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This theory is more like two theories that are loosely connected. My first theory is born from the ravings of Jezrien, when he is in the form of the Ahu on the beggar's porch in Kholinar: These three quotes from Jezrien seemingly establish several things: Jeizren hears voices in his head, much like Dalinar's and Szeth's. These voices have been confirmed by WoB to be tied somehow to the realmatics of the Cosmere, and I don't think it would be terribly contentious to say that they're specifically tied to the regional conditions found on Roshar. Seeing Dalinar's suffering, Jezrien leaps to the assumption that it is the consequence of one of the Unmade. He is correct on this, as Dalinar's actions at the Rift were being influenced by Nergaoul. In his third quote, Jezrien shows surprising wisdom given his current state. He is acknowledging responsibility for his actions, in a way which parallels Dalinar's moment of triumph at the battle of Thaylen Field, where Dalinar rejects Odium and accepts responsibility for being driven to kill by Nergaoul. In addition, Jezrien disturbingly seems to describe being tortured by the Unmade. Looking at theses statements, it becomes easy to wonder whether the Unmade have had a hand in Jezrien's current condition. After all, he seems to be correctly conflating Dalinar's experiences with his own. Additionally, Jezrien's emphasized use of "we" in the third quote can be interpreted to refer to himself and Dalinar, but perhaps it could refer to all of the Heralds. However, something's definitely not fitting the picture here. Although Dalinar was under Nergaoul's influence during the actions which led him to hear these voices, Szeth wasn't. The commonality between Dalinar's and Szeth's conditions doesn't seem to be the Unmade, but rather the regret they hold over the slaughter they have committed. To explain this, I bring you this quote from Chapter 90 of Oathbringer: Notice, first of all, that Szeth's case is actually weaker than Dalinar's. Szeth doesn't hear his voices as constantly as Dalinar does, but rather when he closes his eyes or when he thinks about them—they're in the back of his mind, and they don't dominate his thoughts unless he clears his other senses. Secondly, notice that Nale claims Szeth's condition is related to the powers he held. The powers of a Herald. My conclusion may be controversial, and I see room for doubt despite with the evidence I have presented above, but I believe that part of the Herald's madness comes from torture by the Unmade. I still believe that regret plays a large role in the madness experienced by Dalinar, Jezrien, and Szeth. After all, Odium's speech to Dalinar seems to claim that he would escape his regrets and the voices in his mind if he gave in to his control and that of Nergaoul. The Thrill seems to prevent people from feeling remorse. I believe that these voices don't come from the Unmade, but rather from the profound pain of denying their influence and recognizing the horrors they have forced you to do. It is some form of backlash after Connecting with the investure of one of the Unmade. Szeth experienced this same phenomenon because he drew upon powers tied to Jezrien. It's clear that Jezrien regrets something. His voices must represent some group of people, and he explicitly states that it was his fault that he "attracted", "befriended", and "courted" one of the Unmade. But as far as we know, Jezrien isn't some sort of mass murderer, right? At least, I doubt he regrets killing the Voidbringers who threatened humanity. Instead, I turn to Kaladin for this one. As a Windrunner, Kaladin must share some characteristics with Jezrien. The whole ideology of his order is modeled after Jezrien. Now imagine how Kaladin would feel if his "weakness" lead to the return of a Desolation and the deaths of thousands. Thus, I think Jezrien, much like Kaladin, has regrets over the people he failed to save. The screams he hears in his head are the people (perhaps both human and parsh) who died in battle because Jezrien gave in to torture. More specifically, this torture associated with one of the Unmade, who Jezrien could have blamed in the same manner that Dalinar could have blamed Nergaoul for his murders. A have a variant to this theory, which I'm not sure I fully believe, but which think deserves some thought: the Unmade were un-made from the Heralds. They are twisted, warped, and corrupted aspects of the Herald's souls that have been separated throughout their many millennia of torture. This explains why Jezrien says that they "ripped my brain out and made it dance! I watched." This might also explain why Ishar is said to be "whole": there is no Unmade created from him. (Thus 9 Unmade and 10 Heralds) Regardless of whether they were created from the Heralds, I believe that each of the Unmade were bound to a certain Herald, and that they inhabited Braize between the Desolations. This would give them the ability to be directly involved in the torture of the Heralds. I'm also not sure if it makes sense in the first place for the Unmade to have hung around between Desolations, since they would be the lone forces of Odium and would leave themselves vulnerable to the Knights Radiant. That said, there's an excellent counterpoint for this in the Midnight Essence from Dalinar's vision. One of the Knights in the vision says: Dang, now I'm dying to know what she was about to say about Harkaylain. Since that info is missing, the implications are rather ambiguous. It would be a reasonable argument to say that this implies that Re-shephir is being contained on Roshar at the time, but also that Harkaylain is taking the appearance of the Essence as a sign that one of the Heralds has broken and that the Unmade has been allowed to return. Anyway, that little debate aside, my theory is that Ishar is the Herald not associated with one of the Unmade, because of this WoB that Bondsmiths do not have a corollary among the Unmade. This means that, until Taln's breaking in Way of Kings, only eight of the Unmade were on Roshar, and leads to my second theory: that one of the Unmade, specifically Chemoarish, has been missing from Roshar. This probably seems like the wildest claim I've made yet, but it comes from analysis of Hessi's Mythica. While Hessi certainly seems to hit the nail on the head quite often, she admits that she isn't completely confident in her findings. Notably, she was only able to confidently name eight of the nine Unmade. However, she does accurately propose Dai-gonarthis as the ninth Unmade. But as a twist from Sanderson, this doesn't make very much sense. He cannot expect us to doubt that Dai-gonarthis was one of the Unmade, since he has been referenced many other times as the Black Fisher. Sanderson could, instead, be telling us that Dai-gonarthis is more sneaky and less well-known, but this is odd because Hessi was able to tie it to the scouring of Aimia. Instead, I think that this is a misdirection. Hessi worries that "There are many legends and names that I could have misinterpreted, conflating two Unmade into one." Conversely, I believe that she has made the opposite mistake in an attempt to reach the value of 9. Why? Let's take a look at all the information we have on the Unmade outside of Mythica and see how Hessi stacks up: Ashertmarn: the Heart of the Revel, whom we see in action. Hessi's ideas are supported. Ba-Ado-Mishram: mentioned in the epigraph of chapter 80 by one of the Radiants who left behind a gemstone. Supports Hessi's claim that she empowered the Parsh during the False Desolation, and implies that Melishi somehow severed this connection and captured her. Chemoarish: Nothing. This name is never mentioned by any character outside Mythica, although somebody in Bavland swears by the Dustmother (which Hessi claims is a nickname for Chemoarish). This, however, is not a concrete indication that the "Dustmother" is an Unmade. Dai-Gonarthis: mentioned a Death Rattle, which also calls it the Black Fisher. Jezrien also refers to the Black Fisher. Despite Hessi's doubts, it is unequivocally an Unmade. Moelach: first described by Taravangian as the source of the Death Rattles. Jezrien says he can feel Moelach scraping at time. Hessi was spot-on with this one. Nergaoul: also first described by Taravangian. Literally seen in the open and captured by Dalinar at the end of Oathbringer. Completely follows Hessi's description. Re-Shephir: her Midnight Essence is seen in Dalinar's vision, and then she is mentioned in a death rattle as the Midnight Mother. Shallan encounters her in Urithiru. Hessi correctly named her but didn't seem to know much about her characteristics. Sja-Anat: we see her active in Kholinar during Oathbringer, corrupting various spren. Fits Hessi's description. Yelig-nar: Nohadon describes Yelig-nar killing his servants. We see him in Oathbringer inhabiting Aesudan and then Amaram. Hessi was also pretty spot-on about him. After seeing this, doesn't Chemoarish kind of jump out at you? We have seen hard, textual evidence for all eight of the other Unmade, but Chemoarish has never even been mentioned. In addition, we have evidence of all other Unmade besides Yelig-nar being present on Roshar before the onset of the new Desolation: Ashertmarn probably was in Kholinar even before the True Desolation began, Ba-Ad-Mishram is imprisoned, Dai-Gonarthis did something to Aimia, Moelach and Nergaoul have been drifting around, Re-Shephir was in Urithiru, and Hessi seems to have documentation of Sja-Anat's influence on villages. Finally, this is what Hessi herself has to say about Chemoarish: I do not believe that this is a coincidence. Chemoarish may be the real name of one of the Unmade, but the myths ascribed to Chemoarish over the past 4500 years are actually myths about the Nightwatcher. The mish-mashing of Chemoarish lore from before Aherietiam and the lore of the Nightwatcher is what makes her so hard for Hessi to characterize. This makes sense considering the opinion that those in Vorin culture have of the Nightwatcher and the Old Magic being evil and pagan. Instead, I think that one of the Unmade, quite probably Chemoarish, has been trapped on Braize up until the moment that Taln broke under his torture. This explains their absence from the past 4500 years of mythology and lore, during which they should have been roaming free to influence the world. If this theory is true, I'm excited to see what their true nature might be. TL;DR: Jezrien's ravings seem to indicate he was tortured by one of the Unmade, so I think that the Unmade were actually trapped on Braize between desolations. Ishar doesn't have an Unmade counterpart, leading to 9 Unmade. Taln, however, does have a counterpart who has been stuck on Braize for 4500 years. This is why Hessi is only able to pin down 8 Unmade in Mythica, and why we have conspicuously little information about Chemoarish. Edit 2: It just occurred to me that Chemoarish may not have only been mixed together with the Nightwatcher, but with Chanarach, patron herald of the Dustbringers. They're names are kind of similar, and this could be why Chemoarish is called the Dustmother. If this is true, then the figure that Hessi calls Chemoarish is actually born from confusing the mythologies of the Nightwatcher, Chanarach, and the actual Unmade Chemoarish.

When you just found out that RoW is released

Let's get going! Participants are: This is going to be run like Ashspren's original plan, so you can read the first post in this thread for that. I am going to take the top two winners in the first three rounds though. The first round is going to be @hoiditthroughthegrapevine as Ishi'Elin, @Sorana as Gaotona, @Gears as Rock, and @Hentient as Pattern. Your roasts are due on Wednesday, July 14. If that doesn’t work for you let me know, good luck to everyone!

Nice roast @Hentient! Tezim has no such problem. Tezim the Great, Ishi'Elin, Ishar, the Herald of Heralds, the Binder of Gods descends to the open air stage high atop the tower city of Urithiru in the center of a column of light.

Phew, here we go. I hate being mean.

Not to derail this thread with more shipping jokes that aren’t actually related to shipping... but does anyone else find it kinda fun that a Sharder with the username @Harbour is shipping?

Rhythm of war is done people! *celebration noises*

Ever since we first saw the Recreance, the question has been asked: Why? Why would the Radiants, after defending humanity for all those generations, choose to renounce their oaths, leaving their spren trapped in agony and humanity defenseless? Even with the revelation of Humanity's origin on Ashyn, and the fact that they'd destroyed that world and had to flee to Roshar, things didn't quite seem to add up. So I have two theories about why the Radiants committed the Recreance, presented together because they're kind of interconnected. Theory 1: The Radiants did not expect to leave their spren as deadeyes. There doesn't seem to be any mention of dead blades or deadeye spren before the Recreance. Moreover, when Syl offers to break the bond in WoK, she says it would cause her to revert back to a non-sapient state, not leave her a deadeyes. And even when Kal actually breaks the bond in WoR, we don't see any sign of Syl being made a deadeye, she just goes mindless like a windspren. So I theorize that when the Radiants renounced their oaths, they expected their spren to revert en masse to their pre-bonding state, mindless in the Physical but fine in the Cognitive. That's something I can imagine the Radiants being willing to do, for a good enough reason. But for some reason, this revocation was different from anything that had come before, and instead tore out their spren's minds, leaving them deadeyed. Theory 2: The Radiants renounced their oaths because they no longer believed they were needed. Whenever the Radiants had had doubts before, Honor was able to point to the unquestionable need for them to continue. The Radiant powers might be dangerous, but they were also the only thing that was keeping humanity alive through the repeated Desolations. But leading up to the Recreance, for the first time in millennia humanity seemed safe. The Heralds claimed they had won, sealing the Fused on Braize forever. The singers were lobotomized beyond any hope of recovery, and the Radiants had no idea that the listeners had escaped. Odium was locked away by Honor's sacrifice. The only threat left that could imperil the entire human race was the Radiants themselves. Under those circumstances, it's not surprising that the Radiants might have decided to revoke their Oaths, remove the last threat to humanity. Thoughts?

2020

Now, I know a video game is probably a long way off, and personally that's fine. I was thinking about what one could look like and I had an interesting thought. Now, I'm basing this off of a first person rpg or MMORPG. What if instead of choosing an order of Radiant as a "class" but are instead assigned one based off decisions? I see this working most like the KOTOR games. For those who don't know, they are Star wars games where you play as a force user. Depending on your actions and decisions you make you move toward either the light or dark side. As you move closer to that side the abilities linked to it become stronger. I think something similar to this could work really well for a stormlight Archive game. They could even base it off the official order quiz. Different decisions you made would move the sliders and then at a certain point in the game you would attract a Spren based on your decisions. As you went further in the game if you kept making decisions that aligned to your page your abilities would increase in strength. Now, a couple of the flaws with this. I'm not sure how you would do lightweavers or Elsecallers where the oaths are so personal. I also think bondsmith would have to be off the table just because I'd is overpowered nature and limited Spren. The final, and perhaps biggest, flaw is that the surges are so loose that it would be hard to create a game that fully captures them. TLDR: system similar to KOTOR could create an interesting knight radiant game where decisions decide your order.

With the most recent Syl interlude, we seemingly got confirmation that shardplate is made up of spren. Syl specifically refers to shardplate as being made up of lots of corpses. One of the major questions that arises from this is how the shardplate is able to regenerate from stormlight if it's made up of corpses. The following is my theory of how that happens. I believe the clue to understanding how shardplate regenerates lies in the existence of deadeyes. We know that each shardblade has a cognitive aspect whose sole purpose is to follow around the human carrying their blade. Why wouldn't shardplate have a similar cognitive aspect or aspects? I believe that shardplate has some group of cognitive beings that function similarly to the deadeyes and correspond to the various corpses in the plate. Each cognitive corpse follows around the piece of plate they correspond to. When plate is broken. the cognitive corpses continue to follow around the part of the plate they correspond to. The various spren that made up the plate, however, are Connected. Feeding stormlight to the plate essentially does two things. First, it uses the Connections between the spren to draw their cognitive aspects to the same location in the Cognitive Realm. Maybe by making the Connections between the spren temporarily stronger than the Connection with the physical piece of plate or just making them want to come get food. Once the spren are all in the same location in the Cognitive Realm, the stormlight allows the spren to use their Connection with the spren already in the Physical Realm at that location to reform there as plate. When multiple pieces get stormlight at the same time, the larger one contains more spren and therefore a stronger Connection to the group of spren as a whole. This explanation probably needs some tweaks but I think it uses what we know of how plate and blades work to create a relatively simple yet Realmatically viable answer. I'd love feedback on what others think of this theory and if they have any tweaks on how they think this could work.

Here it is, folks; my 2000th post. No, not this one; the one above it. This is the first story in a project of mine called Apocrypha Unbounded. I'm sure I'm not the only one here who has spent years tooling around with various fanfiction or original stories. (I've got a killer outline for a 30-chapter Bionicle reboot.) As I tried to get various attempts to take off, I found that I like the shorter format the most, since I would never get more than a couple of thousand words into a project. This idea started as a response to the publishing of Arcanum Unbounded. What if I wrote my own short fiction set in the cosmere (much shorter than Brandon), more in the style of science fiction short stories? (Which I am quite fond of) A sort of microcosm of the cosmere, my own little corner to expand and play around with the cosmology and magics of the cosmere, while at the same time putting some concepts to word that I've had rolling around in my head for a while. And a format that doesn't require too much effort on characterization, which I expect to be my biggest weakness. These stories are intended to be "canon-adjacent." I'm not going to try to explicitly contradict the published canon; but I am going to be doing to be introducing new Shards, new planets, new magic systems, and new applications of canon magic systems, so by the time the end of the cosmere rolls around, it will have been contradicted for sure. I'm sure there will also be issues with timelines and worldhoppers and things like that. But this will, hopefully, be self-consistent and not too outrageously out there. Because as much as these stories are driven by their thematic elements, they're also driven by my desire to explore Realmatics. Where some people build complicated theories tied together with tenuous assumptions and a smattering of vague WoBs, I'm letting my similar inspiration out through this avenue. I've got eight or nine stories planned, the last of which is intended to be an Avengers-style teamup. But I probably shouldn't get ahead of myself; I've only got two more of them drafted up at this point. (Stories #2 and #6, since I really liked the concept of #6.) I don't really have a timetable in mind for these; I might get #2 touched up and posted within the month, but then I'm sure I'll get lost in Rhythm of War for a while. Now, about this story specifically. It's not set on an existing planet, and the magic system is actually one I've posted on the Shard before, albeit a long time ago. The magic comes from my love of color-coded elemental magic systems. It's probably going to be developed a little differently than that post, but since I didn't really use the magic that much in the story, I didn't need to tie too much down. The themes of the story are tied to the local Shard. I won't tell you what it is yet, but it is one that I've theorized about before, so you'll probably see me post about it again in one of the theory boards. I did make sure to put the Shard name into the story, though it is not capitalized.

Since you've mentioned you'll be missing for most of C5 and C6, I'd give you the filter exemption anyway I don't believe in punishing people for RL... Have fun, and happy camping!

TJ, why Striker: slight tinfoil/interaction with my other suspects. Also, all 4 people who voted on him at some point are village. 3/4 are confirmed because they're dead, one is me. Drake analysis: hadn't posted many reads before C4. I'm wondering about his Eternum vote. He appears to be encouraging discussion now. C2: Silber (6): Drake1, Araris2, Gears1, Devotary1, Mist2, Xino1, Burnt1 Vapor (3): Araris1, Lotus1, TJ2, Lahilt1 Striker (1): Mist1, Araris2, Windrunner1, Vapor2 Mist (1): Araris3 Devotary (1): Windrunner2 Araris (0): Vapor1 Gears (0): TJ1 C3: Vapor (7): Drake2, Striker1, Lotus1, Windrunner3, Mist2, Devotary1, Lahilt1 Xino (3): Gears1, Mist1, TJ2, Vapor1 Lotus (1): Orlok1 Windrunner (0): Drake1 Mist (0): TJ1 Devotary (0): Windrunner1 Drake (0): Windrunner2 C4: Gears (3): TJ1, Striker1, Devotary1 Devotary (3): Drake1, Mist2, Drake3, Gears1 Eternum (1): Lotus1, Drake2 Striker (1): Lahilt1 Drake (0): Mist1 So, uh, Gears, Eternum, and Devotary died. I'm wondering which elim would submit a kill on someone tied for the lynch, unless it was a village vigilante. Except again, if they might die anyways, why submit the kill? This elim is probably not Lotus or Burnt, since they posted after Gears voted for Devotary. Player list: 1. TJ Shade: village. C2: Gears to Vapor. C3: Mist to Xino. C4: Gears 2. Orlok: null. C3: Lotus 3. Striker: null leaning elim. C3: Vapor. C4: Gears 4. Mist: really? Village. C2: Striker to Silber. C3: Xino to Vapor. C4: Drake to Devotary. 5. Burnt: null. C2: Silber. 6. Lotus: slight elim. C2: Vapor. C3: Vapor. C4: Eternum. 7. Truthwatcher: null. No votes. 8. Xino: null. C2: Silber. 9. Lahilt: neutral leaning slight elim. C2: Vapor. C3: Vapor. C4: Striker. 10. Drake: neutral. C2: Silber. C3: Windrunner to Vapor. C4: Devotary to Eternum to Devotary. I want more content! Without items, if there are 5 active elims, they could vote to lynch the secretary, resulting in a 50-50 lynch. If probability favors us, one of them dies, one if us dies. Rinse, repeat. With protection items, if the lynch fails, and their kill target is protected, they likely lose, unless villagers are inactive. If there is a kill item in the hands of the village, the lynch favors the village, then they likely lose. I apologize again. I will be camping and am not expecting to have service, although I may. I should be back in the first 24 hours of C7, if the village lives that long and I survive that long. I have submitted my C5 action, so the filter won't get me. Contribution Crusading might be a good idea. Drake, Mist, Xino, and Burnt remained on Silber. There is likely one elim in this group. TJ, Striker, Mist, and Drake were the four on Gears and Devotary. Probably one elim here too? Different people? Maybe Orlok's C3 vote was distancing? More of my random thoughts to follow, along with RP. More random thoughts: one in Lahilt, Lotus, and TJ may be an elim. RP: Lumen entered the garden again. She had noticed that adventurous naturalist following the thief. While the thief had stolen a few things, he wasn't much of a threat. Lawman Lumen knew how to keep her stuff safe, and she'd make sure he put it all back. Following them into the garden, she began to search for a place to hide. She'd watch and make sure nothing suspicious was going on, although she wouldn't talk much, of course, because she was hiding. Climbing the orange tree, Lumen cursed her skirts. "Infernal party wear." As she reached a good spot to sit, she stepped on her dress. Falling out of the tree, she blew her cover completely.

Well, Ik that I'm a little bit off the subject right now, but I have just drew a dog :

Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. 再見. Slán. Mar sin leat. До свидания! さようなら. Au revoir. הֱיה שלום. Do widzenia. Adios. وداعا. Vaarwel. Hyvästi. @TJ Shade, mallachd ort, verfluche dich, проклинаю тебя يقبرني .

Don't forget Shardplate, which I believe would be on the higher end of the spectrum

"I'm glad to be with you Samwise Gamgee. Here at the end of all things." Me: *cries softly* Guys... Sam let Frodo go this time... He didn't follow... (I half expected an "I'm going into the West alone!" "I know! And I'm going with you! " exchange again). I NEED A TOLKIEN PERSON TO TELL ME WHAT'S IN THE WEST PLEASE! IT'S ONE IN THE MORNING AND I HAVE BEEN ON THE VERGE OF TEARS (when not actually crying) FOR THE PAST HOUR AHHHHH. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GET SAD I JUST TRY TO GET MORE SAD AND NOW MY GLASSES ARE COVERED IN THOSE ANNOYING SALT SPECKS. My soul.... (If you didn't pick up on it, I just finished the extended edition of the Return of the King. I watched it in one sitting and I'm so glad I did but MY SOUL). But the relationships between Sam and Frodo and Merry and Pippin... Sooooooo much better than any romance ever. Did I mention I love Aragorn? And yes, I've seen this before, but it's been ages. (Back when I was bad at putting things together and following multiple plot lines). And I'm really sorry for all these late night status updates written while I was half asleep and half crying. ... I'm going to go read... And clean my glasses...

FINISHED!! https://mobile.twitter.com/BrandSanderson/status/1282194268883316736

Why attack Urithiru? It's probably the most fortified place on Roshar. Conventional strategy would suggest you attack softer targets elsewhere, Vedenar, Azimir, Narak, and eventually put Urithiru under seige. Unless you have a massive force advantage or some arcane reason Urithiru needs to fall first.

Sanya stood under the baking midday sun. She felt its scorching rays beating down upon her skin, but she wasn’t worried, and she was sure none of the other nine acolytes were either. Like the rest, Sanya had suffered painful sunburns early on in her training, but now her skin was deeply tanned, and she barely noticed the radiation that fell on her. The dry, stale-tasting air coming off the desert in front of her instantly wicked away any sweat, so she knew she was in no danger of overheating. Tovin, their longtime instructor, stalked in front of the line. For those who lived in the cities, he would be an intimidating sight. Rough skin pulled tight over taut muscles and sharp joints. His only clothing, a tattered pair of pants, showing off a broad torso covered in intricate tattoos. The satchel he had uncomfortably slung across his shoulder almost covered more skin than his clothes. And a face with no hair whatsoever; not even any eyebrows. He wasn’t speaking, which was typical of him. He just scowled at the acolytes, searching for any last shred of weakness that he hadn’t shored up or beaten out of them over the long years. Sanya took no offense; if an acolyte wasn’t absolutely ready, nothing waited for them out there in the Wastes but death. They had been standing there, at attention, for half an hour, and Sanya’s pack was starting to grow quite heavy on her back. Finally, after one last sneer, Tovin begrudgingly broke his silence. “All right, kids,” he said with a scowl. “Let’s not pretend I need to tell you what to do. You want to become an Elemental? You want to earn your place among us?” He reached into his satchel and withdrew sheets of parchment. “Here are your maps. Follow yours. No one else’s. No helping. No crossing paths.” As he handed Sanya her map, he leaned in menacingly. “We’ll be watching you closely, boy.” She knew his words were supposed to cut with a twofold bite. When she wore her hair long, Tovin had mocked her whenever it got in her way during training; but when she cut it short, he began referring to her as a boy. And for the first part of the jibe, she knew he was referring to her early days in the academy. Growing up as an orphan, she’d learned the importance of banding together with the other urchins, helping one another out so they could all survive. When she’d been taken in as an Elemental acolyte, she’d persisted in that practice; she always sought to aid the others when they struggled during their training. Tovin had broken her of that habit, of unfairly denying her fellow acolytes the lessons they needed to learn. Sanya was not the insecure little girl she’d been when she’d first arrived at the monastery, her mind soft and poisoned by the Missionaries’ blasphemy. She wore her scars with pride, both physical and mental. Many of the former crept out from underneath her clothes, visible on her shoulders or her lower back. As for the latter, she had heard many of Tovin’s cruel remarks before, and she allowed him no power over her emotions. Once he finished handing out the maps, Tovin took a step back, surveying the line of young men and women standing at attention. “Know this, kids. Your body only has so much water in it. Some of you, a little more than others, am I right, Teff?” Sanya didn’t turn to look at the larger acolyte, but she knew he wouldn’t react to the barb about his weight, either. “But you will not find any water out in the Wastes. If you delay, you will die.” “Now, we could come and save you,” he continued nonchalantly, raising his hand in the air, palm-up. On his unspoken command, water began to pool out of nowhere and pour through his fingers onto the cracked rock below his feet. “It’s a trivial matter for a Water Elemental to draw moisture out of the atmosphere.” Sanya looked on greedily; how she longed for that power, for that self-sufficiency. He gave a cold smile as the water stopped dripping. “But we won’t.” Despite herself, Sanya felt a chill run up her spine. Tovin had been tough on them over the years; Cuiran had lost an eye during a sparring match, and Narra had lain sick for days when she was bit by a spider that Tovin really should have warned her about. But he had always intervened when one of them was in mortal danger. No need to let all that training go to waste, he’d said. This was the final trial, and there was only one way out; finding her way to the Temple of Elements, deep in the Wastes. There would be no way back, no second chances. Sanya was certainly glad that she’d trained, pushing herself to her very limits, for seven years to get ready for this day. Sanya collected her thoughts, calming her worries, as she watched Tovin turn and swing up on his mount, a Northern Soldier Ant that stood four feet tall. “Well?” he shouted. “What are you all waiting for!” The acolytes broke into a flurry of action. Most knelt, reaching into their packs to pull out their compasses. Sanya and a few of the others just glanced quickly at their maps and used the sun to gauge a rough direction. They set out at a jog, quickly separating as they went different directions. Sanya held her map out in front of her as she ran, half her attention on memorizing it and half on watching her feet to make sure she didn’t trip. This edge of the waste was all stone, and the rough ground was littered with rocks and pebbles. She didn’t look at her fellow acolytes. She didn’t look back at Tovin, although she’d long suspected he would shed a tear as he watched his ‘kids’ finally leave on their trials. And she didn’t look up at the Air Elementals who circled high above in their gliders, watching everyone as they ran their paths. She’d jealously watched them enough over the years. Each acolyte had their own path, and Sanya had no energy to expend on the others. She would see her classmates at the end, or she wouldn’t. Her responsibility was making it there herself. And she would need every ounce of determination and preparation to do so. *** After a few hours in the Wastes, Sanya faced an unexpected adversary. Complacency. She’d prepared herself mentally against how she’d expected panic to manifest. She had rehearsed what she would do if she found herself lost in a maze of canyons, or hunted by vicious predators, or stranded among the sand dunes as dehydration began to wrack her body. None of those were coming to pass, however; her map was easy to follow, and she felt she was making speedy progress along its waypoints. Currently, she was on what appeared to be an ancient road, though it was scarcely distinguishable from the rough stone of the rest of the landscape. But the warnings about the Waste were not to be ignored. This was far, far more dangerous than any place she’d been taken to in her training. The Salt Islands, the Cove of Daggers, and Fangmist Jungle, especially: all had tried to kill her moments after she’d entered them. Even on her rare trips back to the cities, the Elementals and their acolytes were criminals who needed to avoid the guards and keep a low profile. In some ways, the Waste’s silence was an even greater danger. It needed no flair, no threats. With no water, human life would expire. It was inevitable. Sanva had assumed the Waste had always been here; barren and inhospitable land, stretching for miles upon miles. But as she continued her measured jog along her path, she found herself approaching what appeared to be a forest. Tall trees, similar to the ones around the city she had grown up in; but these appeared to be made entirely of stone. Had they grown out of stone? Or had they been transformed somehow? The mystery was quickly pushed out of her mind as a sound intruded on her. She’d grown accustomed to the sound of her own regular, rhythmic footsteps; but now, as she ran through the stone trees, she thought she heard another’s. Was it her own footsteps, echoing back to her? She stopped in place, calming her breathing to make as little sound as possible. No. The other footsteps continued. There was another in this forest with her. Her mind went back to Fangmist, to hunting the acid beetles, and her body remembered what to do. Silently, she stalked from tree to tree, evaluating the sound of the mysterious footsteps. It was difficult to track; the stone trees caused odd echoes that travelled differently than they would in a real forest. But she was confident she was making her way closer and closer to the source of the sound. Was it a group of people, perhaps? All of a sudden, the sound of the footsteps stopped. She put her back against a tree, listening for a long moment. No footsteps. No sound of any kind. Sanya poked her head cautiously around the trunk. A man stood there, dressed in peculiar-looking clothes, laden with an enormous pack. He was staring straight at her, beginning to wave enthusiastically. “Oh, there you are! I figured someone would be coming through this way sooner or later.” He waddled over towards her. Various pouches and trinkets affixed to his pack swung and smacked against one another, creating the sounds that Sanya had thought was a whole crowd. She quickly took stock of him. He was wearing loose, flowing robes; quite different than the tight, minimalistic clothing that those who ventured into the desert knew to wear. On his feet were a pair of oversized shoes that must have been a struggle to walk in. And he had spectacles on his face, making his eyes appear much too large. He looked so out of place in the Wastes… and yet, he’d somehow spotted her before she’d seen him, known she was there even when she’d been hidden from his sight. “Who are you?” she asked him as she stepped out into the open. “What are you doing here?” He took his pack off; though it was bulky, he lowered it to the ground with ease. “The name’s Augerius Hartilaxian,” he said, reaching out for a handshake. Sanya knew a name that ostentatious must be fake, and she had no intention of touching his hand. But the man was hardly put off by her lack of reaction, twirling his wrist instead as he smoothly transitioned the gesture into a bow. “But you, my dear, may call me Geri, as all my acquaintances do, whether close or otherwise. How may I have the honor of referring to you?” She pursed her lips. This was not at all what she had expected to encounter on her trial. “Sanya.” “Well, lovely Sanya,” Geri, continued, “I have come to this place from a long way off. I won’t bother naming where I hail from; it’s quite far away, and I guarantee that you have never heard of it.” The way he spoke without an accent put immediate lie to that statement, but Sanya had no intention of interrupting yet. “I am a treasure seeker, you see. I travel to the farthest reaches, to the ends of the world, searching for items that have either been lost, forgotten, or merely not used to their fullest potential.” He waved his hand and his pack and the various accoutrements strapped to it. “I believe there is something quite valuable out here in the desert, but I’ve been having trouble locating it.” “You came to the Wastes,” she replied flatly, “looking for treasure?” He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, the Wastes. That’s the whole desert, right, not just this forest?” She nodded slowly. His deception seemed more contrived by the second. As difficult as it was to believe that someone from this part of the world didn’t know what the Wastes were, it was even harder to believe that he’d stumbled into them on accident. “And the Wastes are entirely uninhabited. Nobody lives here. I’m probably the first person in years to enter this forest. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Then we have Fortune to thank for you being here. You see, I need some assistance in locating this treasure of mine. I have many useful items; I’m sure, whatever purpose you’re on, I would be able to provide you with some help in return--” Geri continued talking, but Sanya was no longer listening. An offer of help. This must be a trap, a set-up. Someone who’d been recruited by the Elementals to test her resolve. She strained to keep her eyes from looking upward, seeking the Air Elementals she knew would be watching her high above. She didn’t want to look like she had a guilty conscience, checking up on her observers. “I’m sorry,” she interrupted him, “but I cannot help you, and I really must be going.” She turned back and began running through the forest, returning to the road. As she left Geri behind, she heard him mutter what sounded like several unfamiliar curses. The ruckus that followed must have been him picking back up his pack and trying to run after her. But he was much more heavily laden than she was, and apparently quite out of shape, and the sounds quickly faded away as she outpaced him. Sanya focused on her stride again, running faster to make up the small amount of time she’d lost in that distraction. The sun was close to setting as the pitted ground beneath her feet began to transition to sand; she took a moment to remove her shoes, putting them in her back. She would not reach the Temple of Elements tonight, but her sand tent was best suited to be used among the dunes. Barefoot, she continued to run for about an hour or so, all thoughts of impossible forests and strange men left behind. *** Sanya’s sand tent was the largest item in her pack, but it was essential to survive a frigid night out in the Wastes. She needed to find a good place to dig her campsite out; too high on the side of a dune, and she could be exposed as the sands shifted overnight. Too low, and she could be buried. Once she’d estimated an appropriate height, she dug out a hole, lined it with canvas, and began to fit the frame together. She was creating a pocket in the sand to insulate her from the freezing, biting night air. The cold of a desert could be just as deadly as its heat. Darkness fell around her before she finished, but the stars came out bright enough to illuminate her work. She could build her sand tent blindfolded, if she had to, but the starlight helped her keep an eye on the desert around her. There were other dangers here, and she didn’t want anything creeping up on her. As she snapped the last piece of her frame into place and began to pile sand back around the edges of the hole, a light off in the distance caught her eye. It was back in the direction she’d come from. It didn’t flicker like a torch; it was a brilliant white, and though it was small when she first noticed it, it grew as it got closer. A man, carrying an impossibly bright lantern. Wearing an enormous pack. Stumbling through the dunes like he barely knew how to walk. Somehow, Geri had managed to follow her. She sighed in exasperation. No matter how he’d done it; soon, it wouldn’t matter. She’d crawl inside her sand tent and let the dune slide over her, burying her for the night. He wouldn’t be able to find her, then. But a sudden realization flashed into her mind. If he continued straight for her, his path would pass right over… yes, he would cross right on top of it. That large, circular area of flat sand. It didn’t look dangerous, but Sanya knew the secret it hid. In an instant, she reached into her pack, grabbing two short spears, and sprinted out towards Geri. “No!” she yelled, waving her arms. “Go back!” He waved at her in greeting and trundled along, picking up his pace slightly. She wasn’t going to get there in time. She ran anyways. As Geri neared the patch, the sand shifted, a circular slab lifting off the ground. The monster crawled out from beneath its hiding place; eight feet wide, the Crater Spider had sensed its prey approaching and leapt out to strike. Sanya was still too far away to do anything, too far away to help, and the spider’s trapdoor blocked its strike from her view. A terrible, piercing scream rang in her ears. It didn’t sound like a man; it was a shrill and horrific shriek. As it faded in the desert air, she let her pace slow. She’d been too late; the Wastes had claimed its prey. A second scream filled her ears. And a third. Each was punctuated with a strange green light, barely visible around the edges of the trapdoor, which still stood upright. With a surge of adrenaline and curiosity, she sprinted around the side of the spider’s lair. Geri was somehow alive, the spider cowering back before him. He held a small device in his hand; it was inscribed with strange symbols, glowing green, and he brandished it towards the spider. “Not so tough now, are you, old boy!” he shouted at it. “Crawl back in that hole like a good spider, now!” The spider did not, in fact, obey him. It moved slowly, uncharacteristically cautious, but it clearly hadn’t given up on getting a meal tonight. Geri shook his head in bemusement, raised his arm to point at the spider, and launched another burst of green power at the spider’s head. The pulse looked and sounded hideous, like he’d summoned a vengeful ghost to do his bidding. The spider flinched back a little, but Sanya could see it was unharmed, and it kept on moving towards Geri. The blasts had startled the predator, but it had now realized that whatever Geri was doing caused it no lasting damage. Geri frowned, backing away. “Uhhhh…” His cocky demeanor was gone, and he stumbled backwards maladroitly. But now, Sanya was close enough. She leapt across the sand, closing with the spider, and jabbing with her spears at the very tip of one of its legs. Its sensing organs were located there, letting it pick up vibrations from its web that it had stretched underneath the sand. Injure the tips of its legs, and it would retreat to its nest; that was the way she’d been trained to drive off a Crater Spider. Sanya danced away from the spider’s bite, striking in turn at another feeler. Between the strange green screams and the attack on its legs, this spider had apparently seen enough for one night. It squirmed backwards into its hole, pulling the trapdoor tightly shut behind it. She turned to Geri. He was panting from exertion; the quick exchange had obviously taken a lot out of him. “You should not have entered the Wastes if you are not prepared for its challenges.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m grateful you were prepared enough for the both of us, then. Although I probably could have had it. I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve. Take a look at this, in fact…” He droned on, but Sanya turned and began to plod back to her tent. Thanks to her intervention, his life had been saved; but at what cost to her? She’d broken the rules of her trial, and she would never become an Elemental. *** But perhaps there was hope for her yet. Sanya sat next to her sand tent. When she’d gone to help Geri, it had partially collapsed; she would need to dig it out and start afresh. But first, she took a few moments to compose herself and gather her thoughts. What exactly had Tovin told the acolytes before they all left on their trials? She couldn’t accept help. And she couldn’t offer help to the other acolytes. But this man here… he wasn’t an acolyte. She didn’t know what he was, or where he came from, but intervening to save his life didn’t compromise the integrity of anyone’s trial. If anything, she’d made her own path more difficult. Surely, the elders would see that. Surely, this wouldn’t disqualify her from entering the Temple. A crashing noise from off to the side drew her attention. Geri was setting up his own tent by the dimmed light of his odd lantern. And an unwieldy, blocky monstrosity of a tent it was. He’d managed to knock it over and was struggling to right it. Sanya stood up. She’d already crossed the line; what difference would a little more help mean? She walked over to him, taking the opposite side of the tent. Together, they lifted it upright, and then Geri began to drive stakes into the sand. Stakes that appeared entirely too short to hold it in place. “You know,” she said, “this tent will lose a lot of heat to the desert wind.” He smiled at her. “That’s quite all right,” he said as he reached into his pack. He pulled out a large gemstone, set in an intricate metal framework. “This little treasure right here generates heat.” “You mean, it will start a fire? The sun’s gone down; there’s no sunlight to focus.” “No,” he laughed. “Once I activate it, it will create heat. No fire needed.” He must have seen the incredulity on her face, because he immediately began rummaging through his pack again. “Here, let me show you something else. This one, you’ll probably like even more.” This next item came out of a hard case; it was a metal bowl with a blue gemstone held in place above it. “Watch.” He fidgeted with the device for a moment, then set it on the sand in front of her. After a second, miraculously, water began to appear on the surface of the gem. It tricked down and slowly began to fill the bowl. Sanya struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. “Are you… an Elemental?” she asked, cautiously. “An Elemental?” he repeated slowly. “E-le-men-tal.” It sounded like he was trying the word out, as if he’d never heard it before. “No, I’m nobody special. It’s all the treasures.” He motioned at the bowl. “That one pulls water out of the air. The heating treasure produces… well, heat, of course.” He pulled out the device he’d been using earlier, against the spider. “And this one. It appears this one doesn’t do quite what I was promised it would.” He picked up the bowl; a thin coating of water had covered the very bottom. “It’ll take a few hours until there’s enough for a decent drink in there. You can have the first batch, if you’d like. My way of saying, ‘Thanks for saving my life.’” Sanya shook her head vigorously. “No, I cannot.” He looked confused. “What, it’s just water. Regular water, like what comes down when it rains. I’m just able to get it out a little bit easier.” And then, his eyes narrowed, just a tiny fraction. For a moment, Sanya saw something else in this man. He may look a fool; dressed in bizarre clothes, fumbling his way through the desert like a child, laden down with a hundred useless toys. But now, Sanya caught a glimpse of keen intelligence, a cold calculation that was processing the little information she’d just given him, combining it with his own observations from earlier that day. “They won’t let you accept help, will they.” His voice was quiet, but intense. The brash showman from before was gone. “Whoever’s running this whole thing. Whoever sent you out here. Why not?” She turned away, ready to run. She could afford to lose her sand tent; she needed to escape. But before she could take more than a few steps, he began to call out to her, speaking quickly. “How would they even know? Are they up there, somewhere?” Behind her, the light of his lantern increased tenfold. She looked back, shielding her eyes. He was waving it above his head, sending a brilliant beacon up into the sky. “Come down, come down, wherever you are!” he shouted. “Sanya’s got a new best friend she’d like you to meet!” “Stop that,” she hissed at him, sprinting back to strike the lantern out of his hand. It fell to the ground a few feet away, and she ran over to it and turned it so the light pointed down into the sand. It still was bright enough to illuminate the immediate area, and she could see the smug grin on Geri’s face. And the glowing green device in his hand, pointed at her. The Crater Spider’s exoskeleton had been able to repulse it with ease; her own skin, she was not so confident about. “So, here’s the deal,” he said menacingly. “You answer a few of my questions. And I don’t tattle on you to the babysitters. How’s that sound?” Sanya tried to consider the possibilities, but her mind had frozen. This was too much; after preparing for all the physical hardships of traversing the Wastes, these turns of events had drained all of her mental energy. All she could do was ask a single question, voice quavering. “Who… who are you?” His mocking grin taunted her. He knew he had won. “Like I said earlier: the name’s Augerius Hartilaxian. You, my dear, may call me Geri. All my acquaintances do, whether close or otherwise.” The smile dropped from his face. “And I’ve been wandering around this Shard-forsaken wasteland for six weeks trying to find whatever it is you keep out here that’s so rusting valuable.” “Six weeks?” she asked. That couldn’t be right. No one could survive out here for that long. He shrugged aggressively. “Give or take a few days, I guess. They really do all blend together when you’re doing nothing but walking and bleeding. But enough questions from you; it’s my turn, now. First question: are you an Elemental?” She shook her head. Until she passed her trial and reached the Temple of Elements, she was only an acolyte. “Second question: what is an Elemental?” She took a deep breath. It wasn’t a secret, per se… the Elementals were known throughout the cities, even if most of the ‘details’ were exaggerations, legends, or outright lies to confuse the Missionaries. “Elementals are a sacred order who purify their bodies and souls until they allow the power of an Element to flow through them.” “Fire, Water, Earth, and Air, I assume?” he asked. When she nodded, he let out a snort. “How inspired.” He raised his arms, motioning around them to the desert. “And this quest you’re on. What, do you just run around until the desert breaks you, and then you get Elemental powers?” “I am not broken,” she said defiantly. “But you will be,” he argued. “Look at what you’ve got in your pack. You’ve got just enough supplies to get yourself hopelessly lost out here.” “No,” she fought back. “It is enough. I am strong enough. I have spent my whole life preparing; I have as much as I need to reach--” She tried to cut herself off again, but he was too observant. “Oh, so this isn’t just a journey. You have a destination in mind. How far away is it?” She knew she shouldn’t tell him. Though his threats proved that he was no Missionary, her gut said that the truth of her order should be kept secret from him, too. Whoever he really was, whatever his plans were for the Elementals, she should be doing everything in her power to stop him. But she’d spoken the truth a moment ago; she had spent her whole life preparing, training, looking forward to becoming an Elemental. Trying to attack him and escape would almost certainly end in her death; and then she would never experience the joy of flying through the air or the power of commanding the waves to do her bidding. So she acquiesced. She could rationalize it; surely, the Elementals at the Temple would be better equipped, able to handle whatever his plan was. They’d been watching her, so they’d seen him. He wouldn’t be able to catch the rest of the order by surprise. And she’d been sent out on her trial to fend for herself; if doing whatever it took to reach the Temple was selfishness, then she was justified in it. “I’m going to the Temple of Elements. That’s where we become Elementals. I will be able to reach it in two more days. I will be exhausted and dehydrated, but I will make it there.” He nodded. “That sounds like an excellent plan. And I’ll be right there, with you.” He dropped his hand do his side, lowering his weapon. But he kept his eyes on her, and she knew he’d be ready to use it again at a moment’s notice. “But my dear, you look exhausted. I’ve been preparing, myself; I’ve slept enough for the both of us for three days. But you can’t accept any of my help, so you’ll need to sleep on your own. I’ll keep watch tonight, and you rest up. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” She didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but she was past the point of arguing any more. If she wanted to make it to the Temple, she did need her rest. She shuffled back towards her collapsed sand tent, an uneasy feeling filling her stomach. Sleep may rejuvenate her body; but she harbored no illusions that it would quell the raging exhaustion filling her mind. *** Sanya essentially had to start from scratch with her tent, and the intervening minutes proved too long for Geri to maintain his silence. “Look, Sanya, I’m sorry about all this,” he said. His earlier intensity was gone, and though his tone was much more conversational, Sanya didn’t find it comforting in the slightest. “I have bad habit of letting things get away from me. It’s just that… I have a chance to achieve something great here. There’s magic here, powerful magic, and I finally get a chance to make it my own. All these gadgets and gizmos,” he said, waving his weapon around in the air, “but this is finally something to make me special. Something you can’t just buy your way into.” He sighed. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Sanya. Why are you out here?” Her mind flashed back to memories of her childhood, orphaned, begging on the streets. Of the Missionaries, whose promises of hope always returned hollow and empty. Of being offered a better life by passing strangers; no less difficult, they’d promised, but infinitely more rewarding. Of her life in the enclave, watching the Elementals train and hone their abilities, and of the promise she made to herself that she would be the greatest of them all one day. Not that she had any intention of saying a word about this to Geri. “I was sent. It’s the last step of my training.” He scoffed. “Training? What can you learn possibly from this? How bad it feels to be dehydrated?” He said it to mock her, but he was right. “The body is weak,” she said, quoting one of the mantras she’d had drilled into her head since youth. “The mind is weak. The spirit is weak. Only through pain can the weakness be exposed and expunged, to the purification of my self.” He sat silently for a moment, deep in thought, staring at her. What was he looking for? “Those scars on your back,” he finally asked. “Did they beat you to help ‘purify’ you?” She squeezed her eyes shut. She was back in her room in the monastery, fighting back tears, lying on the floor to keep the blood out of her sheets. “No.” “You’re lying. I know what scars from a whipping look like. You’ve been beaten before, and more than once.” She was curled up on the dirt, writing in pain. A small Fell Scorpion, barely as high as her waist, had stung her. The pain had immobilized her body, and she as she’d lain there she had promised herself to never be enslaved to such pain like that ever again. “I do not deny that.” “Then who?” She was tightening her fingers around the whip’s braided handle. Gritting her teeth, she swung it back, over her shoulder. The pain was great, but she stood stoically, remaining on her feet. She could handle it. The next strike would be harder. Realization dawned on Geri’s face. “Rust and Ruin, girl. You’re insane. You’re actually insane.” He stood up and paced back and forth angrily. “You deserve better than this.” He stopped, took a deep breath. “Come with me. Once we’re done, once we’re both Elementals, let’s both leave this place. I can take you to where you’ll never feel pain again.” He didn’t understand. Life without pain? That wasn’t possible; that wouldn’t even be life. It would be like existing as a painting, stale and unchanging. A fanciful ornament to hang on someone else’s wall. “I walk the path I have chosen. I would choose the pain every time. It has made me who I am. It will make me into who I wish to be.” He crouched, settling back on his haunches. His eyes bored into her, like he was trying to see into her soul. “You’re wrong. You’ve been made to think this way, but when we reach your Temple, you’ll see the truth. Don’t worry; I’ll swear to them that I gave you no help, that you struggled through on your own blood and sweat. But when I stroll in alongside you and become an Elemental, as well, you’ll know that pain is merely what the world uses to control you.” How she wished that were true. “Deal.” For some reason, the word caused him to laugh. For the rest of the night, Geri was blessedly silent as Sanya finished assembling her sand tent. She crawled into it, asleep as soon as her head hit the ground. *** When Sanya woke up and poked her head out of the sand tent, it was still dark. But she didn’t have a chance to escape her new captor; Geri was awake, seated so he could face her and jot down notes in a small journal. He had apparently taken down his tent overnight; his pack was prepared, and he looked ready to go. So she quickly broke down and stored her sand tent and led the way as the two of them set off right before sunrise. Geri’s sleepless night didn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm. Nearly as soon as they began walking, he began to droll on. Idle chit-chat: how hot the sun was, or how much he didn’t like sand, or how big that spider was last night. She knew what he was doing; one way or another, he was trying to get her to drop her guard. Either through acting like such a dolt that she went back to treating him as a fool, or through humanizing himself so she’d see him with compassion. Neither would work on her. One thing, eventually, did get a rise out of her. “This desert sure is nothing to laugh at. Maybe those Missionaries were right…” She turned on him, knocking him to the ground as she pulled out her spears from her pack. He rolled away, awkwardly somersaulting and coming up with his green weapon pointed at her. She froze in place, dropping her spears to the ground; her ingrained hatred of the Missionaries had drove her to take the risk, but she knew when she was beaten. He didn’t look concerned; rather, he appeared to be annoyed. “What’s this all about?” he asked harshly. “Not a fan of the Missionaries?” She shook her head. He chuckled. “Well, they’re not fans of you, either. ‘Madmen of the Wilds,’ they warned me about, who supposedly kill Missionaries whenever they have the chance to.” He waved his weapon at her, and she backed away from her spears. He walked over and picked them up. “What makes them say that?” She shrugged. “Because we kill Missionaries whenever we have the chance to.” “Huh.” Geri frowned, puzzled, but we seemed to take it in stride. “Well, at least everyone’s in agreement. Why, though? They’re only coming to help people.” Sanya spat on the ground in disgust. “They don’t seek to aid. They seek to destroy, to infiltrate our people and abolish our way of life. This is a war; not us against them, but them against nature. They consider us an abomination and seek to destroy us.” Geri looked at her condescendingly. “When you say ‘us,’ do you mean the general population of the land? Or specifically the Elementals?” She didn’t say anything, but he chuckled; her silence was answer enough for him. “And how’s that been working out for all of you?” She shook her head. “The authorities in the cities treat us as outlaws. We recruit in secret, we train in the wilderness.” “That’s because you’re acting like outlaws. Have you heard the Missionaries’ message? Put others first, understand your neighbor, seek reconciliation in all things. What’s not to love?” He must have seen her bristling at the blasphemy, because he shrugged apologetically. “Relax, I’m not going to push anything like that on you. I’m not a Missionary. Came here with them, because there was no way I was getting any magic from where they hail from. But their lands were certainly a lot nicer to visit than this dump,” he said as he gestured to the desert around them. Sanya wasn’t sure why she continued to argue with him. Maybe all these strange occurrences had finally taken their toll on her, and she needed to let loose. “If they had their way, there would be no Elementals.” Everybody would be soft, lounging about and content without any true purpose or power in their lives. “But things over there are so nice that they don’t need Elementals,” he retorted. “Then why are you here, trying to become one?” He threw his arms up in frustration. “Whatever.” He waved her spears at her. “I’m going to be holding on to these from now on, thank you very much. You lead the way. I’ll try to stay quiet and let you focus; heavens forbid I say something entirely reasonable that sets you off, and you try to kill me again.” It appeared, somehow, that she’d won this round. If he actually kept to his promise of silence, that would be an even greater victory. But the seed of doubt had been planted in her mind. The Missionaries had always spoke of the great peace and prosperity of their homeland, but the Elementals had known it to be lies. Missionaries preached generosity so that others would be generous to them. But if what Geri said was true? What if compassion could prepare one as effectively as suffering? Only at the Temple would she find answers. *** Two days after saving Sanya saved Geri’s life, the sight of the Temple of Elements rejuvenated her hope. It was simple to look at from outside; a few outcroppings carved out of the canyon wall. But at the moment, it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever set eyes on. Her head pounded with dehydration, her skin burned from the sandstorm. She couldn’t help but limp slightly; yesterday, a wild Soldier Ant had clamped its pincers around it before she’d driven it off. But she was going to make it. Geri was going to make it, too. He looked a little haggard, but he’d taken great advantage of his various items and devices. He had rested in luxury each night; he used his weapon (he’d told Sanya it was called a “gun”) to fight off when wild animals had attacked him. But he’d been true to his word; he had given no help to Sanya. He only used his gun when his own life was in danger; otherwise, he let Sanya drive off the ants, or the scorpions, or the wasps, or whatever else decided to hunt the pair. It had been more challenging without her spears, but she’d done it. The last challenge was in front of them; a climb up the sheer cliff wall. Sanya didn’t hesitate for a moment, dropping her pack as she reached it and immediately beginning to climb. Geri was not far behind her; he abandoned his pack, as well, but even without it, he struggled to scale the rock face. With a final exertion, Sanya heaved herself above the lip of the cliff, depositing herself on the small platform halfway up the canyon wall. A few feet away, standing in front of a passageway that she knew snaked deep into the earth, three Elementals stood. One of them was Tovin, her instructor; he had what appeared to be a genuine smile on his face, and he held a large waterskin in his hands. “About time you decided to show up,” he said. “Did you enjoy your stroll?” Sanya didn’t reply. She looked back, over the side of the cliff. Geri had barely made it a third of the way up; he was breathing hard and sweating heavily. This was the first chance she’d had to leave him behind; Tovin and the others would be able to deal with him, to keep him out of the Temple. Instead, she swung her legs over the lip of the cliff and began to climb back down. She heard gasps from the Elementals by the door. She could scarcely believe herself, either, but she kept moving before she had a chance to change her mind. She had to see this through to the end. When she reached Geri, he looked up at her in surprise. She guided him up, telling him where best to place his hands and feet, how to brace for a moment and regain strength in his fingertips. When they finally reached the top, she had to practically drag him up. He collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting. “I would have had it eventually,” he gasped. “But thanks.” Sanya turned back to the Elementals. There were only two of them, now; the other had apparently gone back down the passage. Sanya hauled Geri to his feet. She had waited long enough for this. Tovin stepped up to the pair. He extended the waterskin to them. “Your journey has been long. Here, have something to drink.” Geri practically ripped it from his hands. “Don’t mind if I do, thank you very much.” He fiddled with the cap for a moment, lifting the bag above his head. But before he took a drink, he paused, looking between Sanya and Tovin. “Oh, come on!” he said with frustration. He replaced the cap on the waterskin and shoved it back into Tovin’s arms. Tovin shrugged, then held the waterskin out to Sanya. She shook her head. “Thank you, but my journey is not yet over.” The final part of the test completed, she was now ready to go and take her place as an Elemental. But when she stepped forward, towards the passageway into the Temple, Tovin put a hand out to stop her. “Not yet,” he said. “You never could do anything the simple way. Let’s wait for the Elder to make her judgement on this mess.” Good timing; as he finished speaking, the third Elemental returned, an old woman behind him. The Elder; the leader of the Elementals. Her body was old and wizened, her hair thin and wispy, but she still moved with confidence and strength. She was an Earth Elemental; if she wished, she could command the ground itself to carry her where she wanted to go. But every step she took on her own was a rebellion against the ravages of age. “Acolyte Sanya,” she said, her voice creaking. “Your path to the Temple has been most unusual. But we have watched you every step of the way, and from what we have seen, you have made the journey on your own, keeping to your appointed path. You have neither received help from others, nor offered help to another acolyte, so as to deprive them of their own right to enter the Temple. Do you confirm that this is true? Sanya gave a single nod. She looked over at Geri. He started, then said, “Oh, yeah. She didn’t let me help her one bit. Stubborn as they come, that one.” A glare from the Elder shut him up in short order. Sanya would have to learn that trick. “Then seeing as you have overcome the path to the Temple using naught but your own strength, wits, and determination, you are welcomed to join the ranks of the Elementals.” Relief flooded into Sanya’s soul. She’d hoped, but she’d never been certain that this business with Geri wouldn’t disqualify her. But now, all doubt had been finally been quelled. Next, the Elder turned to Geri. “And as for you, young man. What is your name?” He reached out his hand. “The name’s Augerius Hartilaxian, but you…” He trailed off under her withering gaze, lowering his arm back to his side. “Uh, Geri, ma’am. My name’s Geri.” “Well, Augerius,” she said. “You seek to enter the Temple? To become an Elemental?” “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He was sweating, but not from physical exertion anymore. Sanya could see that he was afraid. The Elder glanced at him up and down. “We’ve watched you closely for these past few weeks, young man.” Geri nodded. “I knew those weren’t birds. All the other local fauna is either arachnoid or insectoid.” “And we have learned a great deal about you,” the Elder continued, unfazed. “You have had, perhaps, the hardest path to reach the Temple. You had no map. You had no training. It took you many times longer to cross the desert than any we have ever sent.” The Elder motioned at Sanya. “Our acolytes are required to cross the Wastes and perform their final trial without any help from others. But she does have the tools she’s equipped herself with. Her shoes. Her spears. Her tent. They do not help her. They are merely used by her.” She gave a hard look at Geri. “You, young Augerius, you have your tools as well. Tools you have obtained, I’m sure, through much trial and torment. Not just the items in your pack, which you abandoned below. But people, as well. Like Sanya, here. You used her, forced her to lead you here. She did not help you. She was merely a tool of yours to accomplish your goal. To reach the Temple.” Then, the Elder smiled. Not pleasantly or welcoming, but the fierce smile of a predator. Geri grew pale. “Then seeing as you have overcome the path to the Temple using naught but your own strength, wits, and determination, you are welcomed to join the ranks of the Elementals.” Sanya was shocked. A part of her had expected the Elder to turn him away, at the very least. The other Elementals were just as horrified. “Surely,” Tovin protested, “you can’t let him in to the Temple. He’s not an Elemental; he has done any of the training! It’s an affront to all those who have gone before!” The Elder held up her hand, quieting the arguments instantly. “Augerius here has prepared himself the way he knows best. It is time for him to reap the fruits of his labor.” Though the other Elementals still fumed silently, the matter had obviously been settled. They were off, then. Entering the dark passageway. It twisted and curved deep inside the mountain, lit by occasional torches. Other tunnels branched off to the sides; Sanya watched Geri peer curiously down each of them, but they stayed on the path that led true to the center of the temple. There were plenty of other chambers here; for dormitories, training, or cultivation of larvae for their food supply. But the heart of the Temple, the source of the Elementals, was all that was on her mind. The acolytes had shared stories and rumors about what lay there, and as Sanya finally beheld it, she knew the tales were both great exaggerations and faint imitations. The room it was in was small; the half-dozen of them could barely fit in it. The walls were ill-shaped and ragged; scrawling text, ancient and indecipherable, was scratched across their surfaces. And there, in the center of the room, sat a smooth, metallic object. A tetrahedron; a pyramid-like object with four points. The vertices glowed with light, each a different color; they were small, but their intensity flooded the room nonetheless. The tetrahedron was not large; it sat on a rough pedestal at waist height, and the top point was at Sanya’s eye level. The Elder’s voice broke into her reverie. “It is your time to choose. The top point, red, will grant you the Element of Fire.” Sanya knew the colors by heart; the Elder must be saying it for Geri’s sake. “Blue is for Water. White is for Air. Green is for Earth. Make your choice wisely.” Sanya didn’t know which she wanted. She’d spent many hours debating in her heart. Water would make her the most self-sufficient; the Water Elementals were the most needed of all the Elementals, especially out here at the Temple in the center of the Wastes. But her soul yearned to rise above the ground, free like a cranefly, to make the Air her domain. Geri did not share her moment of indecision. “I think I’ll take Fire.” He stepped forward, steeled himself, and placed his hand on the red vertex of the tetrahedron. This time, there was no doubt that the screams filling the cavern were emanating from Geri’s own lips. He wasn’t burning. He was surrounded by glowing red energy, but it wasn’t fire. It was the pure power of the Element, infusing his soul and his body. The screams died off as Geri ran out of air in his lungs, gasping and croaking. His eyes rolled back into his head, but he didn’t let go of the tetrahedron. After an impossibly long moment, Geri fell back away from the tetrahedron. He hit the ground with a soft thud and lay still. His limbs did not move. His chest did not rise and fall. The Elder looked down at his body in scorn. “You think you can claim this Investiture, fool? You have spent your entire life avoiding struggle, avoiding pain. You were prepared for nothing but vanity.” Realization dawned on Sanya. “You knew this would happen,” she heard herself saying. “That he wouldn’t be able to become an Elemental.” The Elder shook her head. “Oh, he’s an Elemental all right. A dead one.” Her eyes met Sanya’s. “And now, dear girl, it is your turn. Are you ready?” She was ready. She had been purified through tribulation. And she knew what she must do. Before she could change her mind, she reached out towards the tetrahedron. And simultaneously placed a hand on the Water vertex and the Air vertex. Pain flooded into her. For a brief moment, agony filled her ever sense, greater than any torment she’d ever felt before. And then, everything went black. *** Sanya stirred. Pain rushed in as she moved; her joints ached, her head throbbed, and her stomach turned. But pain was a welcome friend; it meant she was alive. She opened her eyes. She was still underground, in an unfamiliar room in the Temple. It had a bed and a desk, and in the corner of the room a small figure was practicing calisthenics. The Elder, she realized. Sanya groaned, and the Elder noticed her. “Ah, welcome back to the land of the living.” She walked over to the side of the bed, bringing a glass of water and a bowl of stew. Sanya hesitated. “Oh, it’s no trick, girl; your Trial’s over, I promise. Eat up.” Sanya needed no further prodding. Although she did make sure to pace herself to avoid getting sick. The Elder continued to speak while Sanya ate. “You were very foolish in there. You must have learned something from that buffoon you dragged in here with you. Even acolytes who have spent their entire lives preparing will often succumb to the power of the Tetrahedron, after a trip through the Wastes like that. Surviving the power of two Elements… it’s downright miraculous. The Elder leaned forward conspiratorially. “Now, let’s see it in action. Which one did you get? Or was it both?” Sanya set down her meal, concentrating on her glass of water. Willing it to rise out of its container. Nothing. “How long do I need to practice before I can command it?” Sanya asked. The Elder shook her head. “It’s entirely instinctual, I’m afraid. If you can’t do it, then you must be unable to.” She looked disappointed. “Well, then, let’s see Air.” Sanya tried to envision a whirlwind in the room. A breeze. A single whisper of wind to move a lock of the Elder’s hair. Still, nothing. It must have shown on her face, because the Elder’s visage softened in compassion. “Oh, my dear girl, I’m so sorry. No one has ever tried that before, taking two Elements at the same time. Well, at least now we know what happens.” Shame filled Sanya. After all she’d done, after all she’d been through, her path couldn’t end like this! She wasn’t weak. She’d survived the Tetrahedron. But she had been left with nothing. Hot tears of anger filled her eyes. She felt the Elder’s hand on her shoulder. “Leave me alone!” Sanya snapped. The Elder immediately left the room, the door clicking shut behind her. And then, a few minutes later, Sanya heard the door open again. “Young lady,” the Elder’s stern voice rang. Sanya looked up, confused. The Elder was back, and she had brought Tovin with her. “These are my personal chambers, and I do not appreciate being ordered around in them like a worker ant.” She gestured to Tovin. “Your old instructor will do nicely for that purpose.” Sanya had no idea what was happening. None of what the Elder was saying made sense. “Come on now, girl,” the Elder commanded impatiently, striking her lightly on the side of her head. “Whatever you did to me, do it to Tovin here.” Tovin, for his part, looked just as perplexed as Sanya felt. She hadn’t done anything to the Elder, other than asking her to leave her alone. Wait. She hadn’t asked. She’d commanded. And the Elder had obeyed her. For a moment, at least. It couldn’t be. She turned to Tovin. “Stand on your head.” She spoke the words confidently, strongly. And she felt it; an energy, a power behind her words. Tovin’s legs swung in the air, knocking books off the Elder’s desk. Sanya couldn’t believe it. Elation crept into her, eager to experiment with this new ability. “Sing a child’s song.” Tovin, still upside down, began to belt out the worst rendition of “The Centipede’s Sandals” she had ever heard. “Tell me the truth,” she continued, immediately drunk on her newfound ability. “Was I your least favorite student?” Tovin took a break from singing. “Far from it,” he said, “I always knew you were the strongest, that you would be the best of the class.” Really? That couldn’t be right. She looked into his eyes to see the truth, and they were full of panic. The joy fled from her in an instant, replaced with horror. She shouldn’t be doing this to him. And just like that, her spell collapsed, and Tovin scrambled to his feet. His face was flushed red; whether from being upside down or from embarrassment, Sanya wasn’t sure. Probably from both. The Elder had remained calm and collected through the entire spectacle. “Thank you very much, Tovin, that will be all.” Sanya’s former instructor beat a hasty retreat. “As for you, Sanya. It appears that you do, indeed, have an Element. Not Water, not Air; something new, something that combines them both in a new and fantastical way.” She patted Sanya on the cheek. “Now, dear girl, go back to sleep. Get your rest; tomorrow, we will learn exactly what Element it is you have. But sleep soundly, knowing that you have given us an amazing gift.” The Elder’s eyes unfocused, as if she were looking off into the distance. “This may be the edge we need. The war is very nearly upon us.” She looked back down at Sanya. “But that is not yours to worry about yet, young one.” War? With whom? The Missionaries? As her eyes closed and sleep claimed her, Sanya decided not to worry about it. The Elder was right. She’d earned this.

Greetings fellow Cosmere people. I am "Firewatch", brother of "Firerust"(no joke. legit. blood. brother). I'm glad to be part of this Universe. A few things about myself: I have read the first and second mistborn series. Skyward/Starsight. Stormlight Archive. Reckoners. Elantris. If it weren't for my brother I would have never experienced this life. After years of his pestering, begging, and threats, I finally decided to read Brandon Sanderson's books. So.... who's got grapes?

I've been saying this for years! An old-school Bioware styled Stormlight game would be great. In my head, it would take place during the final few Desolations (since they were only years apart, not generations or centuries), and the final scene would be the Heralds - people that you've respected, followed into battle, and overall come to know and love - proclaiming victory over the Voidbringers. And then there could be a post-credit scene/100% completion scene, in which you see the events of the Prelude, changing the context of the ENTIRE game.* *I'm torn about whether that should be included, or if that scene should be left for the prelude in the books. On one hand, that cliffhanger would make the books a MUST HAVE for fans of the game, and word about that ending would get out anyways, so why not include it? On the other hand, I like the idea of fans buying the books thinking they're just fun adventures in a world they've come to love, and realizing that the story they played was only the prelude to what's happening now.

In terms of this WoB, it has been put into Arcanum. There were two sources for this WoB: there was the questioner's report, and there was the audio transcription. Arcanum's version (which is still marked as paraphrased because by the time Arcanum became a thing, this audio was no longer available) reads slightly differently: These sort of subtle distinctions are why the audio is so nice to have, because little things that the questioner assumes or misremembers can seep in. There is, very famously, a reported WoB before Oathbringer that said "Humans were on Roshar before Honor, Cultivation, and Odium arrived." But, when the actual transcription came out, we learned that Brandon had actually said "Humans were not created by Honor, Cultivation or Odium." Which is a very different thing indeed; the questioner made some assumptions that were proven quite invalid by Oathbringer. But the WoB as reported had already taken on steam, and was in fact cited to Brandon himself (who was very cautious in answering, since the followup private message in that WoB was shortly before Oathbringer came out), and I know I had to cite the WoB as transcribed quite a few times following OB's release to assuage those who were citing the reported WoB as evidence that Brandon lied. So... all that to say, I don't know what color the Aimians' blood is. I haven't taken the time to research it. But speaking in terms of the comprehensiveness of Arcanum and the integrity of the WoBs, I would say that in this case (and in nearly ever case, if I may be so bold), Arcanum is the place to go for WoBs. But if anyone does find anything missing, please swing on by subforum and drop a note, so it can be resolved if it truly is missing.

I saw a theory similar to this on the Sandersonian Institute podcast. Personally I agree on Taln's Unmade being the last one, but maybe Ishar's is captured? Since he was a "Bondsmith", I could see him tracking down Chemoarish himself Years and years ago

Ooooh, I'll bring some butterflies and pillows through the green glass door! Oh, and we can't forget some Harry Potter books!

[Death RP by Gears, go upvote them!] Dr. Gears picked up his clipboard and watched as the mob advanced. As expected, they were approaching him with weapons drawn and torches raised. A curious property of mobs, he noted, was that they always had torches. Even though it was broad daylight, they held lanterns of Stormlight aloft on sticks. The lack of a flame did somewhat ruin the effect, but with the high oxygen content of Roshar’s atmosphere, open flame was simply too dangerous, even for mobs. He had been unable to convince anyone to kindle a flame, even the drunkards, so the dangers of fire were evidently embedded deep in the subconscious. He had, however, kindled his own flame. The consequent fire was quite large and spread rapidly before he doused it. Alas, the mob appeared to be too close to evade, and there was nowhere to escape to on the Shattered Plains. He could not cross the chasms alone, and the bridges were bulky and difficult to steal. Hiding in the chasms would allow him to survive, though he would be trapped down there until he drowned in the next highstorm since he couldn’t escape the chasms. Escape was not viable for survival, and in any case it would be pointless. His studies here were as complete as they would be, especially since the refugees would not be staying at the Oathgate long enough to observe. He wrote a few last notes concerning the behaviour of sapient entities and mobs and handed his clipboard to a small cremling. “Make sure it gets to the database safely,” he said to the cremling. It clicked a claw in response. Nothing left to do but wait. The mob was mildly delayed by the traps he had set, but they were here now. His future held nothing but a cold, dead corpse. Cause of death was yet to be determined. He had a choice in this matter. He could let himself be torn apart by the mob, or he could ensure the safety of his research and burn it down. Obviously, his research was more important than maintaining a façade of belonging. He pulled out a detonator and glanced at the cremling. It scurried off as fast as its legs could carry it. It would probably be fine. Cremlings are durable things, after all. At long last, the mob barged into his tent. It had taken them longer than he had expected. Did he make his traps too difficult? Oh well. The past is the past, immutable. As the mob closed in, he pressed. The resulting fireball burned the tent to the ground. Many of the mob’s members received serious burns, though none of them died. Dr. Gears’s research was irrecoverable, save for a lone cremling scurrying across the Shattered Plains. Cause of death: C4. Gears has died! He was a Refugee. Vote Count: Gears (5): Araris Valerian, Illwei, Magestar, Matrim's Dice, TJ Shade Lahilt (2): Frozen Mint, Gears Frozen Mint (1): The Young Pyromancer GM Notes: -The night will end on July 13th, at 1:00 PM EST. -Don't forget to get your actions in! -PMs are open! Player List:

Goodbye in several different languages, curse you, a word that does not translate well but indicates a wish to die before someone so that you won't have to live without them. I accept your apology, and hopefully the village will not.

You have failed to maintain your self-confidence and convictions. Honest suspicions are perfectly fine. Going against one's own opinions to follow someone else's is unacceptable. Thou art cursed for your foolishness, for your self-doubt, for your failings.

Hold on... There fixed it Kanye and Jar Jar 2020

Also a double pewter Twinborn or a double pewter spiked Inquisitor should be added to the list. No problem with your order of strength so far. Though I will note that in the case of Stormlight, a 2 Oath Kaladin cracked Shardplate with a running drop kick. That should factor in to the strength analysis.

This is super hard to pick because I love them all so much! But right now I would probably say Shadows of Self. Mistborn was the series that introduced me to the cosmere so I've always been partial to those books, and I love Era 2 for some of the new places they take allomancy and feruchemy. Additionally the twists in SoS were so well done and evoked more emotion in me than I ever would have anticipated

Cycle Five: The House of Lurking Death Truth between us, I kept looking over my shoulder when I went about my duties. Ain’t right, that so many of the guests kept winding up dead. Makes a cove jumpy, it does. Fen used to say it ain’t paranoia when they’re out to get you. Don’t think he has it quite right. Yeah, maybe I’m being paranoid. But it doesn’t mean there ain’t a killer lurking somewhere in Lord Tal’s house, ready to ice me too. Now don’t that be a cheery thought. Most of the guests were gathering in one of the public rooms or another. Never saw Lord Tal take guests into the Growlery before. ‘Fact, none of us were ever allowed inside. Don’t even think Lady Prissy had ever set foot into the Growlery, before this. See, Lord Tal kept the Growlery locked up tight. Was his private place, Lady Prissy told me. None of us servants ever got to go there, not even to clean. Lord Tal kept it all himself. The Growlery was open, though, the night Lord Tal died. I went there. Keep an eye on the guests and all. There were scratches on the dull brass lock. Think someone might’ve forced the lock. Or tried to. Weren’t no sign of Lord Tal’s key. Lady Prissy said she didn’t know what happened to it. Said there were other things to be worried about. Like the fact there was some cutter in here with us, doing the killings. Like the fact Phelan was dead, and so was the herb lady. The fact we were penned up in here. Just like the killer. Anyway. The guests had begun to gather in groups. Can’t really blame them. Maybe they thought gathering together would keep ‘em safe. Killer can’t be everywhere, can they? Safety in numbers and all that. Everywhere though, they were scared. Whispering, staring at each other suspiciously. Like I said, don’t blame ‘em. I was getting pretty jumpy myself. Fair jumped out of my skin when someone called me. Turned out it was Lady Prissy. Said young Lord Aidan Ostlin hadn’t been seen for days, so could I please go look for him. Guess this needs some explaining. See, young Lord Aidan be Lord Tal’s cousin. Bored young lordling ain’t hard to miss, even at a big party. But he went missing the night Lord Tal disappeared. I seen him in the lounge a while back, but then he was gone again. How does a lordling disappear in a house like this, anyway? The guests were getting restless. I wasn’t there for most of it. ‘Cause if you remember, Lady Prissy had set me to searching for the lordling. I did drop in on some of ‘em in their rooms. I asked the noble lady with the book if she knew anything about the lordling. “I haven’t seen him at all,” she told me, but then she was preoccupied with defending her innocence. Seems like some of the guests thought she was their killer. Don’t seem right to me, though. What sort of killer hides behind a book, anyway? She notices a lot, that lady. Asks a lot of questions. Seems to me she knows more’n she’s letting on. Still, I just can’t see her as a killer. Dunno why they’re wary of her, now. The lawman, she’d said it was the Elendel lord. Something about his manner set her off. Can’t blame her. Those Elendel lords and ladies with their manners like satin and all that polish… And you never know what’s lurking beneath that, s’all I can say. How they smile like knives and look down their noses at you at the same time. ‘Cause we Roughs folk, we ain’t got their quality, if you understand me. And to them Elendel lords and ladies, like that poor dead noble girl, it’s always about their quality and who your mam and pap were, if you get my drift. All the more fools, them. Anyway, the lawman said maybe he was the one doing the killing. Said he was trying to find the killer. Same’s the rest of ‘em. He looked tired. Maybe he’s really trying after all. Wouldn’t hold my breath though. What do lords and ladies know about finding a killer, anyway? I ain’t the sharpest tool in the box, but I reckon it’s foolishness, asking them guests to find the killer. Still, Lady Prissy knows best, I s’pose. I left the guests to it. As I went on in search of the lordling, I heard them fighting about whether it was to be the book lady or the Pathian. I ain’t no Pathian myself, but I reckon it strange. Most of ‘em I know ain’t much for killing. Couldn’t really see the Pathian talkin’ to Harmony and going on about the Faceless Immortals and then cutting throats, as cool as you please. But, what do I know, right? I heard the book lady cry out, as I left. Seems like they’d decided to take her in, after all. I found the lordling, in what used to be Lord Tal’s bedroom. The sheets were clean and crisp. Guess the staff continued to clean the room. Or maybe he’d never slept that night, I don’t know. ‘Course, the sheets weren’t so clean and crisp anymore. ‘Cause there he was, all sprawled out on Lord Tal’s bed. His eyes wide-open and staring. ‘Course he was stone-cold dead. I never seem to find ‘em alive, these days. His neck was oddly disjointed. Someone’d broke it. Takes a strong rusher to do that. Figure it wasn’t likely to be the book lady, after all. She’s sharp, that lady, but ain’t likely to break a cove’s neck just like that. I went and told Lady Prissy. Her lips pressed together just so, in this thin, unhappy line. “Lady Christine is dead,” she said. I stared blankly. “Lady Augusta Christine,” she said. I continued to stare blankly. “The famous noblewoman and writer,” Lady Prissy said. “Murder mysteries.” “Oh,” I said. It wasn’t as if I read. “Oh indeed,” Lady Prissy sighed. “She made an explosive debut,” a small secretive smile, “With Death on the Irongate. It really blew up most of the reading circles in Elendel.” I gathered that the story had something to do with an anarchist and a merchant House and a bomb. “What happened to her?” I asked. “Strangled,” Lady Prissy said, and sighed. “At least it wasn’t another flour-trap.” I winced. I ain’t the biggest fan of Lord Heron, but—Holy First Witness, it was an awful way to go. I never wanted to see another cooked corpse again. ‘Course, I should’ve known, Lady Christine’s death was the least of my problems. Making things worse, someone’d found the Pathian, face down in a corridor, a knife through his ribs. Ain’t the best place to be stabbing a man, but he was dead enough, anyway. Then of course everyone got all riled up again. ‘Till now, death’d come in the rooms. Now, it seemed to lurk everywhere in Lord Tal’s house. Some of ‘em were minded to just leave. Lady Prissy called for calm. Told ‘em about Phelan, which made ‘em all the more nervous. Told ‘em she ain’t trusting the killers not to run away, which didn’t please ‘em neither. Anyway. That ain’t my business, though. I laid the Pathian to rest in the coldroom and closed those staring eyes. I ain’t a follower of Harmony, but Survivor watch us all. Survivor see to it that his killer’s found. Harmony ain’t done him a lick of good now, has he? Lady Augusta Christine was lynched! She was a Guest! Further investigation showed she was in possession of a silver letter-opener labelled CUDDLES, a half-empty bottle of Estvaril whiskey, and a carved ancient thwacking stick with an 'A' worked into the knob. Beral the Pathian was killed! He was a Guest! Further investigation showed he was in possession of an ornamental wood carving depicting the Catacendre, a pamphlet explaining Pathian philosophy, and a small battered leather message tube! (Single-use.) Lord Aiden Ostlin was killed by the inactivity filter! He was a Guest! Further investigation showed he was in possession of a bottle of wine - an Ostlin special! (Single-use.) The state of the votes are as follows: Gears (3): TJ Shade, StrikerEZ, Devotary of Spontaneity Devotary of Spontaneity (3): Gears, Mist, DrakeMarshall Eternum (1): MysticLotus StrikerEZ (1): Lahilt The cycle has begun and will end at 2200hrs, (GMT+8) on 14th July. The next cycle will begin at 2300hrs (GMT+8) on that same day. Please hang in there for room PMs and personal PMs results. This will take a while [=potentially another hour] as I have had less buffer time this cycle thanks to how close the votes were and the potential for last minute changes.

I would say Ryan is a Willshaper. Willspahers are all about exploration and freedom. Rysn loves to travel, fitting in with exploration. As for freedom, Rysn finds the safehand a “silly tradition.” Freedom to wear whatever you want is a Willshaper attribute, as well as freeing those who are captive. Rysn herself is somewhat captive in the Thaylen Gemstone Reserve. https://wob.coppermind.net/events/424-the-ten-orders-of-knights-radiant/#e13779

Good question, I understand your concerns! Maybe I relied a bit too much on that WoB. I do think that Ishar is the most "special" of the Heralds. As is mentioned in Oathbringer, he was the one who came up with the Oathpact and called the "Binder of Gods". Conversely, you could say that Taln is more special because he never broke and because he was the only "commoner" (if that's the right term. He wasn't royalty). Nale and Shalash both believe that Ishar hasn't gone mad, although WoB suggests otherwise. I thought the other Heralds may have thought he was more sane because he didn't have the focused attention of one of the Unmade. Another reason I thought Ishar was unique was because I of the theory I tied in about the Unmade being formed from the Heralds. To be clear, I don't believe that they had to have broken under the torture for fragments of their soul to be twisted. Ishar's power is all about binding things together, including souls, so if any of the Heralds were able to keep pieces of their soul from being torn away and remade into the Unmade, it would be Ishar. Combined with that WoB about the Bondsmiths not having a corresponding Unmade, this pointed me towards him. Lastly, I thought that Taln being bound to an Unmade tied together really well with the fact that Chemoarish is a complete unknown. I found it an elegant solution to the lack of information we have on Chemoarish. If Taln were exempt from having an Unmade, then there would be nine Unmade on Roshar during the Era of Solitude and there must be some other reason that we don't see Chemoarish.

One can also point to Bridge 4 being the worse because of the "4 Is Death" trope. Basically, in Japanese, how you say 4 is similar to how you say death, so 4 is seen as bad luck over there, and it's a fairly common trope to make something with the number 4 be very deadly.

I kinda hope that Gavinor is taken care of by Bridge Four. Now that I think about I kinda just want a Bridge Four sitcom.

Today is my 3 year Shardiversary. I can’t believe I’ve been on this site for 3 years! Honestly, every moment on the Shard has been amazing. You are all incredible, incredible people, and I just want to say thanks for always being so kind and awesome! (And if you don’t think I’m talking to you, whoever is reading this, I AM because everyone here really is amazing!) I know I haven’t been on here as much recently (and I don’t know when/if that’s going to change), but I always feel welcome whenever I visit, so THANK YOU! This site really is an awesome place, in a big part because of the awesome people here. Whoever took the time to read that, thank you! Have an amazing day, love you all! <3

When a joke in a joke book goes something like, "How do you make sure two sticks catch on fire?" (with the answer being "make sure one is a match") and you can't stop cackling over the thought TELL THEM TO BECOME FIRE.

Wow, I just read this most excellent report: and learned a major new fact, namely: This really changes my perception of Venli - she is so young! Also, I thought that the singers were longer-lived than humans, but it looks like they are the opposite. This explains the lack of children in Eshonai's chapters - the Listeners must have largely stopped breeding during the war. We still saw a few mate forms, so there ought to be some kids, but not the tens of thousands that should have been expected otherwise. Hopefully, the kids are with Thude's group of refusniks.

For those who didn't hear, RoW will be 460K words. OB was 454K.

This is a really cool idea! One possible implementation would be to have the orders other than bondsmiths grouped into triads based on self similarity, and when you first begin the game you are asked a couple of questions that sort you into the appropriate triad. Then you could have 3 game start scenarios based on the triad you're in. The Truthwatchers, Lightweavers, and Elsecallers could be a triad (based on their shared pursuit of scholarship/learning) and their start point could be the Palaneum in Kharbranth. The storyline could have multiple choice nodes that further would sort you into the appropriate order. If you're a male character you could be at the Palaneum to study to become a Storm warden, if your character is female you could be trying to become a ward, etc. The Dustbringers, Skybreakers and Windrunners could be another triad (based on their shared aptitude for fighting) and their shared storyline could start out as a Spearman in one of the High Prince's army at the shattered plains, or as caravan guards for merchant convoys in civil war torn Jah Keved, etc. The Willshapers, Edgedancers, and Stomewards could be another triad ( because they all could start out from humble beginnings) and their storyline could start out in a small village with the freedom to choose what they want to do. Talking to people in the village you would find out about the abandoned singer ruins outside of town, the very sick old woman fom outside the village staying at the inn, and that a brighlord is recruiting for soldiers to go to the shattered plains, etc. Probably would be best if there was more gradation between the choices, but it would also be nice to have an intuitive sense of what role you are heading towards as you make choices in the game. This could potentially be so epically cool, if as you are staring on the path of Radiance one of the seeming background spren starts following you around more and more the closer to achieving the first ideal you get.

1) I am very mad that 3 of my reads were proven wrong all in a single day 2) I am very confused that the elims killed Devotary, who had a 50/50 chance of being lynched. The elims very nearly threw away their kill, which at this point in the game would kinda make a big difference. Whoever put in the order to kill Devotary can't have been online at the end of last cycle, and assuming they told their elim buddies what they were planning the rest of the elim team probably shouldn't have allowed Devotary to be tied for the lynch. I kind of don't think any of the elim team could have been online at the end of the last cycle, which is really useful information to solve this. It also explains a lot of why we've been struggling to find the elims, if a lot of them haven't been very active. 3) I am very pleased to report that I found an elim, since we kind of need a correct lynch today. Two cycles ago I dug up a rusted over metalmind in the Gardens that functioned as a single-use scanning item, and last cycle I used it and discovered that Xinoehp512 is an elim. That said, I'd rather this didn't kill discussion, because we still have a long road ahead of us. I'll be working on an analysis of all of Xino's prior posts to see who they are connected with, and see where that takes me. That is all.