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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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

Cycle is over. Shush.

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

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.

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

"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.

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."

"...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.

I love the story with the “good Calvin” from the duplicator.

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

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.

Text chains with my friends of various cosmere knoladge

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

this is actually scaring me

Is it bad that I totally thought that you knew what you were talking about

*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.

“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.

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.

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.

"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.

We need to find some uncommon ones... What do you think about Nightwacher? Would you go to her to wish for something?

When you have to find the theme of "Ozymandias" and you write: "In time, all things fall to ruin."

“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.”

Hey Everybody! Thank you all, I’m really happy to see this:

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

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.

Intro to the Cosmere So, you've read some of Brandon Sanderson's books, and you liked them enough that you want to talk about it with other fans online. But then it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no idea what everyone's talking about. Shards of Adonalsium? Realmatic theory? Worldhoppers? "I don't remember any of this in the books I read!" Fear not! This page is for you! What is the Cosmere? The Cosmere is the fictional universe in which many of Brandon Sanderson's novels take place. Stories set in the Cosmere share an underlying theorem of magic, a creation myth, a cosmology, and a few other key concepts. Characters and cultures can (and do) cross over between worlds. While early connections merely consist of a few scattered Easter eggs, they become more obvious and meaningful with time. Seeing and understanding it can greatly enhance your experience with his books -- there's a reason we can't stop talking about it! We've designed this page to point out all of the main things you may have missed, or that Brandon has said in interviews with fans, so that you can discover the secret world hidden in Brandon's books and be ready to participate in the discussion as quickly and as effortlessly as possible. For a more in-depth answer to this question, keep scrolling. For Brandon's own short answer to this question, see the FAQ on his website. For the complete list of works set in the Cosmere, see here. A note on spoilers: This post may contain minor spoilers for some Cosmere books--particularly Mistborn and Stormlight Archive. Links to the Coppermind wiki often contain many spoilers. If you haven't read all the books, we would encourage you not to read beyond the reading order recommendations! Does it matter? Knowledge of the Cosmere is generally non-essential to understand and enjoy Sanderson's work as each story/series stands on its own. That said, understanding the Cosmere can enhance your experience and give you something extra to chew on if you'd like to dive deeper into Sanderson's universe. So if you start looking into the Cosmere and find all of this to be overwhelming or uninteresting, that's totally okay. Take your time, or just don't even worry about it! Sanderson ultimately has plans for some books that will involve the overarching story of the Cosmere more directly. At this time, experiencing the Cosmere primarily involves connecting the universe's basic concepts and identifying characters who show up in unexpected places and seem to know more than they let on. Reading Order There is no “right order” to read the Cosmere in. Publication order is a common suggestion, which allows you to experience the books as if reading them from the start, but you should read the Cosmere in whichever order you most enjoy. If you want to try something new, branch off to a different world or series. If you really like the series/world you've been reading, then keep going down that road. Most reading orders will point out a few books that can be considered “starter” books. From these you can dive deeper into a particular series or branch off to something new. Some commonly recommended starting points include: Elantris -- If you like the idea of reading in publication order, this is where you should begin. This is the first book Brandon published. Mistborn: The Final Empire -- The original Mistborn trilogy (Era 1) is the most frequently recommended place to start. Warbreaker -- This is a standalone book that's available for free on Brandon's website. The Emperor's Soul -- This Hugo Award-winning novella is a great way to experience Sanderson's strengths with very minimal commitment. The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive) -- This epic is far from complete and requires the reader to place a lot of trust in Sanderson--it opens with a lot of worldbuilding and a slow start. But if truly epic fantasy is your thing and incomplete series don't give you pause, this is perhaps Brandon's finest work. For an interactive reading guide, see this page. Brandon's own recommendations can be found on his website. Two final notes on reading order: We highly encourage reading Warbreaker sometime before Words of Radiance. We highly encourage reading Mistborn: Secret History after The Bands of Mourning. Adonalsium, Shards, and Investiture Adonalsium and the Cosmere A long time ago, there existed an entity called Adonalsium. Very little is known about who or what Adonalsium truly was. Adonalsium's touch suffused the Cosmere, and many worlds, such as Roshar, were grown by it and bear its design. It was the source of all of the Cosmere's magic and was said to control the powers of creation. One day, Adonalsium broke into sixteen fragments in an event that became known as the Shattering of Adonalsium. Why or how Adonalsium was shattered remains a mystery. The Shards of Adonalsium Sixteen of those who were present at the Shattering took up these fragments, or Shards, and became godlike themselves. They went their separate ways, (well, some did) creating worlds and seeding the Cosmere with more life. The magic of the Cosmere continues to stem from these Shards. Each Shard has an "intent" that it strives to fulfill, which gradually molds and warps the holder of the Shard, the Vessel, until they are absolutely incapable of acting against it. This nature is so dominating that both the Shards and the Vessels are usually referred to simply by the Shard's intent. Note, however, that the intent of a Shard cannot be precisely conveyed in a single word, and there is some room for interpretation as to what each Shard's intent incorporates. Some Shards include Ambition, Autonomy, Honor, Ruin, and Devotion. Though these demigods may appear godlike to mortals, they are neither all-powerful nor all-knowing. Shards may be Splintered--a process which leaves the Vessel dead and the power of the Shard dispersed. Shards are also able to subdivide themselves into avatars, each with a distinct identity, though the exact nature of these entities and how they relate to the Shard and its Vessel is unclear. Investiture, Splinters, and Slivers Investiture is the catch-all term for magical energy in the Cosmere. Investiture, which comes from the Shards, is the power source for all of the Cosmere's magic systems. Most humans in the Cosmere have some innate Investiture, which makes up their soul. Humans generally obtain magical powers when their spirit (sometimes called a spirit web) becomes suffused with Investiture. A Splinter is a portion of a Shard's Investiture that has been severed from it, either willingly or unwillingly. Sometimes, these Splinters will develop sentience and sapience, and they can become highly intelligent beings. (Note that non-Splintered Shards can still have Splinters.) A Sliver, on the other hand, is a person who once held a significant portion of a Shard's power. Holding that much power stretched and expanded their soul. The Worlds There was an original world named Yolen. Yolen was home to three intelligent races (human, dragon, and Sho Del), and is the planet that the original sixteen Vessels came from. All human life in the Cosmere either came from Yolen or was modeled after it. After the Shattering, the Shards spread and settled down on many different worlds throughout the Cosmere. Planets where one or more of the Shards settled down are sometimes known as "major Shardworlds." Other planets, where there is still life and some magic, but no Shards, are "minor Shardworlds." Major and minor Shardworlds include the following: World Stories First of the Sun Sixth of the Dusk Nalthis Warbreaker Roshar The Stormlight Archive Scadrial Mistborn Sel Elantris, The Emperor's Soul Taldain White Sand Threnody Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell Worldhoppers and Notable Characters A small number of enterprising individuals in the Cosmere have learned how to travel between these worlds. These worldhoppers have a huge variety of backgrounds and motivations. Some worldhoppers are acting individually while others are part of an organization, like the Seventeenth Shard. Hoid Among the Cosmere's worldhoppers, there is none so prominent as the ever-mysterious Hoid, originally of Yolen. Hoid, which isn't even his real name, is thousands of years old, having been present at the Shattering of Adonalsium. Whatever happened to Hoid in his past, he's no longer exactly human, at least in the traditional sense. He has a way of knowing where he needs to be at the right time, and he uses this to subtly influence events behind the scenes. Hoid's true motives and goals are as hidden as his real name. Hoid has appeared in every Cosmere novel so far, though he is often in disguise and will occasionally use pseudonyms, such as Dust, Topaz, Cephandrius, and Wit. Trying to spot him in every book is part of the fun of the Cosmere. He seems to prefer disguising himself as a beggar, an informant, a storyteller, or a jester, so look for him to be playing one of these roles. He is also often, though not always, described as having white hair and an angular, hawklike or arrowlike face. Among many other things, Hoid has the ability to Lightweave (create illusions), he can heal from extreme injuries, he doesn't age, and he has a way to dilate time so that he doesn't have to wait as long for important moments. The planned series Dragonsteel will tell the story of Hoid's origin and the Shattering of Adonalsium, and Hoid is planned to be a main character in the final Mistborn trilogy. Khriss and Nazh Khriss, from Taldain, is the worldhopper who writes the Ars Arcanum at the end of each book, and she's the most knowledgeable of anyone—including Hoid—about the Cosmere as a whole. Khriss has been described as dark-skinned, with her hair woven into tight braids. Nazh is her assistant, a worldhopper from Threnody, tasked with collecting various maps and drawings from throughout the Cosmere. They are often included in the books with his personal notes to Khriss in his distinctive handwriting. One of his most identifying characteristics is his tendency to use Threnodite swears, such as "shadows". He has also been described as lanky, with a narrow face and sand-colored hair. The Three Realms Almost everything in the Cosmere has a body, a mind, and a soul, and each exists in one of three Realms. The Physical Realm is world of the body, where physical objects exist. This Realm is the only one that normal human beings consciously perceive. The Cognitive Realm, also known as Shadesmar, is the world of the mind. The Cognitive Realm is strange and alien: Water is solid, land is fluid, and shadows point backwards. Thoughts and ideas take on real form in this Realm. After a person dies, a leftover impression of their mind, their Cognitive Shadow, will linger shortly in the Cognitive Realm before passing on. The Cognitive Shadow can sometimes persist for longer periods of time, however, by various magical means. Worldhoppers have learned to use junctions between the Physical Realm and the Cognitive Realm called perpendicularities to cross between them. Often, these perpendicularities can be found where the power of a Shard is concentrated into a pool of liquid that fans call "Shardpools." The Cognitive Realm is of particular interest to worldhoppers because distances are compressed there in places where there is little or no mental activity (such as outer space), meaning worldhoppers can use the Cognitive Realm to actually walk from one planet to another. Depending on the Shardworld, the Cognitive Realm can be an extremely dangerous place. The Spiritual Realm is the world of the soul. Once you reach the Spiritual Realm, there's no such thing as space or distance anymore, just Connection between people and places. Those who peer into the Spiritual Realm can see all the branching possibilities of the future. The power of the Shards resides mostly (usually) in the Spiritual Realm. Chronology While in most cases we don't know how many years take place between books in different series, we do know the chronological order of most of them. In order, they are: White Sand Elantris The Emperor's Soul Mistborn Era 1 Warbreaker Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell Stormlight 1-5 Mistborn Era 2 Stormlight 6-10 Mistborn Era 3 Sixth of Dusk Mistborn Era 4 For more information, see this post. More Resources The best way to dive into the Cosmere is to find a fan community to interact with. While you may see a lot of confusing conversations going on, just ask questions and you'll be caught up before you know it. The 17th Shard offers both forums and a Discord chat server to this end. The other two important resources to be aware of are the Coppermind wiki and Arcanum, both operated by the 17th Shard. But beware that BOTH of these resources include heavy spoilers for all of Brandon's books! The Coppermind is a wiki covering all of Brandon Sanderson's works, with an emphasis on the Cosmere. Just dive right in by searching for pages that interest you, or by browsing through the page categories. Arcanum is an archive of everything Brandon has said publicly about his stories, drawing from interviews, social media, book signings, and more. There's a LOT to learn about the Cosmere just by hearing directly from the man himself! Search for specific terms or browse entries by tags. We could always use help adding more information to the Coppermind or transcribing audio on Arcanum, and you don't need to be an expert to help. Stop by the #coppermind and #arcanum channels in our Discord server to help out. There's no better way to learn more about the Cosmere than by helping improve these resources! Note: This is an update to the original Cosmere 101 topic by @Zas678. Feel free to recommend additional content, but please avoid major spoilers!

With no new cosmere books on the horizon, I thought the time ripe for my post-OB comprehensive magic theory. I update my iteration from two years ago to reflect OB, intervening WoBs, and the Forum’s endemic (but helpful) hypercriticism. As always, these are MY INTERPRETATIONS, not canon or even consensus. My goal is to show how cosmere magic fits together. No theory is perfect and there will be jagged edges here and there. Theory has text and WoB support. Speculation expands on and logically flows from theory but lacks specific support. The Appendix applies my conclusions to known magic systems. Please read the main body first. Topics: Cosmere Origin [Speculation] Spiritual Aspects and Connections [Theory] Perception’s Cosmere Role [Theory] Cosmere Thermodynamics [Theory] The Shattering [Theory and Speculation] Shard Magical Uniqueness [Theory] Assigned Investiture [Theory] Types of Magic Systems [Theory] Magic System Rules [Theory] The Role of Planets in Magic Systems [Theory] The Role of Shards in Magic Systems [Theory] “Pathways to Power” [Theory and Speculation] Conclusion Spoiler: Appendix – Applications and Predictions [Speculation] Postscript – What If? Cosmere Origin [Speculation] Raw Investiture pre-exists the cosmere. Raw Investiture spontaneously forms a mind – Adonalsium, an anagram for “a mind, a soul.” Adonalsium then creates the Physical Realm. Pre-Shattering, Adonalsium’s mind inheres in all Spiritual Realm Investiture. He is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent – his mind is coextensive with his Investiture, and his essence comprises the Physical Realm. Spiritual Aspects and Connections [Theory] Brandon says Spiritual aspects are a mix of Connections and raw Investiture. Connections resemble our universe’s “quantum connections” and are not themselves Investiture. Spiritual aspects thus differ only as to their Connections. Each new or lost Connection changes that Spiritual aspect. IMO, Connections alone carry the information that defines every cosmere person and object. Perception’s Cosmere Role [Theory] Adonalsium’s cosmere is an Investiture-energy matrix that manifests to mortals as the Physical Realm. Mortals collectively perceive the Physical Realm’s physical and emotional forces as Connections. They interpret the Physical Realm through these Connections. Brandon says here, here, and here that cosmere magic is a “human construct.” Different planetary cultures perceive different Connections. Rosharans, for example, perceive the Surges as fundamental cosmere forces. Discrete cultural perceptions partly explain why each planet has a unique subastral. Cosmere Thermodynamics [Theory] Brandon says the cosmere generally follows our universe’s thermodynamic laws, but he adds Investiture as a third element to make the energy flows work. Investiture “is my get-out for the laws of thermodynamics.” Cosmere thermodynamics’ first law states the sum of cosmere matter, energy, and Investiture is constant and these three substances are mutually inter-convertible. The second law states the cosmere’s entropy never decreases over time. I believe the key to understanding magic systems is to follow each system’s energy flows. Our universe’s thermodynamics requires physical and chemical reactions to begin with an “activation energy.” Most magic systems activate with the energy from a magic user’s metabolic or physical processes: Allomancers burn metal. Hemalurgists hammer spikes. Selish magic users move (dance, turn essence stamps, stir potions, draw Aons, bend bones). Sand Masters dehydrate (burn water). Surgebinders inhale Stormlight. Feruchemy and Breath transfers (with or without Awakening) don’t seem to require an activation energy. These “end neutral” magics seem to rely on the bare Intent to perform an act of entropy or stasis (Feruchemy) or to transfer Investiture quanta (Breath transfers). That Intent summons a “facilitating power” from the Spiritual Realm to energize the magic and otherwise comply with thermodynamics. The Shattering [Theory and Speculation] Khriss hints the Vessels first kill Adonalsium and then Shatter his power (M:SH, Part Three - 2, Kindle Locs. 931-940.). Brandon confirms this. I believe the Vessels kill Adonalsium’s mind, his capacity to direct magic. The Vessels then Shatter the now undirected power into sixteen equal Shards. This WoB suggests the method: I speculate the Vessels allocate Adonalsium’s power by forging some unique Connection between each Shard and its Vessel. The Vessel’s “general intent/mindset” makes forging that Connection “way easier,” but aligning general intent/mindset to the Shard is unnecessary. Like with kind and generous Ati, the Shard always prevails. Brandon describes each Shard’s “influence and tweak” of Investiture as a “spin or magnetism.” I think this phrase refers to the Connection that distinguishes one Shard from another. A Shard’s “spin or magnetism” Connects the Shard to all its Realmic states. These Connections mark the Investiture source when Investiture, matter, and energy inter-convert. This maintains the 16-Shard balance. An April 2019 WoB says magic users can change Stormlight into Breath – Honor’s Investiture into Endowment’s. Brandon cites one method: “Refining the power somehow into a more pure form.” I think this method strips the Investiture of its Shard’s unique “spin or magnetism.” That undoes the Shattering as to that Investiture. If so, any Shard can now Connect with it. Odium can change his Shard victims’ Investiture into his, rather than merely Splintering the power. This is a big deal. Permanent Investiture changes like this would upset the Shards’ balance. Brandon should clarify this WoB, or we’ll all have to revise our settled wisdom. Shard Magical Uniqueness [Theory] DISCLAIMER: Posters often use the non-canonical word “intent” to describe Shard magical uniqueness, but that term doesn’t distinguish between the role of the Shard’s Investiture and the role of its Vessel. Brandon has yet to canonize any term to express Shard magical uniqueness. Brandon says Shards are I read this important WoB to distinguish (i) the Shard’s unique magic from (ii) the Vessel’s mind that directs the Shard and cultural perceptions of the Shard. I theorize a Shard’s unchanging “primal force/fundamental law/something...natural” refers to the Connection that marks that Shard’s Investiture, its “spin or magnetism.” The quoted WoB identifies Ruin as the “charged term” for entropy and Preservation as the “charged term” for stasis. This other important WoB shows Honor grants his magic “through the filter of” bonds. Shard magical uniqueness IMO stems from this filter, this primal force/fundamental law Connection, not Vessel personality or cultural influence. Assigned Investiture [Theory] The Shattering caused all Investiture to be “assigned” to the Shard with the same “magnetism” as that Investiture: “Assigned” Investiture to me supports the Shard Connection theory. Without these magnetisms, these unique Connections, Shards couldn’t track their own or other Shards’ Investiture after it converts into matter or energy. Autonomy couldn’t find “a gathering of [assigned] Investiture” to create Avatars out of. IMO, Physical Realm matter, energy, and Investiture always Connects to the primal force/fundamental law that creates it regardless of its creator, Adonalsium or a Shard. Types of Magic Systems [Theory] There are two types of magic systems: “interaction with nature” systems, where mortals interact with the magic but can’t direct the magical effect; and Shard-created “people with magic” systems, where mortals can direct the magical effect. “People with magic” systems appear only on Major Shardworlds, where Shards reside. They result from magic users’ “greater strength of access to the magic, and control over it” on such planets. I believe Roshar’s pre-Shattering ecology and First of the Sun’s Aviar are “interaction with magic” systems. Allomancy, Awakening, and Surgebinding are “people with magic” systems. (Some posters name such systems an “Invested Art,” following Khriss.) Magic System Rules [Theory] With some exceptions, I believe all known “people with magic” systems follow the same general rules: 1. Magic users Intend some magical effect. 2. Magic users in most systems infuse their own energy into the magical process to activate it. Feruchemy and Breath transfers – two “end neutral” systems – activate solely on Intent. 3. The magic system uses that energy (or Intent) to summon Shard power from the Spiritual Realm (or Cognitive Realm for the Dor). Spren-based magic converts Physical Realm Investiture into power. 4. The magic user Focuses that power as it Invests them or an object. 5. The magic user directs the Focused power for the Intended magical effect. Khriss describes the magic system rules of Intent and Perception. (AU, “The Selish System,” Kindle pp. 18.) A magic user must Intend to make magic. Magic is a deliberate act. Perception refers to a culture’s influence on magic. On Sel, “language – or similar functions – directly shapes the magic as it is pulled from the Cognitive Realm and put to use.” The Role of Planets in Magic Systems [Theory] Brandon says a planet’s pre-Shattering magic (its “inherent Investiture”); the planet’s culture; and the local population’s sDNA all influence a planet’s magic systems. Most posters including me believe Focuses derive from the system’s planet. A Focus IMO substitutes for the mortal inability to think a magical effect into being (like Shards can). Besides “shaping the magic,” a Focus limits Investiture flow and prevents magic user vaporization. I think all three planetary influences contribute to that planet’s Focus. The Role of Shards in Magic Systems [Theory] I think these are Brandon’s most important statements about the Shards’ magical role: “The 'role' of the Shard has to do with the WAY the magic is obtained, not what it can do,” “The means of getting powers…are related to the Shards, but not the powers themselves.” “Honor doesn’t belong to gravity. But bonds, and how to deal with bonds, and things like this, is an Honor thing.” I read these WoBs to say Shards have two roles in magic systems: They determine how magic users (1) access Investiture, and (2) perform their magical abilities. IMO, magic systems grant access and performance through their Shard’s unique Connection, its primal force/fundamental law: Ruin magic users Intend an act of entropy. A Feruchemist converts their attributes into Investiture. A Hemalurgist spikes through Spiritual aspects. Nightblood destroys evil. Preservation magic users Intend an act of stasis. A Feruchemist returns to their prior state (the status quo) when they re-convert Investiture into attributes. An Allomancer pulls power down metal’s static molecular structure. Honor magic users Intend to enter a bond. A Surgebinder chooses to enter the Nahel bond. Windrunners “lash” (re-bond gravity) to fly. Brandon confirms those three Shards’ primal forces/fundamental laws. I speculate in the Appendix what others might be. Again, I believe a primal force/fundamental law is the “spin or magnetism” that Connects the Shard’s Investiture to its other Realmic states, including to its Vessel and magic users. “Pathways to Power” [Theory and Speculation] Investiture energizes magic. I believe magic systems move that energy down inter-Realmic power lines. Marasi sees Preservation’s metal “pathway to power” when she draws Investiture from the Bands of Mourning: Metal is Preservation’s pathway to power (and Scadrial’s Focus). It is not Preservation’s Investiture. From this example, I speculate other magic systems have their own pathways to power. Pathways generally have these characteristics: They aren’t made from Investiture. In several systems, the magic consumes the pathway. In these systems, the magic ends when the consumed pathway ends. Like metal’s static molecular structure ties to Preservation’s stasis, each Shard’s pathway also seems tied to its “spin or magnetism,” its primal force. I speculate about each Shard’s pathway in the Appendix. I believe pathways differ from Connections. Connections convey information. Pathways seem to convey Investiture. I think “pathways to power” overlap with Brandon’s “natural pathways.” The latter seem to refer to pre-programmed Investiture delivery methods: This WoB confirms magic generally follows natural pathways “built around Adonalsium” that the Shards now influence. Even pre-Shattering Physical Realm manifestations of Spiritual Realm Investiture break Realmic barriers somehow. To me, it makes Realmic sense magic systems might funnel Investiture through a natural pathway other than perpendicularities. Conclusion Like you, I seek cosmere truth. How does this stuff work? Because we don’t yet know cosmere truth, I ask you judge my theory by a three-part “validity” test: (1) Is the theory self-consistent, and does it fit together on its own terms? Would Pattern approve (hmmm)? (2) Is the theory consistent with text and WoBs? (3) Does the theory predict how newly-unveiled magic will work? Precedent suggests readers will focus on the Appendix, where I speculate about individual Shards and their magic systems. If past is prologue, I’ve made many mistakes for you to correct. But I prefer you focus on the main theory, the “big stuff.” The little stuff like magic systems will fall into place if we can get the big stuff right. If nothing else, consider this post red meat during these lean times between books. All the best. C. Appendix – Applications and Predictions [Speculation] The Spoiler applies the magic theory to each Shard with a known “people with magic” system. EVERYTHING in the Spoiler is raw to informed SPECULATION. (Probably true of the whole post, really...) Each time I update a theory, you help me plug more holes – (cough) Awakening – but I feel this iterative process gets us closer to cosmere truth. Here we go! Postscript – What If? I urge you all to read Brandon’s short story Perfect State. Few posters comment about it. In a Matrix-like world, each live human participates 24/7 in their own virtual reality simulation. Brandon’s penchant for foreshadowing makes me wonder: What if 16 virtual characters managed to kill the one live person (Adonalsium) in their simulation? Is the cosmere now a self-executing simulation? When Brandon releases Dragonsteel, will its epilogue show Hoid nattering about a computer program run amok and the failings of postmodern art?

Yeah I couldn't remember which thread to post this in. Thanks! Yeah in my Reckoners game I made it where you got points to spend on the black market for a certain amount of game related posts + rp posts. But I feel like there should be something else that keeps the players from being in the game and not posting a single thought or vote. I really like the vote filter. That's a good one I might use. Because it gives stuff to analyze at least if you don't say anything else.

When the answer to this question is yes. (I got this notification today). Update: I got another one.

Shouldn’t this go in Art of Game Creation? I’ll put my response to this in there.

GUYS!!! Idea! Beavernalsium.

My problem with Blood and Bone, and Assail, is that it never felt like the tension ramped up. I was interested at the beginning of each book, but the pacing rarely changed from the beginning. ICE did do a really good job describing the jungle setting, horror sequences, and naval battles.

Free online classes. Tips (likes) are optional but appreciated. There will be a test at the end.

Rules depend on the game, but they typically follow traditional mafia rules, with the village vs the elims. There are also usually roles that are assigned to players. Long game 1 explains a lot of the rules and is a good example of a fairly typical game. There are three types of games: long games, mid-ranges, and quick fixes. Long game signups start when the previous long game is finished. Quick fix sign ups start when the previous mid-range finishes, and vice-versa. Characters are optional, and are mainly just if you want to RP or for the GM to use in write-ups. They're pretty much entirely up to your discretion. On another note, there are two games currently running: LG65 and QF44. If you're interested in spectating either game, just ping the GM (Elbereth or little wilson for LG65 and me for QF44) and they'll send you a link to the spec doc. Spec docs are a lot of fun, and give you a chance to see what's going on in the game. Let me know if either of you have any more questions! New players are always appreciated.

Wild theory: Lift is already dead! shes a Roshari version of the returned. She converts food to investiture and needs it to sustain herself. Her boon was to not get old. Returned age to their prime. Lift can’t count doesn’t mean she isn’t ageing (to a point)

That was a lie. Rock admitted that he was lying to bridge four when recounting his history. That is a fallacy of analogy. We don't really know what spren look for. Them saying that they look for broken people means at least in my opinion that they look for people with a great capacity for growth. That does not explain his wife's objection to that statement.

Staring back at the Stranger, the Sudiov kept an outwardly calm expression but couldn't entirely prevent a small flinch as the Stranger finished speaking, draining all light from the room and drawing the void towards them. "You had the potential." Sudiov replied after a moments pause. "I wondered why he never chose you, never told you about it." With a sigh he leaned back in the chair, perfect posture slumping as defeat weighed his shoulders down and distaste warped his expression. There were few people who could evoke much of any emotion from Sudiov but the Stranger had now consistently proven that he was one such. "But it seems that for all your talk of sacrifices there are some lines that the two of you won't cross. Perhaps he was simply unwilling to do to you what was once done to him, though I'm not sure that even he remembers that anymore. To my knowledge, outside of Voidus himself there are only two people who could possibly give you the answers that you seek. And Voidus' child was probably too young to realise much of what was happening." Sudiov watched the Strangers expression carefully as he spoke, looking for any tell as to what information he might already know. But beyond the outbursts of rage, loss and disgust that the Stranger so violently showed, Sudiov could glean little else. "Very well, your offer holds little drawback for me. You would need someone to look after his connection to the Void while Voidus lives out your little story, and there are very few who would be able to do so, none others who are completely ready yet. So, we separate ourselves from this facade you drape over the world and desperately hope that the two of us can hold the world together? The spike will be crucial to that, and if you want to bring the spike into your web then you'll need to understand where Voidus took it from." Sudiov spread a slow smile of his own, draining the light from around them much as the Stranger had done, sealing their space from any awareness that may seek to eavesdrop on them. The air seemed to creak as the pressure they both emitted came to a head, breaking and rebuilding the world around them. "I don't have his memories, only that of his power. But fortunately for you, the power existed even at the beginning. So let me tell you a tale that not even Voidus can truly recall. Let me tell you the full story of what he's sacrificed, and what you will need to sacrifice if you ever want this goal of yours to truly succeed. The story of a professor, and the monster known as Voidus."

4 weeks and counting! Then I'll have time to start working on mine! I'm a little bit excited, in case it was unclear!

"True art was more than beauty; it was more than technique. It was not just imitation." -Emporer's Soul This IS true art.

Rather than trying to position the poster in time, we could work from the point of "What reason could Brandon have for not wanting Rlain to be pictured here?" Because if it was a deliberate, future-story-based choice to not have him there, which we now know it was, then it doesn't really matter what time period is depicted. Even if he was supposed to be there, he's not, because of this other thing. So what reasons can we come up with that it would be meaningful to include or exclude Rlain? - Brandon doesn't want to depict a listener glowing with stormlight? Maybe to make Venli seem more special? - We're not going to like Rlain for much longer and it would piss us off having him on our nice posters? - He becomes a Radiant of some variety besides Windrunner? - Brandon doesn't have any listener art that he's satisfied with yet? Any other ideas?

If you want world peace why don't you just nuke the whole world and end all the fighting?

I would think that you could, and that they would be able to instinctively use thier abilities to use basic Allomancy and Feruchemy, but I doubt you could teach the beaver to compound, unless maybe you supplied it with a pre-filled zinc mind, and then explained before it was tapped out. But then you have problems like where the beaver is going to get metals, whether it would have any inclination to rule, and how to handle the massive deforestation caused by a hungry beaver compounding zinc and steel. Also, you would have to spend years systematically murdering beavers in the hopes of discovering their Hemalurgic bindpoints.