. Well, they decided not to take that chance. And so a hundred frantic hands raised up to yank Mr. Hoid down off the wall. They were in such a hurry that they didn’t realize how they were doing so until gravity took the situation away from them. The only part of Mr. Hoid that they could easily reach was his feet. So they grabbed him by the ankles and pulled. This definitely had the effect of getting Mr. Hoid’s legs off the wall, but the rest of his body fell straight down. His head cracked into the wall where his feet had been and everything was silent; on both sides of the wall. No one had the courage to peek over to see if the Koloss were close enough to have heard. Day 14 ends and Night 15 begins! You have 24 hours. Conquestor was lynched! They were a Village Smoker! PMs are no longer available! I repeat, you can NOT send anymore PMs! Votes: Conquestor (5)- Joe in the Bush, Wyrmhero, Araris, Wilson, Herowannabe Araris (2)- Jondesu, Stink Herowannabe (1)- I am Stick No Vote (2)- Conquestor, Wonko Player List

Cycle 4: You need to learn the Steps The Duo danced through the misty dawn, leaping from rooftop to street, to wall to garden. They ran, and climbed, and jumped and flew. Over shops and homes and kitchens, and armories, nothing stopped their movement. They moved alone, both unaware of their partner, dancing parallel to them in the mist. Both moved towards the same destination, and left from the same place. Both had the same purpose, and both knew of the foolishness of their task. Both were equally determined. The Duo knew this city like a mother her child. It’s every nook and cranny were open to them. Every alleyway was an arrow, pointing to five victims. Every building a boulder, poised to collapse. Every fountain a grave, promising a watery death. The first Victim was a Thief. A Man who lived to steal coins and bread. He was prowling the streets, breaking locks and windows to enter unoccupied homes when the first dancer found him. Pedro’s death was quick, and simple. He heard the sound of a door opening, and when he turned to check, saw only the bright shine of a knife opening his throat. The second Victim was an honorable man. A man who obeyed the law in all things. He saw, he judged, he proved, and he executed. Misbah a Khattar died far slower than the thief. He was abed, when he heard a growl from outside his window. But when he sought to scare the assumed dog off, he was torn from the safety of his house, and then torn limb from limb. The duo moved on, three more victims to kill. The third to die that night was a quiet man, who loved the mists and the wind. Khaladin Jamaicablessed people called him. He was not loved, but he was appreciated. People would toss him a coin when he was hungry, and he would help and entertain them when they were confused or bored. The first Dancer stopped, and gave him another coin. He thanked him, but the words died in his throat when the coin jumped from his throat to his chest, and then to the wall behind him. The fourth was Joseline Farouq, a happy man, who was excited to be of help. Anything and anyone that needed help had to only call his name, and he would run there to lend a hand, or a shoulder, or a back, or an ear. Humans and animals alike, Farouq helped. So when he heard the growl of a dog, he thought nothing of it, and sought the animal out. Barely half of him was ever found. The duo were stopped from killing their last victim. They circled the house, looking in vain for an opportunity to throw a knife, or to pull him out of the crowd, but they had no choice. Far too many people were already surrounding Soflo Rigorrio, screaming and rioting as they dragged him through the streets to the Hangman’s square. They watched in anger and sadness as their victim’s life was stolen from them by an angry mob. Both slipped away, into the dawning sun, neither aware of the other, neither aware of the third, who had watched them both. Ryth stood shoulder to shoulder with Regiie, both of them uncertainly watching King Penrod mutter to himself The king had gotten worse lately, staying up at all hours, ordering random men killed, and generally acting like a sick man. “Regiie! Ryth!” He was always snapping at them as well. “Come out onto the balcony, tell me what you see!” Ryth exchanged a glance with his partner, but obeyed. Both men walked out to the railing, flanking the king who was clutching at the railing like a falling man grasps a rope. “Your majesty? What are we looking for?” The King pointed down. “Someone’s under the balcony! I saw them climbing up the wall!” Another, far different look was exchanged. An assassin? It would not surprise Ryth if someone decided that Penrod was too unstable to keep his crown. “Your Majesty, please, return inside while we hunt the man.” “Pah.” He spat the word at them, but pivoted and stalked inside. As he slammed the door behind him, a great -CRACK- split the air. Both of the guards froze. There was another, softer crack. Both of them looked at each other. As the third crack sounded, and the balcony began to fall away from the building, they lunged for the doors. Ryth’s hand barely brushed the frame before gravity claimed him. He fell, screaming, into the mist. Darkness Ascendant was lynched! They were a Citizen Silverblade was killed! Votes: DA (5): Magestar, Bugsy, Elenion, Phatt, Silverblade Conquester (1): Lopen Bartimaeus (1): _stick_, Elenion (2: Alvron, DA Time until Cycle 5: To Survive the Silent Strets Player List:

Chapter 49 Annotations:

Someone in the back room: *says something* Formerly Pushy Coworker: Hark! A thing is happening! I must abandon Twi at the front desk, for no minor thing is permitted to happen in my absence!

Mistborn spoilers:

Question: What qualities would attract an inkspren? Answer: Inkspren don't like how variable humans are, it's a thing out of Honor, so a person who is willing to think about their life rather than reacting by instinct would work for them. The scholar is the perfect example but for instance a soldier who is very thoughtful and doesn't just rush into battle would work for them too.

Hi All, I've discovered Sanderson's work through WOT and a glowing recommendation of a friend who's a big cosmere fan. So far I've read Mistborn (the original trilogy) and both Stormlight books. During the Mistborn read, I used to bounce ideas and theories with friends but we didn't have a chance to do so for WOR, so here I am... To throw my ideas out there and see how much I manage to get right (from past experience it's not much)..

Ah, sorry, I didn't quite make myself clear. I was adding to Jondesu's vote - given that I've noticed before when you said things that were elim strategies enough that I nearly told you not to give stuff to the elims for free, I think his point holds merit, and makes me more suspicious of you than of Alv. Tintallë tried to walk on past Fifth, but her head was still reeling. She stopped, focusing on the wall beside her. It was just another bit of grey stone, here, undecorated and blank and still. She focused on it, blocking out all noise and distractions, imagining that she was stone. She heard someone approaching, but didn't bother to turn. "Tintall, I believe your name was?" she heard. "Tintallë," she corrected absently, not bothering to turn and look at the person addressing her, focusing on the wall. Breathing. Not fainting, preferably. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. He kissed her hand, and she fell. Not in a romantic way. Jonly was... he was... oh, gods, Almighty above. If Tintallë could've closed her eyes in this not-quite-world, she would have. His soul was dark. That was the first thing. And not clean, sacred night. This was a darkness of eyes watching from the shadows, waiting for its prey to come nearer. This was a hard darkness, of blood and death and doing what was necessary rather than what was right. And... hatred. There was more hatred in his soul than Tintallë had known was possible. Almighty... And the darkness and the hatred mixed in horrible splendor. He hated everyone and everything, she saw, but there were a few images that stood out, though they made the darkness no less pervading, somehow. The image of a man with silver skin. A mysterious figure that nevertheless she somehow recognized, though she couldn't place from where. A woman, standing by a shining pool, glimmering brightly. And... a man in pack furs, standing near the woman from the third image. Jonly. She caught a glimpse, then, of what he had been: an honorable man, of ideals and wonder, who worshipped his goddess because he truly believed she deserved it, so much that he gave her the greatest gift in his world. And Tintallë saw when the woman cast him aside, and betrayed him, and left him for dead, and she wept at what his soul had become. A single word was written in blood in the darkness. Not dripping or messy or any such thing. Simple and elegant and horrifying. Monster.

Note to all those who say that we are a fandom: we are not a fandom, we are a cult. Edit: although the Peirs Anthony cult is a shade more creepy.

@Harakeke, listen to this. Ardents talking about Dawnchant. Relevant part starts around 19:00.

I wasn't a chemistry major, but I have a degree in electronics, so I've studied a good bit about metals (although I've studied more about their uses for electricity in comparison to their chemical structures). But if we're going down the path of assuming cesium was the element Brandon modeled Ettmetal after, then I can think of a few possible ways this might affect Scadrial in future eras. 1. Cesium can be used to convert various from of energy (such as heat and light) into electricity. Converting light into electricity is used with various fiber optic devices. While other elements can also be used for optics (in safer ways), this is one function cesium is capable of. 2. Cesium used to be tested as a type of fuel for spacecrafts. Could be a possible use for the metal as Scadrial develops into a space exploration society. 3. With the explosive natural of cesium, all I really know is that there's a super-oxide created when cesium burns in the air. Super-oxides are typically used to create the sources of oxygen used for astronauts, although I think other elements such as potassium and its super-oxide are more regularly used for the oxygen generators. When cesium reacts with water, you would get a different output since the element would be combining with H2O, and I'm not entirely sure what that ends up creating (besides an explosion lol). I'll take a wild guess and say we might end up seeing Ettmetal play into Scadrial as a fuel for space travel based on the chemical nature it's based off of. I'm just not that confident in being able to guess how everything with Ettmetal will play into the magic systems of Scadrial.

"I'm thinking that the so-called prophet is someone we should be looking at more closely," I said. Prophets. Anyone who claimed to see the future like that was a heretic. I'd seen enough charlatans trying to con decent people out of their money, but at least they never believed it themselves. People who said they could foretell the future and believed it of themselves were worse though. Honest criminality was understandable. But claiming to see The Lord Ruler's plans like that? Maybe even subvert them? That was a sin on a much greater spiritual level. But that's not a reason to suspect someone. I wouldn't let my dislike of his so-called visions colour the investigation. No, it was something else that caught my eye. A few days ago, we strung Carmichael up, Hoid was the one who started the dog-pile, commenting that it sounded like Carmichael was being all 'look at me, I'm still alive and it surprises me, I can't possibly be evil guys', with his commentary. Thing is, while I can understand why you might find it odd, he did exactly the same thing a few days ago with his comments on El's death. 'I have no idea why she was killed, when will they come for me, I can't possibly be evil'. Seems like he might've been fishing for a reason when it came to Carmichael. Plus he did the same when it came to our courier coming back into action. 'Poor evil guys, getting Tin like that, it can't possibly be me inconvenienced by this'. Not sure if he was a Mistborn or if he was just lamenting that his team was affected by this, but he certainly seemed to me to be acting odd.

Jude wasn't sure what he saw there, floating in the sky. He had just found his way to the inner-city area of Portland, with its horrible ruined pavements, brightly painted brick facades, and blood-soaked streets strewn with bits of... reptile flesh? The large, columned building floated stationary in the air above a large pit, occasionally firing off very excited-looking beams of color and sparkle. Shaking his head, he walked on, and instinctively reached in his duffel. Oh. Right. The cat had scampered off a mile or so back. Jude had searched and searched, to no avail. Shame. He quite liked that cat. Hope he's alright, Jude thought to himself, and walked on towards the giant, floating structure.

I just updated the OP with the links to the audio files and the Rithmatist Q&A transcript. I'm going to start on the Friday signing line transcription now. I had a few other questions answered that I'll paraphrase quickly.

Seeing the lovely woman in her arms squee with joy because of her made Shiny tingle with pride. She was shortly confused by all the names rattling out of Funtimes adorable and kiss enticing lips but that quickly changed when Funtimes started to work her wonders. Leaves turn into pancakes wasn’t something even Shiny had seen before. Thankfully, Shiny rolled up the pancake, so she could hold it with one hand and with the other hugged Funtimes around the waist to pull her closer. Funtimes enormous grin was just irresistibly cute, so Shiny couldn’t help herself but press a kiss on her cheek. “You’re just getting more wonderful by the second.” Kiss. “Thank you for the pancake, now to see if it’s as sweet as you are.” Kiss. Shiny took a bite out of the pancake and found it to be not only wonderfully sweet but also fluffy, as if Funtimes had taken an ideal pancake right out of her mind and made it real. “You’re right, these pancakes are great.” Kiss. “I love them almost as much as I do you.” Kiss. “Are these other pancake lovers you mentioned, as good at making pancakes as you are?” Kiss. “Or as colorful?” Kiss. “Or as fun?” Kiss. “Or as cuddly?” Kiss. “Or as welcoming.” Kiss. “Or as beautiful?” Kiss. “Or as nice?” Kiss. “Or as energetic?” Kiss. “Or as sweet?” Kiss. “Or as cute?” Kiss. “Because I love all of those things about you.” Kiss. “Just look at what kind of frenzy you worked me into.” Kiss. “I love you with every sparkle of my being.” Kiss. “And if anyone is good enough to be your friend, I’d love to meet them as well.” Kiss. “Even if they couldn’t hold a candle to how much I love you.” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Not quite. 'The same thing that happened in oregon' works better, or perhaps 'the same thing as what happened in oregon.'

I've started a google doc for transcribing the Rithmatist Q&A audio. At the moment it has timestamps for all of the questions, and paraphrased answers, but nothing is verbatim yet. Help would be appreciated. (Audio files are linked in this post above) The first 20 minutes are fairly quiet, since I was sitting partway back in the room. If those portions are too difficult for you to hear, @Ironeyes's recording may be better as he was in the front row.

I can predict the future. Bummer.

Small Words of Radiance spoiler

Aww, thanks! OK, here is the gist of it. Harmonium's instability IS caused by some of the subatomic particles being of Ruin and some of Preservation. Harmonium is NOT an alloy, but rather a complete metal. Its particles are NOT composed of investiture, but have a "spiritual identity" that associates them with one of the shards. A portion of the energy that comprises the explosion when harmonium touches water is energy being pulled directly from the spiritual realm and the particles thus losing their spiritual association with one of the shards. Due to this, there is no such thing as Harmonium Oxide, although he did add a cryptic comment that there is "something else" left behind after the explosion which is "interesting" and will be important to Scadrial's future. At this point I figured I couldn't hold up the line much longer and started fishing for a RAFO card. So I asked about Harmonium's nuclear potential. But get this: He didn't RAFO it!! He said that harmonium can't actually create a nuclear explosion but it does something similar which will be "very important" to the cosmere in the future. He explained that this is because he essentially added a third state of matter, since investiture is analogous to energy and matter where one can be transformed into the others through the right processes. So harmonium can create an effect that is somehow similar to a nuclear explosion but instead of transforming matter into energy, it does something with investiture. He didn't elaborate after that. As soon as we get the recording transcript done we can analyze his exact words, but this is what I remember for now. Please ask for any clarifications since I'll probably remember in better detail if a specific question is asked.

You just gave me a mental image of a rosharan army advancing in a line equipped with mops, scrubbing the ground clean and shiny at its passage...

As I recall, there are a number of issues with that old font. This comes out to: rahy? be?ohl dea? stleng? be?ohl ?eaknes jo?lney be?ohl destina??h It should look more like: Edit: As long as I'm at it, here are all the Ideals:

Day 14: Not Again Senn felt that looming sense of deja vu that he’d been feeling ever since that first man had died with a warning on his lips. He watched as the entire town fell into chaos and couldn’t help thinking that it was all too familiar. Now, he was staring at pages upon pages of reports about what was happening in the village; all of it dismal. There was a lack of food and supplies. No preparations were being made to stop the coming horde. Buildings were being looted and burned. And it all felt like he had been through it all before. He could almost tell what the next page was going to say before even looking at it. Senn rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away this portending feeling he had. He felt so helpless at the moment. He knew that he should be down in the village trying to add some sense of stability and try to steer things away from this course, but it seemed as if this was fated to happen. If it wasn’t, his feelings of deja vu wouldn’t still be there, right? Eventually, he couldn’t take just sitting there anymore and so he began pacing. This triggered another episode of deja vu in him and it just made him more antsy. What were they to do? Was there anything they could do? Were they meant to just die here, again and again; never learning from the error in their ways? He paused in his pacing. Again? Where had that idea come from? He’d never been through something like this before…. Had he? Suddenly, he just knew that he’d find his inkwell would be dry. He didn’t know how he knew, but it would be true nonetheless. He had what seemed like a vision of him going to collect a new one and then returning to his study, only to be ambushed and killed. He shook himself back to reality. The vision had seemed so clear and so detailed, but it couldn’t possibly be true. He had noticed that it had been snowing out in the vision and there wasn’t even the hint of frost in the air yet in the season. Even so, it was with a shaky hand that he finally built up the resolve to reach out and check the inkwell. *slosh* Senn let out a breath that he didn’t ever realize he’d been holding. The inkwell was still easily half full. His sense of deja vu had been wrong. He mulled over that last bit in his mind for a moment. His sense of deja vu had been wrong. If it had been wrong here, then that meant it could be wrong in other areas too! Perhaps the town wasn’t fated to fall! Perhaps there was still hope! For the first time in weeks, Senn turned to look out the huge window that dominated one wall of his study and looked out at the town of Tyrian Falls with something bordering on optimistic resolve. He smiled. He didn’t notice the figure standing behind him in the reflection of the glass until he felt something tug at his throat and soon after the world went dark. The only thought that Senn could muster before dying was, Not again… Night 14 is over and Day 14 begins! You have 48 hours. Seonid was attacked! They were a Regular Villager! Good Luck! Player List

When you have a really good meme to share, but you forget it.

For 9. The woman is just symbolic, something Isaac added on his own accord. It doesn't have a deep Cosmere meaning.

I think their awareness is primarily or at least largely in the Spiritual Realm rather than the Cognitive, actually, though they can perceive and in some way manifest in all three realms. http://www.theoryland.com/intvsresults.php?kwt='spiritual realm' That depends on what sDNA actually is, which I don't think is confirmed. I always understood sDNA to be the inheritable part of the spiritweb, which was fixed barring Hemalurgy, lerasium etc., while the spiritweb as a whole could change through life as Connections are built, diminished etc. So I'm not sure either a Shard Vessel or a Returned has modified sDNA. Their Spiritweb as a whole is definitely changed -- in the Shard's case, very dramatically! The changes a Returned experiences are definitely less dramatic, but they also hold far less Investiture - the equivalent of only 2000 Breaths So I think it's ultimately a question of definitions. A Returned definitely doesn't experience the radical transformation a Shard Vessel does, but that might be a matter of scale.

/u/Topsyt on Reddit posted a great theory today about Cusicesh. And I think one of the comments, by /u/statemint, rounded the theory out really well. You can see the link for the original. Cusicesh Cusicesh is a massive (100 ft tall), strange spren (supposedly) who appears every day in the Kasitor Bay of Iri. He appears at the same time (7:46 am), splashes out illusory waves of water, rapidly flashes various human faces while facing the Origin, and then submerges. He is locally known as "Cusicesh the Protector", and many worship him. Those nearby, who witness Cusicesh's display, feel "drained" according to Axies: Dai-gonarthis Dai-gonarthis, also called the Black Fisher, is only mentioned once (quote below). /u/Topsyt notes that his name (and alias) has a strong resemblance to Dagon, a pagan, Canaanite deity associated (traditionally) with fish. This follows the usual naming convention for suspected Unmade (see Moelach/Nergaoul and Moloch/Nergal). Paired with the cryptic introduction of Dai-gonarthis, there is little doubt he is an Unmade. Connection: the sea Note that both Cusicesh and Dai-gonarthis are related to the sea. Cusicesh "resides" in Kasitor Bay and splashes illusory waves of water. Dai-gonarthis is known as the Black Fisher and is perhaps inspired by a god that has connections to the sea. Connection: "draining" people Notice what the person in the Death Rattle above is saying. The speaker feels deep hurt and sorrow then calls to Dai-gonarthis. Next Dai-gonarthis "holds" that sorrow and "consumes" it. Might we say that he has "drained" the speaker's deep emotions? We have strong reason to suspect that the Unmade affect (or, perhaps, infect) the people within a certain area. Nergaoul causes the Thrill while Death Rattles are related to Moelach, and from what Taravangian says we have reason to believe that proximity to these matter. Could it be that Dai-gonarthis is an Unmade who siezes and consumes... emotions?... something from those who are nearby. This is very similar to Axies' experience with Cusicesh, who left feeling "as if something had been leeched from him". Two Interpretations /u/Topsyt argues that Cusicesh is Dai-gonarthis. There are a number of connections between the two, as we have seen. He further argues that Brandon likes to hide things in plain sight, and Cusicesh as an Unmade would be just that. There's also a notable conversation between Shallan and Pattern where Shallan (somewhat mistakenly) relates Cusicesh and Odium. A tease perhaps? /u/statemint takes another approach. The connections between the two are certainly present. But how do you explain Dai-gonarthis's... apparent weakness? Under the original theory, we can only guess. Maybe he has been weakened somehow. Maybe he is biding his time. Maybe he is having more influence than we realize. But perhaps there's an obvious answer. Cusicesh is known as "the Protector". Could it be that he is, indeed, protecting the Iriali from Dai-gonarthis? Could it be that Cusicesh is actually a spren who is holding Dai-gonarthis captive, consequently limiting the range and effect of the Unmade's influence to nearly nothing? Additional Speculation From the Wikipedia page, Dagon was sometimes viewed as a "protector". If Cusicesh is indeed Dai-gonarthis himself, this connection seems fitting. Furthermore, Dagon was also sometimes considered a judge of the dead. Perhaps this is related to the faces that Cusicesh displays? (this fits with either theory, I think) What do you guys think? See any other connections here? Anybody have additional insights on Dagon which might hint at more? If the "draining" feeling is associated with Dai-gonarthis, what do you think is going on there?

Panel on how Brandon's career got started (audio): https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B9fo0ba8ynPxSmNwTW1qV1Y4S2s/view?usp=sharing Oathbringer reading/Q&A (audio): https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B9fo0ba8ynPxLWpJYjQxVlZVRFk/view?usp=sharing Rithmatist discussion (video): https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B9fo0ba8ynPxaFlIWURwaDhHSkU/view?usp=sharing Sunday signing (audio): https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B9fo0ba8ynPxdUZrNGNJUDVwWDQ/view?usp=sharing Let me know if any of these links don't work. This is all of the video and audio I took at the convention. My recording of the signing cuts off at 48 minutes for some reason, but @DAdam got the rest on his phone. Thank goodness for backups.

Fixed, thanks.

Awesome! Cam is a pretty great name. (Skip me, compliment Headshot)

This sounds so much like my little brother. He pronounces "height" as "heighth" (height-th). Like how you pronounce width. He does it all the time, and with tons of other words too. I think by now he does it to annoy me, but at first he genuinely pronounced them that way. This so much. I'm a really fast walker, even for my pretty short legs (or they're short in comparison to most people at my school, even though I'm almost 5'5"), so I hate getting stuck behind people. I just don't see the point in walking slowly. I like to get where I'm going faster so I can then relax there.

I made a thing It's Eneless. it took me 5 hours.

He definitely had his Hoidsense during the events of the first Mistborn trilogy. source That sounds exactly like Hoidsense to me.

Alone, Dalinar sat upon the eastern ledge of Urithiru’s roof, looking out towards the Origin. Whenever he was deep in thought, he found himself staring at the horizon, as if there was something hiding just beyond it that could answer all of his questions. In the corner of Dalinar’s eye, a bright, column of light manifested, then faded, signaling the use of the Oathgate connected to Stormseat. Given the time, Dalinar was surprised. He did not expect the Initiates to return for another hour, at least. The sun had just barely reached its apex, and the Highprince knew Kaladin had planned for them to break their fast in the chasm, after finishing their battle. If they were here already, then that meant they slayed the Chasmfiend in record time. For such a small group, that should be impossible. Especially so once you considered the Initiates never fought together, before. If twenty Initiates were capable of such a feat, what could an army of Radiants accomplish? Curious, Dalinar rose from his seat and approached the edge overlooking the Oathgate, only to find the disc barren of life. If it wasn't the Initiates returning, than who else could have used it? Fortunately Dalinar didn’t have to wait long for that answer. Three men ascended from the stairwell leading into the inner chamber, one with his arms bound behind his back. It was hard to tell from this far up, but he wore an Initiate’s uniform, torn and bloody from battle. The men escorting him wore the pristine garbs of the Squires, and judging by the slight glimmer of their skin, they were using their powers to keep him compliant. Still, the two Squires had their spears leveled at the Initiate, one flat across his chest to prevent him from fleeing, the other's tip pointed at his rear to urge him forward. As they walked towards the bridge, Renarin peaked his head out of the inner chamber, likely watching for when they were off the platform so that he could return to the Shattered Plains to wait for the others. Who was the Initiate, and why was he being treated like a prisoner? The only explanation was that the man below had been found responsible for Lomot’s death. Dalinar would have to speak with him in the cells, if that were the case. Should he leave now, he'd arrive at the cells just in time to greet them. About to turn, Dalinar glanced at his son one last time. One moment Renarin was standing absolutely still, as if Soulcast into a statue, despite the Initiate and his escorts being halfway across the bridge already. The next moment he collapsed to his knees, his body trembling rapidly as he fought to get back up. Dalinar breathed, sucking in the Stormlight from the necklace of spheres he wore around his neck, and shouted with all his might. “Renarin!” Dalinar's voice resonated throughout the atmosphere, as if it were thunder. All over Urithiru, people stopped what they were doing and looked up to sky, wondering where the yell came from. Kaladin’s Squires, however, were just with Renarin and did not hesitate to turn to see what was wrong. The Initiate smiled, then breathed. In a blink of an eye, he had slipped free from his bonds and slid underneath the spear against his chest, and amazingly kept on gliding across the length of the bridge, as if it had all the resistance of ice. Momentarily stunned, the two Squires glanced back and forth between the fleeing Initiate and Renarin’s seizing form, trying to decide what to do. Without speaking, they split off, one in each direction. DALINAR KHOLIN. WE NEED TO TALK. “Not now!” Dalinar yelled at the Stormfather, sprinting from the ledge and towards the stairs leading down into the tower. In that moment he wished he was a Windrunner. That way he could fly to his son, rather than waste his time riding the lift down to the ground floor. I THINK YOU WANT TO HEAR WHAT I HAVE TO SAY. “Whatever it is, it can wait! Can’t you see something is wrong with my son?” Dalinar’s question echoed off the walls of the stairwell to the beat of his heavy footsteps. THAT’S WHAT WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT. HE’S HAVING ANOTHER VISION. “A vision?” Dalinar asked, interest peaked, though he didn’t slow his descent. “Of what?” THE ANCIENT ONES, BOUND TO THE ONE WHO HATES. THEY ARE FIGHTING YOUR INITIATES NOW, AND THAT ONE YOU CALL STORMBLESSED. That last word sounded almost like a sneer. Dalinar ignored it, focused only on what he needed to do. Eshonai sang to the Rhythm of Destruction, smiling as the rain wet her hair and dripped down the ridges of her face. Beneath her, a dozen listeners swarmed that fool Alethi, no longer afraid of his power, but inspired by them instead. If they could cut him down, they would become legends among their kin, for they would have avenged those slaughtered since the Rider’s betrayal. Eshonai battled with herself, fighting to not leave her perch. As much as she wanted the glory of vengeance for herself, she needed to play the general today, rather than the warrior. Last time, she barely survived her encounter with the Alethi, and she had only faced an ordinary Shardbearer then. “Do not let them escape!” she yelled, watching as the group of men and women fled deeper into the chasms. Though Eshonai’s voice could not pierce the storm that was raging above, those attuned to the same rhythm as her could feel the command. Breaking away from those chanting to maintain the tempest above, a squad of listeners jumped to an adjacent plateau, seeking an ideal position to drop on top of the human cowards. Gathering her strength, a bolt of red energy coursed through her, forming into a malicious sphere of crackling energy between the palms of her hands. The louder she sang, the larger it grew, the black and red colors on its surface swirling and bubbling until eventually it became too strong for her to hold onto any longer. Casting it from her hands, the violent orb shot into the open air and exploded, nine bolts of crimson lightning bursting from it, aimed for the earth. Wherever they crashed, the ground cratered and burned. Rocks scattered hundreds of meters into the air, then fell back down, sharp and furious. The power was chaos, far beyond Eshonai’s control. Still, it was chaos that she could use to fulfill her and her god’s desir- A blood-curdling scream filled Eshonai’s ears. It was so loud, it drove her to her knees. Desperate, she clasped her hands around her ears, though the effort did her no good. Her stomach twisted, the powers of stormform abandoning her and her resolve vanishing along with them. Receding into herself, she found where the sound was coming from. But how did her Rhythm suddenly change to Peace? She could sense the Rider of Storms watching her, now. Had he somehow forced the Rhythm upon her? Eshonai cycled through the Rhythms and again found Destruction. At once the screaming stopped and her strength returned. Rising back to her feet, she held her hands before her, then resumed her singing, urging the energy to form between her palms and demanding it to grow. Veriq truly was the most worthless man in Roshar. When the others talked, Veriq remained silent. When the others fought, Veriq remained idle. And now, when the others ran, Veriq remained still. Frozen in place by... something. Not quite fear or cowardice, but more like a lack of esteem, or self-loathing. At least he had succeeded in saving the babe. He did not know its gender, too embarrassed to check, but he knew the infant was safe in Urithiru. That mission was done, and for that, he was grateful. Could he die happy, knowing the baby would live on because of him? Maybe so, but when he breathed, the Stormlight flowed into him from the spheres in his belt pouch. When he breathed, he realized he wasn’t quite ready to stop breathing. And so he ran, faster than he had ever run before. Despite swearing the First Ideal, his leg was still bent awkward from his accident. Perhaps he had the injury for so long that it had become so a part of himself that not even Stormlight could heal it. Fortunately for him, the power did repress the pain enough that he could keep up with the others. Well, relatively speaking, at least, for they had already passed the Chasmfiend’s corpse, while he had just barely left their temporary camp. At least this way, no one’s life would depend on him but his own. Despite the power raging within him, all this exercise still made him perspirate. He wasn’t accustomed to running, let alone walking for any great length. At least the rain washed away the sweat from his brow. Licking his lips, he was glad not to taste salt. Woosh. What was that? Turning, Veriq saw the most insane thing in his life. A surge of water rushed from the opposite end of the chasm, so massive and strong it lifted the Chasmfiend from the floor, heading straight towards him. If that were not insane enough, there was an Initiate climbing the thing, a gemheart cradled between his arm and his torso, the same arm bearing a sword and awkwardly swiping at a pair of Voidbringers nipping at his heels. Just in time, the crazy Initiate threw himself over one of the monster’s spines, riding it like a horse. Yelling something that could not be heard over the storm, he pointed the sword forward, and with a lurch, the corpse began moving downstream. Straight towards him and the other Initiates. The flash flood hit Veriq first, throwing him backwards and off his feet. The world around him became a suffocating blur, dark and murky except for the occasional burst of red lightning in the sky. A bolt struck close to him, shocking him and rendering him unconscious. Darkness. But no deathspren? It was questionable whether or not they truly existed, but Veriq had seen them himself, once. Where were they now? Light! Veriq’s head pierced the surface of the water, and he breathed deep, the Stormlight from his spheres flowing into him. He had turned around somehow, and was now facing downstream, towards the other Initiates. They had all been swept up too, save for a handful clinging desperately to a rope that somehow was pulling itself up the chasm wall. Had one of them developed some kind of Radiant powers? Another few Initiates were riding a shield, by the looks of it, though only two adults and the child could fit on it. The rest struggled to swim with the current, or in a few cases, were unconscious and simply drifting with the flow. Dead Voidbringers bled and bobbed around them, while their living brethren stared down at the Initiates from the plateaus, casting the occasional bolt of lightning, but seldom hitting their mark. Crash. Veriq remembered the Chasmfiend the moment it hit him, and only then. Fortunate that he only hit its shell and not one of its spines, he just had to deal with the wind being knocked out of him. Conveniently, one of its claws limped beside him. Sucking in air and Light, Veriq grabbed hold, then used a surge of strength to lift himself on top, just like he saw Balthazar straddle one of the spines. His legs dragged in the water, the bum one blazing with pain, forcing him to keep breathing in his Stormlight. Instinctively he leaned one way and the claw swayed with his weight, nearly forcing him to slam into the corpse’s shell again. Resisting his urge to lean, Veriq fixed his posture and returned his gaze forward, towards the other Initiates, glad that the claw followed suit. Was it just him, or were they getting closer? Either the Chasmfiend was moving faster, which should be impossible given its weight, or they were beginning to slow down. But if so, how? The water… it was rising. The ground beneath them must have been sloping upwards, meaning that soon enough, the momentum would stop completely. Smash. Something beneath the water hit the Chasmfiend and launched it into the air at a spin. Hugging the claw tighter, Veriq closed his eyes and held on for dear life. When he opened them again he was facing a wall. The very same wall that a few Initiates had been hanging on by a rope just before. Looking left, he could see nothing but water and Voidbringers. Had the Initiates been struck by lightning, or been dragged down by the turbulent waters? Smack. What the? Dazed, Veriq swatted at whatever hit him in the face. Beneath him the claw shifted with his weight, causing him to lose his balance and fall into the water. Flailing his arms for something to grab ahold of, he felt something slither beside him. Frightened, he tried to swim away, but before he could escape the thing wrapped itself around his wrist and tugged. Veriq gasped, and water filled his lungs. This time he could sense the deathspren in the darkness. They weren’t exactly visible, and yet Veriq could somehow see their ravenous maws gaping to consume him. They were moving closer, growing larger. This would be the end for sure. Pulse. A sound like a drum beating filled the darkness. One time, then two times, then one time once more. The deathspren seemed scared by the sound, and sure enough, when the last one resounded, a warm light banished them and brought Veriq back to life. “You alright, friend?” Veriq was on top of the Chasmfiend, Kintas standing above him. Before anything else, Veriq noticed the rope curling itself around the man’s arm, as if it were alive. Veriq tried to speak, but only coughed water. Smiling, Kintas ran off towards the Chasmfiend’s head, motioning for Veriq to follow. Kaladin hadn’t felt this alive since… well, since the day he fought the Assassin in White. His heart raged inside his chest, Stormlight coursing through his veins, strengthening his muscles and hardening his skin. Kaladin spun among the Voidbringers, Sylprena dancing in his hands, sometimes in the form of a spear, other times as a shield, or a hammer. As hard as the monsters struggled against him, their strength and their speed could not match his. This… this was more than just Stormlight empowering him. It was as if the Ideals themselves were giving him strength. I will protect those who cannot protect themselves. And protect them he did. Kaladin had no time to look back. Escorting the Initiates to safety was his Squire’s responsibility, not his. He had only one job, and that was to keep the Voidbringer’s from pursuing them. Slipping under one’s arm, Syl became a sword and Kaladin spun around, the Voidbringer’s eyes boiling in his skull. Though the monster's eyes were the same color as flame, they burned all the same when sliced through with a Shardblade. Beyond the falling corpse, a warpair ran towards Kaladin at full speed, then leaped, blades sparking with electricity as they lunged them at his face. The Windrunner Lashed himself to the sky ten times in quick succession and rocketed into the air, narrowly dodging their strike. Gathering a full broam’s worth of power inside him, he Lashed himself down to the earth one hundred times more, landing on the head of one and burying him seven feet deep into the stone, a concussive wave of frost and force bursting from his body, knocking the advancing Voidbringers off their feet. Surprisingly, not a single one stirred. None except those taken by the sudden current of the flash flood heading right towards him. No wonder they stopped jumping down after him. Smiling, Kaladin took to the sky once more, this time slowly so that the Voidbringers on top of the plateaus could get a good glimpse at the man who would defeat them, once and for all. Too busy chanting that disturbing song, the Voidbringers barely seemed to notice. “Kaladin, behind you!” shouted Syl. Too late to turn, Kaladin Lashed himself sideways, but even that turned out to be too late, too. A bolt of red hot plasma shot through him like an arrow. He tried to breath, but the blast had paralyzed him completely. Eyes locked open, all he could do is watch that Voidbringer Shardbearer smile as he fell into the turbulent waters below, his body convulsing from the shock, her body collecting electricity. How? Veriq asked himself, panting with his hands on his knees, halfway up the Spire. How had they gotten here? He knew the answer, of course. He had watched Kintas fish the rest of the Initiates from the water with that living rope of his. He had watched Shinon fire arrows at the Voidbringer’s trying to jump and climb onto the Chasmfiend, and watched Uther throw daggers into the air to catch any bolts of lightning that came dangerously close. Of course, neither man's aim was perfect, and there was the occasional skirmish, but miraculously the Initiate's had all survived. Before they knew it, they had arrived at the Spire. It reminded Veriq of the Chasmfiend’s spines, a massive, black needle that from this angle, looked tall enough to pierce the heavens. As soon as they reached it, the Horneater that Kaladin called Rock dove into the water and swam into the tower through one of its open windows, a few of the Initiates following close behind. Low on Stormlight, Veriq found himself unable to move. His leg ached worse than ever before, and he was more tired than he had been in his entire life. If not for one of that bald Squire grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to swim, he would have drowned for sure. There were still so many steps left to climb, and the other Initiates were so far. Even the Squires had moved on ahead, although instead of using the stairs, they had ran up the walls outside, defying gravity. They needed to reach the top, they said, before the Voidbringers could get there and set an ambush. At least Veriq was not alone. Petrik was having trouble too, it seemed. For some reason his wounds weren’t healing, as if the Stormlight refused to replenish his strength. “We’ve got to,” Petrik gasped, “keep moving.” “I know,” Veriq wheezed, “but I can’t.” Looking over the edge of the stairs, he could see the water rising in the center, red lightning dancing across its surface. The Voidbringer’s must have been channeling the electricity directly into the rising flood. If it were to touch him, Veriq would surely die. It rose so quickly, he concluded that this was the end for sure. “Here,” Petrik held one of his infused spheres out. Veriq breathed and the Stormlight urged him to survive. “Let’s go.” Adolin felt the rain before he saw the storm. When the curtain of light fell to reveal the Shattered Plains, he found it very different than he last remembered. It was still daylight, apart from the plateaus obscured by the shadow of the unnatural storm above. Some of the plateaus seemed to have shifted places, while a few others had been splintered and weathered. Voidbringers, at least a hundred of them, lined the edges of the plateaus, chanting that horrific song of theirs. It was faint from afar and with the thunder roaring above, but Adolin could hear it. The rhythm summoned memories of that day when he fought Eshonai and nearly died. If he let them keep singing, the storm would only get worse, and so he ordered the Bridge Crews to get to work. “17! Get Aladar’s men on the southern plateau! 18, prepare for mine to cross to the western!” Heaving the bridges onto their shoulders, the bridgemen complied. “Son, can you see them?” Dalinar asked, shielding his eyes from the downpour with his hand. “No father," Adolin replied, glancing at his dad. "But I'm sure they're okay. Kaladin is with them, after all." Dalinar didn't look very convinced. "Please, return inside. It’s too dangerous for you to be out here without Plate or Blade. I’ll take care of it from here.” Shifting his gaze to his son, Dalinar nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Good luck.” Thanks, Adolin thought as he watched his father descend back into the Oathgate’s inner chamber, then looked back at the chaos unfurling before him. It looks like I’m going to need it. So close, now. They were so very close. Already the rest of the Initiates had reached the top of the Spire and stepped onto the plateau. Most of them were outside with the Squires, fighting off Voidbringers by the sound of it, although a few of them remained at the exit, shouting for Veriq and Petrik to hurry. Smack. The Spire quivered and Veriq stumbled to the side. Rather than lose his balance and topple, he threw himself against the stairs, digging a few of his fingers into a gash in the stone to keep him anchored. He was fine. Thank the Almighty, he was. Petrik, however, was not so lucky. “Help!” the young man shouted, hanging onto the edge of the stairs with a single arm, his other too wounded to hold his weight. Veriq could see that his grasp was slipping, and fast. “Veriq!” Kintas shouted from above. “Are you alright? Petrik needs your help!” Help. How many times had Veriq heard that word and froze? Countless times. So many, that it didn’t even register in his brain the same way it would anyone else. He was the most useless man in Roshar, after all. What help could he be to anyone, other than himself? Breathing deeply, Veriq sucked in some more Stormlight from what was left of Petrik’s spheres. If only he didn’t resist his powers, Petrik could pull himself up from the ledge. “Please, help,” Petrik cried. Veriq panicked and ran. “What are you doing! Petrik needs your help! Turn back!” Kintas was right. Petrik needed him, and what did Veriq do? The same thing he always did. He fled. Maybe today… maybe today could be different. Veriq turned and watched as Petrik’s strength gave out with a yelp, the young man's flailing body falling towards the electrified water. “Grab hold and pull!” Kintas shouted, and suddenly his rope was alive again. Like a skyeel, it flew at Petrik and snagged his broken arm. No longer needed, Veriq turned kept on running, watching as Ranatar pulled back on Kintas' now-gray trousers to keep him from being pulled off the ledge. Once outside, Veriq fell to the ground, utterly drained of Stormlight. "What the colors was that?!” Kintas shouted at him, kicking him in the side so that he rolled onto his back. “How could you just let Petrik fall to his death!” “I’m sorry,” Veriq tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. He was too tired to even speak. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Ranatar said next. The stormwarden had seen his cowardice too, and in that moment, it seemed the only logical explanation. “I’m sorry,” Veriq tried to say again. This time he couldn’t even move his lips. “Airsick lowlanders!” shouted an unfamiliar voice, just before Veriq was suddenly lifted onto a massive shoulder. “Less talking! More running!” the same voice demanded. Veriq's stomach churned as the world rocked around him. Charging across the bridge, Adolin directed half of his troops towards the Voidbringers lined up along the edge of the Plateau. As the soldiers parted to knock them into the flooded chasm below, the prince and the rest of his men ran for what looked like a massive spike, surrounded by a writhing crowd of those monsters. It was impossible to tell what the crowd was surrounding exactly, but Adolin’s warrior instincts told him that’s where he needed to be. Sure enough, a moment later he saw one of Kaladin’s Squires knock a few of the Voidbringer's off their feet with what looked to be a cookpot. As he ran, he swung the pot wildly with one arm while the other sheltered an unconscious Initiate draped over his shoulder. Voidbringers too stunned to stop them, a few of the smaller, younger Initiates made it free from the battle, although the monsters quickly reformed their line, cutting off the rest. “Pincer formation!” Adolin shouted, sprinting left and saluting Rock as they passed each other, the Horneater determined to lead the women and children to the Oathgate, the prince determined to reach the battle and save what was left of his father’s hopes and dreams. If the Voidbringers had not noticed already, Adolin had no intention of warning them of their advance. Fortunately by the time any one of the monsters heard the soldier's footsteps over the thunder and rain, it was too late for them to act. A flash of light and the clanging of metal. A splash of blood and cries of pain. When the chaos settled, Adolin found himself struggling to catch his breath alongside a man bearing the uniform of the Initiates. His eyes were still dark and his skin did not glow, but whatever this man’s name was, there was power within him. “No time for rest,” he shouted, quickly surveying the faces of the men who were still standing. Only Algo and Loen were dead, then. Good soldiers that deserved a proper burial. Breaking off into a run, Adolin hoped the scouts could find their bodies later. “Brightlord!” yelled a Squire. Teft, if Adolin remembered correctly. “Have you seen our Captain?” “Kaladin? No. I thought he was with you!” The look on Teft's face was cold. Empty. “I don’t… feel him, Brightlord. Not like I’m used to.” “Well, do you still have your powers?” The man’s skin began to glow. “So he’s still alive, then. Probably just took flight when the chasm started flooding.” “I hope you’re right, Brightlord. I hope you’re right.” YOU’VE LOST HIM, KHOLIN. STORMBLESSED IS GONE. Dalinar breathed in the Stormlight then bellowed, “Retreat! Retreat!” His voice was loud enough to shake the earth and rouse the dead. Behind him, Renarin was shaking. Whatever kind of visions he got they were very different than Dalinar’s, for he remained standing, and was still conscious of this world. Ahead of him, Adolin raced across Bridge Eighteen, an entourage of soldiers, Squires and Initiates following close behind him. “What do you mean Stormblessed is gone?” Dalinar mumbled, not wanting to speak loud enough that his honor guard, made up of the former members of Bridge Four, could hear. Unfortunately the Stormfather did not answer. “Renarin, get back inside. Prepare the Oathgate. I’ll shout when we’re ready to go.” “Drehy!” one of Dalinar’s guards yelled, waving his hands to grab the attention of Kaladin’s Squire. After a quick glance behind his shoulder, the man named Drehy ran over to meet his friend. “I don’t see the Captain. Where is he?” “Peet…” Drehy’s face twitched a little, then became as solid as stone. Without saying another word, he looked behind his shoulder once more. “He ran off on his own, Peet, to keep the Voidbringers off our back. Said he would meet us here. I’m sure he’ll show up so-” “-sadly, Squire,” Dalinar interrupted the conversation before Drehy could finish. “As soon as Aladar’s soldier’s finish crossing their bridge, we’re leaving, with or without Stormblessed.” “But sir!” Peet interjected. “Soldier,” Dalinar responded firmly. “I respect your loyalty to your Captain, but do not forget that I am both his and your superior. Besides, Stormblessed is capable enough on his own to return to Urithiru without an escort. Understand?” “Yes, sir…” In the distance, Aladar directed the last of his men onto the Oathgate before stepping onto it himself. “Renarin! Now!” Splash. Veriq was soaked, but that didn’t stop the cold water that was thrown on his face from waking him. Wiping the moisture from his eyes, he looked up to find a clear, beautiful sky, and his fellow Initiates surrounding him. “Veriq, is it?” That was Dalinar’s voice. “Yes, sir,” he said, struggling to rise to his feet, though he could only make it to a knee. “I’ve been informed that you tried to kill one of your fellow Initiates. Is this true?” “I… what? No!” Dalinar sighed, waving several men forward. Of them, Veriq only knew Kintas’ name. Behind the crowd, Petrik watched with sad eyes. “So in your own words tell me what happened, then.” Clear sky or not, the air was strangely tense, as if there was an unseen storm brewing around him. “I… I left Petrik to die, sir. I could have helped him, but ran right past, only concerned with my own safety.” “And before that, while your allies were fighting the Chasmfiend. What did you do?” “Nothing, sir...” “Nothing? You didn’t even lift a finger? Just watched as your allies fought for their lives?” “Yes, sir. I'm worthless, sir.” “Well then you leave me no choice. Initiate Veriq. On the field of battle, non-action is as good as being an accomplice to murder. You could have saved another man’s life and instead left him to fall to his death. How can I trust that you run out of fear, but because you wanted him to die?” “I… I don’t know, sir. I don’t think you can.” “Then you understand the predicament you have put me in. Therefore I hereby sentence you to indefinite imprisonment, until we can decide what to do with you. Adolin, be so kind as to show him to his cell.” “Yes, father,” the prince responded, then stepped up to Veriq. “Come,” he said, his face steeled but eyes shining with contempt. Adolin did not even reach out a hand to help him up. “As for the rest of you,” Dalinar addressed the other Initiates while Veriq was led away. “You’ve been through a lot today. Please, take the evening, and all of tomorrow, off. Relax a little. Perhaps take a stroll through the gardens, or unwind with a drink at Pub Seb. I haven’t been there myself, but Sebarial ensures me that it’s atmosphere is delightful and that it’s got the best menu Urithiru has to offer. “Oh, and do be on the lookout for Arionium. Earlier the man escaped from the Squires and is hiding somewhere within the city.”

Don't worry, that just means you're an Atium misting.

The entire end of Elantris was just beautiful. Especially the part which DarkJester mentioned and the part where Hrathen does his thing at the end. Also the part in Words of Radiance when

Strangely enough, I do that exact thing whenever I stub my toe.

When you're in Spanish class, and hear a word that sounds a little like seon, and go into... well, a strange little Sanderson world you've created for yourself.

The Ars Arcanum uses terminology such as "End-Positive," "End-Neutral," and "End-Negative" to describe the magic systems. I think it can be illustrated well by looking at how all three systems can grant an individual an increase in physical strength: In Allomancy, you get strength at the cost of consumed pewter. The benefit is greater than the cost. In Feruchemy, you get strength at the cost of that exact strength, taken from yourself earlier. The benefit is equal to the cost. In Hemalurgy, you get strength at the cost of a greater amount of strength, taken from somewhere else. There's a connection to entropy here. There's no such thing as a true perpetual motion machine - you need to add energy, or it will stop. Same principle here - Preservation needs to add Investiture greater than the cost, that of the metal consumed. Feruchemy, as End-Neutral, doesn't net you more energy over a period of time, just shuffles around when you get it. Hemalurgy, End-Negative, is accelerating the heat death of the universe. That's why Allomancy is of Preservation, since it helps to stave off stagnation. Another note, be careful not to confuse applications of the magic with the nature of the magic. Yes, as you mentioned, Ruin used Allomancers to sow chaos and disorder in the Final Empire and Inquisitors would reuse their spikes, preserving the Investiture in them over many lifetimes. But I don't think you can take the actions of magic users to learn about the nature of the magic. Magic systems are an interaction between a Shard (Intent) and a world (Focus) that define how Investiture is applied. They do not necessarily specify motives and lowercase-i intents behind using magic. (With Surgebinding on Roshar, yes, you need to act in accordance with your oaths, but that may be a specific property of Honor's magic system, not of all magic systems in general.) Pointing to what I said above, each magic system provides powers, but they have different costs, depending on the Intent of the Shard behind them. Lastly, it's been speculated that the interactions that create magic systems happen in the Spiritual Realm, which is not time-dependent. (Seeing into the Spiritual Realm, and the Connections therein, is how people see the future in the Cosmere.) I think it's possible that Feruchemy was, and has always been, of Harmony. Each Shard Invested in a world gets a magic system, and the power that would become Harmony was Invested in Roshar (even though it hadn't taken that form yet.) That's why we have a magic system that is of both Preservation and Ruin - because we have a Shard that is also both Preservation and Ruin. So, it's an interesting hypothesis, but I don't think magic systems are a sliding scale, where on one end we have mostly Preservation, and on the other end, we have mostly Ruin. Each Shard gets a magic system, which defines what the powers are (but not necessarily how they're used). However, I will definitely say that Mistborn is the only series where we've seen this much of an in-depth look into the magic systems of the world - Roshar has three magic systems with three Shards, and Sel has two shards that are possibly combining into one. As we get further along into each of those series, I'm sure we'll see more concrete information on the interplay between Shards and magic systems.

I am the space dragon. I am the epic serpent. I am the length that coils around creation. My scales are black as the void between stars, and in my eyes shimmer the lights of a billion galaxies. My fangs are light years long, their roots wider than solar systems and their points sharper than atoms. To stare into my face is to stare into eternity. In my foremost claw I hold a planet pinched between my claws, a tiny blue green sphere I found as a newly hatched space dragon. I hold it up to my cosmic eye, peering down at the tiny little creatures that crawl about its surface. For thousands of years I watched them bicker and war amongst each other. I saw hatred and ugliness in their hearts. At times I considered flicking the little blue pebble into its sun, to cleanse its filthy people with nuclear fire. But each time I tried I stayed my claw, convinced by some nagging in the back of my infinite mind to let them live another century. Another age, it pleaded. Give them another age, and they will show you beauty. And so I waited. The millennia passed like ticks of a clock to my all-encompassing eyes, but to my weary view it seemed to last forever. It seemed all the little primates ever did was fight and torment one another. In one age they learned to cultivate fields and forge steel, and immediately turned on their less advanced neighbors. In another age they crossed one of the great oceans of their world, only to slaughter their kin on the other side. In the latest age, they discovered how to split atoms themselves, and immediately utilized the god-like energy they'd produced to murder entire cities. I tired of their senseless violence. Ignoring the pleading voice in my mind I lifted the world on high, determined to fling it into a nether-dimension and have it consumed by the flame-hounds for all eternity. But in the last moment before I could destroy the speck, I saw a single beautiful glimmer of light from its surface. It was a single witty primate with a story to tell. I watched in awe as he hatched a vision of the cosmos, an epic story arc that told the tale of gods and magic and lost forlorn spirits. I watched in admiration as he put that vision on paper, in stories that made me laugh, cry, and love. I, who had watched stars burn at the end of their lives--I, who had watched entire galaxies grow cold--I, who had watched the universe itself be born in a fiery explosion at the Beginning of all things... was impressed. The microscopic primate had impressed the great space dragon. Though to my eyes the life of a star seemed only to take a second, the infinitesimal ticks of time in between his novels were far too long for my liking. So for the first time, I deigned to speak to the little primates. Because they, like myself, were impressed with the witty one's writing, and were eager to discuss the wonder of his words. My forked tongue, an ethereal force transposed over the fabric of reality, graced the servers of their Internet and began to Speak. Earthlings, rejoice! Sing in praise of the primate that tamed the Dragon. Sing in praise of the primate that saved his world from the one who felt it held no merit. Sing not of your wars and petty bickering, but of the basic creativity that's kindled in every one of you, waiting to be unleashed. When you look at the sky, see not the great space dragon, but see reflected in my eyes the beauty of your species. And rejoice. Ooookay I have no idea where all that came from. The truth is, I'm a hairy, dusty teenager with no redeeming physical characteristics. The space dragon is way cooler. : P

Whe the only books you can read, period, are Sanderson.

Something I saw on reddit that is my favorite theory on this. He compounds luck and throws a dart at a map of the Cosmere.