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  1. Nergaoul was in control. Eshonai roared as the Unmade took over her body from within, a wave of hatred and darkness bursting from the middle of her chest. Tendrils of malicious energy smoked from her body as she grew so large that her Plate began to tear apart at its seams. She had never felt so hot in her life. Every nerve in her body screamed with pain as her bones melted and her flesh bubbled. No matter how hard she tried to close her eyes, It forced them open so she could watch her monstrous transformation. I AM SORRY, LITTLE ONE. THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO TO EASE YOUR SUFFERING. The Rider. He had not spoken to Eshonai since the angerspren corrupted her soul. Why acknowledge her now, moments before one of her ancient gods possessed her completely? Buried inside her, the listener’s muffled voice howled into the shadows that endeavored to consume her. Nergaoul answered her with an earth shattering laugh, her body quaking with masochistic delight as it broke through her Plate and cast its molten shards across the plateau, a few of the sharper bits raining down on Alethi and listeners alike, piercing hearts and severing a few limbs. WHY ARE YOU CRYING? ISN’T THIS FUN? Eshonai shuddered at the sound of the infernal voice, tears leaking from her eyes and turning to steam before they finished rolling down her cheeks. All around her, the tiny humans began attacking each other, overwhelmed by the enmity that radiated from her body like some kind of odious aura. As for the listeners, the dark god’s presence empowered them, the echoes of his voice resonating with the angerspren roiling inside them. STOP FIGHTING. IT ONLY HURTS MORE IF YOU FIGHT. Was she fighting? Eshonai didn’t feel like she was. Besides terror and torment, she couldn’t feel much else. There was sorrow, too, when the rain stopped pouring onto the battlefield to wash the once beautiful, but now bloodstained, stone. Unbidden, a memory of her exploring the Shattered Plains as a youth surfaced in her mind. She could recall with divine clarity the day she discovered the Alethi and met their king for the very first time. YES! YES! REMEMBER THE KING! THE ONE WHO BROUGHT US BACK! THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS ALL! Gavilar. This was his fault. His, and his followers. The listeners never wanted to awaken their old gods, nor did they wish to start a war. But King Gavilar forced them into a corner and left them with very few options. The old Council of Five made a choice to sacrifice their lives to stop him. The King died, but his plans did not, and now look what came of them. The Alethi brought the Last Desolation upon themselves. Upon the listeners. Upon the world. Eshonai would punish them for their indiscretions. Would bring the real monsters here to justice, even if it cost her honor and her soul. Like a sudden flood over a raging inferno, relief surged through her. In the place of the pain, Eshonai felt peace. Pleasure. FINALLY! I AM FREE AT LAST! Nergaoul was in control. ‘A vicious cyclone enclosed the plateau, warding off the brunt of the Everstorm.’ Was the cyclone really vicious? Lyna glanced at the shield of wind once more, then crossed the word out. The cyclone was powerful, that much was obvious, but vicious implied violent intent, which contradicted its very nature to protect the people within it. ‘Beyond the rocky precipice, two winds danced. One of Honor, the other Unmade.’ Ooo, Lyna cooed to herself. She liked that. Only problem was, where could she go from there? Glancing up at the crimson eye in the sky and the shining man floating below it, Lyna had a surge of inspiration. ‘Kaladin was no longer human, Syl no longer a spren. Together, they had became something more: a living storm.’ Were they really a living storm? Lyna supposed not, but she knew no other way to put it. The honorspren danced around her Windrunner so fast that her body was starting to blur, grey stormclouds flocking to her and turning white, purified by her light. Pleased by her stream of thoughts, Lyna continued to write. Funny how it took her surviving two unnatural storms and an army of hideous monsters attacking her friends to demolish the writer’s block that had suffocated her for so long. Convenient, too, that Stormblessed’s power was keeping the rain from falling on the plateau, and thus consequently, from soaking her paper. It was as if the Stormfather Himself was urging her to finish her work. “Lyna!” a familiar voice called her name, but she paid it no mind. The woman was too overcome by her creative trance to look away from the looseleaf notebook clenched tightly in her gloved safehand. It felt weird not having a sleeve covering her entire left arm, but the uniform of the Initiates wasn’t very accommodating for females, so she had to make do with what she was given. “Lyna!” the voice yelled again, this time closer and loud enough to rouse her. “Give me a minute!” she responded, freehand scribbling relentlessly into the pages of her journal. In the last few minutes, she had managed to fill nearly three pages with simplified glyphs. She would have to translate them into women’s script later, when she had more time. Something crashed and threw Lyna to her knees, her journal and quill flying from her hands into a shallow puddle. Without her to hold on to them, the cyclone began to pull them towards the ledge. “Lyna! Forget them! Hithon is in trouble!” Hithon? Lyna froze, gulping loudly as she watched her quill roll off the plateau into the storm. A moment later, the journal followed it into the spinning wind, pages fluttering open and ripping from its spine before vanishing completely. She wanted to cry, to wail, but suddenly Ranatar was at her side, helping her to her feet and pulling her towards the massive Voidbringer and the two men fighting at its feet. As soon as she saw the enraged Hithon, her pen and paper vanished from her mind. Nergaoul was alive again at last. After all this time, It finally had a body of Its own. Just as Odium had promised. From above the battlefield, It watched Its body flex its muscles, crimson electricity sparking along the length of Its left arm, gathering into Its palm and condensing into an immense blade of jagged lightning. Human scum fought off Its children with rabid desperation, though a few had turned on one another, enticed by Odium’s power and influence. Even a Defier had succumbed to the darkness, which drew the Unmade’s eye. Nergaoul recognized the taint on him. ONE OF DAI-GONARTHIS’ PLAY THINGS? It thought. Would the Black Fisher be mad if Nergaoul broke Its toy? PROBABLY, It laughed. Dai-gonarthis was a Sliver of Hatred, too, and prone to violent outbursts, especially when slighted. Not that either of them cared. The Black Fisher would embrace the rage, and Nergaoul would accept the consequences with a smile upon Its face. Raising Its weapon above Its head, Nergaoul aimed for the Defiers at Its feet. Those with enough sense to watch It rather than get distracted by their allies sudden betrayal were able to react by splitting off in several directions, making it harder for Nergaoul to kill them all with a single blow. Fortunately, they had not yelled a warning to the others, allowing the Unmade to focus on the Defiers locked in battle. Nergaoul’s movements, however, were sluggish. By the time Its strike hit the earth, all but one of the Defiers had gotten out of the way. At least the attack had killed one, except… The human had deflected Its blow. But how? Nergaoul bent Its head to look closer, and found one of the humans clutching a bleeding arm, a claymore lying nearby, bent halfway down its blade. Unarmed and wounded, the Defier would be helpless if It struck again. Smiling, Nergaoul lifted Its weapon and plummeted it at him again. This time, It would kill him. But no. Souls drifted into the Cognitive, but not the Defier’s. This time when Nergaoul’s blow landed, it was met with even more resistance. Eyes burning with fury, the Unmade looked again, and found a fragmented shield in the Defier’s hands, held together by Stormlight. The light in the shield was flickering, however. There’s no way it could survive another blow. Raising Its weapon a third time, but only half way, Nergaoul threw all its weight forward and managed to find purchase in the earth. It didn’t need to crane Its head to see the Defier roll out of the way, grab his bent claymore and back into the stone monolith. Realizing he could run no further, the human’s face twisted with fear. Instead of swinging again, Nergaoul pointed the tip of Its sword at the Defier and brought Its hand to Its face. Grinning, It lunged at the shield clutched before him. An explosion burst from the impact, strong enough to force the Unmade to step back and scatter chunks of silver all over the battlefield. Nergaoul roared, infuriated by the human’s tenaciousness. It would kill him. Now, or never. Holding the weapon horizontally, the Unmade dragged it across his body, then swung. With ease, the weapon cleaved through giant rock, the blade sparking as it slid straight for the human. A moment too late, Nergaoul noticed a spren whispering in the Defier’s ear as he rose to his feet, then crouched low. NO! NO! The human jumped. No. Flew. A Windrunner, like Stormblessed? But that wasn’t an honorspren sitting on his shoulder. A Skybreaker, then. Odium had said they might be involved. But why was he fighting with the Defiers? Weren’t they supposed to be on the side of hatred? Odium had said as much. Apparently Odium was wrong. The Skybreaker brought his second hand to the hilt of his claymore and rested its bent blade against his shoulder as he aimed for Its eyes. Nergaoul turned, letting go of Its weapon and allowing the concentrated lightning to dissipate, the stone leaning sideways with nothing between its crack to hold it up. Seething, the Unmade watched as the Skybreaker flew past his face, the bent edge of his claymore scraping against Its brow. Without chitin to protect Its face, the weapon gouged Its flesh. Orange blood leaked into Its left eye, but all It could see was red. Above the battlefield, Its massive eye shut, two folds as black as the night closing over Its iris, then Its pupil. Along the thin slit where the two folds met, a bloody light shone through, brightening with every passing second until it colored the entire plateau scarlet. Nergaoul opened Its eye and released Its gathered power. Ninety-nine bolts of abhorrence and indignation erupted forth, showering upon the plateau, killing both humans and listeners alike. The charred remains of their bodies launched into the air and rained back down onto the cowering survivors, drenching them with a mixture of gore and blood. Regaining control of Its body, the Unmade summoned another blade of lightning and turned around to face the Defiers. How kind they were to gather in one place once more. “I’ve got a plan,” Ranatar told the others. It was difficult keeping track of both the situation with Hithon and the possessed Voidbringer, but with Lyna and Fifth’s help, he was given enough time to ponder their next move. Pausing long enough so that the rest of the Initiates could gather closer, presumably to make him easier to hear over the constant whirring of the cyclone and sounds of battle in the distance, Ranatar observed the giant monstress with interest. It was difficult to tell while she wore her Plate, but it was clear now that the Voidbringer was a woman. In the past, Ranatar might have scoffed at the idea of a female Shardbearer, but after dealing with female Radiants, he quickly realized the fault in his culture’s assumptions regarding the genders. You’re getting distracted, Ranatar told himself. Focus on the problem at hand. Contemplate the faults of society later. The monstress no longer wielded a sword of lightning, but the crimson energy still coursed along the ridges of her body until they converged at the tips of her fingers. A thick drop of orange blood fell from her chin and landed on the ground between her feet moments before she pressed her hand against her forehead, a loud hissing sound filling the air as soon as it made contact. Cauterizing a wound, eh? Ranatar didn’t have to see the Voidbringer’s face to guess what happened to her. Besides Kaladin, Fifth was the only fighter here who could strike that high, discounting Shinon, of course, but the archer was nowhere to be seen. Speaking of, where was he? Ranatar had lost track of both him and the Squires after the Stormwarden severed Kintas’ living rope with an Elsecalled dagger. Ah well. It would have been nice to have their help, but Ranatar would have to make due without them. Him and his fellow Acolytes had come this far on their own. Gained the strength of not one order, but four. If anyone could win this battle, it would be them. As for the Initiates, they’d have to make an excellent distraction. “Teresh. I see you have your powers, still. Think you can blind the Voidbringer by hurling balls of flame at its head?” Teresh stared at Ranatar, frowning deeply. Instead of nodding, the man clenched his jaw, contemplating his options. Teresh had trusted not one, but two of the “Unjust.” Ranatar suspected Teresh blamed himself for the deaths of his fellow Initiates, and was eager to avenge them. Ranatar didn’t need to be a mind reader to hear his thoughts. “Don’t even consider it. I could teleport my allies and I to safety before your flames reached us, and for some reason I doubt your control is very fine. As close as we all are now, you could easily kill Araon, or Rea. If you didn’t, I’m sure the Voidbringer would finish the job,” Ranatar said while pointing towards the giant, who was now staring at the sky. “You’re wrong,” said a voice. Not Teresh, but Araon. Ranatar did not bother to look at the man, choosing instead to follow the Voidbringer’s gaze up to the eye in the sky. Slowly, a void closed around it from two sides. Was the horror retreating? Had Kaladin won? Araon continued talking, despite not being addressed. “My spren tells me that I’m immune to the powers of other Releasers.” Ranatar jolted at the admission. When he looked at Araon, he found a firespren that resembled a young child, its gender uncertain, sulking as it floated above the warrior’s head. Unlike Keph, the spren looked young and frail. Tiny globs of lava dripped from its fingers and toes, as if it were melting. Now that he did not expect. Ranatar had always been good at math, but predicting Bonds was very different than predicting Highstorms. It was very possible he made a mistake somewhere along the line. But if he was wrong about Araon, was it possible he was wrong about someone else? Rather than reply, he looked to the child. Rea. “Don’t suppose you’re a Windrunner?” The boy - no, girl, Ranatar had to remind himself of the information they found during Rea’s investigation - shook her head and shrugged. The girl had the potential, but for some reason had yet to speak the words. Oh well. She might not be very helpful now, but it made his future plans a little safer. There was a noticeable dimming as the giant eye finished shutting, then a sudden, violent brightening that painted the entire plateau red. Each of the Initiates and Acolytes looked to the sky at once and stared at the line of scarlet light crackling along its center, dividing the void in half. Ranatar had no idea what was happening, but he could make an educated guess. “Brace yourselves!” he screamed, and to the others credit, they didn’t hesitate to obey. It seemed that, with these circumstances, the Initiates would accept a temporary alliance. Folding inward to make himself smaller and wrapping his arms around his head to cover his ears, Ranatar waited for an explosion. Instead, his hair stirred and his ears filled with the sound of whistling air. Curious, he raised his head and peeked over his forearm. A dome of wind had started to circle the Initiates. Was Fifth doing this? Ranatar glanced sideways at the Skybreaker, though judging by the furrow of his brow, Fifth was equally confused. It was hard to see beyond the dome, but Ranatar could make out a few vague shapes. Four figures obscured by white light stood around it, one standing in each cardinal direction, based on the looming shadow of the monstress just ahead. The Stormwarden fit the pieces together. Kaladin’s Squires had returned, and like their Captain, they learned how to create shields from the winds. It was at that unfortunate moment that the sky erupted and he watched one of them die. Even through the nebulous dome of wind, Ranatar could see the bolts of lightning with clarity. Subconsciously he tried to count them, but they were much too fast, and the havoc caused by their descent overwhelmed his attention quickly. He watched, with wide eyes, as one of the bolts plunged straight for him and reflected off the dome into one of the Squires. A splash of blood hit the whirlwind, dying it a vivid red, seconds before it slowed and stopped completely, the remaining three Squires unable to hold it together on their own, or perhaps unwilling. Teft, Leyten and Drehy ran to the smoldering crater where their friend once stood, not too long ago. Teft was the first to look in. As soon as he did, he straightened and looked away. Drehy slid to his knees and began to clutch his chest, while Leyten stepped beside him, bent his head and closed his eyes, before reciting a silent prayer. Ranatar heard someone vomit behind him, but chose to ignore it. Skar’s death was horrifying, but if the giant Voidbringer wasn’t defeated soon, he suspected there would be more like it. Stepping towards the smoking crater, Ranatar prepared to interrupt the Squire’s warning, only for a loud shout to come from above. Kaladin had felt his Squire die, and judging by his response, he wasn’t happy. The windshield that surrounded him slowly became less round as Syl’s body turned into energy. From this angle, it seemed the winds were shaping themselves into a spearhead. The honorspren appeared to be fusing with it, manifesting into a silvery mist with cerulean accents. Whatever that eye belonged to, it looked like the Windrunner intended to blind it, or worse. That gave Ranatar an idea. “Listen up!” the Stormwarden yelled, his words punctuated by a loud crash as the giant Voidbringer started lumbering in a circle to face the Initiates. “If we don’t end this fast, more good men are going to die! It looks like our beloved Captain is aiming to finish his battle! I think it’s about time we do the same! “Teresh! And Araon too, I suppose. Can you two blind the Voidbringer with flame or not?” Keph spun around her Dustbringer’s hand, forming a glove of flame. “I don’t believe I can shoot that high. Keph says my range is limited to 15 meters.” “And I’m kind of new to this,” Araon continued, “so I doubt I could fire even half that distance.” Ranatar would have sighed if not for his backup plan. “Can either of you tell me the melting temperature of rock?” Araon frowned at him. “Is this really time for a school lesson?” “1200 degrees,” Teresh replied before Ranatar could answer. The look on his face suggested that he knew that Ranatar was going to say next. “Keph says that with Araon, we can manage it. But it’s going to take some time.” “That’s fine. While you’re creating a lava pit, Fifth can-” “-Ceol,” Fifth interrupted. “Pardon?” “My name is Ceol.” Ranatar couldn’t stop himself from sighing this time. “Fine. Ceol. Can you fly around the Voidbringer’s head without putting yourself at risk? What I’m planning is going to take a while to set up and it won’t be very effective if the monster sees it coming. I don’t need you hurting the Voidbringer, just pestering it. Keep its eyes away from the ground for as long as possible.” “Got it.” Ranatar turned to look at who’s next. “Jonly… I’m not actually sure what you’re capable of.” The man laughed, though it came out more like a bark. “Anything you are, and more.” “In that case, do you see those spines protruding from the Voidbringer’s back?” Together, everyone looked at the giant, who moved slow enough that she had only yet to turn halfway. Jonly nodded. “I want you and the Squires to try scaling them. If you’re strong enough, you should be able to throw yourself from one to the other, almost like climbing the rungs of a really big ladder. The monster might not be wearing Plate any more, but it’s got chitin covering everything but its face. If we’re going to do any meaningful damage, it’s going to be done there. Think you can manage it?” Jonly grunted. “What about you three? Teft. Leyten. Drehy! You shook up too much to fight?” “Of course not!” replied Drehy. Before Ranatar could ask, Teft answered his next question. “We heard you, and it sounds solid. Not sure what else we could do without being able to fly.” At that, Leyten looked at Ceol with jealousy. “While this is happening, what are you going to do?” asked Teresh. “Rea and I, we’re the safest to traverse the battlefield. He’s a small target and I can teleport out of the way of danger. I don’t know where Naihar is, but with his powers, he’s the best chance we have at tripping the monster, unless anyone else has a ton of firepower they’ve been keeping from the rest of us.” That last statement was met with an equal number of head-shakes and incredulous stares. In the background, Ranatar noticed the Voidbringer was almost facing them completely. He would have to make this last part quick. “Lyna. Stay with Hithon. It doesn’t look like the Stormlight is healing as fast as the rest of us, and it's not like he can see, so we need you to look out for anything that we might not expect. If you need to get anyone’s attention, just scream.” Rather than speak, his fellow Acolyte nodded. “What about us?” Oh. Right. Ranatar had forgotten about Hess and Tintallë. The man was a natural recluse, and the woman always seemed to be drifting off into her own little world. Of course, Ranatar knew the reasons why from his research, but he also knew these two wouldn’t be able to do much good. “See if you two can find any of the Radiants. Make sure they’re okay, provide any support you can. And if they’re fine, send them to help. I’m sure we could make use of their powers.” As an afterthought, Ranatar added: “Oh, and Hess. Make sure nobody touches Tintallë, no matter what. It won’t end well. Trust me.” The man’s reluctant nod would have to be enough. The Voidbringer was staring at them now, her swordarm gradually raising the lightning blade above her head. “Everyone!” Ranatar yelled. “You know what to do! Now scatter!” “So,” Shallan said, breaking the awkward silence. “You going to tell me what just came over you?” Adolin had already been sitting on the ground, slouched over, his head resting against the groove left in the cavern wall from where his Blade pierced it before being dismissed. And yet when Shallan addressed him, the prince somehow managed to deflate even more. She had avoided getting too close to him, partly because she was worried he might attack her too, not to mention the fact that her betrothed was covered in thick, orange blood. She cared little about stains, but she couldn’t help but be intimidated, seeing him like that. Shallan hadn’t felt this afraid of a man since… well. Since her father. She swallowed hard at the realization. “I wish I knew,” Adolin said, then sighed. He looked as if he was about to cry but refusing to let the tears run free. There was a pang of regret in his voice, too. One that seemed more repressed than the guilt you’d have from killing dozens of monsters to save the world, or turning on a man who could arguably be his best friend. “This wasn’t the first time you lost control, was it?” Shallan asked, not meaning for it to sound like an accusation. The burst of outrage Adolin demonstrated made it seem like an accusation anyway. He grabbed her wrist so fast and hard that Shallan nearly leapt out of her skin. “He told you!” Adolin shouted, then pulled. The look on his face was almost rabid. Shallan shook her head. “No one told me anything, Adolin!” she said with a yelp, resisting the urge to summon Pattern, but unable to escape the feeling in her gut that told her she should. She did not like being defenseless. Fortunately she didn’t have to say another word, the pain on her face enough to snap Adolin back to his senses. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled as he let go and shied further into the corner of the cave. “I don’t know why this is happening to me…” Shallan didn’t know either. All the same, she decided to take a leap of faith. Grabbing the prince’s wrist and dragging it over her shoulders, she settled herself into the crook of his arm, then rested her head on his chest. For minutes they sat like that in silence. Neither was oblivious to the sounds of the approaching storm, nor the bright flash of light, or the quiet rumbling that gradually became a violent quake. And yet neither made an effort to move, as if they were to content to die like this, pressed to each other in a cold, dark cave, sheathed in blood and sweat. When the quake stopped, Adolin finally spoke. “I killed Sadeas.” How was Shallan supposed to respond to that? Adolin was broken, that much was clear, and in his current state, the wrong words could set him off again, drive him to violence. Instead of replying or flinching away, Shallan nestled closer. “Since it happened, I’ve come up with a hundred justifications. The man was a monster. His betrayal at the Tower had killed thousands of good men, ruined the lives of their families. All so that he could remove my father and seize this kingdom. When that failed, he continued to plot. Did everything he could to undermine us. There was no other way to stop him. Someone had to do it. “But the truth is, there was only one reason I killed him, Shallan. In that moment it was because I wanted to. I couldn’t make him suffer the same way he made my family all these years. He was heirless and there was no way I could bring myself to harm his wife, even if she is just as conniving as him. I wanted to hurt him. To kill him. And so I did. As simple as that. “Does that make me a bad person?” Again, Shallan was clueless. This matter was too grave for her wit, and she had been sharpening her tongue for so long, she doubted there was anything she could say anything that would actually help him. So instead she grabbed his chin with her freehand, tilted her head towards his and kissed him. At first the contact was soft, like a gentle breeze. Then her hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him into her hard. His lips tasted like salt and iron, but she didn’t mind. A minute passed. Perhaps two. Three. By the time they were finished, Shallan had lost count. She smiled, uncaring, and Adolin smiled back. The prince was still hurting, but the anger was gone. Whatever Shallan had done, it grounded Adolin. Brought him back. “Thank you,” he said, then groaned as he shifted positions. Apparently the way he had been lying before wasn’t very comfortable. Shallan sniffed loudly, then pinched her nose. “That smell… no! You didn’t!” she said, trying not to laugh. Suddenly nervous, Adolin perked up and began wiggling in his Plate. “I! What? No!” he stuttered, then sagged with relief. Giggling, Shallan let go of her nose and leaned in for another kiss, which Adolin quickly swat away. “Nope. No more kisses for you. You ruined the moment.” “Can you really blame me?” she replied with a smile. Rather than answer, Adolin closed his eyes and leaned his head back. If not for his haphazard breathing, Shallan would have guessed he was falling asleep. “The Herald of Justice approached me, the night of the gala,” Adolin began. This time it was Shallan who perked up. Unsure of the cause, that information made her nervous. “He said he just wanted to talk. I’m not sure if I believe that was always his intention. The conversation, it felt like he was trying to get a read on me. If I said the wrong thing, I think he might have killed me. “He didn’t, though. Obviously. He actually approved of me bringing Sadeas to ‘Justice.’ Told me I reminded him of himself, in his youth, and that he’d be watching to see what I did next. Before he left, he implied he’d come see me again, but when he did, we’d either be friends or enemies. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to be careful. No sane man wants a Herald as a foe, and with what’s coming, I think we need him as an ally. But for whatever reason, my gut told me that something was wrong with him. It was almost like… like he had no soul. His voice, his laughter. It was all just too cold and empty. “If I remind him of himself, does that mean that someday, I’ll be empty too?” For once, Shallan knew what to say. “So long as you have me, no. Never.” It was a lie on two fronts, but it seemed to do the trick. Adolin leaned his head against Shallan’s and kissed her hair before truly falling asleep. Shallan was left alone and awake, listening to a song of war and storms with a lot of things to ponder. Trying not to stir so much that she woke the prince, Shallan fiddled with the chain Adolin had given her. The one that belonged to his mother. Adolin didn’t awaken when a mighty roar shook the earth, nor when a flash of light filled the cave as a bolt of lightning impacted the stone just beyond the entrance she carved. She imagined the prince had spent quite a few nights lying in bed, desperately searching for answers and finding none. A lack of sleep, coupled with the mess he just fought through to get here… How much time had passed since she rescued Kaladin? It was no longer raining, but she could still hear claps of thunder, rushing wind, and the screams of men, and Voidbringers, being cut down by their enemies. Kaladin had said he would take care of things from here, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty for just lying here, in the darkness, safe from whatever happened outside. And what about Pattern? After she finished cutting her way into the cave to free Kaladin, the Cryptic had disappeared, buzzing about something horrible. Something undone, she thought she heard, but she couldn’t remember that well. She had been a bit distracted, running into a crazed Adolin and a wounded Kaladin. Curious, she reached out for the spren and found him cowering on the ceiling, drawn in so tight that he was barely the size of a sphere. What on Roshar could have gotten the Cryptic so scared? Before she could ask, she was interrupted by the entire world lurching forward, throwing Adolin and her onto their faces. “What the?” Adolin yelled in surprise. Shallan didn’t see what happened next, but in the corner of her eye, she recognized the movement. A tiny pebble landed on her head, followed by a shower of stones, and next thing she knew, Adolin was grunting, throwing himself on top of her. Isn’t Plate supposed to be light? She thought, gasping for breath as the prince shifted to make her more comfortable. There was a moment of relief, followed by a loud smash, the sound of glass breaking, and the sensation of hot wax dripping onto her back. In the process, the weight on her back had doubled, then nearly doubled again. Pinned down and barely able to breathe, the dreadful realization had finally settled within Shalan. The rock had finally collapsed on top of them. Idiot, she thought, chastising herself. I’m a storming idiot. Although Dalinar was sure his face was as hard and emotionless as a statue, he could not but feel pride as he watched the Initiates fight from across the plateau. In a moment like this, he wished the Stormfather wasn’t so stubborn. If the Sliver had not refused to become a Blade or teach him the secret of forging Plate, Dalinar would be out there right now, fighting alongside them. Earlier he had managed to do some good, keeping Balthazar alive, but the reckless Initiate was nowhere to be seen, which gave Dalinar a creeping suspicion that his efforts had been for all for naught. The man must have died sometime after the Bondsmith lost track of him, and for some reason he thought Balthazar wasn’t the only one. How many deaths have there been already? How many more would die before this day was done? What could Dalinar do to help? At least the Voidbringer was distracted. One of the Initiates had learned to fly and used that power to strike the Voidbringer’s face, who he now recognized. What was her name again? Dalinar couldn’t remember. He could have sworn he heard it once - maybe during one of their battles, or perhaps a longer time ago in passing - but like the name and face of his wife, it was hard to grasp it. Trying only made it harder to recall, though it wasn’t like water seeping through fingers. It felt more like a wall, and whenever he attempted to pry it down, he only felt sick. Did it have something to do with the Voidbringer’s transformation? Either way, the woman was distracted. Lightning gathered at her fingers and she pressed it to her forehead to seal the wound shut before wiping a thick coat of orange blood from her left eye. Blinking to clear the last of the blood from her vision, the Voidbringer looked up, straight at the huge eye in the sky just as it began to shut. “We need to run!” yelled Renarin. “Forty feet, north north-west. Hurry!” Renarin’s urgent tone suggested there was no time delay. With the cyclone surrounding the plateau and the void where the sky used to be, Dalinar could not look towards the sun to figure out which direction was which. The Bondsmith hesitated to remember where his shadow pointed when they had arrived, but fortunately he didn’t need to think hard as his son quickly broke off from the group, presumably to lead them to safety. By the time they reached the spot Renarin identified, his son fell to the ground, gasping. The boy was never very fit, and today he didn’t have the added stamina granted by his Plate. Earlier, Adolin had requested that Renarin lend the armor to one of his lieutenants, believing an extra set would be more useful in the frontal assault. As smart of a decision as it was, Dalinar wasn’t pleased with how vulnerable that made his son. When the Honor Guard finished catching up, a shadow had fallen over the plateau, followed by a ray of scarlet light that quickly brightened until it bathed the entire world red. Curious, Dalinar nearly looked up towards the source, but then Renarin slumped over and began to convulse. No matter how much the Bondsmith wanted to be aware of what was happening, there was no way he could turn away from his own child in their time of need. Fearing the worst, he held down the boy and pried his mouth open to make sure he didn’t choke on his tongue. Countless thunderclaps roared at once, accompanied by a blood curdling static. Behind them, something crashed into the plateau, casting earth into the air. A shower of hot stones fell upon Dalinar’s back, but fortunately none landed on Renarin. Beside him, one of his Honor Guard began to dance and scream, while another quickly ran to him and helped unclasp his breastplate to free one of the smoldering rocks from where it fell between the armor and his shoulder blade. “Woah,” another one of his men - the most talkative of them, Peet - had said. “Just barely got of the way there, didn’t we?” A white froth leaked out of Renarin’s mouth, but otherwise he was still and gaining lucidity. Assured that his son was okay, Dalinar spared a glance behind him and found a massive, smoldering crater a few steps behind him. It was hard to see through the smoke, but the crater reached all the way to where they had been standing just a few seconds ago, and seemed to go on well beyond there. “Father,” Renarin choked, then spit out the last of the viscous liquid in his mouth. “We’ve got to end this.” Dalinar returned his gaze to his son and frowned. He wanted desperately to speak, but only one word came to mind. How? As if Renarin could hear his thoughts, he answered. “The Stormfather.” If not for the gravity of the situation, Dalinar would have laughed. Since forming their bond, the Stormfather had done little else but goad him. In some ways the Sliver was like Elhokar. Too stubborn, or prideful, to listen to reason. At least with the King, however, Dalinar could coerce him with violence. Unfortunately the Bondsmith had no such leverage over the Shadow of the Almighty. Again, Renarin spoke as if Dalinar’s mind was a open book. “He is not a force to be commanded, but guided.” In what kind of world would man guide god? This time Renarin didn’t answer, just looked to the sky. Sighing, Dalinar raised himself onto his haunches and followed his son’s gaze. “Stormfather,” he began, then paused to think of the words to say. Would saying another oath help? Probably. But realizing that didn’t help him find the right words, anyway. He was much too new to this. Clueless, he defaulted to an old argument, despite knowing he’d receive the same response as always. “Now would be a perfect time for you to become my Blade.” I TOLD YOU. I WILL NOT COME AS YOU CALL. THIS WAR IS YOURS TO LOSE. IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END THIS WAY. “For a god, you’re awfully pessimistic. Have you no faith?” NONE. MY FAITH DIED WHEN MAN LOST HONOR. “Honor? Who are you to speak of honor? You who has the power to save the world, but instead watches as evils like these rip it to shreds?” “Father…” Renarin grabbed Dalinar’s wrist, trying to soothe his anger. Finally realizing his irritation and exhaustion, Dalinar bowed his head and closed his eyes. Renarin was right. Anger was not the solution to this dilemma. If anything, it was the cause. For a long moment, the Bondsmith remained just like that. Motionless as the earth quaked to the immense Voidbringer’s every step. Even without looking at the monster and the Initiates who gathered at her feet, Dalinar could sense the tension in the air. It was a burden so heavy that gravity felt like it had been turned up three times its regular strength. There was something else, though. A sensation the Bondsmith had never really felt before. Opening his eyes, he turned to face the scene just as it unfolded. Ranatar, accompanied by his fellow Initiates and three of Kaladin’s Squires, were squared off against the monstress, ready for a fight. Dalinar closed his eyes and could still see the warriors, each of them silhouette by a bright, white light. Standing together as they did, their auras blended into one great luminescence. In their presence, the darkness stood no chance. Without meaning to, Dalinar took a deep breath, then stoked their light with his own power until it shined as bright as the sun. When he opened his eyes once last time, he noticed each of the Initiates were standing a little bit taller. Their stances had become more relaxed, yet their muscles seemed more rigid. It as then that the true battle began. What he saw… Dalinar could not help but stare in awe. The Nameless Initiate shot into the air, swiping his bent claymore at the Voidbringer’s eyes. Anticipating the move, the Voidbringer staggered back, opening a gap between its legs for Jonly and the Squires to run between. Despite her chitinous shell, the Voidbringer must have felt the four men leap onto the spines of her lower back, for as soon as the first one landed, she thrust her hips outward, attempting to shake him free. Meanwhile, Ranatar and Rea split off in separate directions, leaving Araon and Teresh facing one another, their bodies radiating not with smoking light, but shimmering heat. Arms thrust before them, flame started to literally fire from their palms, though instead of the monster they aimed for the ground. Slowly, the rock melted into lava, a pit forming and growing steadily until the two men were forced to start moving backwards. Each step deliberate with a long pause between them to ensure they didn’t lose their balance when the earth shook in the wake of the Voidbringer’s hasty movements. Without relent, Fifth continued to harry the Voidbringer’s face, keeping her from looking anywhere but eye level. Another quick shake revealed Jonly and the Squires jumping between the third and fourth spines of her back. Unlike the Squires, Jonly was struggling to hold on, but they used their Lashings to keep him bound to the stone until he gathered the strength to leap again. Out of nowhere, Naihar and Ranatar appeared, a flourishing vine of incredible width and length pulled taut between them. Fearless, they ran circles around the Voidbringer’s legs, attempting to tangle her feet to limit her movements. It wasn’t perfect, but a combination of that and a swath of light left in the wake of Naihar’s bare footsteps caused the Voidbringer to start losing her balance. By then, her face had been marred by several bleeding wounds, and the three Squires plus Jonly had perched themselves upon her shoulders, two on each and winding their arms back. The pit of lava had grown significantly large for what only seemed like a few minutes at most, but Dalinar knew that it had been at least a half an hour since the fight began. For an observer, battles of this scale just felt like they went by in a flash. For the fighters, it might have felt like a century. Ranatar yelled a command, grabbed Naihar, and then summoned a circle of light that quickly vanished them away. Using the streams of flame to propel their bodies, Araon and Teresh rocketed to safety just in time for Ceol to grab a wounded Hithon and distraught Lyna and fly them away. At once, Jonly and the Squires swung at the back of the Voidbringer’s head with all their might, sending the monstress plummeting towards the lava pit face-first. The sheer force of their blow simultaneously threw them backwards. Dalinar couldn’t tell for sure, but judging by the direction, they should have landed on top of the stone monolith at the plateau’s center. Unable to control the direction in which she fell, the Voidbringer collided with the superhot trench. Her wail was immediate, a desperate cry as she struggled to claw herself free, although the lava made quick work of her chitinous armor and was already eating away at the muscle beneath. Writhing in pain, she let out one last scream before her body gave up completely, either due to the blood loss or utter shock. With her body melted halfway into the plateau, the Voidbringer resembled a massive skeleton, frozen in time as it tried to crawl out of its molten grave. Allowing a moment for the chaos to settle, Dalinar finally looked up to the sky. “You say man lost honor.” he muttered under his breath as he watched Kaladin and his spren, Sylphrena, fuse to become a spear of radiant light. “If that were true, then what do you call this?” The Stormfather had no words. Instead, the sky rumbled as Kaladin launched himself into the heavens and pierced the malicious crimson eye of Nergaoul the Unmade. A moment later a Highstorm came to wash away the bloody tears It shed.
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  2. Ok, I'm gonna do a super reply. This turned out really long. I tried bolding some things to make this more skimmable. I made a short summary at the end. I've read all the posts that were in this thread as of 7:00am (Brisbane time) on the 2nd of April. Firstly, massive thank you to those who asked after my well-being. I'm okay. You are awesome. Also, thank you so much for giving such thoughtful advice. Your responses have made me happy. Please let me know if I have misinterpreted your words. This is important to me. Alright, I’ve tried to condense all of your advice into four main points: From many of you I was advised to be myself, honest, and sincere. I interpret being myself as striving to be the best version of myself. If that’s what you mean by be myself, then I will do that. From many of you I was advised to show someone that they are deserving, belonging, worthy, and loved. listening giving full attention complimenting them showing them they have real value (e.g. due to their skills) sympathising with them spending time with them on their interests sometimes even if I’m not interested in it showing them they deserve happiness From many of you I was advised to do random acts of kindness, the little things, and to be nice and caring Open the door for others Say hello Smile Ask others how their day has been Comfort others when they’re upset From many of you I was advised to ensure that I be happy myself as well and/or first. That is, not giving up my happiness for others’, and avoiding burnout. I was advised by @Captains Domon to find the deep meaning of happiness. I've taken a stab at it. Note: This ended up being longer than I thought it would be… TL;DR: Happiness is not constant pleasure Love yourself Love others Believe you (and others) can do good and important things Try to do good and important things Alrighty then. I'm going to try science. The four main chemicals that we seem to link to happiness are dopamine, endorphins, oxytocin, and serotonin. Dopamine comes from plenty of sleep, regular exercise, and achieving goals. It can also come from eating foods with high amounts of glucose (sugar) (this is relevant to a point I make below), according to some site/s on the internet It is linked to feeling bliss, pleasure, euphoria, motivation. Endorphins come from exercising, laughter, dark chocolate, and spicy food. They are linked to feeling energised and in a better mood, and counterbalancing stress and anxiety. Oxytocin comes from feeling more intimate with someone, from hugs, handshakes, and gift-giving. It is linked to feelings of love, intimacy, trust, and connection. Serotonin seems harder to link to general activities. Serotonin levels dictate your general mood. Serotonin levels can be raised by random acts of kindness, or by remembering past achievements, victories or other positive memories. It is linked to feelings of satisfaction, accomplishment, and importance. Its absence is linked to feelings of loneliness, bleakness, and general unhappiness. I think that many people believe that perfect happiness is a constant feeling of dopamine-linked feelings (that is, pleasure) and so try to find a way to feel pleasure constantly (dopamine-linked feelings), for example by consuming glucose high foods, a readily available method of increasing dopamine levels (Though there are other readily available sources. This is an example). I've read that getting too much dopamine can cause our body to decrease the number of receptors we have for them. That is, if we have lots of glucose high food every day, the number of dopamine receptors we have will decrease. This will cause it to always be more difficult to be happier from dopamine. Based on this, in order to feel significant amounts of pleasure from dopamine, we need to make sure we maintain a high number of receptors for dopamine. This can be done by moderating dopamine sources such as high glucose foods, and so avoid having extremely high dopamine levels. Therefore, I think a more realistic view of happiness means only seeking out high dopamine inducing activities (e.g. eating a large quantity of high glucose food) on rare occasions, to maintain a high number of dopamine receptors. This means that little bursts of dopamine from achieving small goals every day will feel significant. I think to have a happy life, it is necessary to also seek happiness from the three other happiness chemicals: endorphins, oxytocin, and serotonin by: Setting goals (and celebrating them), sleeping well, and moderating usage of high-dopamine-inducing-agents for Dopamine Exercising and laughing often for Endorphins Forming close relationships for oxytocin Frequently reflecting on positive memories for Serotonin. There are some other things that most people can do to get better levels of these happiness chemicals. These are: Figuring out who you want to be, and striving to be like that. (For serotonin and dopamine) Finding goals that you believe in, and striving for them. (For dopamine) Forgiving yourself when you fail, and trying again. (For serotonin) Believing that everyone (including yourself) is worthy of happiness. (For serotonin) Forgiving others when they do something you think is wrong or incorrect. (serotonin) Being optimistic (note: believing that we can cause good things to happen, not believing that good things absolutely will happen) (serotonin) Believing that no person is your enemy (serotonin) Respecting other people’s views (serotonin) I think the advice you gave me can be linked to these chemicals too. No. 1 can be linked to increasing oxytocin levels (allows genuine trust and connection) No. 2 can be linked to serotonin and possibly oxytocin (making a person feel important, and making them feel loved) No. 3 can be linked to serotonin and oxytocin as well (making a person feel important, decreasing their stress, and making them feel loved) No. 4 isn’t directly linked to making others feel happy, but it would be much more difficult more me to manage making other people happy if I was unhappy. Ok. That took a while. It wasn't very deep either. One conflict in advice was between being selfless or not. It seems like the solution is to do what I can without dealing damage to my own life or mental health. I was also advised by @Captains Domon that for someone to be happy their spirit has to be peaceful. This sounds intriguing, though I’m not certain of what a peaceful spirit means. If it means reducing stress, it sounds good to me. Feel free to let me know how I got this wrong. Some of you asked why I’m asking for this advice. I want to open by saying that I am okay. I feel fairly happy in my life. The reason I want to learn to make others happy isn’t linked to a specific event or anything. It's because I figure that if I can learn to make others happy, and then make others happy, then I am doing good work (Maybe that means ultimately my goal is self-serving because it would make me happier to make others happy. Maybe it’s like a symbiotic relationship). @Zeldan said “You have obviously never held a door open for an extreme feminist.” I think this raises an important point: that people need to be respected in order to be happy. This ties in to people needing a sense of belonging to be happy. It would be hard to feel belonging if you didn’t feel respected, I think. Many of you mentioned that there is no one-size-fits-all method of making people happy (or something along those lines). I sort of agree, but ultimately I think it’s possible to figure out all the different ‘sizes’ for making people happy. One more thing. @Mr. Staccato, your psycho-analysis is super-duper-mega welcome. Rather than offended, I’m flattered. And as @Darkness Ascendant said, you described that side perfectly. Respect. In summary, some things I should do to make other people happy are: Be myself, honest, and sincere. Show others that they are deserving, belonging, worthy, and loved. Do random acts of kindness, the little things, and to be nice/caring Ensure that I am happy myself as well and/or first. Thank you @Captains Domon, @Elenion, @Sunbird, @Darkness Ascendant, @Mestiv, @A Budgie, @Straw, @Ammanas, @Tristan, @Erunion, @Orlion On a Cob, @Zeldan, and @Mr. Staccato. Notes: I would LOVE to get more advice from you. Your responses are wonderful, and they may be useful to others reading as well. I would love more advice on how to show people that they are deserving, belonging worthy, and loved. I would love more advice on how to comfort others when they are upset. I would love advice on how to make jokes! Wow! If you read all the way down to here, you are a champion. Have a cookie (It hasn’t been spiked, as far as I know )
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  3. It might indeed Thanks. I actually bought two module for a PF game a while back, so getting tips ahead of tyring to play it would be good! (Also would be good if I found players for it, so ) And... Okay. So. Um. I've been talking for a while about maybe doing a blog. Problem is, I don't really have any content, and I'm sort of worried about whether or not I have any ideas that are worth expressing. This... Well. I decided to bite the bullet on this one, and go ahead and try to write something analytical. So I tried making an essay on my favorite Cosmere book. I'm... not sure if it's any good, to be honest. I think I have some decent ideas, but they might not be... entirely coherent? Or I may not entirely make an adaquete point. Or maybe all the references are stuff only Sanderfans will understand. So, with all of those caveats -and after asking my beta readers- I figured I'd post it here and see what you guys make of it? If that's okay. (And posting here rather than the Warbreaker forum for publicity because this IS kind of a random thing, and because I don't know if I really say anything that's worth posting as a separate topic) So... for those of you who don't mind... here's a thing? And I hope it's decent? And if it isn't, please tell me if it's not. Tldr; Warbreaker is best Cosmere, COME AT ME BRO (And... credit again to the @Edgedancer and Twilyght* who had to put up with me talking about this forever, for subjecting them to it, and for giving much needed advice on changes!) *For some reason it won't let me tag her name with the @ icon. Which is weird, but really, finding new and creative ways to fail is kind of my thing, so.
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  4. I thought I was on the last page of this thread when I was on page six, so I'll just go ahead and say to all the people I upvoted on or around that page: don't worry, I am not stalking you! I'm definitely into anti-beauty pics so it's hard for me to find an actual photo where I'm not making a Jim Carey face. I've got dark brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and in the summer I'll get freckles across my cheeks and nose. I'm a member of the short society, but I like to think of myself as "scrappy-looking." Here is a picture where I tried to keep my eyes open in the sunlight... But here is a much more accurate depiction. This was when I lightened my hair; it's much shorter and darker now.
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  5. CHAPTER TEN Well guys. I'm really sorry for taking so long for this. Been a pretty hectic month for me, and I'll admit I got really slack with myself since I no longer had designated turnovers to apply pressure on me. I didn't even manage to write everything I wanted to, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get it done soon, so I've decided to split things up. This, at least, will lead to the "aftermath" of the battle. You guys can even roleplay the victory if you want. The final scene I planned on having for this game is going to be a memorial for all of the characters who died in the Battle of Rysharock (so that I can highlight their crimes) as well as a dramatic face off between the remaining Initiates and the Acolytes. When I've finished that, I'll post it as an "Interlude" chapter. I'm also planning another Interlude chapter to bridge this game with it's sequel, but that's very far away so I won't talk too much about that. I'm pretty confident I've mentioned a lot of my issues with how things had unfolded this game in other threads or the various docs associated with it, but ultimately it boils down to inactivity. Especially in a game like this where team balance directly correlates with activity, it just can't be a factor. I know that a part of distribution is to make sure games are not unbalanced, but I do really like the idea of having power correlate with effort. There are definitely some mechanics that I had for this game that I wouldn't do in a sequel, such as imprisonment, or the eliminators being able to control an inactive teammate, but those are mostly small things I didn't plan on doing again, or really don't need me getting into. Anyway, I hope ya'll had fun. As always, my master spreadsheet isn't particularly interesting for this game (since I hand write most of my notes), but I'll go ahead and include a link for it in case anyone cares to take a gander at it. The dead doc was, well, mostly dead, but that's pretty typical since we began using Discord for most of our out-of-game discussion. The elim doc, on the other hand, was pretty fun. It might even be one of the largest ones, although there's probably some parts where the Unjust cheated in making it longer than it should be. OH! AND IN CASE IT WASN'T CLEAR! THE UNJUST WON!!! INITIATES Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade the Honorable Dustbringer TheSilverDragon as Rea the Honorable Initiate JUQ as Hess the Honorable Initiate Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu the Honorable Initiate ACOLYTES randuir as Ranatar the Unjust Elsecaller Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless the Unjust Acolyte (Ex-Truthwatcher) Doc12 as Hithon the Unjust Acolyte (Ex-Lightweaver) The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet the Unjust Acolyte Alvron as Naihar the Unjust Edgedancer PRISONERS Veriq the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Cowardice and Being an Accomplice to Murder Shinon the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Aggravated Assault, Negligent Discharge, and Theft Leif the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Desertion The Phantom Stranger the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Murder, Hemalurgy, and Multiple Counts of Being Strange Teresh the Honorable Initiate (Ex-Dustbringer), Guilty of Murder, Murder, and More Murder CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate Ashetvl the Honorable Initiate Ralaanar the Honorable Lightweaver Sareth-son-Erneth the Honorable Initiate Balthazar the Honorable Initiate Arionium the Honorable Initiate (Ex-Edgedancer) Petrik the Honorable Stoneward Kintas the Honorable Willshaper Jonly the Honorable Truthwatcher
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  6. Hello all. This is an excerpt from a novel I have been writing. it is titled The Black Symphony, and it is a magic-free fantasy novel about war and monarchy. On this topic I will continue to post excerpts if people want me to. Here is the first part. Please comment, ask and criticise. CHAPTER I: white's folly It was on a rainy night that five men sat within the decrepit tent on the small hill. Four around its rickety table sitting on its equally rickety stools and chairs, while the fifth sat in one of the tent’s dusty corners wiping and oiling an ornate crossbow. The men had dirty chipped glasses with them, a bottle of Red Bersabee, a lamp for company and were telling tales, albeit in low voices. “…and that’s why I’m in this bloody mess we call a war. No home in sight anymore, just a bastard blade through my gut or an arrow through my skull. That’s all our collective destinies are I’m afraid.” The soldier finished the tale and took a sip from his glass. His name was Pyter Vane but the men called him Hare. The nickname was on account of his famed sprint across the village plains during the battle of Three Tufts. “Hah, you, impaled on a bastard sword? That’ll be the day. Your name and heritage won’t make you the bother of a knight or Lord anytime soon Pyter, hah, Bastard Sword. We’ll all probably end up with some disease or other. It’s either that or as arrow fodder.” This cheery sentiment was courtesy of the man directly in front of Pyter, his name was Edmund, though he was called more often by his surname Black. It described both his outlook and sense of humor. “Quite a pleasant thought Ed, one would think you wouldn’t want to be here.” The remaining three men remained silent. The two seated by the table, named Baldric and Fredric, Snout and White respectively silently chuckled. The older one in the corner who they called field-commander to face and Ulfur behind walls remained non vocal. “Don’t you find it strange,” said Baldric after a fashion, “That they’ve grouped all the men on what the Iron see as their border together?” There was a silence broken by someone muttering, “Oh look, the pig farmers got brains,” followed by… “Strange,” said Pyter, “My dear Snout. you seem to be unaware of the prejudices harbored by our superiors. The disdain and fear they harbor for us. No you bloody fool,” he continued in an altered tone, “It’s not strange by the least. They can’t have us half bred Cathagravi among the pure and uncorrupted. Our accents are partially Iron and god forbid catching. You’ve still got that damned naivety you arrived here with. There is no coincidence in the army. There is cruelty, death and interest. This is not the Iron men we deal with, there is no honor. So stomach it.” Yet again, the staple silence after short conversation trademark of the company inflicted itself to be broken by Fredrick, the man they called White. "A fine rant to be sure, Vane. Quite from the heart I believe. If you invested the emotion and care in that little speech into your character instead I dare say you would cease to be a half bred and would become three quarters Carthagrav. Don’t stare like that, do you think your name overshadows your upbringing. You’d be a bigger fool than I thought if you believe being born on our side of the borderland made you any less Iron. And you, pig farmer, don’t you ever associate me with you lot again. Next time you say anything about yourselves as a collective say us three, do not think of me as part of you.” With that Fredrick got up and walked into a separate tent. Hateful glances bore into his back, his little speech confirming the subject of Pyter’s ‘rant’ as true. “One day,” said Pyter. “Someday,” said Edmund. “What’s wrong with being a pig farmer?” said Baldric. “Baldric.” “Baldric.” “Baldric.” “Get up you bloody waste of space.” The voices finally roused Baldric. “What in the world is going on? Hare? Black?” “Orders, reconnaissance around Edward’s Mott, our mission and purpose here, soldier,” said the Commander, “Get into your armor.” “Aaaah fu-” “Oi Baldric get off your arse!” It was Edmund “I’m up,” replied Baldric, rubbed his eyes and, as Edmund so elegantly put it, got off his arse. The tent was small but they had managed to pile their equipment near arm’s reach. Every man had naturally slept by his sword. Baldric walked over to the pile which Edmund and Pyter stood by and slipped his slightly rusted mail over his aketon. “Where’s White?” he asked reaching for his cuisses, poleyns, fan-plates, greaves and sabatons, all articles of armor that a man of his financial state wouldn’t have owned had he not found the corpse of a dead Iron Knight three days before. The man had been naked but those pieces, a pin and the linen pants which sat on Baldric legs. Baldric had appropriately stripped him and with the help of the Commander, buried him. The man was short so the items fit Baldric perfectly. The pin he bore had been a noble houses insignia, a white rose with a bright yellow bud. The Commander hadn’t recognized it but they decided it was safer to bury the pin alongside the man. The grave marker had only read The Knight of The White Flower. “Disappeared, we didn’t find a trace. Good riddance I say- probably scarpered the little rust. Oh I say Snout don’t sleep in an aketon again,” said Edmund, “God knows the nights are warm and certainly not kind to your natural stench.” Baldric ignored the jibe and pressed on as he fastened the second sabaton and moved onto the greaves, “Are you sure? I mean he was well and truly a snot but I can’t imagine him ‘shaming his wonderful Cathagravi with a cowardly retreat’. He might be in trouble.” “Bugger him then,” laughed Pyter, “He wouldn’t go after you if that’s what you’re thinking of doing.” “Nothing of the sort Black. I’m not risking my neck for him if he’s scarpered as you say. But I suppose we’ll have to if we see him.” Said Baldric. “Heartless as usual,” said Pyter, “Remind me not to go missing.” Four men set off down the hill. All were clad in mail, aketons and breeches (but for Baldrick, who swapped the leather breeches for the iron armor), hidden beneath dark cloaks with swords by their sides. Concealed by trees and brush the company quietly moved through bush and underbrush stopping once at midday for refreshments continuing onwards towards their target. Silence was their preferred state as they crept through the Border’s lush environment listening to birds coo and the rustles of trees. A day they travelled as such. Stopping little. Eating little. Talking little and walking for long spreads of times, all the while each man thought - where was White? Edward’s Mot, named in honor of the then King Edward’s influx of mots, did not get around. Unlike Edward’s mots, the Mot wasn’t renewed every third day, and like most of the military camps turned villages made before the Molten Alliance around the Iron lands, had fallen to the age old woe of neglect. Once the wooden watch towers had warned the soldiers stationed of events of interest, but rain and the disinclination to create structures able to withstand water weathered them away to but a skeletal frame. The wall which surrounded the square village was rotting away, its many holes were either patched by cloth or not at all. Such was most of the outer defense of Edward’s Mot. The battlement’s platforms and walls were barely stable and the roofs of the village were patched with dry straw making them easy targets for anyone with a lit lamp. It was in fact villages such as this one that created the myth of the ever-fear inducing Deity of Terrible Architecture. Dry straw noticed Baldrick, the report by the surviving member of the last reconnaissance team had said the village had been eerily empty. Dry straw meant that someone had replaced the straw from the night before. “Stop!” whispered Baldrick pointing, “The village isn’t empty.” The company stopped a short way away from the village wall. “How do you know?” asked Pyter. “Dry straw on the roof of that building sticking out from above the wall, someone changed it recently,” said the Commander, “Well spotted Snout.” They proceeded with caution, sticking to the walls with their swords weapons drawn. Wolf and his falchion, Pyter and Edmund with their broadswords and Baldrick with a large dagger. Their shields, which had been strapped to their backs, now sat strapped on their arms, slightly raised as to block unexpected attacks without limiting visibility. Edging along the walls the men reached the village gate, a rusty metal giant further inspection found that the gate, which was more like a slab of solid iron connected to hinges, was locked or blockaded from the inside. “I say,” said Baldric, “It rather does smell here doesn’t it? What on earth could it be?” “I was actually going to ask that to, at first I thought it might be Baldrick, but even he doesn’t stick half as bad,” said Pyter. “Quiet. If I’m not mistaken that’s the smell of a rotting corpse, you, Edmund, you’re light. Stand on Baldrick’s shoulder and look over the fence,” ordered the Commander. Edmund obliged, clambering up Baldric he jumped off him grabbing hold of the walls edge and pulled his head over, he stayed like that for a minute then jumped down. But something was wrong. His face carried a horrified expression and his mouth was wide open in disbelief. “Ed, what’s wrong,” asked Baldric. Edmund was silent. “Ed?” “Ed?” “Edmund!” Edmund barely replied, voice shaking with visible strain, "They got Fredrick.” There was a silence, then the Commander said, “He’s dead too isn’t he?” Edmund nodded, “Impaled on a pike, the head is poking out of his neck,” he faltered then retched on the grass. “I counted twenty men. But there’s more, they’ve set a black smithing station and camps. I’d say at least a hundred.” “You can’t be serious.” “One hundred men?” “Yes, look I’ve been in camps before. Baldrick, this is your first deployment, and Hare, you were only dispatched on skirmishes three times. I know what I’m talking about, we need to send for help.” The Commander was quiet for a while, then he said, “Edmund, Pyter, set the tents in the grove. We’ll stay and survey. Baldrick, run back to the camp and tell them to send for reinforcements. Edmund, were they heavily armored?” Edmund nodded vigorously, “A few wore noble’s armor and I saw some heavy weapons- maces and the like. The Fir Border Camp holds seventy men and sixty-five fighters. We won’t be able to take the village back on our own.” “Baldrick, relay this information to the acting commanding officer on base. GO!” It had been seven days before when Baldrick and company had received orders to travel to the Fir with the Third Army’s Eighth Surveillance and peace keeping division. Seventy men not including Baldrick and Co with orders to insure Iron occupation would not filter into Cathagravi land. Such orders would not have been issued if not for the mysterious disappearance of three messengers dispatched to Edwards Mot a week before. Hand-picked because of their various talents displayed on field and during the eight-week Infantry training camp and six-week surveillance course in Baldrick’s case the group had been given orders to preform simple reconnaissance around the Fir lands and villages. Edwards Mot had been their final destination as the Commander had decided it would be more prudent to weed out lesser obstacles before any possible great confrontation. Other than an old supply route that had been long abandoned by the Iron there had been nothing of consequence for the Reconnaissance team to record. The trip to the camp was faster with Baldrick travelling alone. He didn’t stop unless he absolutely required it and stayed off tracks. The woes of war were yet to be introduced to the young man, the barracks only prepared a soldier for so much. His mind was preoccupied with his objective- relay the message and he felt at peace with the world as he walked through the sounds of nature.
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  7. Edit: re-reading HoA and it occurred to me that Vin and Elend are the most epic party crashers. (Yomen's ball in Fadrex)
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  8. LG30: Day three - Roll of the Dice Dear Lebochevkowski, We are sorry to inform you of your death, but we could not stop it without breaking the rules of the test. Fortunately for you, this is not completely the end. Our Scientists can make it so that your spirit lives on, though we’ve locked it into a special container. Discuss only with fellow spirits! Enjoy the not-quite-so-after-life, The Protector Dear __________ So, apparently none of you can stop this death thing that’s spreading around the town. Which is a shame, seeing as you’re all meant to at least have one thing special about you. Gonna have to ask the researchers if any of you actually have any brains, or just sit around waiting for something to happen. Either way, someone has to win in the end, right? Right? Sincerely, The Sword Dalinar died! He was a Village Coppercloud! A conversion occurred! Someone Snapped! Tineye message: SEA 2:4 “Ofralllilluminationrwhichnhumanrreason cansgive,snoneaisrcomparablelto therdiscoverylof whatrwenare,roursroles,sour loyalties,awhatrfeatslofrtrickerynwe arercapablesof,sandawhatrwe willldorinnorderrtosdrive thesspikedaout.”r Conclusion:ldiscussrmore! Tineye message: Tineye message: This is not a Secret tineye code message. Day 3 has begun. You have 48 hours to decide who to lynch. Player List 1. Arinian - Alrin 2. Hemalurgic Headshot - Quinn 3. Jondesu - Remart 4. Elenion - Roger Elariel 5. Drake Marshall - Serray 6. Darkness Ascendant - The Phantom Stranger 7. Randuir - Magister Agemtsar 8. Magestar - David Agemtsar 9. Herowannabe - Herwynbe 10. Yitzi2 - Garshin 11. Metacognition 12. Silverblade5 - Ryth 13: Arraenae - Rhea 14. TheMightyLopen - Sidon 15. little wilson - Willie Klara 16. Droughtbringer - You - Regular Crewmember 17. Iamspartacus - Astrid the Bold 18. Ornstein - Winkleton 19. Araris Valerian - Wol 20. Dalinar Kholin - Lebochevkowski - Village Coppercloud 21. OmeGaster - Rieyun 22. Kipper - Elenion 23. Sart - Gaetan - Regular Crewmember 24. Bugsy - Jelwynd 25. Figberts - Quond 26. Mark IV - The Follower 27. Manukos - Reval 28. Aonar Faileas - Vana Izenry 29. Ecthelion - Amnar 30. Amanuensis - Mykal - Village Smoker
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  9. Dilaf too is far older than Hrathen, He used the Dahkor's magic to change his look and infiltrate in Elantris years before the City's fall. Also I want to exploit this reply to add some informations:
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  10. Day 59 Shai can't sleep because Frava has her book and is taking it to the backup forger. The guards are sympathetic Shai makes a realization Frava comes Ned back with the book, and Shai sees that she will live. Shai tries to explain forgery to Gaotona Gaotona figures something out Day 76 coming soon!
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  11. From the album: A Graphic Guide to Roshar

    Rosharan Culture Explained: Herdazian Sparkflicker When I was reading SA books, those sparkflicker things really bugged me. Till now, the word appeared twice (Emphasis is mine.): At first, I assumed it’s a kind of ornament worn by the Herdazians. And we have an entire topic about it, with the conclusion that sparkflickers are Rosharan fire starters. Then, fortunately, someone asked this during a signing: It seems that the problem is solved. Just to be sure, I asked Peter for further confirmation: Ah! Here comes the ultimate definition: Sparkflickers are a kind of practical Herdazian ornament without real martial application. It’s like the steel part of flint-and-steel. Herdazians use sparkflickers to start fires with their own dark, crystalline (stone) fingernails. Lopen’s saying “flick my sparks” comes from sparkflickers. So… Herdazians are actually modern “Dustbringers”! (Yay for Lopen in Herdazian outfit!)
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  12. Sorry, I'm new here and frankly have no idea what to do. So...... help?
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  13. So I am going to try my hand at writing a fantasy, I have had ideas bouncing around in my head so long its getting painful. the setting and overall story line is mostly clear to me, but there are two things i am hoping someone will help me with. Firstly, i need someone to give me comments on my magic system I created a magic system which is kinda universal, then i adapted it to different applications. Basically, there is an alternate universe (called the Riftplane) wherein things called Riftselfs reside, they are the manifestation of a physical object or person on the Physical Plane. Links can be forged between them and the mage to produce certain effects. the first and the most complex system is Fettering, used by one of my civilisations. in their world there are Arcs (a fancy word for elements) that can be controlled. the mage creates a connection (Fettering) between his physical self, his Riftself, the Riftself of the Arc. because this type of connection is more complex than the others, it requires two things: a sharp mind, and certain knowledge. The mage must know the NAME of the Arc they want to control. a name here isn't actually a name, it is more of an understanding. the amount of understanding you have influences the abilities you can do. More on this in another topic. Another system is the song system, where the mage Fetters himself to the Riftself of an object through a song. The ability can't be changed, so you sing a song and it does a function that cant be changed. this magic feeds off emotion and doesn't need strength of mind. the last is a manipulation of dust, called Lifedust. The Dust is located all over the planet, and can only be used after a mage Fetters his Riftself to its Riftself. this kind of connection, existing only on the Riftplane, passes after a time. once a connection has been placed, the Dustmage can control this Dust however he wants. Note: Lifedust can also be used in alloys or chemical compounds, producing interesting effects. More about this later. Note 2: all this info isn't going to be in the story at the beginning, but will be explained by scholars toward the end. the second thing I hope to do is release some of my novel onto the forums, so people can give me feedback. It is free of magiuc, and is set in a Venetian-English setting, amidst a war with hostile forces. if you want me to release some of my novel please tell me, along with any comments or questions you have on my magic systems.
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  14. In the Cosmere there are two steps of death. The first is the physical death, the body dies and the Aspects start to separate, the Bonds are probably released "now". After an X amount of time the Mind+Soul are completelly severed by the Body. Before this happen using Healing on the subject could "resurrect him" and we are all ok...we see this I think 3-4 times in the books and Szeth is one of this cases. After this X amount of time (that depend by the level of Subject's Investiture) the physical is totally severed by the rest and no Healing could help, the Mind+Soul will reaches the Beyond unless for some reason the subject manage to become a Cognitive Shadow, this condition happen when your Souls is permeate to a lot of Investiture and the Investiture itself replace your own and you become essentially a Spren of yourself. This automatically happen with Slivers but could be triggered with other methods (like Kelsier did). NOW a Cognitive Shadow is a two Realms being but could be attached to a body with some methods...this don't change the fact you are still a Cognitive Shadow with or without a body. Like I said Returneds and Heralds are Cognitive Shadows, and you could see how they have both a physical body. For the Cognitive Shadow and Spren leave their planets is hard but not impossible, they are tied to the world by the Investiture now composes their being....Is it possible for a CS to worldhop ? Yes we know and saw Returned does it. But it's not easy and this don't mean they are no more Cognitive Shadows. And again the Elantrian are all another matter, they never died and they were never resurrected. Their body is simply struck in the middle of a trasformation (the Reod one of course). I already explained before but just to clarify. Bonds are probably realeased into the physical death not the higher one. Nale itself mentions how Szeth's mind was still in the timeframe of recover (He cites the "brain was still working" or something like that). Nale has no reason (or maybe pratical knowledge) to explain the whole death process to Szeth. You could notice also how on WoR's ending Sadeas's blade appear some moments later his death. While we know there are some time between the physical death and the beyond. On this last note, but it's really meaningless. Szeth severed the bond with the Blade of his own will before die once he realize to be Truthless unfairly. @HawkidoI will avoid to cite all the part about Ambition on Sel but we know on Sel there are two Shards Devotion and DOMINION (you simple ignored him from my post) and all the reference to the Dor is about D&D's power. You could not ignore the whole Brandon,Khriss and pratical evidence on the matter. IF Ambition was there, is broken power would be so huge to expands everywhere like D&D's one.
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  15. That sounds less like eating, and more like voice warm ups. Mhm pa! You should feel your diaphram pushing!
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  16. So an incredible thought just occurred to me. What if Kelsier were to take up to power of Ambition? Yes Ambition was mortally wounded and Splintered, but we don't know if this Splintering was done in a 'permanent' way that Odium seems to be able to do. If Ambition fled after their battle with Odium and the power was splintered some other way, that power could coalesce later and be taken up by someone else. Kelsier is already a Sliver, and has been the vessel of a Shard before (albeit temporarily). He also is very interested in understanding more about the Cosmere as a whole since his introduction to the extended universe in Secret History. If the power of Ambition were to be brought together again, Kelsier would be the perfect vessel for it, i think the Intent fits his nature almost perfectly, and would put him in an incredible position to not only learn about the Cosmere, but to meddle as he is so fond of doing. What do we all think?
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  17. I definitely respect religious people--most of my family is religious and I was raised Christian--but this is kind of why I became an atheist. Personally, I don't think it's necessary to love everybody, but I will always help and connect with a fellow human when I'm able to (and plants and animals, for that matter--I'm the crazy person who saves the spider in the house instead of killing it). I just strive to be what I consider a good person, and let other people worry about what's considered good and bad. I'd probably make a good Christian again, but I just really, really can't force myself to believe there's a god out there, and I hear that's kind of a big part of it. Lol I do respect people of faith, however, and I don't mean to offend anyone!
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  18. I just found the cutest video of a mariachi band playing for a beluga whale:
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  19. Well that went dark... why so serious?
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  20. A day without sunshine is like, you know, night. Steve Martin
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  21. Haven't read the article, but I hope so much that they are being historically inaccurate in some way. It would be kind of delightful to get to be the person to say "Um, well, actually" to them for something
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  22. No way. A metal to store poop in. What would you do when it gets full... And imagine being a compounder... you know what? I'm going to stop thinking about that right now because just no
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  23. Listen to them. Don't just sit there; show them that you're listening by nodding, offering small comments, and asking questions. But really, that's usually what people need, someone to listen to them without judging or offering unsolicited advice. (If they do ask for advice, that's another story.) When they're hurting, they want validation ("Tell me that I'm not making a big deal over nothing, tell me that this pain I feel matters") and sympathy ("Tell me that you understand how I feel"). You can offer the first by reacting to their story, expressing outrage, horror, sorrow, or what have you. You can offer the second by commenting ("That must have been awful") or telling a (brief) story about how you went through something similar, or just by giving them a hug. One of the most important things you can give someone who is upset, though, is a standing offer to listen when they need someone to vent to, or help with a difficult situation. If someone you're comforting has a family member in the hospital, offer to bring them a casserole or some soup or some takeout one night. If they're going through a breakup, offer to get them a warm drink or some chocolate or to take them out someplace fun as a distraction. Be aware, though, that not all offers will sound appealing when they're given—and that is okay. Someone who was just dumped that day probably won't want to spend the night on the town. Tailor your offer to how they're feeling; for instance, in the breakup example, they might not want to go out for drinks, but they probably will want you to stop by their house with their favorite movie and some ice cream. In other words, the best comfort you can offer someone who is upset is the knowledge that they can count on you to try and help them feel better. Knowing that you're not alone in a difficult time is usually the best comfort anyone can ask for.
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  24. Getting formal approval from Vondra took surprisingly less time than Autumn thought it would have. The Commander wasn't haphazard or rushed. He didn't skip any steps or soften his questions. But neither did he linger, turning one question into three or extrapolating disaster from Jack's answers. It could mean that Vondra was genuinely convinced Jack had recovered from his episode….but she knew it could just as easily mean that he knew the town needed all the Epics it could get and couldn't afford to be picky. Knowing Jack, he probably assumed the latter. There was a pile of paperwork waiting on Autumn's desk when they returned, reminding her that the trip to the prison, and then to Vondra's office, had consumed the better part of a morning. She got right to work, Jack taking his place near her desk. Autumn wondered if she ought to say something, to give some form of encouragement, but worried that might come across as patronizing, so she remained silent. If he asked for encouragement, she would give it. She wasn't sure how long she'd been working when the sound of quick, eager footsteps made its way toward her office, muffled until the door opened. "Hi, Ms. Gla—Hi, Autumn!" said a half-familiar voice. "So, hey, I was wondering if I could—" By this time, Autumn had looked up and saw Lyla standing there, gazing in awe at the companion she clearly hadn't guessed would be in the room. Maybe something a step beyond awe. Something that didn't belong there, when it was a young girl looking at an Epic. "Holy Calamity, it's Vapor Snake," she breathed. "Er, yes," Autumn said, trying to keep her tone light. "Jack has been assigned as my bodyguard." They shared a glance before Autumn turned her attention back to Lyla. "What'd you need?"
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  25. Back to the topic of Kel leaving Scadrial. I understand that a Cognitive Shadow is bound to the world in which it's investiture is based. It why Kel feels the pull when approaching the Ire fortress. Kel has a body now so I would figure that that investiture would be more tied to the physical form containing it, then to it's original source, and so a Shadow with a body should be able to overcome that pull without a problem. We know Vasher & Co. Worldhopped Pre-Warbreaker. And again Vasher is off Nalthis. So returned have no issues we've been shown in leaving their world. Doesn't mean there aren't any, just none we've seen. The only other Shadows we've seen with bodies that I'm aware of are the Heralds, and their trips to Braize imply that they are not bound to Roshar itself but to the Greater Roshar system. So despite having a body I believe they are still bound to the system by the Oathpact in the same means as Odium. I am aware that I could very easily be wrong here, but what am I missing? The pull on a Cognitive Shadow should function very much like gravity, with the force pulling on the investiture in the Cognitive Realm. Once that investiture is tied to a physical form it should be able to overcome that pull the same way we are held to the planet, rather than being pulled towards the larger mass of the sun.
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  26. Hawkido, I wanted to analyze your logical and rethorical errors, but you're making too many. So forgive me for not elaborating, but I'll just post a list of formal and informal fallacies you're guilty of. Appeal to probability, conjunction fallacy, fallacy of the converse, existential fallacy, fallacy of exclusive premises, fallacy of undistributed middle, argumentum ad ignorantiam, argumentum from silence, circular reasoning, confusing correlation with causation, casual oversimplification, moving the goalposts, post hoc fallacy, proof by assertion, referential fallacy, cherry picking, and above all, the slippery slope. Sorry, but you're jumping to conclusions with FTL speed.
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  27. Mhm. Could I have your full name so I could add you to the list of people that shouldn't be given superpowers?
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  28. It does depend a little on the group but in general I'd say certainly. If a specific action is going to hurt other players' (or the GM's) enjoyment of the game then it's best to avoid it. But generally so long as your character fits with the style of game you're playing that's fairly easy to avoid. (If you're playing a murderhobo in a serious campaign you'll obviously run into trouble.) If you do it all the time it can start to mess up the game for other players, but now and then it can really add to it. In my experience in most campaigns it's good to have some fun recklessness and silliness some of the time, especially if it reinforces one of the characters. Moments like that can also end up being some of the most memorable. Grog from Critical Role is a great example of doing this well, such as his "haggling". Edit: I have a player in my current campaign that is a warlock of the great old ones who can't speak out loud, just laugh. And communicates by sending messages into nearby people's minds. He also makes frequent references to other planes and views eyeballs as a currency. He's also mad. All of that is a recipe that could easily combine to be a destructive force to the campaign. (This campaign is moderately serious, plenty of room for silliness but there is serious stuff going on and murderhoboing will not end well.) However, the player is clever about how he plays it. He often freaks people out a little by speaking into their minds but only rarely causes major silliness & disruptions. He channels it into his own brand of silly humour, often at his character's expense, that just makes the game more fun and dynamic. He doesn't try to steal the spotlight from other players with it either. I like my players
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  29. I just found this. I'm assuming @TwiLyghtSansSparkles has seen it? Because it is awesome, funny, and about a pug. In spoilers - contains some mild irish cursing.
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  30. Hey I hope this isn't too personal a question but what brought this on? You can't possibly mean you've never made other people happy before. I've bet you've made tons of people happy already, but something about the way you say this makes me think that it's not so much that you can't make other people happy but that you prioritize theirs over yours. I'm sorry if this is an unwelcome psycho-analysis. We don't know each other and I'm over-assuming stuff already so please if I offend you I don't mean it. But all I want to say is that if you're the one who's unhappy stop trying to make others happy at your expense. No amount of advice will change this - if the things you're doing or not doing aren't making people happy, then stop. I don't mean never do it again - I mean, just stop for a moment and think. Because in the end you can't make other people happy - especially if the people you are trying to make happy really care about you - if you're not happy about where you are or what you are doing. They'll see it as hollow. They'll end up thinking that you don't have to go through so much just for this. And if that isn't the case - if they're content letting you work yourself to the bone just to make themselves happy, then I really have to ask if that's worth it. Again I am sorry if this post is a little bit different. I've been there - it isn't pretty.
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  31. Adolin Kholin in Shardblade, wielding his massive Shardblade, magnificent and intimidating. A pencil sketch using a new style of shading that turned out really well. I'm actually really proud of this drawing,a s I didn't go off a reference photo for the pose, only consulting the illustration in WoR for the general idea of the Plate and shape of the Blade. Hope you like it!
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  32. I'll need to reread some books in order to respond more fully to this, but people previously talked about the Alethi-style of warfare apparently being similar to the classical Hoplite Phalanx from around 700-400 BC. Not sure how accurate those statements were, I'll see for myself on reread, but I'll get into my knowledge of hoplite warfare. The pre-phalangite phalanx is not known for its maneuverability. In fact, Greek commanders rarely used maneuver beyond natural turns resulting from slanted formations and the tendency of phalanxes to drift right. Hoplite phalanxes also tended to be quite deep, typically at least 10 men deep, but only the first row (MAYBE the second row, if you stretch it) could fight, because of the length of the hoplite spear (7-8 feet long). This results in a lot of "wasted" manpower, and would result in the figures for Alethi armies being bloated with regards to how many soldiers would actually have an effect on the battlefield. The main purpose of the extra rows on the phalanx is argued. Some sources suggest that the deepness of the formation was used as part of the othismos, or massed shoving, where the phalanx's goal was essentially just to shove the opposing phalanx away. Other sources suggest that the phalanx was deep to improve morale and discipline, as some records show that experienced soldiers were stationed at the back and (typically right) side of the formation, rather than at the front. It's theorized that this was intended to keep the phalanx intact. Speaking of keeping phalanxes intact, phalanx battles were not actually that bloody compared to other styles of warfare. There were relatively few casualties during actual contact, most of the casualties were inflicted during one phalanx's rout. This means that once a phalanx breaks, heavy casualties ensue. We see this in the Roman phalanx in 390 BC, during the Gallic invasion of Rome. Once the Gallic warriors (prominently including Gaesaetae, if I remember right) met the Roman phalanx, they were able to quickly surround and break it despite not having particularly noteworthy command/battle tactics. Now to talk about Gallic warriors, I feel as though you will notice some similarities to warriors previously discussed in this thread. Gallic warriors were larger than Roman soldiers, with many Roman and Greek sources discussing their savagery and physical superiority to the average soldier in the Roman Legio. Most were relatively unarmored. Only Gallic knights and champions wore heavy armor, with the rest relying on broad, ovular shields and bronze helmets. The Gaesaetae, who I mentioned earlier, went into battle "uncovered," likely nude. Battle was an important part of Gallic culture, with tribes being in an almost perpetual state of low-intensity warfare and infrequent high-intensity conflicts. Besides their shields, Gauls used axes, spears, and long iron slashing swords, requiring that they fought in loose formation to ensure sufficient room. Now, I'm sure you all have seen the similarities I'm trying to draw here. "Uncovered," unarmored, physically larger, and relatively disorganized Gauls absolutely crushed the phalanx-reliant Legio and occupied Rome for six months. The phalanx, once broken, easily falls apart and is easily broken by sufficient numbers and ferocity. If Koloss are a substitute for Gauls, and the Roman phalanx a substitute for the Alethi phalanx, then in most circumstances I argue that Alethi phalanxes would break shortly after first contact. Pitched battle, after the phalanx breaks, would become disorganized infantry used to fighting in formation trying to retreat while harried by stronger and more ferocious opponents, mimicking history.
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  33. I love it. And I think it's not very far fetched. 1. (BoM spoiler) 2. If Kel was too aligned with Ruin to be able to pick up Preservation, when every Scadrian has more Preservation than Ruin by the nature of their creation, then we obviously have no clue what would constitute the needed connection to a Shard. On that second point: I think it's going to be more based off a person's nature and mindset than anything else. My main argument for this thought is Sazed. Vin had been primed for the power as a kind of chosen one and then by touching the well, but Sazed... You could argue about the prophecy, but in his life we never see anything to prep him for becoming Harmony beyond circumstances. Look at what he did with his life though. He worked tirelessly to preserve the worlds ancient religions. His life was dedicated to that connection with Preservation. Then in his depression he picked all of that apart to the point where he felt it was all hollow and useless. Connection to ruin. If he hadn't been through everything we saw in the books and had the emotional weight of all of that... I think he would have only been able to pick up Preservation. Under that thought process... If Kelsier can't pick up Ambition, then no one can.
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  34. I wasn't trying to be pedantic, I just couldn't track down the specific WoB at the moment so I was affirming what others had said, about there having been an answer on whether or not Vasher could Awaken with Stormlight YET. Here it is: Interview: Jan 21st, 2015 Changing Hands, AZ ZenBossanova Can Vasher use Stormlight to Awaken things? Brandon Sanderson No, all it does is keep him alive. But he has tried and has not figured out how to awaken things. Edit: I do understand that your theory was about converting Stormlight into the Breaths that form the God King's treasure trove, and again, I do agree that is probably possible, but I believe that's still precluded by this WoB.....given that Vasher used the original treasure trove of Breaths to Awaken his Lifeless army, it seems to me that if he had somehow converted Stormlight into Breath to form that treasure trove, that would count as him having Awakened things with Stormlight.
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  35. I thought I'd start an event thread for the two events in Poland Brandon is doing in a few weeks. First is in Warsaw 18 March at 12pm at the Empik Junior Bookstore, Ul. Marszałkowska 116 / 122, Warsaw, Poland. Second in beautiful Krakow at 5pm on the 21 March, at Empik Bonarka Bookstore, Ul. Kamieńskiego 11, Kraków, Poland. Both have a reading, Q&A and signing and given the wealth of information in recent events there could be some good stuff. Also I'm guessing as there are probably fewer Sharders in Poland (though I know of a few) there may be the chance for more detailed questions. I'm happy to do transcriptions if anyone is lucky enough to be attending and records either event. edit: I've just been informed that the Krakow signing is now at 5pm today (21 March) Edit - a completed transcript of the Krakow signing is here and the audio kindly supplied by @swieczq is here for anyone who wants to listen to the original. There are some parts where the audio was too unclear to be sure. All the relevant WoBs should be done though a few other questions are briefly summarized and time stamped on case you want to check the audio or update. Below is also the transcript, spoilered for size. This post will be updated when the Krakow ones are finalized. Edit - here's the q&a from Warsaw And here's the interview transcript put together by @Oversleep and others!
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  36. I want to be good at making other people happy. I don't know how to make other people happy. I was wondering if you could help me?
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  37. It's great to see you actually take our advice and try and apply it @Flynn
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  38. Flashback to my Junior High School years Made one of my book reports on It.
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  39. I did say myself that those factors have a lot of influence. What I disagree about is that they are not the only influence. they work well at explaining average behavior, but not at explaining individuals. On average, men are more sex-oriented, women are more romance-oriented, because men get a better reproductive success by mating with many women, while women have better success by forming a stable relation with a partner that will help her raise the children. but when you go down to individuals, you'll find many sex-oriented women and romance-oriented men. On average, men are more power-oriented, because being the boss of the tribe would offer you more reproductive chances, while women are more family-oriented; but you'll find plenty of career-women with housewife husbands. You can use those ancestral influences to explain why on average there are some tendencies, but you cannot use them to explain why mr. john smith is feeling a certain way. Anyway, now it's my turn to not understand your more general point. So, you are arguing that people are more animal-like than we think, and you'd want to see them portrayed as such in books? Are you saying that you would want to read about Dalinar losing control to emotions, because that's how humans are supposed to behave and all the polish we acquired from civilization is but an illusion? Would you want to see Elend's honesty explained in terms of instinct to mate, because that would make the character ring more realistic to you? I can't get what's your problem with people not succumbing to passions in brandon's books. If the problem is that they seem too stable to be real, consider that they are exceptional people, otherwise they would not be the protagonists. EDIT: @samaldin it's not a specific factor, it's the result of complexity. it's what I was defining an emergent behavior
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  40. My school has the opposite problem of some of your guys': we are required to take three trimesters of fine arts to graduate. That doesn't sound like a bad thing, until you get into one of those fine arts classes and find it filled with people who don't care about the art, only the credit. That's how you get drama classes full of people who can't read from a script, for one. Some of my best friends are actors, and it makes them very angry when they can't take a class without it being full of unmotivated jocks. (No offense to sports teams. Not all sports players are unmotivated jocks, but some are)
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  41. For the purpose of cross world cooperation: Spanreeds. They are instant communication to wherever the linked piece is, likely even on other planets, since they ignore curvature of the planet when making both pieces face upright. But I can fully see them creating their own method of cross-planet co... What am I saying, they have Seons. All they need is to find a way to get them through the portal to the other world and they're set.
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  42. I have an alternative opinion. Maybe not 100% accurate, but I believe is important to take it under consideration. You can't make someone happy. You can offer help with resolving someones issues and encourage that person to fight for their happiness, but in the end, if there is no outside source of grief and unfortune, we're as happy as we let ourselves to be. You won't be happy if you don't believe you deserve happiness. I think that's a problem with many people, they don't think they deserve to be happy. Another thing is, before you start working on making others happy, make sure that you're content with yourself and how happy you are. It's really soul crushing when you do your best to help someone and then you have to face your problems alone. Achieving personal happiness will also allow you to help others better. Back to my main point. Even giving someone 1 million dollars won't do much if that person doesn't believe they deserve happiness. I've read a study about happiness, and in that research they claimed (supported by couple interviews iirc) that winning a large amount of money doesn't affect persons happiness in long term. After couple of weeks winners rate their happiness just like they did before the win. So, you can increase someone's happiness by helping them with a direct cause of problems/grief/etc., but if there is no apparent reason for being unhappy, your can only help them help themselves. Guide them to happiness, not carry them. And first of all, take care of yourself first (if you need to).
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  43. Welcome to the Shard @Rockobar *waves*. I must say, you have certainly entered with bang. Also, upvote because I don't think you deserve all those downvotes, you stated your opinion, and, even though I don't agree with it, I can respect the fact that you did so in a respectful manner. Anyway, welcome! Now onwards to my points (this sounds like a debate now...) which turned out waaay longer than I expected. Whoops. Overall, I would say that you are asking Brandon to be un-Brandon. Every artist has a hallmark to their art, and I think that if Brandon were to do some of the things you talk about, it would ultimately diverge his writing from his personality in his writing, as well as the story that he wants to tell. You refer to the upbringing and how it resulted in this view which is obviously misguided, but if we did not have authors of different upbringings and views, what would be the point in reading. If every story was the same in the outlook it presents, would you be interested in reading it? I know that I wouldn't. Firstly, on the topic of sexuality. I am personally very grateful for the fact that there is very little sexual scenes in the Cosmere. As an asexual myself, I find it refreshing to see a modern, adult fantasy series that doesn't involve some kind of explicit sex. Half the time when it occurs in a book, I'll roll my eyes skim the section to see if there is anything important and move on (I skipped pages and pages of Game of Thrones, rolling my eyes as I did). I would personally prefer to read about something that actually influences story and character in books (which are already getting very, very long) rather than a sex scene for the sake of a sex scene. "Raw primal desire" as you put it, is not the sole form of what makes us human. Humans are a complex being, as you have pointed out, and while it is a factor in who we are, I personally believe that humans are so, so much more than lust that they feel, and not every part of human life can, or indeed should be included in a book, simply because it does not have enough relevance to the story to warrant being included. Also, I would say that doing this makes the books more accessible to people of younger years On your point on religion now. Religion is something that has been a foundation of human society for milenia, and has had a profound impact in culture throughout much of the world, from creating the backbone of morality, to societal structure. Violence and peace can both result from religion, and it is a vital part of a culture. I would also say, particularly on your points on the diagram is to wait and see, because I think it will be an interesting ride, because we're only 2 books in. Now, onto genre. I must say, we have highly different opinions on this, because the mish-mash of genres is something that really appeals to me. Fantasy owes a lot to Grandpa Tolkien, but far too often, I believe, authors get stuck in a rut of making very fantasy fantasy (hopefully that makes sense). I know very few fantasy trilogies that show an obvious growth of society, over time, as culture is not static, but is a very fluid concept that is always changing, as does technology. I find that it is extremely refreshing to see this in a fantasy book. Also, on a bit of a side note, I love how I have no idea what genre Mistborn era 2 (1.5?) in that it's a strange cross between fantasy, sci-fi, western, crime, thriller and probably a few more chucked in there. Life is rarely so black and white. So, whilst I disagree with many of the points that you have made, I think it is great that you put your ideas out there, even though they might not be very popular ideas (especially on your first post). I hope I didn't sound too aggressive in my writing (sorry if I did), but I would love your thoughts on my thoughts on your thoughts (yay for overly confusing sentence). See you round the shard!
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  44. If you want good books to keep being churned out at a somewhat constant rate (rather than poor and unpolished books every, say, 6 months or so), I'd suggest keeping your complaints to a certain level of civility. If he didn't take so long to work on his books, they wouldn't be the masterworks that we gather together on this site to obsess over discuss. Also, on a personal note, I was quite happy with the Reckoners conclusion, but that may just be me.
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  45. I watched this video last night and had an interesting dream afterwards: For some reason I was at some sort of dinner with Benedict Cumberbatch and several other guests (don't remember who they all were). He was in his Doctor Strange costume, and we ended up sitting across the table from each other. I was fangirl-squeeing internally but managed to stay outwardly calm enough to have a conversation, though I have no idea now what we actually talked about. All I really remember is that I addressed him by his first name, like we were good friends. o_0
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  46. Not sure if this impacts OP's theory either way: Ym from one of the Stormlight interludes mentions his religion holds that his people are part of a "Long Trail" of which they are currently in the "Fourth Land". Assuming this alludes to post-shattering human migration then there's room for one to two other planets in the migration steps depending how you count Yolen as the starting point: 0 - Yolen First Land - Yolen or first destination post-shattering Second - ?? Third - Tranquil Halls Fourth - Roshar
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