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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!! I JUST GOT ANOTHER JAZZ PIANO GIG AT THE LOCAL SOCIETY IN MY TOWN FOR A CHRISTMAS PARTY LAST YEAR I DID IT THERE WAS A SENATOR THERE I'M SO EXCITED!!

Cycle Three: I Don't Think So In the break room of the spaceport, Nodice’d started a sabacc game. Rustled a battered deck of cards from his coat pocket (his lucky deck, if you asked him, though it was questionable how lucky it was given how patched Nodice’s coat really was, and the fact he’d been sleeping rough at the Drunk Side.) “Stakes?” asked Dacken Humtumb, as Nodice dealt the cards. “You in, Smarts?” The technician shook his head. “You play,” he muttered. “I have a comms array to fix.” He retreated back to the comms room to work on the array, as Tantyck joined the game. Figured that man’d find his way to the spaceport somehow, Smarts thought, disgruntled. But at least the prospect of a sabacc game seemed to have taken some of the wariness out of Tantyck’s gaze. Turtle’d said no to the game, backed away to begin repairs to a fuel port. Which left mostly just the three of them playing, along with Dash, another of Turtle’s colleagues. “Republic Senate rules,” Dash’d suggested, hopefully, but Nodice’d placed a credit in the pot, and somehow Dacken’d added a bunch of scrapped circuits, so now they were playing Corellian Spike rules for an eclectic array of scorched parts and credits. "So," Nodice asked, cautiously, after they’d settled into a rhythm of play, and were inspecting their cards. "What's been going on with comms? I've heard all sorts of things, half of which are too outlandish to believe." Dacken sighed gustily. "Something's thoroughly blundered and beefed up the spaceport central communications array. I don't mean just a little short-circuit either, I mean it's properly slagged. Practically melted. Here, take a look," he held up a half-burned circuitboard. "I salvaged this from what was left of the comms, which is very different from stealing, because I'm reasonably sure nobody wanted it." Dash snorted. “Tell that to the ‘port head, man,” he flicked a few credits, signalling his intention to raise the bet. “Truth to be told, we’ve had better days. Now the old Commerce Guild offices are shuttered, and we get spare parts maybe every five cycles or so, when someone from the Spacer’s Guild makes a supply run here. Nothing goes to waste in Dreshdae, if you can believe it, and I do mean nothing.” Tantyck raised, confidently. “As I see it, only two truths matter: one, that these cultists hold ill intent towards this town; and two, they don't want—or don't need—to be subtle about it. My first bet would be on a gang swooper, of course, but not even they would choose to damage this establishment. Of course, that leaves just about everyone else here.” “Really?” Dash asked, eyebrow raised. “‘Cause the way I see it, nobody in Dreshdae since the dust remembers wants to make trouble. It’s the offworlders that do, and we’ve gotten a whole bunch of them in the last couple of months.” “Believe me,” Tantyck said, levelly. “It’s the ones you don’t keep an eye on that are real trouble.” Dacken rattled the dice in his clenched fists. “Yes, well, if you ask me, which you of course absolutely did, it wasn’t the gizka. It would never be the gizka, bless their little hearts.” “They get everywhere,” Dash grumbled. “Yeah, but that’s because they do need a safe place to nest,” Dacken said. “Besides, it was totally slagged, and gizka don’t wield welding torches.” Dash had to concede that. “A thought occurs: a place such as this one usually has security footage, right? I've no doubt the likes of this world's security systems are primitive and rundown to my cosmopolitan eyes, yes, perhaps, but... Has anyone thought to check?” Dash rolled his eyes. “Who do you think checked?” he wanted to know. “Utterly fried,” he muttered, disgusted. “We couldn’t even so much as get useful footage from it. Last back-ups were from last month, and we know the comms were working before that. I flipped Turtle for it, and he lost, so he gets to tell the head what happened. Unlucky bastard.” “You fancy yourself lucky then, Dash?” Nodice drawled. “Lucky enough for this,” Dash smirked, and then Dacken let fall the dice. The symbols matched. “Guess it’s time for a new hand,” Dacken said, with an enigmatic smile. Which was the point that a fairly large creature, and one far larger than a gizka crammed itself through the doors of the break room. Dash was the first to see her; he blanched and let his hand fall. Cards sprayed across the surface of the battered break room table. “Terentatek!” he blurted out. “Fierfek, that’s a kriffing terentatek!” Dacken spun about and gawked. “What a lovely beastie,” he murmured, gazing at the mass of spikes and claws. Tantyck yanked Dacken backwards. “I think this is the time we start running,” he said, calmly, assessing the bristling creature and deciding that she looked perfectly lethal and Tantyck, if anything, was a survivor. “I don’t think that did for our comms, though.” “Yeah, no,” Nodice managed, tersely, attempting to scoop up his credits. “Leave it!” Dash barked. “I’ll buy you a kriffing deck later, man, we have to go!” “This is my lucky deck,” Nodice protested. “Took it with me when we made the Kessel Run, I’m not leaving it behind!” He lunged for his deck. That moment met the onrushing claws of the terentatek. “AAAARGGHHHHHHH!” Nodice cried out as the terentatek’s claw swipe tore his chest cavity open. Blood spurted out onto the floor of the break room; Dacken stared at it, at the terentatek. The sort of thing you read about in tourist manuals about Korriban. Long extinct, bred to hunt Jedi by the ancient Sith. Some books said they weren’t extinct, merely slumbering, until a time the Darkness crept back into the galaxy. Was this the time? Was this it? She didn’t mean harm, he was certain. Or maybe she did. He didn’t know for sure. Dash’d had enough. He dragged other two out the back door of the break room, shouldering it open by brute force. Tantyck, at least, wasn’t resisting, but Dacken seemed to have no real sense of self-preservation. “C’mon! There’s nothing we can do for him now. Someone’s got to raise the alarm, there’s a kriffing terentatek in the ‘port!” Kalabel studied her handiwork. The door to the Drunk Side at least closed now, which was an improvement over however it’d gotten jammed, even if it slid shut with an unsatisfying whoCK rather than the satisfying whoosh that had been before. “Thank you,” Sajhe was saying, as he handed her a credstick. “That’d set my mind at ease, at least, in these times.” Generous enough, and she thanked him as she pocketed it. She thought he knew what he was talking about. People getting all worked up about some sort of Sith cult in Dreshdae. She figured she’d seen everything, but that was new. Maybe not as new as that red triangle thing she’d found, buried in the dust the other day. Part of her wanted to just go back home. It was like a puzzle-box, she figured. She hadn’t yet worked out how to open it. Thought she heard some sort of quiet whispering, but maybe she was just tired. Sometimes, she felt like Old Galtaran was taking her for granted. Sure, he’d taken her in, said she showed real potential. Sometimes, she thought he was just glad of the extra pair of hands. Sometimes, she thought to run. That was Seth’s sort of talk, dreaming of the dust of a thousand worlds beneath her feet. There was a whole wide galaxy out there, and sometimes, Kalabel felt like she was rotting away on Dreshdae, forgotten as she played apprentice to Galtaran’s technician. Look where that’d gotten Seth though, sucking dirt after he ran his mouth off and someone shot him. Kalabel shrugged, uneasily. She didn’t like the direction of her thoughts right now, so she thought about the red triangle thing again. “Hey,” said Sajhe. “You alright?” She blinked, dragged out of her thoughts, and nodded. Over at the bar, a bunch of regulars were arguing again. Since people’d figured there were Sith in Dreshdae, or Sith cultists, everyone was jumpy. Sajhe’d banned blasters from his cantina, but that didn’t stop people from being on edge. Kalabel didn’t like that, it made her nervous. (“You kill me, and you’ll all be sorry,” Shil-Ou-Te’d said, mutinously. “Oh yeah? You some kind of Jedi waiting to help us with those Sith?” “Try me,” Shil-Ou-Te retorted.) “You sure?” She packed away her multi-tool and nodded, but a thought caught in her mind. “Those…cultists everyone talks about. Kos was saying. They’re looking for Jedi, right?” Sajhe nodded, solemnly. (“That’s ridiculous,” Kos snapped. “Next thing you know, young Saj’ there’s some kind of Jedi too.”) “Why’re they hiding?” Kalabel wanted to know. “Why don’t they just reveal themselves and confront the Sith?” And sure, maybe Saj’ was just a bartender, but he’d always had stories about what he called the Wars, capitals included, that seemed to belong to times far darker than what old Barles talked about. “Ah,” said Sajhe. “Well, between you and I, there’s a secret. Maybe it’s better that way. It’s the old sorrow, the old schism.” His gaze seemed to go distant. (“Ain’t right, those eyes,” one of the mercs at the spaceport’d said, ages ago. Kalabel’d been running errands for Galtaran then, and she’d heard him, all clad in his Mandalorian battle armour. “You think he’s young. But he’s got eyes like those who survived the Clone Wars.” “Don’t be foolish, Skirata.” “It jumps out at you sometimes, vod. There’s a world of pain in them. Suffering enough for an entire world.”) “See, there were those who chose mastery. Those who chose to shape the world, exert their desires on it.” She deserved better, thought Kalabel. She did. “And there were those who looked at the world, and thought it was beautiful, in all its misery and pain. And thought that to walk the path of desire, well, that was a chasing at the wind.” “And?” She wasn’t sure where that obtuse talk was leading. “And that the answer wasn’t to want,” said Sajhe. “The answer was to look at the universe, in all its misery, and all its darkness, and all its cravenness and suffering. And in doing so, to meet it with love. And maybe there are some who remember when the Jedi were best off not coming in glory as heroes or saviours. And maybe sometimes we don’t need Jedi, just the desire to love the broken places, to make things a little better. A little more tolerable.” He passed her a bowl of steaming stew. She wasn’t sure what was on the menu tonight. “Eat. You look hungry. Galtaran working you to the bone again?” “Saj’...” she hesitated. Didn’t know why it was so important for her to ask. “Is the Dark stronger, do you think?” “‘Course it is,” said Sajhe, and she understood what the mercs’d meant about those troubled, troubled dark eyes. “The Dark is always stronger. Even stars burn out.” Maybe that was why the Jedi didn’t fight. Why they hid. Turtle was working on maintenance in the fuel line. There weren’t ships in the spaceport now, but the fuel lines had to be maintained all the same, and the last time this one’d seen service was probably millennia ago, during the Jedi Civil War. He grunted as he twisted with his hydrospanner, and the recalcitrant screw finally creaked out. “That’ll teach you, you piece of scrap.” The lights flickered. Turtle swallowed. He was used to working alone, used to pretty much everything in the spaceport falling apart, no matter how much he and Dash worked on it, but something was giving him an overwhelmingly bad feeling about this. The lights flickered again. They went out. Then, for a moment, Turtle thought the emergency lights cut on, because everything was washed in red, but there was a loud snap-hiss and a vibrating hum that he didn’t recognise, and oh, Sithspit, he knew what it was, a hooded figure looming in front of him. He threw his hydrospanner, without thinking. The hooded figure held out a gloved hand and the hydrospanner stopped, abruptly. Swept out the fist to the side. He heard the shriek of crumpling metal, the clang! of the hydrospanner bouncing off some other panel in the fuel line. He was dead. This was it. “Please,” Turtle begged, even though he knew it was useless. Sith were the sorts of things you told new workers at the ‘port about, things to laugh at, and sometimes, things that kept you awake at night. For a moment, Turtle’s life flashed before his eyes, as the crimson lightsaber came down, leaving afterimages across his vision— “I don’t think so,” said a calm, amused voice. Turtle blinked. That wasn’t an afterimage. That was a deep purple lightsaber, the burning bright slash across his vision. Golden sparks showered where the blades met, cascading down on Turtle’s protective suit, but all things considered, Turtle thought that vivid electric-purple blade the exact hue of the bruised shadows of a Hurrikaine nightfall might’ve been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire kriffing life. And it was the one thing standing between him and the Dark Jedi out to kill him. “Jedi,” hissed the hooded and masked attacker, hatred in his voice. Scarlet lightning coruscated along the length of his lightsaber, but nothing seemed to cause Turtle’s defender to falter. “Run along now,” Turtle’s defender said, quietly. Hooded as well, so Turtle couldn’t make out his features. “This one is not your prey, this day.” He parried a sideways cut with contemptuous ease. “There are always more of us, Reborn. Think on that, would you?” With a final, frustrated snarl, the Reborn let out a blue burst of lightning. Turtle squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding flare, reflexively. When he opened his eyes, the room was empty—his defender had switched off his lightsaber and was walking away. “Wait, who are you?” Turtle yelled, after him. “A Jedi,” came the reply, as the figure vanished into the shadows from which he had come. “What else would I be? Do try to stay alive this time, would you?” Crumpled to the floor, Turtle just enjoyed being alive. He took a deep breath, and let it out again, aware of the sense of undeserved grace, that something greater than himself was watching over him, had favoured him this day. “Stang,” Turtle whispered. “Stang it, I’m alive!” He laughed, even though it was shaky. “Take that, cultists! I’m alive!” “I’m telling you,” muttered Hamartano, mulishly. “These sectoral patrols are a mistake. We want to put a BLASTER BOLT right through those Sith wannabes, eh? Solve the problem right there.” The engine on his swoop bike hummed reassuringly. Hamartano wanted to gun it, but Barles and Vash were watching, and the last thing Hamartano wanted was another boring lecture. Sure, they’d fought in a couple of wars, and Vash saw off wild tuk’ata packs each season on her farm, but you’d figure that Dicaeo did the same, and Dicaeo was about as dead as a Triton moon, eh? Didn’t know how to have a bit of fun, and Hamartano’d no doubt if you sat Dicaeo on a swoop and gunned it, the guy’d scream and faint dead away. And wasn’t that the best feeling, the acceleration thrill kicking in when you pointed your swoop right towards the Xelric Draw and gunned it, waiting for the boost to kick in when you hopped the gap, knowing if you screwed up, it was just you on the desert floor, awaiting death. There was something powerful about it, something primal, knowing everything on Korriban wanted you dead, knowing every day you walked was a day you spat in the eye of the world and smiled and walked on with that cocky swagger. Everything killed on Korriban. Sith stuff, they said. Hamartano figured they were dead stuff, mostly. Targets. Put a blaster through it, anything died. “Impatient Statement: The mouthy meatbag is correct,” said the rustbucket, and Hamartano was really beginning to wonder why they’d even brought it along. They were kicking rocks, they didn’t need another rustbucket, much less to get it on a swoop. “There are no threats in this area. There are far better problems to kill with my time. Such as gizka.” “No,” Barles said, for the tenth time. Hamartano was beginning to agree with the rustbucket. At least they’d just one last corner of the sector to cover, before the old man would let them get back to actually doing things, rather than just checking emitters they knew were working anyway. “Listen, sonny. You want to do something, you’ve got to do it right. Impatience, cutting corners…you’re young, you want it all done now. And you, droid. The only reason you’re here is Saj’ vouched for you, got it?” “Resentful Utterance: Yes, Aged Meatbag. But I do not have to like it.” It was Vash who spotted the first signs of trouble, and that cut all thoughts of protest clean out of Hamartano’s head. Being a homesteader on Korriban was risky. The settlement, at least, was protected by a ring of sonic emitters, which let out waves of sound outside of the range of most near-human species, meant to keep the shyrack and the tuk’ata at bay. This made Dreshdae somewhat safer, though the emitters had to be checked and maintained regularly. It was technology used on rough worlds, like in the shadowlands of Kashyyyk. Barles’d insisted on checking the emitters. Hamartano thought the man was high on spice. But the comms sabotage’d unsettled him. And maybe Barles knew a bit of what he was doing, because there was a pack of wild tuk’ata savaging a body at the last emitter. Hamartano took one look at them, and winced as the tuk’ata turned from their latest chewtoy. One of them looked over at them and howled. “Sithspit,” Vash cursed. “Go, go, go!” Now they gunned the swoops, even with the rustbucket protesting. There was the whine of blaster fire as that thing fired anyway, despite the fact they were retreating. Maybe some of them hit, Hamartano didn’t know. He wasn’t a fool, and the fact that the sonic emitters had been sabotaged didn’t bode well. It meant that Dreshdae was now open to attack from tuk’ata and shyrack. Ventyl / Ibonek naw-Ibo was discovered on the boundaries of Dreshdae, torn apart by wild tuk'ata! (Stay active, folks!) He was a Settler! Xino / Nodice was executed! He was an unlucky Settler! Turtle / Turtle was attacked and survived! The cycle has begun and will end on Saturday, 3rd December 2022 at 0100hrs SGT (GMT+8)! Please be reminded that PMs are closed.

Vivi stood on the pavement across the manor and watched as the first people entered it as soon as the doors had been opened. Recalling her mother's words, to look nice and clean in order to make a good first impression. She looked down at her cloths and brushed her hands over them in an attempt to remove a couple of crinkles. And she had gotten a new spot on them, too. With a sigh she rubbed at it, but it stayed where it was. A pity, she had only washed them yesterday as preparation for her first steps into the manor. She had doubts that they would agree to have a child work for them, the fact that she didn't have a home wouldn't exactly speak in her favor. If only she knew where to go. For the thousands time she pulled out the small device and tried to reach them. Nothing. Gritting her teeth she lifted her head, combed her hair with her fingers and straightened her back to appear a bit taller. Then she strode across the street, her steps firm and self-confident. She walked through the door and paused, looked at the room in front of her. So this was, what a manor looked like. Vivi turned her head to get a good look first at the walls and then the ceiling, before she realized that she was standing in the middle of the doorway like an idiot. Hastily she stepped fully inside and quickly joined the other three she had observed. This wss it. Her first official job. There were supposed to be interviews and maybe a test and she had to make the best impression of all of them. Some money would be nice for a change. "Hello." She greeted them. "My name is Vivi." Giving her nickname out of habit. "Vivacia, I mean. It's a pleasure to meet you." Hopefully she hadn't messed up already. Vivi tried to remember anything about how to behave in such a situation and failed. Oh well, these lessons had been boring. It wasn't her fault that staying away had been so much more fun. And her parents had rarely spoken about work. She would improvise, be polite and hope for the best. This was as good a starting point for her career as any other job. And so she smiled brightly at the room and hoped that at least one person would reply and greet her in return.

Did you- Did you just- Bro it's fine I got this I swear .__. Ilu too .__.

I think the one we see onscreen is a fake. Kelsier had them swapped and he just happens to have one of the best forgers alive on staff.

I HAVE IT @Ookla the Unknowing LET ME BORROW HIS COPY OF TLM I HAVE IT I CAN READ IT

So Got my first kiss today And i think I'm asexual cause it was the grossest thing i have ever done And it's not like they were bad at it. They are good cause they've had experience But for me it was repulsive

Does everyone here tend to feel useless and unwanted? And then sad and lonely for reasons you understand but can't quite grasp or solidify? Also, sorry, I wanted to make this poetic and sad like I would normally do since it's an idea I like, but I think bluntness here might better convey the tone I'm going for. We'll see.

major TLM spoilers:

Everyone tell Kas to go to sleep, and also show your appreciation for him.

Ok hi I'm back this cycle's over thank you no more Thank you @Wyrmhero your pinch-hitting GM services not needed thank the gods this has been a Night I am ready to deliver rollover.

An update into my reading of the Wheel of Time series. I am about 100 pages into Eye of the World, and so far, I feel like I'm following it pretty well. Spoilers below in case someone stumbles upon this and hasn't read it yet: So far, I'm diggin it.

LG91 Day 4: Destination Death stalked through the packed dirty streets of Earthen Truth. On this night, Kvaseth shadowed him. He squeezed past clusters of Shin, the faded brown of his hooded cloak bringing about little comment. Near the vineyards and mountain slopes, it would have. But Earthen Truth was meant to be a trap for the Tukari and warriors, those who subtracted were all over the city. In Earthen Truth, Kvaseth was just another killer among others. "What are you doing?" the spren asked, flitting about his shoulder. "Shhh," he murmured, absently. "I'm following him." "Why?" "Because I think he's Tukari," Kvaseth said. "Are the Tukari bad?" she asked. An odd question for a windspren, Kvaseth thought. But he supposed it was odd enough that this windspren seemed to have taken an interest in him. "Maybe," he said, after a long moment's pause. "They desecrate the stone. But this one. He kills others for the Blades of the Heralds. So yes, he is bad." He hesitated. "And I'm trying to stop him before he kills more people." Saying it aloud, it felt more weighty. Like his stone. Like an oath. "Good," the windspren said. He looked at her. "It's important. Feels important." "Yeah," said Kvaseth. "It is." - The Tukari, if he was Tukari, for Kvaseth had his doubts, no matter how diligently he studied the patterns of Earthen Truth, paused outside an all-too-familiar window. A light glowed through the window, and Kvaseth swore quietly to himself. The killer he was hunting wasn't going after a bearer of an Honorblade tonight. He was aiming to strike at the High Council themselves. He yelled and charged, sword hissing free of the scabbard in a lunge. No more killing. No more subtracting. No more, save for this one. He had already sold his soul as collateral, years ago, after all. Startled, the killer spun about, and Kvaseth's sword slashed out in a bright arc, cleaving through his calf. Blood spurted out. A bright red, one that never ceased to startle Kvaseth. He thought he'd never get used to it. Kvaseth returned to Windstance, grimly satisfied. He'd hit something vital, at least. "You," snarled the killer. "What?" said a voice Kvaseth knew only too well. Oh, the great storming blithering fool. The killer seemed to gather his strength for a lunge. Kvaseth charged to stop him, shoving him aside. He felt a sharp, deep pain in his stomach. Oh. He'd miscalculated. Not a sword. Knives. The killer stabbed him, again and again. Kvaseth did what you almost never did: he dropped his sword. It wasn't going to help in a knife fight. He scrabbled for advantage, slamming his fist into the killer's elbow again and again until the knife dropped from the killer's fingers. He was bleeding out, Kvaseth remembered. His stomach was on fire. It was a matter of time. He just had to hold on. Hell of a way to go, Kvaseth figured. He never thought he'd end up saving Vartan's life, but you never chose who you were protecting. Esaan would've understood, he thought. He found himself smiling, even through the pain, as he struggled to hold the killer down until the Tukari hireling grew limp. And then, only then, Kvaseth let go, allowed himself to roll off and just lie on the packed dirt. The light of the windspren winked, somewhere overhead. He wished he could figure out why she looked so worried. So terrified. "Tukari assassin," Kvaseth gasped, as Vartan's thunderous face swam into view. "I know that," Vartan snapped. "What did you think you were doing?" "Saving you," Kvaseth managed. So tired. The world swam at the edges. "Keeping you alive. Doing what Esaan told me to do. Making it right." "Subtracting never did," Vartan scowled. "I never understood you. You were one who adds. And you threw all of that away to pick up a sword, to subtract of all the damned things you could do!" He grabbed Kvaseth by the shoulders, shaking him. It hurt. It hurt so much, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to protest. "I never understood what Esaan saw in you. She always insisted that there was something more, something great. She was a great fool." "Once," Kvaseth whispered, "Nurturing the land, bringing forth life...Once I believed as you did. The words of the shamans were to me as breath and water. But when the raiders came, and no one did anything...how could I continue to believe? When the choice was between fire and the death of everything that mattered and the sword...If a man's philosophy does not let him protect his people, his home, and his family...what good can it do for the world?" "It is not your place to question the shamans," Vartan said. There was the spren again. Kvaseth thought he had seen her, so many times, on his late night walks through Earthern Truth. Funny little spren. The memories were slipping back, memories of blood. Kneeling in the burning fields, cradling his little ones in his arms, blood all over his hands. He had picked up the sword and damned himself and it hadn't even mattered. The raiders had gotten there first. Killed them all. All his little ones. Even Inis. She had died trying to protect them. He had been...he had been... Too late. Despair rose inside him, so thick he could choke on it, like the stench of soot and ash and smoke in his lungs, like the sharp copper scent of spilled blood, the iron tang of the scythe he'd snatched up and used to kill two of the raiders. "So pick something else," the spren said. Her shape winked, uncertainly. A flare of pale light in the darkness. "You can do that, right? Choose to protect. Pick a better set of beliefs." It was so close he could almost reach out and put his hand on it. "The Words," she urged him. "Say them. Believe them. Start again, Kvaseth. Choose better this time." He smiled. A funny idea, that. Starting again. Choosing better. As though he could undo it all. He would have given anything, anything at all to be running through the fields again, to hear them laughing, to gather them up in his arms again. "It isn't possible," Vartan said. "It isn't possible!" "Kvaseth," the spren called. Urgency. He didn't understand why. "You have to say the Words!" "Life..." Kvaseth whispered. "...Before...death." He was walking along a path of packed dirt, along a familiar little crooked road. "It is a lie," Vartan growled. "They are gone! They are gone for good!" "Say them all," urged the spren. "Strength," Kvaseth managed. He needed strength. He reached out and grasped the wooden bars of the gate, undid the latch, and let himself through. And beyond, sprawling as far as the eye could see, were rich fields of golden grain, ripening. He brushed his hand through the stalks and laughed. "...Before weakness." He walked through the fields, first. And then slowly, he broke into a jog, and then a run. Funny that he no longer hurt. The weight of the sword was the first to go. And then the stone. The stone he had carried for so long, a stone to match the one in his heart, the deaths he had carried with him. Laughter. He heard them laughing. His children, his wife, calling to him. "Journey," Kvaseth whispered. But his journey had come to an end. He had found his destination. He had come home, at long last. The last wisps of light faded away as his eyes closed for the last time. Kvaseth died smiling. Kasimir was killed! They were a member of the Shin High Council! He also wrote this Death RP! A Highstorm arrived! Everyone carrying an Honorblade gained 2 Stormlight. (If I didn't already get it to you, let me know.) The turn will end on Thursday, December 1st at 11:00 PM PST. Player List:

tbh I'm a lil' hyped for the Mario movie

Okay, I’m back. I didn’t get on yesterday, because of wanting to go crash on my bed and listen to U2, but oh well it’s fine none of the roleplays went anywhere I wanted to be. As any avid roleplayer will know, this happens when you’re not on for days at a time. It’s sad. But we would have it no other way! Onward, for the lands of all the interesting places call out unto us! Anyway, hi!

Welcome to Frustration's Firepower Index or the FFI, a collection of threads where I make a comprehensive analysis of every Cosmere worlds combat capabilities. This first thread wil be focused on Scadrial as it appears at the end of TLM. Shards: Harmony is mostly impotent, though he does have Kandra who can act as spies for Scadrial. 2/4.5 Dawnshards: Scadrial has no known Dawnshards. 0/1 Defenses: Scadrial has a rather standard set of defenses, other than that their Cognitive realm being largely composed of mists that no non-invested object can float on. Harmony's perpendicularity is in mountains further south than the roughs, placing them near Lost Doriath. It is hundreds of miles from the basin, and might make an amphibious invasion easier than a land invasion. Now it does render the Seran Range mostly useless as the gap is nearly 25 miles wide and an invading force wouldn't lose much time making for it, but it does place them starting at a much higher altitude. Additionally the Ghostbloods say that the perpendicularity is closely watched, though I'm not sure how much we can trust that as the Set got their jars of identity free investiture from somewhere off world, but it is something to keep in mind. Now the rivers will not prove to be much of a barrier as an invading force has no reason to cross them, Elendel is the economic, political, and industrial capital of the basin, while also holding half the population, any deviation from that goal would be foolish. The Malwish have several mountain ranges, and a few rivers, though it's unknown exactly how much of that land is inhabited. 3.5/5.5 Offenses: Scadrial has only a single perpendicularity, where the same mist Cognitive realm that defends them will also hold them in, preventing easy access to other worlds. They do not however have any geographical restrictions on their powers. -1/1 Natural advantages: Scadrial has average cosmere gravity making it easy for them to survive on most other worlds, however they also have the smallest population of any Major shardworld -1/2 Armed forces: There are 3 major groups, and two small ones of interest. They are: Elendel Basin, The Malwish, The Maskless, and The Ghostbloods. Elendel Basin has a standing army of ~10,000 and a misting population of 1 in 1000(BoM 190) with much rarer feruchemists and twinborn They have a single small airship, and perhaps a dozen allomantic grenades, and medallions. They also have a few harmonium+trellium bombs but they have no way to replace them. They have guns, machine guns, artillery, short range missiles, and a decent understanding of Hemalurgy. The Malwish have a lot of airships, medallions, allomantic grenades, and the Bands of Mourning. They also have a source of Harmonium, though they have less metalborn than Elendel, and will freeze to death in mildly cold weather without medallions. The Maskless exist. The Ghostbloods have several members with off world investiture, but not many. They do however have knowledge of most cosmere worlds, and Electrolysis for aluminum. Koloss. Koloss have a few thousand members and have the knowledge of how to make more from existing spikes, though they don't know how to make more spikes. 7/12 Economics& technology: Elendel basin is well developed, with several companies, publicly traded stock, and eternally fertile fields meaning a stable food supply. They also have trains for quick transport within the basin, and canned food which will keep for long periods of time. They have radio and telegraphs. They also have cannons, short range missiles, and low range anti-aircraft weapons. 6/7.5 Logistics: On World: Scadrial has overseas shipping, trains, roads, cars, trucks, rivers, canals and airships. They also have industrial manufacturing, and canned food. 8/10 Off World: Scadrial's perpendicularity is far from any population centers, or transportation infastructure. The mountanous terrain, also means that airships or hicking is required to access it. Additionally the mists only allowing invested objects to float limits both the amount, and the frequency of their off world shippments. -4.5/3 Intelligence: Kandra can almost perfectly imitate all noninvested people, copperclouds can hide people from investiture detection. Tineyes and windwhisperers can listen in on conversations far way, and Connector ferrings and emotional allomancers, can influence others. 7/10.5 Counterintelligence: Bronze can detect investiture. 1/9 Allies: The ghostbloods may have some off world allies, and it is implied that they have a standing alliance with one of the Aethers, but for now I can't make a definitive call. 0/1. Notable invested abilities: aluminum allomantic grenades act as suppression and A-chromium can drain investiture, and Hemalurgy could steal any off world investiture they encounter. +3 Recommended strategies: Scadrial's strength is in speed, not power or numbers. The most effective strategy would be to attack before their opponent was ready. If Scadrial is to improve it's various factions will have to unite as alone they are all rather weak. Overall ranking: 31/67 As always did I miss anything? What did you think of the rankings? And what should I work on next?

When you have to look up a common internet abbreviation because it's just a jumble of letters to your eyes...

ay-DOH-lin Also I have a girl in my class named Avalyn(think that's how you spell it). The teacher said her name. I heard Adolin. I need help.

There weren’t many people that had shown up thus far. There were only three, including Perses, when another person walked in. This person was different from the rest. For one, they were much lighter and shorter than the others. They also smelled much poorer. “hello. My name is Vivi--Vivacia, I mean. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” They sounded like a child. They had the height of a child. They had the rough weight and strength of a child. Given what city this is and that this meeting is presumably on the more violent side, that meant that they were definitely not a child. ”Hello. My name is Perses,” Perses said. Was this the type of thing where he should wave, shake hands, or do nothing? Perses made motions that indicated that he was planning on doing all three.

So, question. Based on what I've seen in the VS threads, is this going to just be known current capabilities which have been demonstrated in-story, or if it's going to include speculation about what worlds can do in the future? And if so, is speculation going to be specifically marked as such? Sidenote, probably useful to add that they're currently one of two factions that have firearms, including machine guns, which allow them to defeat basically any non-invested army that doesn't use them, as well as access to modern-level logistics like railroads and canned food, and can use these without requiring regular investure supply. This is a pretty huge advantage compared to worlds that don't have access to this. The same can be seen when comparing Soulcaster-equiped armies on Roshar with those which don't have them, and the advantage Lifeless give on Nalthis. Being able to reliably support large armies and have flexible supply lines is a big deal, not to mention the benefit things like railroads give for things like mobilization. Your logistics are just as important in a war as weaponry, troop quality and strategy, and is often actually a big factor in the strategies countries employ in war.

@Kasimir we appreciate u very much, go to sleep @Ookla the Debonair hi why aren't u dead

THERE'S A READING OF ANOTHER KALADIN CHAPTER!!!!!! https://wob.coppermind.net/events/508/#e15921

These are all so pretty and they helped me a lot, thank you elf <3 *hugs hugs hugs* That sounds miserable, i'm so sorry i don't know how to help but i do know that a cup of tea and a really good sleep always helps me to collect myself when i'm dealing with hard things. I hope you find a good balance with your work and your health so don't feel overworked :( :(

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THE BEST SHARDBUDDY EVER!!!!!!!!!!! May you have a wonderful day and may hot Tom Riddle himself materialize out if thin air and like idk wish you a happy birthday im sorry this is really weird i was trying to think of a unique birthday greeting this is not working HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

>:D (Don't mind the flower in the corner. That's just part of the sketchbook) In this one, I was just mucking around with the style of dress and hair flow. Not really a good sketch... Just a practice! Have a wonderful day, Humans!

Perses heard a door open to his left. To him, this sure seemed to be the spot. He’d heard this was a good place to get a job, especially something more his style. There seemed to be a few people around, given by the rustle and clacking of feet, as well as what could be the roll of a cart. He’d kept his senses on low, as he’d been waiting here for a few minutes already, and wasn’t even sure if this was even the right place. Perses dialed his senses up. Clarity returned to him, including the welcoming feel of other people moving around him. Man, was he glad he acquired lifesense. There were evidently quite a few people around, but few of them had responded to the invitation to enter the manor. Yet, there was still a good few that noticed and began making motions to head in. One of which, interestingly enough, was moving in on a wheelchair. This has got to be the place. Perses got up from his awkward lean on the side of the manor and began strutting towards the door, making sure to let someone else enter first. Too many times had he guessed the height or width of a door and been embarrassingly off. Luckily, this was a nice and wide door, as the woman in the wheelchair quite easily got in. Perses followed behind, taking in the smell of the manor and the people within, making sure to thank the door opener.

I realized that I've been overworking myself yesterday when I started crying about speech stuff. And now my parents want me to email my speech coaches about the stuff I was crying about but if I'm being honest, I'm scared of my speech coaches. I went straight from crying to a show choir rehearsal. The result of which is my left knee is so bruised it hurts to walk. And the other knee is just sore from all the dancing. And then when I got home I found out that my grandfather has meningioma. They're figuring out what they're going to do about it today. Which for some reason made me start crying this morning. Even though I'm really not that worried about it. And I hate crying so that was a great way to start my day. Plus people have been accidentally triggering me all day. So I'm just kind of done with today.

One uh, party member got mad at a shop keeper laughing at them, so they cast fear, which has a wisdom saving check of 10...the shopkeeper rolled a one, peed his pants, ran into a wall and knocked himself unconcious. They then proceeded to try to find a way to rob him without getting caught.

So I've been thinking about the Alignment of Dawnshards to shards for a long time but I've never made a post about it, mainly because I've never been able to pin down one I've liked. However I recently decided to sit down and work through it. So one thing that bothered me about sorting Shards solely into groups of four is that Ruin and Odium both speak of Passion with great importance. https://wob.coppermind.net/events/171/#e8330 https://wob.coppermind.net/events/355/#e10447 But Ruin belongs quite clearly in the Change dawnshard, something Odium does not. So I propose that there is a second set of four ideas, I'm not sure whether to call them intents or flavors or whatever, but these when cross referenced with the Dawnshard Commands will give us a Table of the Shards like so, With Dawnshard Commands along the top, and the attributes along the side With the recent reveal of Virtuosity I think I can now fill out the table Change Unite Give Choose Natural Cultivation Honor Endowment Autonomy/Ambition? Passion Ruin Odium Mercy Valor Control Preservation Dominion Invention Ambition/Autonomy? Beauty Whimsy Devotion Virtuosity Appraisal? I feel this does a much better job of explaining the Shards and their Alignment with Dawnshards. Thoughts?

So this is my big Stormlight 5 theory I have been working on. I told a piece of it at Dragonsteel Con at the stormlight 5 theorizing panel. So I think Taravangian will chose Gavinor to be his champion. When Elhokhar's child was being held in the palace, he was tormented to allow cracks into his spirtweb so the forces of odium could manipulate him. Dalinar faced with murdering his nephew's son or losing the duel will not kill the child. This deathrattle refers to this. However, Dalinar will die as Gavinor stabs him and is revealed to be Gavilar's Cognitive Shadow. Gavilar did not die when he was assassinated. He became a Cognitive Shadow like Thaidakar. Dalinar will uphold his oath and serve Odium. Unfortunately Dalinar will by the end of Stormlight 5, become the shard Honor. As the Shard Honor, he Must keep his promises and so the Shard will work with Odium to bring War on the Cosmere. Gavilar and Dalinar will work together. The back 5 stormlight books will focus on 2 sets of 2 brothers. Marsh and kelsier vs. Dalinar and Gavilar. Scandrial vs. Roshar. Last thought, I believe that Nightblood, which is the Dawnshard Destroy, will be used in the final confrontation to destroy Sazed and Harmony.

Hopefully, there will be faithful movie adaptations of Brandon Sanderson's works in the future. I think that they would be live-action, but I would also love it if they were animated! I'm interested to hear your opinions on the matter, and what form of film (or tv show) you would like to see.

“The heck is a pony?”

Three year old children are quite fun to listen to sometimes...

I agree. In a cat and mouse situation as Windrunner you have really good mobility, and with sprenblades being so versatile, it would take a very skilled Mistborn to avoid everything, even with the amount of tools at their disposal. Also, don't forget the other lashings. No amount of pewter, bendalloy, or agility will help you if the Windrunner is launching large, non-metal objects at you. Even without Stormlight, the Mistborn has to be super careful and probably kill the Windrunner with coins or something because if you get in any sort of closer range combat with the Windrunner you're just going to die.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELF!

Why are modern copies of Mistborn Era 1 not using the Steel Alphabet fonts in older printings? My FE, WoA, and HoA all use the same version of the Steel Alphabet, when they should be using different ones. Why exactly is that? Anyone else having the same issue? And what copies (still-on-market) can I find that still do it correctly, if any? It just, really bothers me.

I straight up missed Twinsoul calling her by name. Makes my discovery less impressive.

Happy Birthday!

What was that you said? My hearing isn't too good in the "light gray" frequencies. Ah, whatever. I'm sure it wasn't important. Can I buy 17 orders of death sticks? ...Wait actually I only need 15 now that, er........never mind.

I assure you, my dear man, that I have no "minions". I could however... encourage some people to assist you, for a price of course

Awww thank you so much! I really appreciate your support! Anyways, another sketch! In celebration of the fourth episode of Telrao's adventures, y'all get to see a sketchie I did a week back. This is what Telrao looks like after Saol tells her to draw another hundred Aons. I had a reference for this one - but it was a different breed, so the head's not quite accurate. Soooo floofy! And there's a BEAN. I smile every time I look at this sketch - hope it makes you smile too! Have a wonderful day, Humans! >:3

Kalabel prodded at the door with a servo wrench. She was better at repairing things that had more things to test, more things that could go wrong over time. Droids tended to be like that. Broken motivator, try something, see if anything else breaks. If not, try it out. One of her first droid repairs had been that trial and error, trying to fix Bar9's projector. She did fix the projector, but then every access port had gotten itself stuck shut. A lot of rerouting power and adjustments later, Bar9 was back in shape. Just a trick of knowing what could be fixed and what could be worked around. A door, though. Doors either "work" or "don't work", and this one was firmly in the latter category. Whoever had busted in here and gotten anyone all fired up - although a few blaster shots later, some seemed to have blown of some exhaust and started a game of cards - had also done a number on the hardware. Durasteel did not like being bent, which meant it also did not like being bent back into place. So Kalabel's repair methods quickly devolved from investigating circuitry to repeatedly hitting a sheet of metal with a mallet, at least while Bar9 went to fetch more parts. An odd astromech, that one, though most older ones tended to be. Galtaran had made some modifications, but most of them involved accommodating a large table around its head. He mainly used it for drinks. Kalabel found it convenient for transporting and holding tools... and sometimes drinks. Durasteel sufficiently bent into shape, Kalabel tested the door one more time. The mechanism was supposed to make a satisfying whoosh. This door was more of a whoCHK as it caught on something else, but that was better than the initial nothing. And if her ears were right, there was less dust in the mechanism. Most things here were built to handle a bit of dust, but it never hurt to clean them off. You never know what interesting things you can find that are just covered in a simple layer of dust.

IMHO, it is entirely possible that a protagonist's arc may start with a serial killer hunt. which then morphs into an international thriller and culminates in "Men in Black" style shenangians with aliens and deities. With said MiB-likes having been founded by the heroes of the Era 2. Though I really hope that we have at least 5 more or less balanced PoVs in the Era 3 trilogy and at least one of them is Southern Scadrian. I can't wait to get a real feel for their societies, after the intriguing crumbs from BoM!

I wil join this choir. I also left the book feeling a bit underwhelmed somehow. I'm trying to put my hand on why specifically (read it full-immersion yesterday). As I digest the story, I'm writing down some plotpints that I feel played a part in how I feel about the book right now, I'm very curious to hear counter points to these: - Telsin did basically nothing after buing built up like kind of a mastermind and the Set wasn't very effective On the topic of the Set: so was it the Major was overseen launch tests? wasn't that Telsin's plan? didn't he prepare the welcome party for Autonomy instead? I'm confused. I think in general there was a disconnect between the feeling that the Set was this big hierarchal organization, and the uncovering the lid to see confused people with confused goals moving randomly. Not saying it's bad per se, it seems tied to Autonomy's MO, but I felt a disconnect. What felt like the villains of the book where the two copy-cats, which made little sense motivation-wise to me, but it might be a plot point on autonomy's "creed" left open for future books? - Autonomy, while exciting to finally see on screen, was silly. I guess it was acknoloedgled in story hat Autonomy doesn't make much sense, but really, you moved all of your troops to take advantage of the perpedicularity and take over a plan with a double-shard, and the whole plan gets screwed by some allomancers slurping up the perpedicularity? not a great plan. Also, can we now just assume perpedicularities are this easily closed? Points for letting autonomy's army stuck in a perpendicularity-powered slow bubble for god knows how long - the whole "breed an allomancer" community program was very cool and made sense, but I feel like it has no interactions with the main plot of the book besides misidirection with the apocalypse videos and being close, by "coincidence", to the perpedicularity, maybe this should have been in BoM. I think the best thing this plot point does is leading to Kelsier being unsure on how he feels about it and the end. - The whole Ghostbloods plot was super fun, but basically a secret history on its own winded together with the book's plot in my opinion. I think it doesn't work as well for book that's so fast paced and shuld be closing an era. - I don't feel like we saw on screen much of the resolution of the political tensions between cities, let alone the south, which was the major conflict left by the prev book and started by this one. I wonder if the book would have felt more complete if it was focused on Wax\Wayne and Steris storylines, leaving the Ghostbloods to a secret history type book where we find out how they stopped Autonomy having just hints in the main book, much like the first SH. This could given more space to Autonomy herself to be developped. - The ending seemed a bit contrived to me, couldn't they just sink the ship? that would have watered the three bombs at the same time if done correctly right? even if that's not the case, if wayne could basically stop time around him, couldn't he just like, do whatever he needed to and walk out? As a final thought, I liked the book don't get me wrong! but I guess I strongly agree with the title of this post, to me it felt more like a couple of indipendent novellas smashed together, which these books kinda are, but then again this is the ending for a 4-books series. I also think the slow build up of Sazed's 'corruption' is very well done and a good plot point set up for the next Era.

What a convention! I thoroughly enjoyed meeting folks form the Shard, both with names I recognize and those I didn't. I was also among the lucky ones able to ask a question at the spoiler Q&A. I asked Brandon if the Sleepless had a single planet of origin, and if so, had we seen that planet? His response to the first half was yes, and the second half was no. Shoutouts to @AonEne, @JesterLavorre, and @Borio Singaldi/Firerust for being perhaps the best convention buddies I've ever had. Also, huge thanks to @Argent and @WeiryWriter for being chill to talk to, and perhaps help settle a years old debate between Firerust and I regarding whether or not I sound like Weiry. Y'all are cool.

Public school is slow, boring, and doesn't teach you certain important things. Homeschool is great because you get to do all those things, learn the WHY, especially in math, and they aren't just stuffing information into your brain, so it stays for a week or so and then falls out again, you actually want to remember the information. (Example: I remember very little from my one year in public school, but I remember a little song about kingdom, phylum, class from kindergarten.) Plus, you get to do things more based on your interests. You don't just have to go along with the curriculum with no say in it at all. You can choose something that fits for you.

Hello all, just want to introduce myself, I'm a huge fan of the Cosmere and I'm excited to get to some real crack-pot theories!!

The Windunner ideals seem to be progessing from more external to internal, i.e. from protecting others, to more internal epiphanies related to that first oath. My guess is that the Fifth will be something along the lines of a mirror of the First. Perhaps "I acknowledge that others can protect me, and I am worth protecting."

Odium/Toadium- I win this contest of champions!!!! Dalinar- NOOOO!!!! A blazing white figure fell down from darkest skies, like a falling star, like the heralds from Tranquiline halls. A brilliant Shardspear gleamed brighter than the sun, brighter than the day ever saw and his body scintillated with hundred thousand pinpricks of light, like stars illuminating the blackest night. His eyes smoldered as the birth and death of star, brighter and brighter until pure white energy wafted over his skin- Almighty's true essence. And when he spoke, it wasn't Stormlight that puffed from his lips. Kaladin (giving some signature pose) - I.....AM.....HONOR! The Stormfather grumbled in surprise- Oh, damn....I have been missing that all along!

I was also trying to figure out who survived. I think it was the original, replica Holly kept trying to deny that she was like her original I think that after hearing the whole story she could not bring herself to kill the original there by proving that she is not like herself in the final moments of her life. But I could be wrong. I have to agree the world was great and I would love to see this one as a film the fight scene at the dance place would be incredible getting to see the world change as she touches people would be alot of fun. I liked the complexities of the people nobody was in the right each group had some good motivation but there actions were not. I think in the end we do not see the good people we have those who are lost, which are the checkouts and normal people each group is trying to find something that they can't, and we have those who seek to control the world for there own purpose each believing that what they are doing is better then the alternative Overall I really enjoyed this one and would love to see more like it