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  1. Bang, BANG, BANG! Days passed, and the forge in the heart of the Alleys was alight with fell flame. The Stranger worked in silence, contemplating all he had learned. Burdened with knowledge and dread purpose, driven by Hunger and devotion and pride. Time had no meaning, he didn't eat, didn't sleep, he had long ago stopped needing such trivialities. He had only the work, the Hunger that no sustenance could satisfy. He worked at impossible speed, draining zincminds at ludicrous speed even as he chronocompressed the lab. The temporal distortion was dangerous if you weren't careful, but the Stranger was the best. It wasn't a gamble for him, just another procedure. Sparks flew, and the chisel seemed to dance across the metal, leaving intricate patterns in it's wake. And as he engraved the new future, he worked the essences into it: Aylitha, Sudiov, and himself. He channeled the power into it, enmeshing it into the very structure of the work itself. The Stranger grinned, feeling the power coursing through him in a constant onslaught. Like funneling a river through a dam, it surged dangerously. But he held it firm, not letting it's wild strength carry him away. His will was indomitable, his resolve the lever with which he moved the world. He hadn't worked on anything like this in far too long, back when Voidus... But that was in the past, and he couldn't afford to dwell on that, couldn't let himself get sidetracked. He had already tasted too much of nostalgia's wine, and it had slowed his mind and dragged at his heart. It was not a luxury that he could afford. But even as he pushed that thought from his mind, he heard faint voices in his mind, as if from a remembered dream. "It finally all makes sense! I've figured it out, I can save him!" "You play with forces you don't understand, boy!" "It hurts, oh ruinous skies it hurts so much. I'm tearing, my heart is tearing! Please, make it stop, make it st-..." "What... what have you done? Oh gods, what have you done?" "Is this really what you want?" The Shade spoke, interrupting the odd dream. The Stranger did not look at him, choosing to ignore the words and redouble his efforts. His Shade sighed, and tried again, "You will lose your only friend, betray your colleagues, and set in motion events not even you can foresee. Even those helping you with this don't truly understand what you're doing. You have wrapped yourself in lies and deception to trick everyone, most of all the one person alive who still trusts you." The Stranger glanced out of the corner of his eye and snorted derisively, "You are focusing on the minutia, letting the grand design elude you. I am performing a great service for the world, for our organization, and most of all for my friend. I shall give him the greatest gift he as ever received, a gift so precious that he can't even know of it, lest it shatter. And I am following the Light, the beacon of Science. I am pushing the possible to new heights! And all you can think about is the cost. All greatness requires Sacrifice." The Shade swept his gaze across the Spike. "Perhaps," he admitted, "But have you really thought about what you're sacrificing? You will be alone, oh Stranger to the world. You will be a stranger in truth, for none shall know you. You will trade the admiration, the fear, the friendship, for the grey void of anonymity. You will be truly alone, for even your memory and legacy will be forgotten. You will effectively die, oh immortal god of iron, and there will be none left to cower before you or praise your name." The Stranger stopped, as if frozen. Then he laughed, soft and low, like a tremor of the earth. His laughter built in volume until the bombastic roars filled the lab. "Forgotten? Dead? Oh no, no no no my friend, I shall ascend! I shall become what they name me, a dark god roaming the Void. I shall be their fear in the dark, driving them to seek the Light of Science. Voidus shall be remembered as the Father of Light and Reason, the Revolutionary, the Founder. I shall be the Bloody Doctor, The Merchant of Choice, the One Eyed God. And though I am forgotten I shall live on in greater glory, for they shall worship me!" His laughter shook the Alley and beyond, spilling through the dimensions. He seized his instruments and carved new symbols into the metal, his grin stretching wider than humanly possible. "My word reshapes the world, my art rewrites history, my will changes the lives of everyone on the planet! No more shall my Hunger be chained!" All was power and madness. The Shade looked at his maker in silence, then picked up a hammer and chisel of his own. He worked lines into the pattern, as as he did he remembered a pair of green eyes. They worked for an indiscernible amount of time, when Suddenly the Stranger struck a blow so mighty that the sound of it nearly shook him off his feet. His eye was wide as he whispered, "It is finished." He gazed at his masterpiece: a colossal gleaming shard of metal, with it's entire surface covered in engravings. Figures, patterns, runes, it was a work of art in it's complexity and beauty. A new Worldspike. It was a masterclass in integrating different forms of investiture, and the carvings were enough to make scholars swoon. It was beautiful, and magical, and so very dangerous. The Stranger lifted his hands and the whole spike rose into the air. Then he opened an alleyway to the far side of the planet and pulled the worldspike through, it's giant mass floating weightlessly in the air. He took in his surroundings, breathing in the fresh air. It was a beautiful day to remake the world. ... The Stranger's shade held a silvery vial in one hand and dropped a copper spike into it. Then he sealed it and opened an alley in a separate dimension, and sent the tube through. It would have to be enough. Then he wrote a note on a ragged scrap of parchment. It was a single line that read, "Find your friend." Then the portal closed, and the Shade wondered if he had done the right thing. Only time will tell. ... The Stranger raised his hands over his head, marveling at the silence of the world around him. "I'm sorry, my old friend, that you could not be here to witness to my triumph. Farewell, Voidus, and may you find for yourself a better morrow." And he drove the Worldspike into the ground with a massive, flaring push. The point pierced the earth, sinking deeper into the soil. The magic was a hum that built to a roar, shaking the earth. The Stranger threw himself into it, heaving and straining to move the spike into place, carefully adjusting so that he would hit the proper planetary bindpoint. The ground shook, and the planet seemed to groan and shriek. The Stranger felt his investiture reserves flowing away as he wrestled with the work he forged. He whispered quietly, "For you, my friend." Then all went black, and the Stranger knew no more. And the World Changed...
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  2. These adorable little pipsqueaks are now Shards! This is Ruin. She was the easiest to name because she is always picking fights with Preservation. She's a force of destruction if I ever saw one. This is Preservation. He is a bit of an idiot, but that comes from being a kitten I suppose. He is often fighting with Ruin and he has the most white, so mist! And this is sweet Harmony. She was kinda left over, but she’s still my favorite. She is the smallest of the three and she normally hangs back and climbs on me. Right now she's still sleeping in my hood. I probably won’t end up keeping all three, which is sad but I can only have so many cats. I’m about to get a mostly white calico, which I haven’t had in a while. She’s already named Rio though. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go free Preservation from whatever mess he got himself into.
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  3. Lita stood at the street corner where the old man had told his story, sipping a little glass of honey mead. She rested her back against the wall of a small shop that had closed for the festivities, shades drawn over the windows. He'd been one of the better story-tellers that she'd seen during a Festival; she was still puzzling out how he'd gotten the cremling into the black sand. Fooling a crowd of average people was easy, but fooling a Tineye was art. She'd especially liked the bit with the monocle; Mac had only ever worn the thing once or twice, but it suited him so well. The first time she'd ever seen him, she thought he looked just like an Elendel banker with his bowler hat and his starched collar, a cane tucked under his arm. He'd ordered something ridiculous at the tavern, something like sweetened milk or perhaps that fizzy syrup-water that some people liked so well in this city. It was all so absurd that she'd become instantly curious. And that curiosity had led her here. There was still a small pang in her chest when she thought about him, a grief that the people of this city could not understand. For all the grand talk of the old gods and the making of the world, at least some of the story was true. There really had been a man named Mac who had gone into the Alleys seeking what knowledge he could find. He had been the Spymaster in truth, and Lita had been one of his spies. And now he was gone. This city had a Spymistress, now. A tiny twitch in her left sleeve brought her back into the present moment, and Lita quickly finished the rest of her drink before slipping out a small sketchpad and a pen. She leaned further back against the wall, green eyes bright and keen behind her golden mask, and took the pen in her right hand as if to plan a rendering of the festival before her. She made the occasional vague sketch, actually doing her best to lay out the scene, but she was practicing a different kind of art. The pen moved in her fingers, and she twirled it in turn. To anyone else, she seemed a rich young woman with mediocre sketching talent. In truth, she was sorting through dozens of messages from all over the city. Today was one of the busiest of the entire year for her Department, a day tailor-made for an army of spies to gather reconnaissance, observe the city en masse, and check up on anyone who might cause trouble. And to keep some of the other departments under control. Lita grimaced and sent word across town for someone to watch out for anyone from R&D who had decided to go wandering outside the Alleys for "free samples." She'd already caught one attempting to sneak out one of the exit points. He'd been decidedly belligerent, even after she'd explained - for what felt like the hundredth time - that this is why they had an Acquisitions Department. 'But will they know what to look for?' He'd fretted, flapping four sets of clawed hands in obvious dismay. Lita had finally managed to send him on his way after threatening to bring in the head of the Acquisitions Department, but she couldn't help but feel as though her word should have been enough. She was a rusting department Head too, now. Senzho wouldn't have given Mac nearly as much lip - though she supposed that he had plenty to spare. Didn't these people understand that they were part of a secret organization that had to remain secret in order to function? It may have been the Festival of Rebirth, but there was a big difference between costumes and masks and a man in a bloody lab coat with two extra arms and a drool problem. Most people were alarmingly unobservant, but even the dumbest would notice that. Lita sent one last message to her army of underlings, then signed off for the next few hours. They had their orders, and they knew what to do with them. She flipped her sketchbook closed and slid it into a pocket, slipping her pen back into her sleeve. Lita smoothed the front of her golden dress, cut somewhere in the neighborhood of a Rosharan havah, but without that absurd safety sleeve. By the Lonely God, a woman was born with two hands, it was hardly some great mystery what was beneath the rusting sleeve now was it? Lita checked the security of the hairpiece pinned at the base of her auburn bun, careful not to poke herself on the radiating golden spokes, and smiled. She'd allowed herself a little more extravagance this year, and why not? She'd seen plenty of people dressed as the Coin already. She deserved a little leniency after a life spent skulking and sneaking. At least, that's what she'd told herself when she'd ordered the tailor to cut a rather generous slit up the right thigh. With a smirk, she pushed herself off the wall and began to move with the thronging crowd, her Tin pitched low and her Copperminds ready to log any information she might come across. Mac had entrusted her with this city, and she intended to make him proud. Maybe the gods had roamed this world once, long ago. Maybe the Lonely God and the Stranger and the Mother of Nightmare had indeed shaped this place of their own design, back in the dusts of millennia. But there was one part of the story that was decidedly true - there was, indeed, something lurking in the blackened shadows of this city's Alleys, and it was very much awake. Lita smiled and felt the edges of her grin sharpen just a little. It was time to let this city mingle with their favorite legend, and begin the shadow-work of secrets.
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  4. Aredan stopped in the road. An old man with a short white beard stood on the street corner. He set a large glass bowl filled with water on a pedestal in front of him. Calling out, he began his story. “It is said that in the beginning, there was a Void, and into this void came many cosmoses. Every possible cosmos existed separate and apart from the others. Nothing stretched in the space between except for the primordial Void from which they were born. It is impossible for the minds of mortals to understand this Void as it is, but perhaps an analogy may serve. The Void is like the city alleyway between the buildings of each universe, stretching and twisting among all that is.” The storyteller dropped a black ink into the water, swirling it slightly with a thin metal rod. The water became a murky black until the ink diffused to the bottom of the bowl. “There was a solitary being who resided inside of the Void, Voidus, the Lonely God. I know no stories of his creation, if indeed he was created. Like the Void which he inhabited, his true form is unknowable, even among the other gods. A sage of another world, a reptilian king, once tried to describe him thus, ‘The Lonely God authors reality, pages upon pages of demigods springing from his words; his gaze is like a slow stabbing from behind, in an Alley without light. The ancients saw the Lonely God in the parasites of a forbidden world, preying on others, but that is too simplistic. The Lonely God is, to put it simply... the void that is in all of us.’” The man dropped more ink into the still water, and it pooled in the bottom as if in a bubble. As Aredan watched the ink, he saw movement inside the cluster of ink. He burnt tin but couldn’t seem to make out what was going on inside. "The Solitary One entered the worlds and sought allies among the other gods. Some he slew; from others, he stole their souls; and in still others, he found those who would uphold his work: The Stranger, the Mother of Monsters, the Counter of Time - the gods of Alleys and abominations and lives.” Black sand fell onto the ink, piling on either side of it. The right side seemed to gleam with a metallic glow, like sparks. The left side started moving, and a tiny cremling poked its head out of the sand. Where did that come from? I don’t think he ever put one of those into the water. The cremling crawled into the mass of ink, vanishing. “After many eons of time, the Lonely God took the Stranger to a disobedient world, doomed to destruction, and they fashioned from it a world anew.” More black sand fell, piling onto the orb of ink this time, coating it like a miniature world. “They took Alleyways and folded them like steel into a Damascan blade; they took the light of other worlds and cast it into the darkness of this new creation. They took the very soul of a cosmos and stabbed it into the blood of the world, a spike cast up like a mountain from a cosmic forge.” The storyteller dropped a thin metal spike into the water. As its point touched the little sand world, the black sand flashed brightly, a wave of energy rippling out, turning the sand white. The sand settled into a layer on the bottom of the bowl. The old man scattered glowing diamond chips onto the sand, illuminating the water. “The Void parted for the Separate Being and the One-eyed God, and a sun beamed brilliant in the sky. This was the first birth of the world.” "Coursing in the veins of this new world were the Alleys. The Alleys wove through reality like an endless plane of alleys cutting through a city of empty buildings. Truly infinite, they followed no logical order, shifting and moving themselves as the gods decreed. Within their depths lived demons and devils, eldritch abominations who feasted upon fear, the children of the Lady of Monsters.” The white sand rippled, as if tiny creatures crept beneath it. “Upon these Alleys grew a city, a city of convergence and of power. Men and women sought the Solitary God within the Alleys, but in vain, for he dwelt not in them, and those who entered the Alleys rarely emerged unchanged. Their wrathful spirits haunted the city, possessed by the creatures whose homes they disturbed, searching for blood to spill. The monsters devoured the unworthy before disappearing back into the Alleys which birthed them.” Ink tendrils peeked through the sand. As they brushed the chips, the diamonds went dun. The bowl dimmed. "Some say those whose souls were taken live in the Alleys still, Denizens with dreadful eyes of spikes and twisting limbs warped by time and their pride. As the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer, sometimes you can see them, standing in the darkness of street endings, holding cursed pastries and fey desserts, cookies with spikes of death within them. One bite, and the Denizen condemns you, stealing your soul, never to be released. And so the ages passed in darkness and death, in chaos and disruption.” As chip after chip dimmed in the bowl, the sand began to fade back to a dark black. The storyteller spun the contents of the bowl with his rod, stirring up a thin whirlpool of dark sand. "The time finally came when the dwellers of the Alleycity could no longer live in fear, and one among them, Mac Thorstensen, the Spymaster, was chosen to seek out the gods.” A thin glass monocle fell onto the whirlpool. The sand in the whirlpool fell to the base of the bowl, burying the monocle. “Delving deep within the Alleys at the heart of the world, tempted not by Denizens for he was of pure heart, he found the path which led to the gods. He could not be kept from entering within, for the gods had willed him there. He pleaded that the city might be spared from the desolation, that the gods would protect them from the horrors of the world below them. The Lonely God heard his plea, and gave to Mac a Coin, which would protect their city, sealing the Alleys away forever. On that day, the city was again reborn, darkness giving way to the light of the modern days.” The thin metal rod stirred the bowl, sand bleeding back to white, and in the middle sat the monocle, no longer glass, but gold – a coin with a masked face. How did it…? The storyteller deftly spun the coin in the water, and as it spun, it began to glow. "Today is the Day of Rebirth, a day to celebrate, to commemorate that glorious illumination. We wear masks - of the gods who formed the world, of the creatures that once hunted us, and of the man who saved us - as a reminder that we will never again live in the fear of the Dark Alleys. We have these festivities of chaos, to remind ourselves of the chaos that once was our daily life. May the Lonely God send that it never be so again!" Brightly colored smoke began to billow from the top of the bowl. Aredan coughed, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the smoke’s tickle. As the smoke cleared, he could see that the street corner was empty save for the golden coin. Aredan bent and picked it up. Coming to this city had been a fantastic decision. The wonders of storytelling alone made it far more worth it than living in Elendel. I’ll have to tell Llantess about this – Llantess! Rusts, I’m going to be late! Aredan spun and ran down the street. Llantess would skin him alive if he was late for the Day of Rebirth festivities – there was no way the old man could staff the whole inn by himself.
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  5. Hi everyone. I've been reading Sanderson for about 2 years, but just now it occurred to me to join the forums. Current status: Hyped over SA4.
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  6. Well hello, I had the privilege and joy to truly find Brandon after WoT was suggested to me, and I stumbled upon Stormlight soon after. The series quickly blew to the top of my favorite books as I devoured it. Unbeknownst to me, I had actually read him before with the Reckoners, which was a pleasant surprise, but the series wasn't my bread and butter like epic fantasy, and I didn't expect this new-to-me author to have such ridiculous genre range (like seriously, the man is a legend of writers purely by content). At that time, I was burnt out of my public library in a small town (the only one interested in fantasy and reading that much of it), and with no one else to talk to about these amazing books or recommend me new books. Through great chance, WoT was suggested, and soon after I began to seek out books and new authors in the fantasy and science fiction genre, and I am so happy I was able to find Sanderson, and now, an awesome community of fellow fans and fantasy nerds to talk about them with. Thank you all for that. Little more about me: Around the same time I found Sanderson (aka when stopped lying to myself that I was a jock and threw myself back into being a theatre nerd and bookworm ~5 years ago), I finally figured out my own passion was storytelling. Brandon definitely helped provide some encouragement around that time alongside an amazing English teacher, and I have never looked back. I am currently pursuing my passion as a student of creative writing in college, supplementing my classes with Brandon's amazing lectures that he has posted on YouTube, and devouring more writing and books as I go. I have read the first (two or three, I don't recall, high school was a mess) of Mistborn, but really need to reread them as well. Currently rereading through WoT at The Shadow Rising, (#4), as I managed to find a full hardcover set (including New Spring), but depending on this quarantine and if I can kick myself back into my rhythm of reading like a word addict, I will reread Stomlight in anticipation for Rhythm of War this fall. Super excited for WoK Leatherbound, even though my bank account isn't. Tier 4 hopeful, but it will be a wonderful addition to my growing collection nonetheless. Favorite Sanderson book (so far, I have yet to read Elantris or Warbreaker. Yet.): Oathbringer, easily. Man, those last few hundred pages. Chills. If I can do even a part of that in any of my writing, I would be fulfilled. Favorite character, why must you make me choose. I don't remember details from Mistborn enough to do justice to those characters, so alas, just from Stormlight. Token comment, "Hoid is a beautiful sassy boy". Skipping over the main characters, even though I like all of them, Adolin holds an interesting place in my heart, capable and confident in so many ways yet not without fault or doubts. A poster child, who did well in near everything except for some things he cared about the most. (Honorable out-of-fandom mention, Matrim Cauthon, how I do love this man of contradictions and complexity). Well, that's enough out of me, I shall begin my long campaign of lurking amidst the fandom, posting little and listening much, and I shall see you all around. And appear when you never expect it. Hehe. Cheers, Purple
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  7. LG 65: Term 5 Month 1 - Hundreds of Stories “… and that was the tale of the thrice-lucky almond dealer.” Seòras let the words ring out, seated by the fire in front of a small audience now chuckling at the conclusion of his last story. Tales had brought him to the University, and tales were now helping to pay his way through it. Once the laughter had subsided, he spoke again. “What tales should I tell next? The tale of the Princess and the Blue-Winged Wren, or shall I sing the Ballad of the Horse Pirate Vaon?” “How about a tale about the fae that invade our world?” Someone called out. “Got any songs about skindancers?” People’s faces noticeably went sombre at this, though after a moment they started to nod and agree with the suggestion. Seòras couldn’t see who had called about – probably someone standing in the back. “I suppose I do have a yarn or two I could spin about the creatures from the Fae. It’s a little more grim than my last story, but let me tell you of the Mystery of the Demon from Caluptena. The Caluptena was a place of knowledge, vastly greater than our own archive here. The legends don’t agree whether it was just a building, or if it was an empire, but the detail is of little consequence for our tale.” As he spoke, he began to tap an slow, irregular beat, emphasising odd syllables as he worked to invoke and enhance the sense of unease present in the room. “I tell you now a tale of war, flame, and the Tehlin church, for as you know, three things do demons fear: cold iron, clean fire, and the holy Name. You see…” The voice interrupted. “Cold iron you said? You mean like this?” The crowd was forced aside as the cloaked figure pushed forward through the crowd, a cloud of grey shards flying from their hands. Seòras screamed as the shards tore a hundred new holes in his already raggedy clothing, and screamed louder as the cold iron burned his flesh, before screaming again as the force knocked him from the chair into the open fireplace. His screams were joined by those of the students that had been his audience, now fleeing from the display they’d seen. As his world ended, he supposed that at least now as he died, he was becoming a new story that would travel on by word of mouth, just like all the stories he had once collected. * Sloan roamed the streets, smiling. It was warming up. Just a touch, but even a little bit was better than nothing. Hopefully spring would be here before too much longer. For now, she’d content herself with the slightly warm night and hope she found success in one of these alleys. Skipping across the cobblestone streets, she let the beat run through her, driving her steps. Forward, forward, back, back, forward, side, back, twirl. She closed her eyes with the twirl, feeling the breeze blow through her hair. Her night was made in the sixth alley she checked. Someone huddled in a grimy little hovel, built over time by other street-dwellers from the junk thrown out by the nearby Horse and Four. He was fiddling with an object, and she heard him muttering quietly. She crept closer and froze as the words “Master” and “Fishery” stuck out. “You’d think last month would’ve at least temporarily sated my need to watch the bright light of life leave the eyes of all the students at your school as I can,” she began. The student whirled in her direction, and she gave him a little wave. Well. More like the knife in her hand gave him a little wave. Details. The student’s eyes widened, and he dropped the object he held. “I can pay you! Anything you want! Please don’t hurt me!” Sloan chuckled, eying his clothing. “You’re no noble. Even if you were, you couldn’t pay me enough to let you go free. You see, those who know me best know that my…..bloodlust, I suppose, can’t be bribed. Not by your kind.” “I’m no one!” “You certainly are. Or, you shortly will be.” He broke down, and she bent over him, grabbing his hair and yanking him closer. His wet eyes opened again, and she saw into his soul. Or it felt like she did. “You shouldn’t have come to my streets,” she said as her blade cut deep. The light left his eyes, and she wiped her blade clean on his shirt and contemplated his still form. There had been no music in his soul. No beat. She had yet to find a student with music. It was like the University killed that part of a person. All of them needed to die, to save the world. She was merely the weapon guaranteeing the University’s demise. She turned and left the alley, clicking her heels to the music. Maybe she’d find another student to slaughter before the night was over. Seoras (Haelbarde) was killed! He was a Skindancer! Lord Silberfarben was killed! He was a Student! Maern (Xino) was attacked, saved, and went insane! Vol (Devotary) was brought on the Horns but the charges were dropped! Lyoan (Fura) was brought on the Horns and charged with Conduct Unbecoming! He will be lashed! Traelynn Weeks (Kynedath) ws brought on the Horns and charged with Conduct Unbecoming! He will be lashed! The following students were elevated: Athdara (Elandera), Bryn Aria (Burnt Spaghetti), Vol (Devotary), Lyoan (Fura), Traelynn Weeks (Kynedath), Knighter Nune (Rover). Straw Altiora (Straw) and Shard (Experience) are now Masters! Term 5 has begun! It will end on Sunday, May 17th, at 4 PM PDT.
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  8. From the album: SA Fanart by FelCandy

    Just another phone doodle of Szeth! Realized I havent drawn him all that much.
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  9. NotBurtReynolds Can Stormlight give enough extra strength that a humanoid could use a Shardbow w/out Plate? Brandon Sanderson Not normally. I think the "Not normally" is an exception for Rock. Because of his status as a squire and his unique bond to all spren ( alaii’iku ) he was able to draw enough power to draw the bow that most squires could "not normally" do. I also think rock is going to become like the Lorax for the spren. Its a completely unfounded theory, but he hasn't bonded with any spren in particular, so I think that instead of becoming a radiant, he will speak for the spren in ways the other radients can't, because radients spren have been seen to have limited memories. Probs won't happen but I really want a Lorax moment for rock so I guess its wishful thinking
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  10. The city was alive. The thought crossed her mind while she walked through the streets, all around her laughing, celebrating people. The streets seemed to glow in the light of the lampions hanging everywhere, their shapes and sizes varying with the people that had hung them up. She knew there would be fires in the larger and smaller places, carefully watched by a few who had offered to keep an eye on the flames. A tiny smile touched her lips as she allowed herself to be swept along by the crowd moving towards one of the larger places nearby. They all had spent the day inside, had considered the last year, had pondered over mistakes had decided on things they wanted to do in the future. But now, now the time for silence, for quiet thoughtfullness was over. Now it was time to celebrate, to forget about the past for a moment, about the wars and the destruction that had happened so regularly for the past years. She could feel it, could see it in the faces, in the eyes of those around her. Tonight was dedicated tp the present. Tonight they were alive. She stopped in front of a stall and bought herself a drink that smelled like a mixture of lemon and kiwi and then continued, walked along the street, her face carefully hidden behind a green mask depicting a spren. Nearly everybody wore them, some faces easy to recognize despite their unusual adornment, others completely anonymus behind larger, more complicated ones. She saw the old figures of myth, the old gods of this world, new heros of the movies, creatures from all the worlds that came together in this place, some so weird she had no idea what or who they were supposed to represent. Despite the pleasant, festivious mood she kept her eyes open, couldn't quite suppress her instinct to look for a threat, to make sure nobody was trying to use the situation for their benefit. She couldn't see anybody, saw no sign of anything that tipped her off, but she allowed herself her awareness, didn't try to stop her eyes from covertly roaming over the crowd now and then. It had saved her live more often than not and she saw no reason to stop. When she stepped onto the place, she could see the fire burning in the middle, hear the music of some that had brought their instruments and played a quick dance. The city was alive, she was alive. And tonight, tonight she would celebrate, she would maybe meet new people, tonight her white hair would be part of a costume and not mark her as a freak. For once her red eyes, changed to crystals by years spend soulcasting, could be mistaken for a special set of contact lenses. Althea took a sip of her drink and looked around, the tiny smile still touching her lips. Tonight was a good night. One she had looked forward to for months.
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  11. It was proper night at last, the sun having pumped the last of its crimson out onto the horizon. Now, it was cooling into violet and indigo, and overhead Lita could see the stars winking into life, amplified by her Tin. She could feel the tempo of the city shifting around her as people drank more, thought less, and allowed themselves to be swept up in the night. The sounds of people laughing mingled with fragments of music, shouts, and whispers. Lita smiled and shoved the last dumpling into her mouth, unaffected by its piping hot temperature. That was probably the best part about Brass Feruchemy - instantaneous gratification. There was no tea too hot, no dumplings too freshly-steamed. And, she supposed, she didn't need to worry about dying in a fire. Probably more important, but thankfully far less practical in her day-to-day. She wandered in a path that would have looked aimless to anyone else, though Lita could tell where her feet were taking her even as she tried to deny it. It was more sensible, she supposed, to come here now than in the middle of the night, when she'd have to worry about someone trying to mug her. Or more like, when she'd have to worry about concealing the body of someone attempting to mug her. Better to get this over with now, and give her the rest of the night to work. Lita walked another block until she stood opposite a small, nondescript alleyway that ended in a brick wall. There was nothing particularly special about this place; it wasn't even an Alley. It was just... an alley. And yet, something always drew her here, whenever she was out in the city. Always, always, she found herself back here, staring down the dingy little corridor between two buildings. Lita stoked her Tin and focused on the little door that had been set in one of the alley walls. Something about that door always made the back of her right hand tingle oddly when she looked at it. She flexed it unconsciously, then crossed the street, weaving through groups and clumps of friends or neighbors until she stood right in the alley's mouth. Lita stared at the alley floor, anticipating what was about to happen, but still gritting her teeth when it did. That pain - sharp, sudden, and cold - lanced into her side like a knife. She lifted her hand to her right side, sliding her fingers along the lower outline of her ribcage. Of course, there was nothing there. There never was. She shivered. A raucous shout somewhere to her right made her spin around, heartbeat pounding in her ears. A girl dressed as a Windspren dashed by, her long blonde hair streaming behind her, as she was pursued by a young man in a Spymaster's bowler. Sloppy, Lita chided herself, forcing her pulse to slow, taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure. She was acting like a recruit, jumpy as a new bride. With one last glance backwards at the alley, she crossed the street again and went on her way. This time, her path really was aimless, eyes skipping over the crowds and shops and stalls for something to anchor her focus. Her heart still beat a little too fast, but no one else would know it now. It was foolish to let herself indulge this odd compulsion, especially on a night like tonight. She was better than this. She had to be better. A slight anomaly caught her eye as she looped back closer to the center of the festivities - a young man sitting alone, eating what looked like an alarming quantity of bao buns for just one person. Lita quirked one eyebrow and felt herself grin as she walked a bit closer, stopping at a respectful, yet companionable, distance. "You know, I'm not quite sure you have enough food there," she said, not bothering to keep some of the laughter out of her voice. "It's Festival night - no need to limit yourself like that." @Fatebreaker
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  12. "It's right over here, next to the tailors." Lucas led the trio down the street. After Vic had found a restroom they had resumed their quest for bao, moving amongst the crowds of celebrants. The many costumes created a beautiful and strange tableau, with countless variations of the classic costumes. There were dozens of Lonely Gods, in blacks, whites and greys. The masks ranged in detail and emotion; from minimalistic to bizarrely stylistic, and from emotionless to sorrowful. Resh himself wore a costume of the Lonely God, his mask a plain white leaning towards featureless rather than lifelike, and a simple black robe over his regular clothes. He had always identified with the Lonely God, with his desire to create and protect. Resh tried to emulate that drive to learn and use his knowledge to build and grow. But that wasn't the only costume. The most popular and least consistent was the Mother of Monsters, the costumes ranging from animals to strange creatures straight from the stories. There were a few Chronomasters, their clock symbology displaced uniquely in each costume. There were some dressed as the Coin, including Lucas, some dressed as the Hero, with monocle and bowler. And some dressed as the One-eyed God, with their grinning masks and grey cloaks, the one eye and smile portrayed in many designs and styles on various masks. All together, it was like the entire city was staging a play, and everyone had a part. Lucas interupted Resh's thoughts with a joyful exclamation,"We're here! The best steamed buns in the city. When I'm not taking a bath, that is." Victoria made gagging sounds and Reshdid his best to look pained. "Oh come one, that was good." Lucas protested loudly. They ignored him and Victoria leaned over as if to puke while Resh rubbed her back. Lucas rolled his eyes, "Hilarious guys, top notch comedy." he moved into the shop as Resh and Vic followed after giggling to one another. As they neared the counter Resh asked, "Who's buying this time?" Vic pointed her nose in the air and simply said, "Forty five minutes." Lucas raised his hands in a helpless gesture and said, "I wasn't the one who made us late." Resh looked at them in disbelief, but neither met his eye. "Fine." he grumbled, "This is nonsense." He stepped up to the counter and ordered bao for the three of them. Once they had their brown paper bags with food they went back out to the street where they moved the piping hot food around in their mouthes to avoid burning their tongues. Resh began to eye the glassier's shop that was next to the bao place, when Vic let out an exclamation of delight and pointed to the habberdashery on the other side of the building. "Let's go try on hats!" Resh gestured to the unfinished food in their hands as he pointed out that food generally wasn't allowed in shops. Lucas smiled broadly as he said, "Easy fix!" then dropped his left over buns into Resh's bag and walked into the shop. "Hey!" Resh complained, seeing too late where this was going. Vic followed suit shortly thereafter, though she gave him a peck on the cheek as she did so, "Sorry Resh, but you gotta be faster than that." She slid inside the shop, giving him an impish smile over her shoulder. Resh grumbled, but stayed on the curb and continued to eat. The idea was that the last person had to either stay outside or deal with the hassle of trying to smuggle hot food in on your person. He opted to stay and eat, not wanting his clothes to smell like bao for the rest of the evening. He ate some of Lucas's and Vic's food, as a toll for his longsuffering. He smiled as he watched them disappear into the rows of headgear, and simply enjoyed the sights and sounds of the street before him as he ate.
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  13. Dressed in a deep black robe embroidered with golden Thaylen letters around the hemline and sleeves, Xanas slipped his mask on. It was a dark gray mask, covering one eye with a silver patch, his other eye shining golden through the slit on the other side of the mask, with more glyphs embroidered in the same gold as his skin around its edges. He slipped a small steel spike into an inner pocket next to a few diamond broams. It was a good night for acquisitions for the Alleys. So many drunken, foolish targets to ply information or allegiance or other talents from. Of course, most Denizens in his department didn't get to enjoy the festivities, but no one would dare suggest that Xanas was incapable of maintaining a low profile. Tsarik, his inkspren, stood straight-backed, hands folded behind him, atop the table, and looked at the mask quizzically. “This face, Xanas, it is not yours. Why is it?” “It is a human story, Tsarik. They speak of a Wandering God, with one eye of flesh and one eye of silver- obviously a folk story invented about some early Hemalurgist among them who convinced the primitives he was divine. He probably just spiked some Rioter and Pulled everyone into worshipping him. People have been called gods for less.” "Why do you choose to be seen as what is not?” “Well, this Stranger is supposed to have been the god of Alleys – that, in all likelihood, means an early precursor to Denizens, even if we don’t have any records that go back that far. In wearing this mask, I am giving everyone the opportunity to know who I am.” He smiled. “It is a warning of sorts - even if most aren’t observant enough to see it.” Tsarik nodded, satisfied, then shrunk to a less conspicuous size, settling into a small patch in the shadows behind Xanas. Xanas opened the door of the small room and stepped into the narrow hallway. He gestured at the far end of the wall with a spread hand, pushing, and the Alley extended, stretching into the darkness. The darkness seemed to whisper to Xanas, harsh, guttural murmuring at the edge of consciousness. The whispers snarled in a language with no pattern and no rhyme. The Alleys had never enjoyed allowing others to bend them, though they seemed to give way before Xanas just a touch more readily than most of the others in his department. Mac had been the best at dealing with them, but it had been a long time since his touch had been felt on the Alleys. Even when he had still been in the Alleys, some of the more stubborn ones would ignore him. Xanas walked for what felt like a kilometer before the texture of the path beneath his feet changed. The walk seemed to get longer each time he twisted the Alley; at this rate, next year he would need to find a more compliant one. There were so few left these days that would allow him to travel quickly into the city. The dark slate floor became a quaint cobbled alleyway sandwiched between a bar and an inn. The sun was still settling above the horizon, turning the clouds ahead into a deep crimson. Red sky at night, Denizen’s delight, Xanas thought. Red sky in the morning, city’s warning. He stepped in front of the inn on his left, 'The Yellow Sea'. It was owned by an old Hallandren Drab, Llantess. Xanas walked into the raucous front room, carefully dodging the drunk Kertzian seated at the first table. It’s disgusting how out of control these masses get with their alcohol. Practically savages or animals with as much restraint as they display. The server was trying to explain to the Kertzian's tablemates that the inn was all out of the vintage they kept asking for, since Darkside wines were quite expensive. Sitting down at a table near the rear exit of the building, Xanas coughed as if to get the server’s attention. A young noble boy from Scadrial, he made his way over to Xanas, giving a couple of patrons refills of their drinks on his way. “Yes, sir, what can I get you?” “You are a descendant of Rashek, aren’t you, boy?” The server blinked in confusion. “Well, yes, that’s what my grandad said. Why?” “I have some friends who have been looking for someone like you. They have some, ah, opportunities for an individual of your bloodline. Could we perhaps step outside for a moment to discuss their offer?” “Um, sure, I mean, as long as it is just a moment. It’s a really busy night, what with all the celebrations…” “I’m sure this won’t take long.” Xanas stood and stepped out the back door into the alleyway. A couple of dumpsters sat there, filled with bottles and old food. Fireworks were going off in the distance like gunshots. The boy followed with a furtive glance over his shoulder. Xanas stood, his back towards the boy, and slid the spike out of his pocket. Tsarik stood in silence in the shadows behind the dumpster. Xanas spoke softly. “You are a Tineye, are you not? You seem to have exceptional hearing, hearing one little cough over all that chaos.” “Yes, sir, I am.” Xanas turned, holding the spike up to the light. The steel glinted in the lamplight. “Excellent. My friends have been looking for someone who can help them to see things a little more... clearly.” He gestured at the spike. “You’ve seen things like this before? Heard tale of what they can do, yes? Grant ordinary men the powers of the Mistborn of old. My friends would like to make it a gift, a sign of goodwill.” He could see a glint of excitement in the boy’s eyes. What young man could turn down the thrill of adventure, of power? Xanas stepped close to the youth, spike held out in front of him. He grabbed the young man’s shoulder. “This spike will turn a young Tineye like yourself…” Xanas stepped in, ramming the spike into the correct bindpoint in the aorta. The server’s white shirt began to turn a deep red, and the boy’s eyes widened with pain. “…into a corpse.” Xanas pulled the spike out again, sliding it into a metal tube Tsarik handed him. He held the tube beneath the hole in the boy’s chest, filling it with blood, then placed a stopper on top. He gently wiped off the tube and his hands in turn on the young man’s coat, then dropped the corpse to the ground. He dug in the boy's pockets, pulling out the tips he had gotten over the course of the night. It had to look like a mugging gone wrong. Satisfied, he looked out of the alley at the festivities, toward a statue dressed as a mustached man in a bowler hat and a monocle. Holding up the tube like a celebratory toast, Xanas gestured at the statue. “Just like old times.” He stepped back into the darkness of the Alleys as someone stumbled out of the inn. “Aredan!” Llantess dropped to the ground, grabbing the boy’s shoulders, checking for signs of life. “Happy Day of Rebirth,” Xanas whispered with a smirk as the darkness swallowed him, leaving only the stone alleyway behind. "Sorry about the mess."
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  14. "...and you won't believe what we found down there," the man said, lowering his voice conspiratorially before taking a sip of sapphire wine. Lita widened her eyes, leaning closer across the table, the very image of breathless, rapt attention. "What?" The man grinned what Lita assumed should have been a knowing grin, but what instead was definitely a leer. "Atium." Lita let her mouth open into a soft little "oh", as if the word 'atium' were enough to send her melting into the man's arms with little restraint. As if she hadn't been one of the first people in the entire city to find out about the atium cavern in the first place. The man settled smugly back into his chair and took a longer drink of the wine - hardly wine, really, but that's what the Rosharans liked to call it. Lita supposed it sounded more dignified than 'dyed grain liquor,' and Rosharans, especially newly-imported Lighteyes like this fellow, loved their dignity. They were seated under an expansive canopy that had been set up across the square from the main bonfire. One of the city's more upscale bars had turned their patio into a lush, upholstered paradise dotted with small high-backed tables, chaise lounges, poufs, and plenty of high-pile rugs. At a place like this, you could order pretty much anything - on or off the menu - and the waitstaff would trot it out for you easy as breathing. A couple in the back corner were grinding firemoss, and the young woman entertaining a party of older businessmen was either very drunk, or a prostitute. No other demographic smoked a hookah with such enthusiasm. Lita sipped her own drink, a heinously-sweet glass of orange wine that Kaldemar had bought 'to match her dress.' Tin had let her catch his order at the bar however, when he'd encouraged the bartender to 'add some extra white for luck.' Charming. Still, she'd been chasing this particular meeting for weeks. Through some stroke of fortune that had absolutely nothing to do with his wits, capabilities, or basic morality, Kaldemar had been appointed as the lead treasury liaison for Alleycity Excavation. It was a staggeringly stupid move on ACE's part, which had shocked Lita initially. Tycho Anvor, the aging founder, usually ran a pretty tight ship, and Lita had anticipated quite a slog to get even the most meager scraps of information on their share of the atium haul a few months back. But fate, it seemed, had smiled on her. Kaldemar smiled, too. He was rather handsome with his light yellow eyes, high cheekbones, and sleek black hair - an effect that was marred whenever he decided to speak. Or laugh. Or breathe too loudly. He and Forian would have gotten on famously, Lita thought. She spent a cheerful second imagining poisoning Kaldemar, then reached across the little table to touch one of his cuffs with the fingers of her left hand. Kaldemar did a terrible job trying not to look at it. "I've never seen it before," she said, breathless, letting her fingers slide closer and closer to the edge of his cuff. "The Lost Metal." She could hear his pulse. Lonely God, this man was supposedly some great womanizer, but Lita was half-sure he was about to have an aneurysm right at the table. Because of her left hand. "Y-you Scadrians," he stammered, his yellow eyes flicking from her fingers to her face with a frenzied rhythm, "and your m-metal worship. It's pagan, you know. Makes you," Kaldemar swallowed hard, "strange." Lita stopped the slow descent of her fingers, then allowed her face to collect itself into a slight pout. "Why Kaldemar, you wound me," she said. "And here I thought we were getting to be friends." For the first time, she let her own eyes focus on her fingers, which were now a mere breath away from the skin of Kaldemar's right hand. Then, with a sigh, she pulled her own hand away. "Still," she said, leaning back in her chair, "if I am still a stranger, then it's only natural there would be things we simply couldn't share." Kaldemar looked simultaneously furious and relieved. God Beyond, was he sweating? Dammit, Lita thought, slightly frustrated. It appears this might take a bit more finessing than I had hoped. She took another sip of her "wine," pretended to think, then stood. Kaldemar started, then stood as well. "Now wait a moment, I --" Lita reached into the neckline of her dress and pulled out a single white card, setting it on the table. "My rooms in the city," she said, meeting his eyes. "If you change your mind and decide you want to be friends. I've always wanted to know what it looks like." Kaldemar stared at her for a moment. "Atium, that is," Lita finished, smiling. "Get someone to read that card to you, Brightlord. And do have a pleasant night." She turned and slipped out of the patio, passing beneath the colored lanterns until she emerged under the stars. The noise of the square and the roar of the bonfire were a welcome contrast to the smokey silence under the canopy. Lita felt herself smile, and rolled her shoulders. The smell of woodsmoke mingled with something else... dumplings? Buns? She turned her head, stomach suddenly feeling very empty, and decided to follow her nose. Business could wait. It was time for dumplings.
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  15. I love the story with the “good Calvin” from the duplicator.
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  16. Does everyone remember when Calvin decided not to study for the test and just let Stupendous Man take it instead? One of my favorites! I’ll post one of the last strips in this epic story to jog everyone’s memory
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  17. I had forgotten about this scene until I re-read WoK, but Rock picks up a tree trunk and swings it at Kaladin when they are training in the chasms. Rock, Moash, and someone else (Teft?) are sparring with Kal 3 v1 and he's frustrating them so Rock starts actually trying. Kal is shocked by his strength (and then forgets about it, I guess) but it clearly shows that Rock is far stronger than he lets on.
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  18. Text chains with my friends of various cosmere knoladge
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  19. Hello! I am glad to be able to announce the start of ERA 5! As of now, Era 4 is officially finished. That means: All location threads move to E5. Please feel free to continue to use them, but should you be the first one to post there, add a quote stating that this thread moved to E5 at the beginning of your post. If you haven't done so, please finish all E4 plots as soon as possible. We try to avoid having two eras going at the same time. Please use only characters that were approved for E5! You can always submit more sheets, if you want to move other characters over to this era (up to our official limit of 5 characters per person active at the same time). Please keep the changes to our canon in mind! I copied them into a spoiler tag below for quick and easy reference. And most importantly: Have fun in the new Era! Sorana
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  21. Is it bad that I totally thought that you knew what you were talking about
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  22. *cracks knuckles* Alright. Here's what you gotta do. You absolutely have to choose the dwarf race and the druid background. This might seem like the wrong move because Dwarves get a slight penalty on persuasion when not trying to persuade other Dwarves, but the important thing with that is that slight bonus you get while you are talking to other Dwarves. This means that as soon as you can get to the stronghold of Quatach-Ichl you can convince Grakhuil to teach you to read people better, opening up a number of new conversation options. This lets you persuade your way through several quests that were kind of supposed to be combat only. Now, you might be wondering why I said to choose the druid background. Well, although most of the druid traits are completely useless in terms of persuasion, at around level 55 you get a virtue that lets you persuade animals! You know how you said you can't persuade your way through a pack of wolves? Well not anymore! Although, like, I say persuade but it's really more of a calm down power. This does mean that if you feel like doing a persuasion only run you'll have to grind a ton before even leaving the first town, but it is possible! Really you should be pumping up that persuasion anyways to make sure you don't get stuck somewhere. As a closing thought, I know nothing about this game and came up with this off the top of my head, read Brandon Sanderson.
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  23. “Excuse me, fellow TUBAists, this matter requires my attention.” Kingston nodded to the group he’d conversed with, thanking them for their assistance. His eyes lingered on NullBlade the longest, taking in his appearance. He seemed arrogant enough to be important, which made him worth name-dropping, or impersonating with the Disguiser’s Lens he wore. “I’m afraid you won’t find any people around here, Miss!” He turned and dumped a pile of six swords of varying sizes into Cassie’s hands. When he did, the faded white letters on the back of his jacket came into the others' view: L.I.A.R. Kingston grabbed the unfortunate woman by the elbow, aiming to drag her across the street. “I have the permit to sell at this spot, but you’re welcome to share it with me. Everyone’s in such a trusting mood, with all these masks on. It’s easy to make a quick coin, let me show you.” He scanned the crowd. It was a vendor’s nightmare. Under all the masks and costume jewelry, he couldn’t tell the rich from the poor. Of course, the genuinely wealthy would balk at buying metals from a stranger. And the poor wouldn’t have the money to spare. That left the middle-class, who at this time at night would only be interested in food, drinks, and cheap novelties. “Swords, ten chrysts!” he bellowed. “Or by special arrangement between Newcago Steel Co. and myself, the humble Kingston Smedry, free with he purchase of a metal flake gift bottle from… I’m sorry lass, I appear to have forgotten your name.” He stuck out a hand for her to shake, eyes twinkling. He probably wouldn’t make much money helping an amateur panhandler, but he was in the market for something more valuable: friendship.
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  24. They are. Although Cultivation's perpendicularity is on the Horneater Peaks, so they are the most probable people to have worldhopper heritage. Then again, it doesn't seem this has been foreshadowed, so it is very unlikely. This is a good point I didn't take into account, and is a very reasonable explanation. Man... I wish it was 2021 already.
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  25. Kumiko and KanMien walked down the streets together, looking at the different activities. KanMien looked at Kumiko. Their costumes were the same as last year, and she had to admit neither of them had put too much effort into it, instead mainly relying on the fact their outfits were unusual enough to begin with that nobody would question them. Kumiko had simply put on a variation on the dress she normally wore, though according to her it had a different name, and was supposed to be worn at festivals, though KanMien still wondered what the exact difference was. She was even still wearing that strange sword of hers, though KanMien highly doubted that people would actually wear swords to those festivals. Other than that, she had simply manifested her tail and ears, and put on a bright white and red mask resembling a fox, though KanMien again didn't really understand what the purpose of the mask's ears were when you had fox ears yourself. Meanwhile, KanMien wore an outfit similar to what you might see from someone from the Roughs in Scandrial, cloth covering the lower part of her face while a hat obscured the upper part, completed by the two heavy revolvers on her sides and a rifle on her back. Of course, in her case the entire outfit wasn't actually a costume, with her instead wearing the outfit she used back when they were all still roaming around Scandrial back in the day, having grabbed it out of the closet because she wasn't interested in spending the time to acquire an actual costume. Together the two of them moved through the crowd, walking together in a comfortable silence that somehow formed a nice contrast to all the other noise around them. Eventually they visited a stand to buy some snacks, both of them getting a sugared apple, after which Kumiko spent a while complaining about the lack of certain foods KanMien wasn't certain she would be able to pronounce, let alone remember for more than two seconds. Eventually they started walking again, wondering about what the next year would bring. Probably some sort of calamity, going by the usual pattern in this city.
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  26. "Resh come on, we're going to miss the whole celebration!" Resh didn't look up from the notes he was writing. "Lucas, I'm already dressed, I just have to finish this paragraph of translation. 20 minutes, tops." He turned the metal plate he was studying over in one gloved hand, making notes in his lab journal about the markings. It was an unknown metal that was warped and twisted by some force long ago. On its surface he could make out a partial engraving. It was some kind of diagram with notes in a language that, as far as he knew, no one spoke. The diagram seemed to be anatomical in nature, but due to the incomplete nature of the sample he couldn't be positive what it was for. He was still cracking the code, gleaning answers piece by piece from various samples of text that he had either found or purchased from oddities shops. He noticed a marking he'd missed on the partial diagram and made a note. "You know, it'd go faster if you'd help me with the translation." Lucas sighed, scratching at the wiry beard which framed his face, contrasting with his shaved head. He was dressed in a costume for the festivities, the Coin, which included a circular mask with symbols on it's face, painted to look like gold. It currently sat pushed up on his head to show his face, and he frowned at his friend. "You're trying to distract me, but I won't be taken in. If I'm not hounding you to hurry up and leave we'll be here all night. Plus," he grimaced at a sudden thought, "I don't want to be responsible for keeping Victoria waiting. When did you say we'd meet her?" Reshilore looked up with a start, almost dropping the artifact. He glanced at the clock on the wall and swore, depositing the metal piece in a sealed container and grabbing his mask off the workbench. "I told her we'd be at the fountain at 7." Lucas raised his eyebrows, "Resh, that was thirty minutes ago." "Which is why we should hurry." Resh shot back as he pulled on his costume, the dark robe and somber mask of the Lonely God. They ran out the door. A few minutes later they arrived at the predetermined place, huffing and out of breath. "Do you see her?" Lucas huffed, breathing hard, "Dark and deep, but this is why I went into the academia. I'm not cut out for running." Resh looked around, panting for breath, "No, I think we're good." He leaned on the fountain, and looked up into a dark raven mask. The woman wearing it was of average height, with dark curly hair and a lean build. She wore one of the many variations of the Mother of Monsters masks, but even though it obscured her face, then sense of irritation was palpable. "Out for some exercise are we?" Resh and Lucas gulped, glancing at each other with worry. Lucas plastered a sickly smile on his face and tried to answer between breaths, "Oh you know, just getting warmed up the the festival. You know that a little running can get the body ready for prolonged activity when..." "Shut up, Luke." The woman said flatly. Lucas did exactly that and backed up a little bit. Resh tried to put on his most innocent smile, "H-hey, Vic. Sorry we're a bit late..." "A bit late?!" She cut him off, "Resh, a bit late is ten minutes, I've been here for forty-five! I've needed a restroom for the last twenty!" Resh looked away awkwardly. "Sorry, I was just finishing, uh, some chores. You know, folding some laundry, washing my dishes, that sort of thing." Vic gave him a flat look that could be felt through the mask, "Laundry?" Resh tried to mumble a response, but there was nothing he could say that would make his previous statement plausible. He hated doing his laundry. "I was doing some work." he sighed, "I found a section I missed in my initial sweep of the new piece and lost track of time. I'm really sorry, Victoria." Victoria pushed her mask up, revealing her tan complexion and startling green eyes. She skewered Resh with her glare for a moment longer, but the corner of her mouth quicker up. "Fine, I'll let you both survive for now, but you owe me offerings of repentance." Lucas breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head, "For the record, I tried to get us here on time." Resh gave him a playful shove, "Oh you shut up." He turned back to Vic and grinned. "So you aren't going to kill me?" Vic rolled her eyes and stepped forward, "That depends on your offerings." He smiled and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. She returned his smile, "That's a start, but I was thinking something a bit more edible." Lucas bowed low, in mock chivalry, "Your wish is our command, oh high Lady Victoria. I belive I know where we can find a vendor that makes the juiciest bao in the whole city." Victoria cocked an eyebrow at him in mock skepticism, "I'll believe it when I taste it. And that's Mother of Monsters to you. Also, I wasn't joking about needing to relieve myself, so your first offering will be finding me a restroom post haste." They laughed and walked off, towards the sounds and the smells of the festival. But unseen by them, a figure hidden in shadow watched in silence. It followed their path with its head, then stepped back into the darkness of the alley behind it.
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  27. We need to find some uncommon ones... What do you think about Nightwacher? Would you go to her to wish for something?
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  28. When you have to find the theme of "Ozymandias" and you write: "In time, all things fall to ruin."
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  29. “Festive sticks! Get yer sticks for celebrating, free while supplies last!” Kingston Smedry was hawking swords, but no one wanted to buy swords at a street party. He pulled dozens of them one by one from his bag, a feat which caught the eye of more than a few passersby, given the pouch’s outwardly small dimensions. One toddler clapped excitedly when he drew a meter-long broadsword out, then squealed when delight when Kingston obligingly put it in his hands. “Go stab something for me, okay kid?” A few party-goers dropped coins at Kingston’s feet, despite his insisting it wasn’t necessary. He had donned a simple black mask for the occasion, under which he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. Others sported extravagant costumes for the occasion, but he preferred his simple black bomber jacket and loose blue jeans. Besides, they were the only clothes he owned. “I’m in no rush! Plenty happy just to be here, handing out these fabulous kitchen utensils. We got one-pronged forks here, in case you don’t trust the food vendor’s cutlery!” Someone was roasting a pig nearby. He crouched to quickly scoop up the tips he’d received, checking to see if he had enough chrysts to buy dinner later. He didn’t. “This is a good haul, all things considered.”
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  30. Hey Everybody! Thank you all, I’m really happy to see this:
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  31. My friend @Box Turtle was out driving on a foggy day with another friend, and saw a person walking down the street with a hooded cloak. Initially they were like 'is it a dementor cosplay?' and then they got closer and realized it was just a dude wearing a mistcloak around
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  32. This thread is proof that when you put a bunch of random, totally normal people on the internet, they unerringly adopt the chaotic neutral alignment. Every. Single. Time.
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  33. 1 like
  34. *sigh* I don't know what to do... My brain just can't process anything properly today. I'm really only posting this to avoid tuition reductions for PMing. Hopefully next round goes better for me and I can avoid dying... ---- Maern took a step out of the door and froze. It was dark. Pitch black. Apparently during his long study session, he’d lost track of time and sunset had passed him by. Foolish he thought to himself, feeling a spike of anxiety and beginning a fast walk- but not too fast, as he didn’t want to draw attention. Attention was bad on the streets after dark. If he just hurried and avoided being noticed, he’d get home no problem. This is the right way, right? he thought to himself, feeling a burst of panic. It sort of seemed familiar… but at the same time off. He’d been walking the same path home so many times by now that it had become automatic- but what if he’d messed it up. A terrible feeling of disorientation swept over him. He was lost- lost on the streets of Imre, where any number of individuals might walk by and relieve him of his money, his freedom, or his life. Terror began to cloud his thoughts I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die… Focus! he thought. He needed… focus… And then, all of sudden, he realized that his anxiety wasn’t natural.
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  35. Listening, Deteca took an actual step back. “I’m sorry, what?”
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  36. Yeah, unfortunately, reading the Silmarillion was, for me, like reading the Bible the whole way through, which is a feat I find I don't wish to accomplish.:) The rest of you have said it all! Though I do have the bad habit of complaining to my brother every time Tolkien goes off on a tangent about trees or someone sings a really long song in Elvish, I do enjoy reading the books, just for a very different reason than the movies. There are very few instances in the books where I truly connect with the characters, (Some of those being when Faramir talks to Eowyn in the House of Healing, or when Pippin and Merry are re-capping the Battle of Isengard.), whereas I love the Mythology and the depth it goes into very every single thing. Everything they encounter in the books is alive and has a history, and I find that really cool.
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  37. Since the first time they had killed someone, the crew hadn't had any luck finding the mutineers. This time was no different. In the night, two people were attacked. One was saved, but the other died. Karnage was lynched. They were a Loyal Crewmember! CadCom was attacked, but survived! A Joe in the Bush was killed. He was a Loyal Crewmember! Vote Count: Karnage (7): CadCom, DrakeMarshall, Joe, Kidpen, Silberfarben, The_God_King, Zillah DrakeMarshall (4): Amanuensis, Karnage, Sart, The_Archivist GM Notes: -Kills are not differentiated. -The cycle will end on May 16th at 13:00 EST. -Inactivity warnings for: @Elbereth, @Megasif. -If there are any inaccuracies with the vote or inactivity count, please let me know. Player List: xinoehp512 - Hades Loyal Crewmember Karnage - Shroud Loyal Crewmember StrikerEZ - Reverie Loyal Crewmember Elkanah - Cain Loyal Crewmember with a Medical Kit The_God_King - Mavet Elandera - Thankful Loyal Crewmember with a Knife Lord_Silberfarben - Silber BrightnessRadiant - Calypso Loyal Crewmember Kynedath - Maledict Loyal Crewmember Kidpen - Aradia A Joe in the Bush - Joseph Loyal Crewmember Elbereth - Crepuscula The_Archivist - Archer Mist - Rona Loyal Crewmember Sart - Sam Trudite Zillah - TBD CadCom - Patience DrakeMarshall - Verity Amanuensis - Nok the Bard Arraenae - Resourceful Smythe Mutineer Megasif - Mega Furamirionind - TBD Loyal Crewmember with Silver Powder
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  38. He is a spoiled brat, but a spoiled brat with terrible powers is pretty dang terrifying
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  39. *uses division on the win so mine is the only one left*
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  40. I think the other person hid their posts because they were losing an argument...
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  41. The Coppermind as it currently stands states (under "Surgebinder"): And there is this WOB I think is somewhat relevant.
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  42. Again you're being over literal. People break societal prescripts in anger all the time. Rock's adherence those rules is part of him being broken. He let his brothers go to their death. He didn't help. He feels immensely guilty. And yes, you Guage broken mental health by how long it takes them to heal and how much they work to heal. That's the whole mental health field. Some people are broken by the death of a family member. Some broken by being bullied in school. And some undamaged by genocide. Resiliency is unpredictable. That's the human condition.
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  43. From the album: SA Fanart by FelCandy

    Sketched this on my phone today, haven't really nailed down my vision of her or Eshonai, but it is a good start.
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  44. This is like... the pinnacle of food art. It’s absolutely beautiful. *begins to shed tears of joy*
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  45. I will literally die and go to the Spiritual Realm if this happens.
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  46. Welcome one and all to another edition of The Adventures of Slaveboi and Jeffrey Dean Morgan! Over the last month during our lockdown here in South Africa, I have read up to chapter 37 and here are some reactions: - First thing to note is that Tay has 100% gotten aboard the Shallan hate train. When we read the chapter where Kaladin and Bridge Four does the side carry and messes up Sadeas' battle plan, Tay was very excited to keep going. As soon as I read "Sometimes, when Shallan walked into the Palaneum," Tay shouted "No! Ungh! Why does it always have to be Shallan! She ruins EVERYTHING!" Thereafter followed an intense debate about whether we could skip that Shallan chapter to see what happens to Kaladin right away. We did so. - When Bridge Four is training and following orders from Kaladin, Tay likes to sing "I'll Make a Man Out of You" from Mulan. We then had a nice laugh imagining Teft, Rock, and Moash in concubine drag breaking into Kholinar Palace. - "Why can Rock see Syl? Is he some kind of mountain yogi esoteric boi? Like baby Yoda?" (a few minutes later) "Chris stop. I got distracted. We have to watch a video of Baby Yoda before we keep reading." - When Tay realized that Kal was going to be strung up in the storm: "Oh he's gonna go Super Saiyan! They're gonna be like 'hey die in the storm' and he's gonna be like 'b**** I am the storm'." - Reacting to the quote about Nohadon walking from Abamabar to Urithiru, Tay starts singing "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers. That was, interestingly, the song that she walked down the aisle to and what we walked out together to when we got married since we were in a long-distance relationship for years. Coulda used some Oathgates during that time, lemme tell ya. - At one point I had to explain the basics of Fabrials (felt a little like Navani talking to Dalinar). Went into how you had to lure a spren in with something that it likes and then trap it in a gemstone so that it could do the thing you want, like be a heating Fabrial. Tay got very upset at this, as she sees spren like little animals that are being confined in Fabrials, so she has decided to start an organization like S.P.E.W. from Harry Potter. She also insisted it was to have the same acronym and spent a few minutes coming up with "Spren... have a PURPOSE! Every - Where! Ha! SPEW: Spren have a Purpose Every Where!" Which I think is noble, but also sounds like it could definitely be a pro-Fabiral lobby as well. - In a quote in the epigraphs of part 3, Jasnah's notes talk about the Dawnshards. Tay felt like this was a comparable phrase to having an erection first thing in the morning. - Once we got back to a Shallan chapter: "Why must fantasy writers make redheads hot? Why do we insist on thinking that Ginny Weasley is somehow hot? She isn't hot. Fantasy writers: Stop trying to make Ginny Weasley happen." - Tay also pointed out how Shallan would often raise a hand to her 'breast' instead of her 'chest', thus subtly sexualizing her in a way that a character like Kaladin or Dalinar wouldn't be. I'm gonna keep an eye out for it, but I doubt there is any mention of Kaladin's breast. It was fun to imagine a sexualized Kaladin, however, going outside the Bridge Four barrack and stretching out his tight, muscley butt for all the lumberworkers to check out. - Probably the chapter that Tay has enjoyed most is "The Lesson" where Jasnah faces down the murderers in the alleys of Kharbranth. There was a lot of "Yeah!"s and "That's my GIRL"s and a notable "Princess Jasnah - THE FEMINIST ICON WE NEED!" happening throughout the latter half of the chapter when Jasnah was explaining her modus operandi to a shell-shocked Shallan. That's all for now! Wash your hands, ya filthy cremlings!
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  47. I... don't think there's a super in-depth reason for this, to be honest. It's about as many as Brandon can reasonably make work; 40 full Oaths, each having philosophical and emotional weight behind them is already a lot.
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  48. Spanreeds that persuade you to kill people. Like Nightblood! Nightspan: Hey, you should totally kill that guy. Farmer: No, thanks, Nightspan. Nightspan: Come on, it’ll be fun! Farmer: I liked the older spanreeds. Nightspan: KILL HIM NOW Farmer: I just want to get my taxes sorted out...
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  49. When the NSA tries to spy on Sanderson, all they find is RAFO cards. Brandon Sanderson secretly holds the Shard of Devotion. His books are tests of strength to find worthy 17th Sharders to invest. Brandon only dictates his books in High Imperial. Brandon once got cut off in traffic and wrote an instant bestseller. In his yearbook, people didn't look at pictures, they just read the spreads that he wrote. The seventh seal talked about in the Book of Revelation is Dragonsteel. Brandon can't wear a Mistcloak because if he turns too fast the billow causes a highstorm. If/when he sleeps, his snores play out Requiem for a Tower. Brandon's real job is solving world hunger and finding s renewable energy source. He just writes novels in his spare time as one of his "minor hobbies." The atomic bombs weren't actually made with Plutonium and Uranium, they were just some books that Brandon decided the world wasn't ready for. Brandon once sent a worldbuilding outline back into time. We know of it today as the U.S. Constitution. Brandon is not allowed within 25 miles of kings, presidents, and ministers because they get mad from the attention he draws.
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