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  1. i'll probably post this a few paragraphs at a time. each chapter is going to be short too. Prologue:
  2. Here is a little fan fict I started. It is a list of characters, who are worldhoppers, that write a newspaper. Here is the character list! Sorry, kinda long. The paper is called Worldhoppers Weekly. The Lone Coinshots Members and Descriptions Velendsier, home planet: old Scadrial : Velendsier is the happy-go-lucky blogger of the group. She has had a great life, and doesn't quite understand people who haven't. She travels to different worlds for her monthly vacations. She gives lists of the best vacation destinations and eateries. She gives out her favorite hacks and recipes for each world. She is very socially interactive and wants to go see everything and everyone possible. Whenever Val sees a problem, she wants to fix it. However, she quickly realizes that you can’t help everyone, but what happens when she needs to make a life-altering decision on whose safety comes first? Kasinar, home planet: Roshar: Kas is your run-of-the-mill, everyday conspiracy theorist. He knows about all of the shards but sees relationships in them that others discredit. He labels governments corrupt, or worlds close to ending, but more often than not his theories prove false. He is the more serious(ok, paranoid) one in the group and is more sensitive when the others jest. He is worried about the end of his world, his life, and the cosmere as a whole. Through his adventures worldhopping he must find hope in the almighty and eternity , but can any change this heretic’s mind? Zarek Malarn, home planet: new Scadrial: Zarek is a former writer for the Elendel Daily newspaper. He was fired for his speaking out strongly towards political issues. Shortly after the Governmental Scandal of Elendel, he was fired for “disrespecting the officials of Elendel”-Editor in chief for Elendel Daily, speaking on Malarn’s harsh words. Soon after Zarek knew that people needed to hear what he had to say, and not just people on new Scadrial. He became a worldhopper and helped found worldhoppers weekly. He is the perfect balance of serious and easy-going. He keeps his newspaper style when writing for Weekly and gets along well with Velendsier and Kasinar. But can he regain the trust and friendship of the people of Elendle?
  3. This was an assignment for my creative writing class. What do you think of it? I tried to make it so that it could be canon. Dalinar’s boots clinked against the cobbled stone floor of the recently captured keep. He drew in a deep breath from his nose, exalting in the metallic odor of spilled blood. They had put up a good fight, but they could not stand against him. No one could stand against him. A small, wiry man in white clothes scurried up to him. “My lord, do you require assistance?” he asked, fidgeting his hands. He looked at the gash on Dalinar’s muscular bicep. Dalinar shoved his way past the surgeon and exited the large doorway out of the keep. He looked down on all the corpses laid down at the feet of the drawbridge. Dalinar snorted with contempt, kicking them out of his way and into the dirty moat water. Off to the side he could see the surgeon returning to the medical tents, where wounded soldiers cried out in pain. He tore a strip of fabric from his shirt and tied it roughly around the bleeding wound. He made his way through the former battlefield to the command tent. The massive blue tent fell silent as a powerful figure filled the opening. A stately man with a crown stood up. “Ah, Dalinar, we were just discussing your recent success! Well done!” Gavilar praised. Dalinar grunted and sat down next to the various diplomats and tacticians, several of whom visibly recoiled. He grabbed a cup of wine and looked at it in distaste. Yellow. Not nearly strong enough. The wooden chair creaked under him, and the tent filled with the stench of his wounded arm, but Gavilar, however, was unfazed. “What with our success,” with this he motioned to Dalinar, who was taking a long drink, “I am feeling somewhat bold. I believe that the next target that we need to go to is in fact Dumadari.” Dalinar’s drink spewed out of his mouth in utter shock. He laughed. “That’s more than somewhat bold!” he boomed. “Does that mean that you do not recommend that course of action?” Gavilar questioned. “Ha! Foolhardy? Yes. But,” he lammed a dagger into the table to punctuate his words,” it sounds fun enough.” Gavilar simply smiled. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dalinar grinned like a madman, swinging his sword in broad, sweeping strokes. He was so consumed in it all that he barely noticed the various cuts and bruises that he had accrued throughout the fight. He was enraptured in this feeling, this euphoria, this… thrill. The thrill of battle, the thing that drove him on. His eyes darted wildly, and his clenched teeth held back peals of vicious laughter. Red mist clouded the edges of his vision as he cut down ranks of foot soldiers. They were lesser beings than him, everyone was. Out here, on the battlefield, he was like a god. Every crunch, every satisfying swing, all of it. He was unstoppable. He spotted a man riding a gleaming white horse in Shardplate. Dalinar grinned. He had found his target. He started swinging his way towards the man, called Narat. Narat was the leader of the resistance here. If he could kill him, then the army would be like an axehound without a head. The ranks of soldiers surrounding the man were no problem. Dalinar cut through the ranks of basic soldiers until he reached Narat’s honor guard. Their gold and white uniforms made them stand out in the battlefield His glory was put to an end when his sword deflected off something. He growled and looked into the eyes of the man who had resisted him. Brown eyes, in a uniform of white and gold. He was a peasant, not even worthy to shine Dalinar’s gore encrusted shoes. Dalinar laughed at how desperate Narat was that he would let darkeyes serve in his honor guard. Dalinar’s laughing was stopped when the man’s thin blade stabbed into his elbow through a chink in his armor. He roared and swung his sword towards the peasant who had dared to stop him, to resist him, to end his rush of power. He was even more surprised when his sword failed to cut the man down. The peasant had dodged. Dalinar looked at the man and saw that he was smiling. Dalinar grinned back. Finally, a challenge. Dalinar surged forward with a mighty roar, bringing his sword in a brutal cut towards his opponent. The man ducked and jumped back with an eerie grace about him. He jumped back towards Dalinar and brought his thin blade into an overhead swing. Dalinar deflected it off his own weapon and kicked at the man. The darkeyes dropped his weapon and caught Dalinar’s leg in both hands. He twisted it and let go, making Dalinar fall to the ground. The peasant retrieved his sword and stabbed down at the prone Dalinar. Dalinar grabbed the sword that he had dropped when he fell and deflected the strangely thin sword away. He jumped to his feet and brought his sword up. The guard was more skilled than he had originally thought. No matter. He stepped forward and brought his massive sword down upon the darkeyes’ head with all the strength he could muster while red clouded the edges of his vision. He found it stopped against the edge of the thin blade of the man. With a mighty heave, the darkeyes shoved back against Dalinar, knocking him back. The man was strong. The peasant lunged forward, his sword driving towards Dalinar’s heart. Dalinar shifted his right foot backwards and twisted out of the way. How is he so strong? The rapier screeched off his armor. Dalinar brought his broadsword before him and stabbed back, but the man darted out of the way. The darkeyes swung his weapon towards Dalinar’s neck, where there was some exposed skin. Dalinar jumped backwards as the Thrill pumped through his veins. He roared and barreled into the man who deftly darted aside. The man delivered a kick into Dalinar’s side, causing him to stumble. Dalinar just barely brought his sword up to deflect the sword heading for his heart. He jumped back to gather his thoughts. The Thrill no longer sustained him. He was beginning to feel the pain of his wounds. He needed to end this now. Dalinar launched into an attack. He stepped forward and drove a swing of his massive sword into the peasant’s side. The man simultaneously stabbed forwards. The man grunted as his armor caved in under the strike, and Dalinar grunted as the sword slipped in between his lower left ribs. Dalinar, glimpsing victory through the pain, drove another strike into the man’s side. The darkeyes collapsed to the ground. Dalinar stood over him, holding his side. He walked away holding his side, motioning for his soldiers to finish the man off. He had not made 5 steps before he felt a piercing pain in his back. Turning around, he saw the man looking at him before standing up. Dalinar ripped the knife out of the back of his armor, but his vision was already clouding. He looked back at the grinning man. Dalinar fell to the ground unconscious, but not before he noticed that the man’s eyes were bright red. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dalinar blearily blinked awake. Fuzzy shapes were standing over him. His side burned where he had received the sword wound, but what hurt most was his back where the knife was. He heard the figures talking about something, although he could only hear some of what they were saying through his agony. “. . . the knife . . . poison . . . yes. . . deadly . . . surgery . . . I know” Suddenly his pain spiked. He bellowed and fell back into the comforting dark of nothingness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dalinar fell, fell, deeper into the nothing. He heard voices shouting, but they were muffled and quiet. He just wanted to fall asleep. It was so comforting. He turned away from the voices. Dalinar turned back and realized what was happening. He grunted and tried to wake himself up, but to no avail. It was hopeless. He should just return, go back. He closed his eyes again. Yes, you made the right choice. Come to me. I will take everything. You will never have to feel again. The voice echoed in his mind. Dalinar turned to the voice in the ever-growing darkness of his mind. He could clearly see a kindly old man holding out his arms, dressed in a golden robe. He uncertainly walked towards the old man. With each step he took the darkness grew more complete, more final. That was when he heard a voice that he knew extremely well. “Fight, brother.” Dalinar looked back to the kindly old man. The man’s eyes flashed red, and in that single flash he saw everything. He saw men fighting and screaming on the battlefield. He saw people weeping over the dead body of a mother. He saw himself, Dalinar, unfeeling and uncaring. He saw portions of the future- a green dragon, a man with blue eyes and white hair, and a pattern that seemed to be endlessly curling into itself, its lines beautiful. He stumbled back. “Who are you?” The man did not answer. He scowled, his eyes turning blood red. Dalinar reached for his sword and found that he had none. He backed off. That was when he felt the red creeping in on his vision. He grinned. He charged the man. His fingers closed around a red sword of mist, and he chopped at the old man. The man disappeared. Dalinar looked around and found himself surrounded by inky black creatures. He snorted. This was everything? Dalinar chopped and weaved for what seemed like eternity. His accumulated cuts were nothing as he was being fueled by the Thrill. He took down monster after monster after monster. They didn’t bleed, but instead deflated as something fled out of their body. Finally, he brought down the last one. He looked around to see if there were any more. There wasn’t. He strode to the edge of the darkness and drove his misty sword through. Bright light poured through the rend and he was blinded. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He woke to the sound of cheering. His memories of what had happened were already slipping away. Dalinar looked around to see soldiers surrounding him. There was Gavilar, his brother. They clasped hands. Dalinar winced at the pain in his side. “Welcome back, brother. Welcome back.”
  4. I am posting this work here in this forum first, before I post it at Spacebattles. I would like some feedback, not on spelling, punctuation, or grammar (I have other proofreaders for that), but rather potential Cosmere related characterization and lore issues, and general plot, setting, and description. (I plan to deviate from certain explicit cosmological elements as revealed in Rhythm of War, but only because I started defining the details of the crossover shortly before the publication of Oathbringer, and the deviations from canon now are what make the crossover work. Nevertheless I wish to avoid inadvertent deviations from cosmological canon.) This is, as said, a crossover with RWBY. If you are lost as to the other side of this crossover, you can look here and here to fortify your understanding. So, without further ado, here is the first chapter Disclaimer: The Stormlight Archive, the greater Cosmere multiverse, and all related persons, places, creatures, and concepts, are the creation of Brandon Sanderson and Copyright him and Tor Books. RWBY, and all related persons, places, creatures, and concepts, are the creation of Monty Oum and copyright his legal estate, heirs, and Rooster Teeth, Limited Liability Company. The use of these copyrights in this work is not to be construed as a challenge to them, and no financial remuneration relating to this work is or shall ever be sought by the author. Life Before Death Chapter One “And these are the new and improved Dust enhancement processors. The patent came through last week! They can handle anything from standard Size Three crystals to thirty-micron grade clear powder!” The designated tour guide was positively gushing, pointing at the conveyor belt bringing in raw material: crystals and powder clear as pure water segregated by grades in discrete lanes. These things went into something that looked a little like a sandwich oven, but with analog pressure gauges, wheel actuated safety valves, and steam whistles, while colored crystals and powder on a Conveyor belt came out from it, to be packaged and packed elsewhere for wholesale and retail distribution. They were on the newest production floor of the facility, filled with the latest production model Dust refinement and enhancement equipment the SDC could get its hands on. Pipes, hoppers, conveyer belts, and industrial machines unidentifiable to the nonprofessional where everywhere, as were keypads and touchscreens at every workstation. Yet, the layout on the floor was by no means chaotic. To be sure, most of this equipment came from other Schnee Dust Company factories with dedicated production lines. Due in part to the wish of General Ironwood’s faction on the Atlas Council to maintain at least the fiction of a competitive business atmosphere, and also in part because of principles of general good diplomacy, the remainder came from electronics and machine tool companies based in Vale and Mistral. While this production floor showed far less corrosion, grime, and general wear and tear than the rest of the edifice, astute observers could speculate that its relative cleanliness was just the product of its comparative novelty. Refined, powdered Dust came in through special containers removed from trucks and container ships via crane and placed on special tap receptacles in the courtyard the factory surrounded on three sides. The Schnee Dust Company preferred to work with powdered, uncharged Dust whenever possible, as accidents involving it demanded fewer and less expensive countermeasures. Besides, this gave the Schnee Dust Company latitude to tailor its signature product to any emerging trends of usage. Unfortunately, some varieties of Dust resisted the enhancement process, while other types of Dust charges were difficult or even impossible to replicate as enhancements, so, elsewhere in the plant, nuggets of unrefined Dust ore had to be refined in a long, expensive, and often dangerous process. “I notice that the third and fourth lanes from the far end are empty,” observed the oldest-looking person in the group, with snow-white scalp hair and a salt and pepper mustache, “what happened with the Gravity Dust enhancement?” “The process itself works fine;” explained the tour guide, “it’s just that trying to make it work outside of hard vacuum conditions causes all the spare grime and process residue to clog the accumulators completely. Just papering over the problem with filters means changing them every fifteen minutes. And to do that, we’d need to shut down the entire processor and Conveyor belts, replace the filters, and cold start them all again, each quarter hour!” “I see, so, it looks like we’re going to have to stick to refining gravity Dust ore.” The old-looking man sighed, as the thirteen-year-old girl beside him with a sheathed smallsword, at the belt of her snow white and ice blue knee dress, a purse at her shoulder, and a clear family resemblance to him looked on, an expression of resigned boredom on her face as she munched on a soft pretzel. Standing between those two were four men in identical business suits, sunglasses with wires attached to what looked like hearing aids in their left ears, and pistols concealed in their inner jacket pockets. Why am I here? Weiss Schnee asked of herself, as the lead engineer of the project gave her, her father, and their bodyguards the eight-lien tour of the newest wing of the factory. It was arguably a valid question. This trip to the Schnee Dust Company’s largest production facility took her away from her fencing and music lessons, not to mention her self-directed studies into Dust Sorcery and her impromptu Saturday afternoon explorations with her sister Winter into their shared hereditary Semblance via scroll telepresence. Weiss suspected it was because her elder sister was at Atlas Academy, and her younger brother Whitley was only eight years old. Weiss sighed at the memory she had just accidently dredged up. She had been in the music room with her teacher, tuning her vowels and practicing her key scales. The argument in the room over on the third floor of the Schnee Mansion had started slowly, muffled. When she started rehearsal on the first lines of “Echoes in the Cave Spring,” the volume began increasing, but Weiss could only discern about one word per sentence. By the time she and her teacher had moved on to Weiss’ first original composition, “Mirror, Mirror,” it had been getting difficult for either one in the music room to hear each other, or for that matter, her respective self, think. The argument in the adjoining room ended with the sound of the door in the neighboring room opening and slamming closed, and then Weiss and Winter’s mutual father Jacques Schnee, née Gelée coming into the music room, visibly forcing himself to calm down, and dismissing Weiss’ teacher from the session for that day. Weiss never asked either her father or her elder sister what had happened that day and she wasn’t certain she would have actually wanted to know the answer. “Moving on to the next room, Mr. Schnee,” the tour guide ushering the two and their retinue of bodyguards out of that room and two doors down the facility hallway to a much smaller, more intimate space that looked more laboratory than production area, “this is something I’m sure you’ll love.” “What is it?” Asked Mr. Schnee, the tone of his voice suggesting suspicion. Four men in black pants and ties and white button-down shirts were monitoring keyboards and cathode ray tube screens on a large console. Behind that console was a large window to a lit room slightly smaller than the room the tour guide and his small crowd had entered, with no obvious ingress or egress. “Well, you know how certain huntsmen’s and huntress’ Semblances grant them the ability to create portals to travel between two places without crossing the intervening space?” The tour guide’s smile widened and deepened with every word. Mr. Schnee’s eyes widened almost cartoonishly. “You mean you’ve managed to replicate the ability? How?” His question almost dripped awe. “It’s technical, and releasing the full report outside the working group will require the standard retinal, thumbprint, voice, and blood scans, but in pertinent part, the reaction involves sufficient quantities and proper proportions of Gravity and Lightning Dust.” The tour guide’s face shone with pride. “Insufficient Dust quantities for the size of the portal results in a gateway to somewhere weird, like a twilight desert of uncharged, inert Dust. You know, like what happens when you try to send Dust into outer space. Too much gravity Dust in the mix, meanwhile, causes an attractive reaction that draws things towards and through the portal, wherever it goes.” Jacques Schnee whistled in astonishment, and even his daughter nearly choked on the last of her soft pretzel. Assuming the dust quantities involved weren’t absolutely prohibitive, it could completely tip the balance of power in favor of the SDC and the Kingdom of Atlas as a whole. However, there had to be a catch. “I assume there are other drawbacks.” Jacques Schnee’s comment was a leading one. “Yes…” Just as the tour guide was about to explain whatever caveats where inherent in the system, the lights dimmed red and the alarm klaxon sounded. “Oh, &^($,” said one of the people at the consoles, causing Weiss to blanch even whiter than her usual skin color. “Not in front of my daughter,” Jacques Schnee barked. “That’s no pay for you today!” Suddenly, all monitors in the room activated, showing a bull Faunus in a Grimm half-mask covering his eyes and the bridge of his nose, and with fire-red hair and hornlets. “Ladies and gentlemen of the Schnee Dust Company, using those terms in the loosest sense possible,” the Faunus’ voice rang out, “For the crime of daring to speak out on behalf of his people, the Schnee Dust Company Security placed the leader of the White Fang under arrest despite having broken no laws of the Kingdom of Atlas or any other. But for my intervention and that of my band of heroes, he would have experienced martyrdom in a gas chamber. “As no reasonable being could construe Ghira Belladonna’s capture and treatment as an act of law, it can only be an act of war.” As the Faunus continued speaking, a numerical countdown began. “So, to mark a shift in the methods of the White Fang, here is the official second act of this war. Have a nice day. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Schnee Dust Company...” the audio and video of the production was looping before someone managed to cut the former, but the countdown continued. It was already at the one minute and thirty second mark. “Everyone, evacuate! This is a Class Five Emergency! Go to your designated exits in an orderly fashion. Everyone, evacuate! This is a Class Five Emergency! Go to your designated exits in an orderly fashion.” As the emergency warning continued over the intercom, three of the bodyguards whisked the senior Schnee out of the door, while the fourth tried to wade upstream against the crowd of evacuees to reach Weiss, and failed. Having been standing the farthest away of anyone from the only door in and out of this experiment room, Weiss was deeply regretting having worn high heels on this excursion, despite both of her parents’ request that she put on something semi-formal. She was only three steps to the door when something, probably a loose nut, caused her to trip on her pumps, making her fall. By the time she got up, the door had slammed shut, and the locking mechanism chunked home. “Let me out! Let me out!” Weiss slammed her purse on the door, making thumping noises but otherwise achieving nothing of substance. She toyed with drawing Myrtenaster and using burst Dust to blast her way out, but realized there were too many variables to work out. With the timer on all the monitors running down to thirty seconds, Weiss Schnee inhaled, exhaled, and centered herself. Somehow, she would find a way to live and face that masked Faunus. 10, 9, 8, Decision made, Weiss Schnee flared her Aura. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and everything went white! I will post Chapter Two tomorrow, but for now, I'd really like some feedback.
  5. So I was thinking that for me, one of the coolest aspects about this new series by Brandon Sanderson is that it allows for endless possibilities for fan-content when it comes to alien species. Starsight describes the Superiority as filled with variety without number, and if a species as "aggressive" as the Burl are allowed to join, then just about any alien species could join as long as the species isn't openly hostile towards the Superiority. Obviously you can't make up your own "primary intelligence" species, because those spots are peopled by a limited number of races that Sanderson already has filled. I thought that maybe we can fill this thread with everyone's own ideas for "Fan-Species".
  6. Wow, it's been a while since I've posted a new "Letters from the Cosmere" they added a whole new Form to post to! Several months ago I lost my Hard Drive which gave out from overwork. With it, I lost my Thumbnails, notes, and Cosmere Art. This setback required and lengthy recovery but we are finally done! Look forward to the return of Letters from the Cosmere! Forgery is by far the most interesting of the Cosmere's magic systems. it does something that no other Investiture (currently known) can do, alter the past. These changes are temporary and require an intimate understanding of the person or object that is to be affected. So what exactly is happening when a Forger applies a seal? Here is the full transcript: Of the many wonders of the Cosmere, Forgery is by far the most fascinating that I have ever come across. Forgers by the nature of their craft must reach a heightened understanding of realmic theory and the fundamental nature of the Cosmere. I suspect that Forgers can be numbered as some of the earliest metaphysical scholars in the post Yolan Cosmere. Forgery is the expense of Sel Investiture into the Spiritual Nature of an intelligent entity, changing its connection and Spiritual History. This change cascades into the Cognitive Intelligence of the object and subsequently changes the nature of the Objects Cognitive form. This change is then reflected in the Physical realm. As you are likely aware, cognitive and physical changes are relatively common in the Cosmere, especially on Roshar where Soul casting provides the clearest example of this quantum relationship. However, the ability to affect the Spirit Web of an intelligence is far rarer, especially in such specific and dramatic ways. I appreciate that the mechanics of Forgery can be complex so I will attempt to break them down in the simplest way I can manage. I have read your most current studies into the Spiritual Aspects of Ferrochemy and your understanding of these arts will be the cornerstone of this letter. In Ferrocheme the practitioner can store up the spiritual manifestation of concepts like Fortune, Identity, and Connection. With the storage and pulling of these aspects, the Ferrochemist twists their spirit web, which changes the way intelligent beings interact with them. (Note: intelligences are a reference to both animate and inanimate objects that have a cognitive presence.) This alters the flow of Investiture, power, and even pluck at the strings of fate. Yes, I was surprised to discover that fate is essentially a reality of the Cosmere. When we have Slivers, who can see the future it can be nearly impossible to outmaneuver their plans. Yet Investiture by its nature can change fate by altering the paths taken, dispelling the idea of absolute fate in favor of a dynamic collection of branching conductor fields of existence. But I am getting ahead of myself. While the ability to manipulate the Spirit Web through Ferrochemy holds incredible potential, these changes are situational and are typically time-locked. While a metal mind does effectively shuttle attributes and investiture through time, they can only store at one point, to then be used at a future time. A Ferrochemist may be able to influence his luck through storage of or drawing out of fortune, they cannot change the events of the past. Forgery takes this into the realm of Quantum entanglement, and actually pushed an objects spirit web into a parallel potentiality of the past, accessing metaphysical information that is beyond the barrier of time dilation. By all accounts this should be impossible. In fact, I haven’t come across any accounts of Shards actively altering reality by manipulating the Spirit Web backward in time. This is a disturbing and fascinating discovery that I feel many of my fellow scholars have overlooked. It can be easy to overlook considering the Cosmere is filled with apparent exceptions to the rules. But Reaching back against the flow of time opens the doors to staggering implications in the realm of Physics and Realmac Theory. Even with my extensive years of study I feel I can barely brush against the momentous truths that this revelation brings. Naturally, this process is temporary in the best of times, often these changes cannot maintain themselves longer than a day without needing to apply another crafted stamp. The process likely devours investiture at an incredible rate to maintain an effective bubble of altered time along the object’s or person’s past. Despite the incredible powers that I will sound be outlining, keep in mind that the physical limitation of Selian magic and the likely persistent need for Investiture limits the long-term effects of these powers. Perhaps there are work arounds but as of now, I am unaware of any practical methods of changing the current status quo. As for the mechanics of this miraculous transformation, they are fairly straight forward. Ironic considering the implications of what this power is actually doing to the Cosmere. The Forger creates what is called a stamp out of a stable material. The best materials are those that can be shaped with delicate patterns but then be baked or locked into a ridged shape that is unlikely to break. Often a template is created for stamps that are intended to be maintained over a length of time so new stamps can be crafted and imprinted routinely. Understanding the culminated history of the person or object that is to be forged is critical in the development of a stamp that is stable enough. Forgers remark on the need of believability for such changes to be made with any sense of stability. I feel that the underlying issue is a result of the instability inherent in the creation and sustaining of time opposing attractor fields. The closer such realities are to the tangible timeline the less investiture the time/space warping costs. By extension, the more likely a history of an object is to the Forger’s desired form, the more stable the stamps can be. For instance, it is nearly impossible to stamp iron into gold by trying to change the metals physical nature. Rather the Forger should learn about the mine where the iron was collected and alter the mines location or change the nature of the trade service that provided the metal. These changes work off an understanding that a mistaken delivery or a production order being placed with a different mine in the same region is far more likely that altering the planets metallic formation. Even so, these changes are likely too unstable to be useful. Intense study and reasoning is required to make any changes. This is why stamps that restore an object rather than replace it are far more common. Once a stamp has been completed, an individual simply applies the stamp to the surface of the object (usually in an inconspicuous location) where the stamp begins to activate. A properly crafted stamp will resonate with the identity of the object it has been crafted for and will start to bond with it. From my studies, it can be assumed that the stamp at this point begins to bond through all three realms simultaneously which is why it seems to meld into the surface of the object without physically altering or damaging it. The stamp is then locked into place and activated. If crafted properly the stamp will take and the alterations will take hold almost immediately. Forgery has perhaps the most boundless of practical and fantastical uses of all the Investiture based magic that I have ever seen. However, it also has some of the harshest limitations. Firstly, it is one of the Selian magics which is locked to the geographical location of its native continent. The farther away from its homeland the weaker these stamps become. Perhaps with artificial identity and connection methods, this barrier could be overcome much like how the Ire must exist. Yet there are other issues. Often the practitioner needs an intimate knowledge of an objects or person’s history. This would be difficult for a worldhopper who hasn’t spent decades living on worlds like Roshar or Taldain which have very different geological and physical histories as planets let alone their cultures and technology. Furthermore, the need for a consistent source of Investiture is a large issue. Perhaps a scholar far cleverer than I will find a way to let a stamp feed off a local source of investiture like Rosharian Stormlight, but such knowledge eludes me for the moment. Not to say that it’s impossible but using stamps off of Sel seems unlikely to me given Sels unusual Investiture situation. I trust this letter finds you well, considering everything that is going on. The Cosmere continues to be a realm of conflict and struggle for both men and gods. Yet as we continue to peel back the layers of mysticism surrounding the Shards I feel we will eventually see wonders beyond our current reckoning. Give my best to Harmony. Elsric P.S. I just acquired some new books in one of the trading posts I passed through on my way to visit Roshar, look forward to a real treat when I return.
  7. This is a short story that I wrote as an introduction to Allomancy and the Final Empire for the Mistborn Adventure Game. It's targeted towards people who have never read the books, so I tried to explain the setting and magic system in a way that would make some sense to a newcomer. Of course, those explanations are limited to in-world knowledge of how everything works, so there are a few... MacGuffins, or red herrings, or whatever you want to call it. I'd appreciate any feedback you have for me, and I hope you enjoy it! (It's about 17 pages long and 8,500 words, give or take). Fair warning: if this were a film, it would be rated PG-13 for violence (about the same level of violence as the novels, in my opinion). There's no sexual content or vulgarity or anything like that. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VfcKTEw6Ti8shv_-KJEWzMHHnYbrHB7jUVgCeBaZh78/edit?usp=sharing
  8. Hello, fellow Cosmernaught! So this is the latest part in the "Letters from the Cosmere" where Elsric talks about the critical role Intent has in the realms of the Cosmere. I also take a moment to share some details about the upcoming Cosmere Charity Drive for Open Books, including some of the fantastic giveaways and activities that will be going on. I hope you take a moment to check out the second half of the video so you can find out all the amazing stuff that's happening! Seriously, guys, we have some Incredible things planned for this! I hope you enjoy the episode, and let me know if you have any questions. Intent is the driving force of Investiture. The Cosmere follows natural laws, and as we understand these laws we can better see the universal consistencies in the system. Intent is twofold. The intent of the wielder both shapes and limits the powers of Investiture. In Magic systems like Awakening or Aon Dor, the understanding of the practitioner often is the greatest limiting factor in the shaping of investiture. And then there is the macro Intent that shapes a Shard's Investiture. Each shard has a characteristic drive that shapes the Intent of the investiture itself. This intent eventually suppresses the Intent of the Shard holder. With this understanding, we can better understand the Cosmere and can begin to see where these events will eventually lead. Transcript: My first step into the Cognitive Realm changed everything. The domain of thought is strange and dangerous for the physical body to traverse. I imagine that there are many who inadvertently found themselves stumbling into the living shadows of Shadesmar, without any idea what they had done or how to survive in such a place. Sometimes the Cosmere seems full of worldhoppers like us, but we really are an elite few who have braved these paths and lived to talk about it. My father had taught me from a young age that the world was never as mysterious as many made it out to be. There were universal laws of nature that could be studied and understood. Once understood they could be predicted. This was the foundation of physical science, and was a passion of my fathers. He taught his children to look for the underlying truths that governed all things. And he was right, despite all that there is out in the Cosmere, so much more than my father ever could have imagined, his lessons have been proven time and time again. I am disappointed when I hear the various members of the Shard worlds refer to their Investitures as Magic. It is an understandable misconjecture. The abilities of those whom are blessed or talented enough to hold and wield investiture can do some great and terrible things. To the lay man, these might seem mystical. But just like the forces of gravitation or momentum, there are predictable rules and laws that govern these forces. Investiture is one of the four Universal Forces, the others being Particle forces, Electromagnetic Forces, and Gravitational forces. These forces all operate in the physical realm. Investiture is unique, for it is not restricted primarily to the Physical realm, but also phases into and interacts with the Cognitive and Spiritual reams. These other Elemental forces may operate to a dree in the other realms, but Investiture seems to interact unilaterally in all three realms. In fact, many realmic theorists like myself agree that Investiture is Primal Spiritual Energy. It manifests in all three realms, but it does not vanish as it is exercised, but rather it cycles back to the spiritual realm until it is recycled back into the other realms. When someone performs apparently mystical abilities like surgbindings, alomancy, awakening, Aon Dor, or any of the unique abilities seen on Shard worlds, you are seeing someone channeling Investiture into the physical realm. This produces metaphysical abilities. While flashy, these abilities are simply an effect following a cause, much like how a horse moves a cart by pulling on it. The powers vary from world to world and person to person, but the source of that power is the same. When someone holds, or is channeling this power, they are considered invested beings. (As a side note, investiture use is not limited to sentient beings. Some animals and cognitive entities can manipulate investiture as well.) But what is it about Investiture that even allows us to take hold, this fundamental force of nature and use it. How do all these metaphysical abilities manifest, and why do living beings seem to be the harbingers of this energy. Well I believe I have uncovered the core nature of Investiture, although Khriss would undoubtedly say I am oversimplifying this topic. The key to understanding the nature of Investiture is understanding Intent. Intent is the sentient will behind Investiture. It is the driving force, the rudder the steers the preverbal ship. We have many examples of the need for an intelligence to guide and channel this power. In fact, the old stories about the Elantrians tell that the power of the Dor was choked, almost eager to find release. This attitude is also apparent in the Rosharian Stormlight, Investiture that burst forth filling those who wield it with a need to act, to use the power, to let it be free. Investiture echoes intelligence and life, clinging to it like dew collecting on grass in the dawn. Each system of investiture manifests differently from world to world. This is an echo of the Shard of which they are attuned. The Investiture then can be drawn out within the restrictions of the system in which it has been imbued to. These systems have their own logic and governing laws that make them appear so alien to one another. Yet the raw power is ultimately the same, and manifests in similar ways as either a metallic solid, liquid, or gas. Usually the system dictates the amount of power that can be drawn, and the limits that power will have. For example, restrictive systems like Allomancy or Surgbinding can manifest in specific and definable amounts. These restrictions often make the abilities more accessible but at the cost of diversity. A Steel push is limited to pushing and only to a measurable limit. Rosharan Surgbinders have access to two of the ten surges, and these surges each have their own limits and applications. Other Investiture systems are more open ended, but are ambiguous in their nature. Using Soul Stamps or Awakening is likely never to be truly understood, for their potential abilities and effects may be to vast to comprehend. This means that practitioners can adapt their methods to match their needs as long as they have the time and training to produce the desired result. The constant I wish to point out here is the need for interpretation and action on the part of the practitioner. No investiture could work without a willful action or thought from the person holding the power, even if that direction is subconscious. This patter holds true even at the levels of Shards, although the power of Intent manifests in much more dramatic ways at the macro level. At times, individuals have encountered and taken in large amounts of pure investiture. This power coalesces inside the being of an individual and seeks to be channeled. If enough raw power is there, the mortal body is not a good enough vessel to maintain that power. The words of Founding speak of this when Vin entered the Well of Ascension. Her mind and body were expanded, her cognitive and spiritual selves growing in order for her being to channel the massive amount of power that sought Intent and intelligent guidance. At this level the power manifests a primal will of its own. This power can still we wielded freely, but it cannot deny its overall nature. These limits may seem minor but it is fascinating to note. For instance, an allomancer wields the power of preservation, but that mistborn can use that power to destroy. This is inconsistent with the source of the power, but in small amounts, Investiture’s desire to be shaped by Intent is greater than the pull of its Shard. As the amount of Investiture grows, the natural intent of the power begins to assert itself, making it harder for the wielder to twist the power away from its original purpose. As for the Shards themselves… this power starts to literally take on a mind of its own. In fact, we have observed that Shards that are splintered or abandoned will eventually develop a rudimentary intelligence of its own. This drive for purpose and direction is as much a part of this power as is its energy. When the 16 first took up the powers of Adonalsium, they commanded the power as they saw fit. However, over the ages, the Intent inherent to each shard began to smother the holders of the power. In the end these beings almost stopped being individuals. They became puppets to the nature of their Shards, still intelligent and with an identity, but their personal Intent was twisted until it perfectly mimicked the Intent that the investiture had been attuned to from the beginning. While investiture seeks to be shaped by intelligence and intent, it has by nature an intent of its own. I believe these drives are echoes of the entity from which they were ripped. It’s very nature upon reflection seems to prove that this power came from a vast intelligence, and because of that it seeks by its own nature to be shaped once again. If we ever truly wish to unravel the greater mysteries of the Cosmere, we much remember the constant that is Intent. No matter how big or heavy an object is, it will fall just as fast as any other object. Likewise, no matter how Investiture is obtained, it will seek to be shaped by a mind. These things are consistent and can be used as a foundation to greater understanding. We have been spending a lot of time at the great crossroads in the Cognitive realm. This city is strange, but I cannot deny that the unique opportunities here are quite alluring. The records and tales gathered here rival that of any library in all the Cosmere. We find ourselves here more and more as we dive deeper into the mysteries. The Shards have been at work in the Cosmere for a long time, and the more I see, the more I am convinced that things will not remain as they are. Perhaps there will be some great war, or the need for Intent will eventually unite the remaining Shards. The way ahead is murky, but we will do our best to help you see things a little more clearly. Until the next time, Elsric Post Script. Kassar would like to ask that the next messenger we see bring her the latest in your local fashion. I promised to take her dancing and she wants to see what modern Scadrians are wearing.
  9. It has become clear that Harmony will become a large player in the Cosmere, and could actually be tied to the eventual fate of the 16 Shards, or what is left of them. It's good to reflect on just what Harmony is and how little we actually know about his motivations, capabilities, or the eventual role that he will play. He is already under attack, and this could only be the beginning. Here is the most recent "Letters from the Cosmere" where Elsric defines what Harmony is and explains his connection to the Shard: Transcript: My Dearest Kassar, By the time you get this, I will be gone. Before we set out for Scadrial I wish to establish two new mine sites. In order to maintain our estate while we are away I plan to reveal the other locations so that the company can continue to grow. I plan to be back within the month when we will depart. Our last conversation has been on my mind as of late. I feel that my inability to speak earlier was a disservice. I am not sure I can share all that I need to tell you. Perhaps after you have read these words I will have mustered the courage necessary to share my inner most turmoil’s. A lot happened to me on Scadrial, and I must admit I at nervous at the realization that we will soon be returning to that place. I fear you will feel lesser of me. I do not want to cast a shadow over us during this trip, but it is time I told you the truth. For years now I have been in the service of a being known as Harmony, a man who took up the power of a God and saved my life. Harmony is a kind of god, much like the beings of Cultivation and Odium. In fact, these three all are fragments of a far older power the came before them. While each piece behaves differently and independently, their power all came from Adonalsium. Harmony is unique, as far as I know, because he is a more recent wielder of Shardic power. More interestingly he is the combination of two formally separated and opposing powers. Ruin and Preservation were a shard pair that founded Scadrial. They worked together to create the life and humanity that lived on the planet. In the end however they were opposed to each other’s Intent which inevitable led to a preverbal deadlock conflict. The planet and the people who lived there were nearly the casualties of this conflict which was only resolved when the Shard bearer of Preservation purposefully ignored her intent and destroyed the mind of Ruin while destroying her own mind. The Hero of Ages, Preservations great gamble, then reached out and took hold of both Ruin and Preservation. I was there that day, watching as the world burned and thousands died. Scadrial was already a brutal and desolate place, and during those final years it was little more than a husk too hostel to live on. Ash choked the ground and the sun baked the planet from above. It was a kind of Desolation, orchestrated by Ruin as he sought to fulfill his driving purpose to break down the Cosmere piece by piece. Even from the Cognitive Realm, the destruction was very real. I had resigned myself to my fate. And then there he was, like a pillar of light that enveloped the planet in an embrace. Harmony shaped the world, returning it to what it had once been. The land was molded and shaped like clay. The three realms seemed to melt together, and suddenly I was standing on a land unrecognizable. He was there with me through it all. Somehow he knew who I was and why I was there. Even though he was creating a new world, he had the time for me. Well, I imagine his existence was not bound by physical location, at least not as we understand it. When I left that world, I assumed that would be the end. Apparently, Harmony kept an eye on me because when he wanted more information, they quickly sought me out. Harmony has servants who he uses to keep tabs on his world and to reach out to others. These are the Kandra, shapeshifters who take the forms of men by using their bones. They are immortal, as far as I know, and can receive direct instruction from Harmony. In fact, the man who stopped by the mansion last year was one such being. That was when I received the call to return to Scadrial. I am not sure why Harmony contacted me to begin with, when he has servants who can spy on the rest of the Cosmere for him, but perhaps it has something to do with the nature of Harmony. It is easy to think that Harmony is simply both Preservation and Ruin, much like how I have a right arm and a left arm that are similar, yet opposites working together. But if my studies into the nature of Shards is correct, then Harmony is actually something else. The Shards are no longer separate powers, but one. They have blended into a new alloy to create something new. This means that Harmony has the abilities and understandings of both Ruin and Preservation, and yet he has his own powers and influences that are independent of the powers from which he is derived. He also is somewhat of a powerhouse, wielding twice as much raw power and energy as the other shards that have been documented. From here we can see the potential orgin of the current conflict. Odium proved to be a vicious and heartless Shard. Granted the mind of the being who took up the shard must be practically obliterated by the Intent of Hatred. If you trace the macro events in the Cosmere, it becomes clear that Odium set his sights on dominating the Cosmere by eliminating those with the power to challenge him. I would be surprised if Harmony is not the manifestation of everything Odium fears. Harmony is most likely the most powerful being in the Cosmere. It is not surprising to hear that things are not all well back on Scadrial. Before the Kandra found us here on Nalthis, I hadn’t heard from them for years already. Considering how often they had been checking in up till that point, I had started wondering if something had happened. Before we were contacted, I had already resigned myself to return to Scadrial. It seems that something has changed and Harmony is under threat by some unknown power. Naturally, the Kandra are worried, and it turns out that I have had the most experience out in the Cosmere with other Shards. They have requested that I make my report and attempt to aid in their investigation. Considering what we have just survived, I feel that we cannot ignore this plea. It is clear to me that the mishandled wielding of godly power can cause untold levels of death an destruction. It is infuriating to see that intelligent beings took up such power for themselves and then turn it against each other and the people of these worlds. Harmony is perhaps the best there is of the Shard holders. His very nature is restraint and balance, and is the only power in the Cosmere I feel I can truly rely upon. Despite my growing mistrust of these Shards, I will not abandon Scadrial to be destroyed yet again. The things I saw over those last years of the old Scadrial… left me scared and broken. If my knowledge can help prevent that from happening again… well… it’s worth the effort. If there is to be a grand future to the Cosmere, Harmony is sure to be a focal point of what will come. Given our potential limitless lifespans, I wonder if we will see the end of the Shard holders. I am not sure what would be best for the Cosmere as a whole, but I am content to work with the servants of the one Shard I feel we can trust. I will do my best to prepare you for our integration with the Skadrian people. Hopefully, we can blend in a little better than I did on Roshar. Until we speak again, Elsric
  10. It's been a while but we are finally back on track with "Letters From the Cosmere!" Scadrial is a world with a dark past. Of all the known worlds, the people of this planet have come face to face with their local Shard wielders more than any other. As Ruin and Preservation battled over the fate of the planet, the people suffered until the end came. Now Elsric has published his essays about this world's Investiture and how these powers are connected to the Intents from which they came. Here Elsric describes the secrets of Pewter and Tin, the Internal Physical Metals. Transcript: Essay Number 2 The Secrets and Investitures of Pewter and Tin – The Internal Physical Metals My lifetimes of study and observation have lead me to a fascination about Shards, specifically the Intent of a Shard. This is one of many reasons why Scadrial is a major focus of my studies. It a system whose history and people have seen a great amount of direct interaction between Shard entities and the mortals who live on the planet. The fall of the World of Ash also taught us about the simplistic dynamic of shardic intent, and how the actions of the shard holders are guided along a track until they themselves are less of an individual and more a force of will. They become a hyper intelligent concept. In fact, the bonded spren of Roshar are approximate examples of what I feel a Shard Bearer becomes. It is a blending of the Cognitive and Spiritual essence into something far greater. The Intent of a shard can be extrapolated based on the shape their investitures take. These powers follow laws much like the laws that govern the physical universe. This essay is at the heart of my arguments in this matter. It is imperative that the reader understands that the purpose of these essays is to examine the internal nature of the powers found on Scadrial. Within these pages are my measurements and diagrams, but this is more a dialog intended to uphold my claims that investiture is patterned after intent. This is a fact that is highlighted in all the magic systems of the Cosmere. In this essay I will show how the Allomantic powers of Pewter and Tin are nearly perfect examples of this manifest intent. These powers are the personification of Preservation, which was the Intent that was carried by Leras until the Catasandra. Pewter is the Pushing Internal Physical Metal. It seems an apt description considering Pewter pushes the physical body to its peak and beyond. While burning the metal, the allomancer will experience and enhancement of all physical aspects of their body. The physical strength and speed are increased by magnitudes, although no muscle mass is actually added. The bones also are reinforced, becoming resilient to severe punishment. Once again, this extra strength does not come from an increase in bone mass or density. There is also an increase in the allomancers balance which compensates for the improved physical abilities, often resulting in a lithe almost cat-like grace that comes to a Pewter Arm. This heightened balance and increased speed means that at peak efficiency, a allomancer burning pewter can maintain a sprint at nearly the speed of a galloping horse. This means that a pewter runner can be clocked at over 60 kilometers an hour. Pewter is the fastest burning metal of the original 8 metals. It’s pure allomantic alloy is a casting of ninety-one percent tin and nine percent lead. A Pewuter Savant, or a pewter allomancer who has adapted to burning pewter over long periods of time, is hard to make and even harder to recognize. The benefits of long term Pewter flaring are often dwarfed by the physical dangers that come with doing so. A Pewter savant will consume Pewter more efficiently, and can start healing from wounds at an accelerated rate compared to other Pewter arms. However, this constant flaring drives a need for the metal, and if the allomancer ever runs out of metal to flair, they can die quite suddenly from the shock. This makes study of Pewter Savants difficult for most people are too wary to attempt and it would be unethical to perform tests on the unwilling. Of specific interest to me is the infamous Pewter drag. This is an instance where an allomancer consumes massive amounts of Pewter at a consistently high rate in order to maintain a prolonged and intense burn of the metal. This pushes the boundaries of what we know are the limits of Pewter. Allomancers have been known to run for days on one of these burns, moving at a break neck speed. The longer this allomantic burn goes, the underlying consequences grow steadily more severe. The body seems to understands on a primal level that pewter-dragging is unnatural. Many Mistings report an overwhelming fatigue and mental sluggishness that accompanies a pewter drag. When the drag is finished, the allomancer must continue to burn pewter for the next several hours. If not, the allomancer may slip into a coma which can be lethal. They also must maintain a high water volume and calorie intake so their bodies can continue to function. Pewter dragging is highly dangerous and should be overseen by other experienced allomancers in order to help train the mind for the incredible physical strain. My studies have led me to the conclusion that Pewter is the greatest example of Preservation’s Shardic Intent, and why I felt this should be the foundation for my claims. Experience and observation indicate that the Intents of the Shards direct the application of their endowed Investiture. In fact, I postulate that by studying the manifestations and laws that govern an observed Investiture, that you could determine from observation alone what the Shard’s core intent is. For example, I wish you to reflect upon the fundamentals of Pewter. Pewter brings incredible physical enhancements to the allomancer. This effect has a limit or cap, but these powers come with little to no consequence to the allomancer. Pewter isn’t necessarily making you stronger, but rather that strength is a consequence for what it is doing. I have observed that Pewter instead produces the effect of freezing an allomancer’s state of existence. While burning pewter, the physical body resists changes down to the microscopic level. The bones don’t get larger and tougher, they simple resist change making them harder to break. The body can sprint at speed for long periods of time because Pewter prevents the body from suffering the ill effects of motion and muscle degradation. The pewter is acting as a barrier, preserving the allomancer’s body by expelling the energy that would normally create these physical changes and dissipating it into the spiritual realm. This is speculation on my part, but the differences that we see in the physical Ferrochemical arts displays this discrepancy perfectly. As you will see in my future essays, alomancy uses investiture to effect the world around the alomancer, all the while preserving the allomancer. The other metallic arts require great physical sacrifice in order to obtain their power. Allomancies complete dependence on metals fits the observed intent of Preservation. Despite this drive for Preservation, any interaction with Investiture comes with risks as stated above. Just because a Pewter Allomancer resists changes, doesn’t mean that they are unharmed or changed from this process. In fact, quite the opposite. But it is apparent to me that the intent behind pewter’s power clearly follows the pattern of its shard. This can also be observed in Pewter’s metallic counterpart, Tin. Tin is the Internal Physical Pulling metal. This power creates a heightening in the allomancer’s perceptions of the physical world by pulling on the capabilities of the allomancer’s mind. This enhancement is unilateral, greatly increasing the sensitivity of all the senses all at once. Normally this information would be overwhelming and possibly damaging to the psyche. However, it is apparent that Tin’s abilities change the way the mind works, increasing its capabilities. I believe that this is actually the only true change that Tin proves. Reports indicate that a Tin eye, or a Tin misting, does not see anything that wasn’t already observable. Instead they become hyper aware of all the sensory input that their bodies are receiving and enhances the minds ability to interoperate the information. Tin also provides an ability to see through the mists of Scadrial. The Mists are a gaseous manifestation of Preservation/Harmonies power in the physical world, and thus Preservation’s Arcane abilities are granted an advantage in the Mists, most noticeably with the Tin eyes. This ability does come with many downsides. With such a sensitivity to stimuli, the allomancer is susceptible to any dramatic changes in sensory input. Unexpected loud noises or bright lights can stun and even incapacitate a Tin eye. Even with the mental enhancement, the mind can only handle so much data at once. Another cost is the enhancement of pain receptors which can also overwhelm a tin eye. In fact, the tin eye often avoids confrontation for this very reason for while burning tin they can be easily incapacitated. Tin Savants are some of the strangest invested entities in the Cosmere. The extended Tin flair causes the mind of the Allomancer to permanently change. With this enhancement, the mind becomes incredibly capable of filtering out unwanted sensations, allowing for… strange abilities. Before the Catasandra, the Lord Mistborn was a Tin-eye Misting who became the only documented Tin Savant on record. He was capable of seeing through cloth, could see stars on cloudy nights, and was even able to hear a man’s heartbeat from over thirty yards away. However, if the Savant ever runs out of Tin, his natural senses are dulled into almost nothing. This is a frightening medical condition that if left untreated runs a high risk of accidental death due to a lack of sensory data. In is my opinion that such Savants be discourage, although it must be admitted that the supernatural senses it creates fascinating and the effects of such abilities are powerful if executed properly. Tin also reflects Preservation’s intent. With the exception of the Savant, Tin does enhance an allomancer without altering the individual. Again we can see that Tin does not make the individual’s eyes better, or change the physical characteristics of the Tin-eye’s ears. Instead the changes are all about the capabilities of the mind and the ability to intemperate incoming data. This preserves the allomancer while also increasing the allomancer’s ability to survive. Savants challenge this assertion but I believe that the metaphysical changes observed in the Lord Mistborn’s life were caused by a fundamental law of investiture, rather than by the intent of Preservation. I have observed in my years of travel that those who channel large amounts of investiture for long periods of time are physically altered by the power. This is a study outside of my focus but such examples of metaphysical changes have been seen in the Soulcasters of Roshar, or the Dakhor of Sel. Prolonged and persistent Investiture creates changes in individuals even when the intent was never to produce such changes. In conclusion, the manifestation of Pewter and Tin are perfect examples of the manifestation of Preservation’s Intent, the guiding nature of the Shard. The other abilities of Allomancy also reflect this, but none as starkly as the internal physical metals. Following this article are my estimations of Pewters limitations and flared capabilities as well as personal annotations made in the Words of Founding concerning the effects of a Tin savant. Postscript: This essay is of particular note, perhaps we have been looking at these metals in the wrong light all along. If we can, I desire to conduct more tests of this nature on Kandra blessings, I am curious to see if Kandra can become Savants. Until the next letter, Elsric
  11. The following is a fan fiction about some members of the seventeenth shard that I made up: Wan ShaiLu from The Emperor's Soul and a Terriswoman I named Kuthyl. It is set in T'Telir on Nalthis. They were finally going to catch Hoid. Shai’s heart was beating so fast with excitement and anxiousness that she thought it would explode. It had been so long since she had set out to find him on her home world of Sel, and she had only grown to hate him more and more as the years passed. She had learned that he was much more than a simple thief. Apparently, her desire to find him and her skill as a Forger had attracted the attention of the 17th Shard. They also desperately wanted to find Hoid and they wanted her to join their ranks, so she did. Thus, she found herself with powerful allies, like Kuthyl. Over the years, Shai had gotten to know Kuthyl pretty well: she was an elderly woman and very tall for her age, or any age for that matter. She was also smarter than any person had a right to be; she could learn languages even faster than Shai in her scholar form, and she was always giving her little pieces of knowledge and advice. Most of these she knew already, but sometimes they could be quite profound. There was one thing about Kuthyl that slightly worried Shai in regard to their current mission: she was a tenderhearted pacifist. Considering the fact that Shai knew herself to be somewhat tenderhearted, they were not the best team for a killing mission. However, this was Hoid they were going after, and they would both do just about anything to get to him. “I really wish there was a better way to do this,” whispered Kuthyl. She was crouched in the empty alleyway behind Shai. The darkness protected them from the watchful eyes of the guards patrolling the top of the wall that surrounded the court of the gods. Shai didn’t respond. She was using a new form that she had made for situations like this. She had constructed a new Essence Mark that revised her history so that she grew up and trained with a family of assassins. In assassin form, she did not like to talk, much like Shaizan, her warrior form. Besides, both of them knew that this was the only way available to them. The only people who could enter the court of the gods through the front gate were priests and important people, and it was impossible to disguise themselves as one of these without Breaths. Thus, they had to go over the wall, and that meant killing a couple of guards. She unpacked her bow and arrows which she had constructed with wood from the local jungle and her survivalist Essence Mark, and slowly approached the wall, staying in the shadows. “The key to sneaking is to not make any sudden movements,” whispered Kuthyl as Shai left her behind. It was another useless piece of advice. In her assassin form, there were very few people who could sneak better than her. Shai nocked an arrow and shot one of the guards in the neck. Before his partner was able to respond, another arrow had taken him out. They were now racing against the clock: the guard changeover would happen in three hours, and they would notice these two missing guards. She quickly unwrapped her grappling hook and threw it over the wall and then climbed to the top. She gave the signal, telling Kuthyl that it was alright for her to climb the rope now, but she didn’t go to the rope. Kuthyl got to the base of the wall, and then all of her muscles grew to impressive proportions in less than a second. She jumped and flew all the way to the top of the wall, and then landed on top as light as a feather. It was ironic to see such a bulky body move with the grace of a lightweight dancer. “We must hurry,” Kuthyl said, “even the best plans can go wrong. It is usually a good practice to assume that something will go wrong, like an early guard changeover.” Again, Shai did not respond. She did not expect this to take three hours. She quickly lowered the grappling hook down the other side of the wall and rappelled to the ground. Then, Kuthyl leapt down to the bottom with the grappling hook in her hand, she landed just as lightly as before, but her muscles had returned to their normal sizes. Their target was in a building that was just visible in the distance ahead of them. It had taken a long time for them to discover that Hoid was there. First, they were lucky enough to find an informant who knew Hoid from his description. The informant told them that Hoid was a master storyteller that spent much of his time in the court of the gods. From there, Shai and Kuthyl had spent many weeks entering the court of gods in the daytime as petitioners. They went to each god to see if they could find Hoid in their retinue. Shai had to use all of her different identities except for the one that would make her forget Forging. Kuthyl had been able to go in several different times because she changed her age. Finally, two days ago, Shai had seen him among the retinue of Stillmark. Luckily, he did not recognize her in her beggar form. “Okay, let me sneak up to the building, and I’ll give you signal as soon as the coast is clear.” Kuthyl swept her eyes over the court and responded, “Don’t worry about it. The nearest people in the court right now are a couple of priests just beyond Weatherlove’s place over there.” “How can you see that far?” asked Shai. Her silent nature was overcome with incredulity. Kuthyl simply tapped her finger on one of her earrings. “It’s just another advantage of being a Feruchemist. Let’s go.” When they got to Stillmark’s household they found it guarded by three guards. They were ready for this. Kuthyl ran to the side of the house and leapt onto the roof. The guards did not see her because she ran so fast that she was just a blur, nor did they hear her land on the roof because she had landed too lightly. Shai approached the guards at a slow, sneaking pace and when she was within range she took out her bow and arrows again. The first guard died with an arrow in the neck and the other two guards died simultaneously a second later. When Kuthyl saw the first guard die, she leapt off of the roof and somehow increased her weight without becoming bulky like before. She crashed into the second guard and crushed the life out of him just as the second arrow took the third guard. The plan was going perfectly so far. When they got into the house they decided to stick to the hallways at first. Unfortunately, this is where the servants went on their nightly routines. Shai and Kuthyl ran into one of these servants at the far end of a hallway after a couple of minutes of exploration. The servant stared in shock for a moment and then turned and started to run in the other direction. There was a blur of motion and a gust of wind and then Kuthyl appeared right beside the man. The man let out a loud yelp of shock just before Kuthyl bulked up and punched his face in. That yelp had to have been heard by someone. The plan was no longer going so perfectly. Then there was a loud call of alarm from behind her. She turned to see a guardsman who had come to check out the noise. She drew a dagger and threw it at the man, killing him. “We need to get out of here,” she called to Kuthyl as she started to run in the direction where the guard had fallen. Kuthyl followed behind. When she got to the guard’s fallen body she took out her warrior Essence Mark and stamped herself with it. She was now Shaizan, a warrior trained by the Teullu. She picked up the guardsman’s sword and readied herself to fight her way out. It was a good thing she had, because the guards started to pour in from both ends of the hallway. There were a lot more than she would have expected to be in a single god’s house. Shaizan busied herself with the guards in front of her, parrying and striking expertly. Meanwhile, Kuthyl increased her muscles to incredible sizes and charged straight into the group coming from the other direction. She bowled them all off of their feet and took a couple of hits from swords and spears, but those cuts quickly healed up. As she turned around to finish off the men she had knocked down, a man appeared behind her that didn’t look like a guard. He wore the colorful, elegant clothes of a T’Telir nobleman, and had a long rope in each hand. He whipped one of these ropes at Kuthyl’s feet and it wrapped itself around them, causing her to fall over. She immediately shrunk her muscles back to normal size to get out of the bonds, but the ropes tightened as her muscles decreased. Then one of guardsmen got up and knocked her out with the butt of his spear. After that, Shaizan was easily overpowered from two sides and tied up with the other rope. They were taken to an underground dungeon and left in a cell with their hands tied up to brackets on the ceiling. Kuthyl woke up a few minutes later and looked around to get her bearings. “Well, when you are captured it is usually best to escape as early as possible, because you only get weaker the longer you spend in captivity. Do you have any plans for escape, Shai?” “Not with my hands tied like this,” responded Shai, “do you?” “Yes I do. Fortunately, they don’t know anything about Feruchemy so they didn’t take my metalminds. But it’ll take me a little while before I can do anything. Hopefully they’ll be leaving us alone for a while now.”
  12. The following is a fan fiction I wrote about how Zahel became known as a swordmaster. It is set in Alethkar before the death of King Gavilar. This story is probably more wrong than my other one, according to cosmere theory, but at least I spelled the title correctly. Vasher wanted to tell Dalinar that he was a stupid, stubborn drunkard that was too concerned with his own reputation. The man was brother to the king and he should be more concerned with helping him in the impossible task of uniting Alethkar, rather than trying to compete for glory as a great warrior, the Blackthorn. Yet Vasher found himself sitting on a stool across from Dalinar, in a private room of the Kholin palace, listening to his concerns about his reputation. It was one of his duties as a house ardent. “Even you have to admit the child isn’t anything like my other son, nor even like any other lighteyed child I have ever met,” said Dalinar. Vasher suppressed a disgruntled grumble and replied, “Sometimes you just have to accept the fact that your cloak is the wrong color and wear it anyways.” “What?” Dalinar looked very confused. I have to stop using analogies like that, Vasher thought. “What I meant is that maybe Renarin isn’t Called to be a warrior like you and Adolin. There are many other noble Callings, I think, and he still has a while before he has to pick one. So just be patient and don’t drive him too hard in one direction.” “You are the worst ardent I have ever met Zahel. Sometimes I wonder if you even know what Vorinism is about.” “Yes, a lot of people say that about me,” replied Vasher, “so the question is, why did you send for me?” Dalinar picked up the Shardblade that had been resting on the ground beside him; it was from the King’s collection, meaning anyone could use it with permission. “You were once a warrior, and you seem to have quite the knowledge about many different kinds of swords,” he nodded pointedly to Nightblood, the black sheathed sword that rested by Vasher’s own chair (it had taken a lot of effort to get the head ardents to allow him to keep it), “and I can trust you to keep this matter and the conversation to yourself, being my ardent. My problem is this: I’ve been trying to get Renarin to hold it and feel its power, so that he’ll be inspired to work harder in his training, but he’s afraid of it. He says that it hurts his ears to touch it. Have you ever heard anything like this before? Is this Blade defective?” He handed the Blade to Vasher, who took it and started to study its surface. “Just think about it for a little while and we can talk again after my duel. I’m sure you can return the Blade yourself.” After Dalinar left, Nightblood’s voice spoke up in his head, I think she used to be like me, but it’s like she’s dead now. You mean this Blade? asked Vasher. How do you know it’s a she? Can’t you feel her? She’s not completely dead. Do you think you can wake her up with a Breath? It would be like having my own sister. That might be pretty cool You know we have to return it eventually. Yet, I could ask it about how it was made, that could be interesting, I guess that would be worth one Breath. He grabbed a ruby sphere from a bracket on the wall, and with it one hand and the Shardblade in the other, he said “My breath become yours”. The red light coming from the sphere became duller, and he felt a Breath escape him. Suddenly, a new feminine voice spoke up inside his head. What? Where am I? Who are you? Where is my master? What happened? Nightblood responded through Vasher, your old master is probably dead. This is my master. He just awakened you with a Breath. Get Away! Get away from that whoever you are, that blade is evil. Hey, I’m not-, Nightblood was interrupted by Vasher, that is Nightblood. I practically made him. He has been commanded to destroy evil. He will do me no harm. What he meant was that a long time ago, your master broke his oath with you and- Hey, that man looks like a Returned, interrupted Nightblood. What? Vasher looked up at a group of armed men walking through the hallway just past the doorway. There were five of them. Four of them had on leather armor and held various weapons; Vasher knew by instinct that the fifth man was the one Nightblood had mentioned: he wore a black and silver uniform and had a strange crescent moon shaped scar on his face. They look evil, we should destroy them, said Nightblood. They look like they are going to hurt people who can’t protect themselves, said the Shardblade, you should kill them so they can’t do it. I’m beginning to like this Shardblade better than you already Nightblood, Vasher thought as he stood up and strode off toward the group, a sword in each hand. A quick look proved that there was no one else around. “Hey,” he called to them, “what is your business here?” The group stopped and turned around. The man with the scar on his face said “we have come for the life of Renarin Kholin. He is wanted for reasons that I don’t have to explain to you, ardent.” “I’m sorry but I don’t believe you, and my friends here don’t either.” Vasher tossed Nightblood onto the ground before the five men. As usual, it started a bloodbath as one of the men took the blade and started to kill his friends with it. However, it didn’t end up with everyone dead as usual. The scar-faced man summoned a Shardblade and killed the man with Nightblood in his hand, just as he finished off the third warrior. He was now the last man alive out of the five. He turned and charged at Vasher, wielding his Shardblade with expert skill. Fortunately, Vasher was able to parry, using his borrowed Shardblade with equal skill. However, the fight ended abruptly after a couple of minutes when the scar-faced man touched his pants and he found himself stuck to the ceiling with Stormlight leaking from the pants. “I don’t know who you are, but thank you for the cool new sword. I must be going now.” The scar-faced man stooped to pick up Nightblood and then dashed off down the hallway towards the living chambers. I can’t let him get to Renarin, thought Vasher, but I don’t know what to do. He examined his pants with the Stormlight leaking out of them, and an idea came to him. He put a hand on his pants and commanded “Let go of things”. The red light in the hallway, which came from some ruby spheres placed in brackets along the hallway, became much duller, and some of his breath left him. His pants straightened and made themselves loose, so that his legs slipped through them and he fell onto the floor. His pants were still stuck to the ceiling by the Stormlight. He could hear the screams and calls of alarm as people witnessed the unknown Shardblade-wielding assailant dash through the halls. He focused on his life sense to tell him where the killer was. He could sense the servants milling around in hysteria, the guards running in groups down various hallways, and—there! The scar-faced man was in a hallway directly above him, running back in his direction. Okay friend, Vasher said to the Shardblade in his hand, I’m going to throw you, and I want you to maintain your form, all the way through the ceiling. I really shouldn’t listen to you, because you’re not my master, but I guess you are trying to protect people. I’ll do as you say this once, just let me chance my shape. The Shardblade shifted, so that the crossguard disappeared and the sides became narrower at the tip and broader at the base, like a viciously long spearhead. Just as the scar-faced man was approaching the point just above him, Vasher threw the Shardblade at the ceiling. It went all the way through. Vasher sensed the man stop, he was not dead, but had probably been injured. He stayed there for a while as a large guard group approached him, and then suddenly whipped down the rest of the hallway with incredible speed. Vasher could no longer sense him with his life sense. Vasher dashed up to the hallway where the scar-faced man had been. There was a group of guards by the spot where he had thrown the Shardblade and another group looking out a window at the far end of the hallway. Dalinar was with them. He approached Vasher with the Shardblade in his hand; it had gone back to its previous shape. “Zahel, did you throw this through the floor?” Dalinar asked. “My men here said that there was a man running through the hallway with a Shardblade in one hand and your black sword in his other hand. They said this Shardblade came through the floor and struck his leg. Unfortunately, the man flew out that window before we could get to him though.” “Maybe,” replied Vasher. “That is the most incredible feat I have ever seen done with a Shardblade before. Were you a swordmaster before you became an ardent?” “Maybe” “Huh. A swordmaster ardent who takes his pants off in the middle of a battle,” Dalinar looked pointedly at Vasher’s bare legs, “you are an interesting person Zahel. I want you to take over Adolin’s sword training from now on. Also, I’ll talk to the head ardents about letting you keep this sword, since you lost your other one.”
  13. The following is a fan fiction I wrote about some the known members of the 17th Shard: Galladon and Captain Demoux. It occurs somewhere in Roshar after their meeting with Ishikk in Way of Kings. I don't know much about the 17th shard or the cosmere theories, but I don't think I made any blaring mistakes. "I'm kind of glad that this entire land will get obliterated like he said," said Temoo in the usual grim tone that seemed to be his normal speaking voice, "these people deserve it. Understand?" His bowl of soup sat cooling on the table in front of him. He had meticulously stirred through it with his knife to observe its contents and had apparently disapproved of them. Captain Demoux did not recognize any of the ingredients in the soup, but his soldier's training kicked in and he ate anyways. As a soldier, you needed to keep yourself fueled at all times, no matter how bad the food tasted. "If it were up to you Temoo," Demoux replied, "every land we visited would get obliterated." He did not know if Temoo was this man's real name, nor did he know where he came from. In fact, of the few members of the secretive seventeenth shard he had met so far, there was not a single person whose identity he could be sure of. But, he did know two things about Temoo that the man could not conceal: the man was a cynic and he had a secret power that involved drawing symbols in the air. Those symbols were the means by which they could travel between worlds. He knew far less about the other man on the mission with them, Vao, who was currently in a different part of town picking up some supplies. Sometimes Temoo's pessimism could make him quite angry, mainly because it was one of the main things that Kelsier had fought against when he was alive. Kelsier always had a smile and an optimistic attitude, even when the rebel army that he had been building for months was nearly destroyed in a day. However, Demoux was the leader in this mission, and he would not let the attitudes of his subordinates get the better of him. "Okay friend, maybe I do have a strong bias about what makes a good land good, but you have to admit that this place is just pitiful. Understand?" Temoo made a wide gesture at the bar they were sitting in. It was true; the place fit Temoo's description. Everything was carved out of grey stone, from the tables to the chairs. Even the mugs were of a greyish color. The other patrons sat at tables with grim expressions that fit the grey atmosphere. The only color in the place came from the sphere lanterns behind the main bar; they gave off dull reddish light that also seemed very gloomy. "The land that I came from was once very similar to this," replied Demoux. "We were once oppressed by a tyrant emperor who enslaved most of us and created large ashmounts everywhere that spewed ash onto the land constantly. However, we killed him and eventually fixed the land so that everything was colorful and full of life. These people are oppressed, but by their own tradition. They can't simply kill someone and-" He was interrupted by a loud crash as the door to the bar burst open and five men aggressively walked in. They had the look of warriors; four of them had leather armor and various weapons. The fifth man made a sight that immediately made Demoux forget about the gloominess of this land. He was armored in majestic crimson and gold armor from head to foot, and there were no gaps, just smaller interlocking plates. This man spoke to the bartender from behind his greathelm, ornamented with spheres on the outside that gave a bright golden glow, "Where are those foreigners I asked you to tell me about?' "Th-there," the nervous bartender was pointing straight towards them. "Idos Domi!" exclaimed Temoo, "they're after us!". He immediately drew one of his magic symbols in the air. It grew brighter and brighter until it exploded outward towards the soldiers. The four in standard leather armor were thrown across the room and hit the wall with such force that they were probably dead. The man in the majestic armor took a step back to steady himself, but was otherwise unaffected. Temoo swore again as the man in armor laughed and brought his hand to the side as if grabbing an invisible pole. "Let me take care of this one," said Demoux as he grabbed his knife from the table. He also drank a vial of atium. He had been given many of those in the black space between worlds, they seemed to have a lot there. He burned the atium and world became alive with shadowy specters resembling people and moving objects, showing him where everything would be a few seconds in the future. He started to approach the man in armor. Suddenly, the man's specter thrust at him with the hand that he had been holding out. A shadowy sword appeared in that hand which pierced his heart. What the-? Demoux thought. But he took a step back anyways to clear the blade. Sure enough, the man made the same motion with his hand and a real sword appeared out of nowhere. The blade misted on the sides and was unusually long and bright looking. The end was just an inch from his chest; it was a good thing that he had stepped back. The man grunted in surprise, but stepped forward and continued his attack with barely a moment of hesitation. Demoux saw the next swing long before it actually came and easily dodge it, the blade passing within inches of him. The man then took the sword in two hands and aimed a powerful downward swing at him. Demoux used the time bought by this costly swing to spin around to the man's back. There's not even a weak spot in the back. I guess I'll have to go for the eyeslit, he thought. The man's spectral image swung around and slashed at him, so he ducked before the real sword came around in the exact same motion, passing over his head with an inch to spare. Demoux jumped up and tried to thrust his knife into the eyeslit, but the man tilted his head back and avoided the knife. Demoux made another dodge and another thrust for the eyeslit but was again unsuccessful. I can dodge quickly, but my attacks are not helped by the atium at all. He is too good to let me stab him through the eyeslit. I need a better weapon. Knowing his opponent's next swing, Demoux took a step back and actually turned his back to the man in armor. He was looking at the four dead men on the other side of the room for a reliable weapon. The man swore as his blade passed by Demoux's back. "Fight me you cremling coward," he yelled as he tried to thrust at Demoux's back. Demoux simply rolled and ran over to where the other four soldiers had fallen. He picked up a heavy metal mallet and slammed it into the man's back with all his strength after dodging and spinning around another attack. The mallet barely affected the armor at all, but he thought there was a slight crack. From there on the battle consisted of Demoux dodging and spinning around to the man's back where he would slam in the mallet. The other bar patrons had mostly fled by now, but there were a couple gawking in open amazement. The man swore often, but did not change his tactics, he did not know what to do with an atium misting. There really wasn't a whole lot he could do. After about twenty hard swings of the mallet and downing two more vials of atium as his level got low (all while dodging the strange sword), a hole finally appeared in the armor on the man's back. Demoux grabbed his knife and then stabbed the man in the back through the hole. The man gasped and fell forward. He dropped the strange sword and it disappeared. Demoux quickly rolled him over onto his back, dodged a slow punch, and then stabbed him through the eyeslit with a powerful thrust. The man died and his sword appeared at his side. "Way to not show off your powers, friend" said Temoo from the back corner. "You're the one who made a magic symbol in the air that killed four men" said Demoux, through gasps. The fight had left him quite out of breath. "Oh well, I guess we're both in the wrong here then. Are you going to take that armor and sword? I'm pretty sure those are some of the legendary shards of this land." "Yeah, I guess they could be pretty useful," replied Demoux.
  14. As a writer, I suffer from chronic worldbuilding, that is, I can't write until I have the world perfect in my mind. So, in order to practice writting, I decided to steal Sanderson's worlds. This is just the beginning to a story idea I have concerning a low-ranked lighteyes who, in his words, is terrible at being a lighteyes. Thoughts and reviews are welcome!
  15. As I said in my post "Storm's Shadow", I have issues with fleshing out worlds before writting, so I decided to start stealing Sanderson's worlds. This is a quick scene I wrote from a story idea I got set on Scadrial during the Final Empire. And yes, I have a reason why he can be an Electrum Misting in the Final Empire, but its a secret ! (It has to do with a secret team of Ministry assassins trained to fight Mistborn/Inquisitors by using forbidden metals. The Lord Ruler organized them as a contingency against the Inquisitors in case Ruin ever seized control of them. I think this makes perfect sense, since the Lord Ruler himself didn't need the lynchpin spike, he could just blow them to bits with a steel Push. It then follows that he taught the secret to some of his followers. These followers eventually turned into his elite hit-men instead, since the Inquisitors never actually tried to betray him) Thoughts and reviews welcome! In particular, I'd like to know peoples' take on the combat applications of Electrum.
  16. This is some awesome stuff, I've only read London's Drowning, but damnation its awesome. http://thecitysmith.tumblr.com/
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