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Inspired by the later chapters in Rhythm of War, this is a tribute to Teft. While I still don't know exactly what I'm doing, I'm imagining members of Bridge 4 standing in front of his statue--having flashbacks. Please enjoy a part of me! https://youtu.be/eDzutoVMT48

I don’t know if this has been done on this site before but here we go: You can make your own Knights Radiant Order. Your Order’s name: Your Order’s spren: Your ideals: Your Surges: Other Characteristics:

Hello everyone Using my furlough time wisely, I felt compelled by a question from the lovely people at r/cosmere on Reddit. ‘What music do you read the books to?’ My response was to write and record an imaginary soundtrack to the first trilogy. I’m unable to link as a new me ever to the group but you will find the album on most music sites - search for ‘Zavodila The Mistborn Suite’ I know this may not be to everybody’s taste and I’m not after critiques, it’s released and finished now. I would hope that you listen though, the books had a profound effect on me. This is the first thing I’ve ever released, that should say enough about their power. Thank you John

My uncle recommended this place to me as he's always getting my emails regarding a story I'm working on. Here is some schmutz I found atop the bar the other night. I see there are so many writers in this forum and I think it fantastic! Cheers. The fire spat and embers cracked, and when they did so the unheard melody of a somber night was thrown off beat. “I’m alone now.” Padfoot thought to himself. His green eyes usually alite with the bloom of spring with the flickering flame such youth could hold were darker now, having seen their first rise of the Winter Moon. The den that held his upbringing was always one of comfort and peace, but no peace could be found that night or comfort kept. He stood there in the deeper dark, darker than the ever darkening den with its diminishing flame within the hearth it held. He stood where the true darkness dwelt, where heartbreak was found and sorrow met. If you blinked you might miss him, and he might appear as a lonely coat rack collecting dust, found in a museum as an old relic of a forgotten age. Some time had passed- a few minutes? An hour maybe? The time it takes, or the time it took for one to do a thing they need to do matters not, all that matters is that it happened.

Here's a little story I wrote, And i would like comments on it if you have the time!