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Found 20 results

  1. Here's a little something I wrote to explore Dalinar's first attempts Summary (Possible Oathbringer Spoilers): (Open this spoiler to see fic):
  2. I’m almost done listening to Oathbringer (it’s getting crazy intense!) and I started writing some fanfic! Also, I totally didn’t know Graphic Audio was a thing until today. It looks awesome! I’ll have to check it out on my next read(?) through. Curious about which Sanderson series I should start next! -Samuel
  3. This is my fanfiction I'm writing. It takes place around 13 years in the future. If you want to read it here is the link. (It's not finished. This is only a part of the first draft.) Anyway here's the link. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XPIiak-o9gJaPPhGaHdTc2AMHSh6_RKE6TEK49weknQ/edit?usp=sharing
  4. A list of all the stories I'm working on that have something to do with the Cosmere fandom and other Brandy Sandy works, and a short summary of each. COSMERE STORIES: Stormlight Archive: Pentagram: An SA AU where Kaladin is bitten by a werewolf around the beginning of the second book. First chapter is currently under construction. Crossovers: Stormlight Archive: Avatar: The Last Airbender: Siblings of Storm, Siblings of Soul: An SA/ATLA crossover where Zuko wakes up in the path of the slave caravan that's carrying Kaladin near the beginning of the first book. First chapter is currently under construction. RECKONERS STORIES: Before and After: A collection of one-shots in the Reckoners series. First one-shot is up on Fanfiction.net and second is currently under construction. Steelson: A Reckoners AU where Steelheart adopts David. Prologue is up on Fanfiction.net and first chapter is under construction. Crossovers: Avatar: The Last Airbender: Deception: A Reckoners/ATLA crossover where the Fire Nation Royal Family (and maybe co.) are Epics. Prologue is up on Fanfiction.net and first chapter is under construction. Aliases and Pen Names: Fanfiction.net: Gray Jedi 4000 AO3: I_Deal_In_Nightmare_Fuel Wattpad: GrayJedi4000 Note: I will take requests for one-shots and flash fictions. Other Note: This will be updated as progress happens.
  5. Hello eveyone. I have been working on the outlines for a Mistborn fanfic for some time now and while I have much of the ideas organized, there is one important plot element that I would love to include but I am unsure if the Mistborn Era 2 tech would be able to provide what I need to make it plausible. So here it goes: the story would be set in the 50th year anniversary for the Catacendre and follow the first Double Steel Twinborn on record, who as it happens, is one of Spook's many granddaughters. Without going into too many details, I need her to be able to use her compounding to walk on water for about 20 seconds. Now, I have done some research and according to the math, that would require her to go run at 30 meters per second/108 Kilometers per hour. I think it could be done since research shows that humans speed cap has been theoretically placed at around 45 km and we are talking about a double steel twinborn compounding to very fast effects. However, I have also read from a WoB that such Twinborns would also have a cap in their speed due to air resistance. Does anyone here have any idea if the speeds I am talking about would be too much due to the air resistance and if so, what wild west level resources/clothing could be used to help her handle that 20-second sprint? Thank you for your time and for bearing with me.
  6. So, I had a lot of fun writing the Ati and Leras piece a little while ago, so I thought I would try another speculative Cosmere History. One of the pieces of Cosmere History I would love to know more about is the Five Scholars, and Shashara in particular. Despite how little we know about her, her story has always really intrigued me, so this is my take on her. Let me know what you guys think :). [I know I might be suspending disbelief a little with what Vasher can see here, and what he’s capable of doing with the spy-glass, but let’s just say it works for now so I do not have to figure out how it actually works. My angle is he has a good vantage point, and he’s doing a combination of looking through the glass and using his naked eye]. [Also, I know that Brandon has said that "Nightblood" is not the original name, and that Vasher only named it that after killing Shashara, but without another name to fill in I used Nightblood as a placeholder.] Here are my two primary reference points: "There's something particularly chilling about watching dead men kill living ones." Shashara stepped back from the spyglass, but her eyes continued to dart back and forth across the battlefield, no doubt calculating the odds of their success. "What's that?" Vasher stepped forward to join his wife, though he took little pleasure in what he saw. As one of the leaders of this army, he felt obligated to make an appearance, but he would have much preferred to be back in their laboratory, puzzling out what exactly had went wrong with that sword. . . Shashara laughed, it was strange to hear such a beautiful sound when men screamed and died below them. The couple stood alone on a high platform, suspended in the air by giant Awakened ropes, giving them an impressive view of the battlefield below. "Have I ever told you that you have the lyricism of a lifeless?" Her hair was a vibrant blonde, but Vasher had trouble discerning whether that was for appearances or a genuine show of emotion. Is she enjoying this? "Oh, a couple of times." It was an old joke, between them. Shashara's perfect lips quirked into a familiar smirk. They had both chosen to reveal themselves as Returned for this battle, rather than concealing their divinity beneath facades of humanity. The colours of Shashara's hair and eyes were dazzling, and her well tailored white uniform shone in the light of her Bio Chroma. Aside from her shoes, which looked rather flimsy compared to standard military boots, she looked the part of a general. Today, Glorysinger was revealing herself in all her splendor. "You were saying?" "It's just strange isn't it? Before Lifeless, war was a contest of the living, and the dead were the defeated. But who can win a a battle against the dead, and what does it mean to defeat your enemies if they will rise again as to join your army? We Awaken them and preserve them, then we command them to kill so we can create more. The dead multiply as humanity diminishes. Not a very good survival strategy for the living, is it?" "No, I do not think it is." "Well, it's a good thing we picked the right side then. Us dead people need to stick together." "That. . . was not a funny joke." "The moment I trust your taste is the moment I know my sense of humour is lost beyond all hope." Shashara stiffened suddenly as the battle seemed to shift below them. Vasher watched as her fingers played with the clasp on the weapon. Her hands seemed to have a darker tone than was normal, their colour deepened by Nightblood's aura. "It's not ready. You know that." "How are we to know anything without testing its potential? It's sentient, isn't it? I can hear its voice even now. It can sense the evil down there Vasher. It knows its purpose." "The blades on Roshar. . ." "Colours, who cares about the blades on Roshar. Nightblood is more than some. . . splinter of divinity bound by foolish ideals. I think even those poor fools who call themselves Heralds would fear what we've accomplished." Her grip on the sword tightened. "Shashara. . ." She finally looked up from the battle to meet his eyes. Her gaze was cold and determined. You are not the person you think you are. You are a brilliant scholar and a fearless leader. You drive me mad while being the love of my life. There are other ways. Don't do this. Shashara sighed and re-slung the weapon across her back. "Oh, fine." She stepped towards him, and they embraced. "I don't know what I'd do without your love and support, dear one." Vasher allowed himself a smile--only because Shashara's face was so buried in his shoulder that she could not see him, of course. "Good thing you will never have to find out." He tightened his grip on her, wanting to hold on to the moment for as long as possible. All too soon he could feel her begin to pull away. Reluctantly, he let his hands fall to his sides. Shashara smiled, letting her fingers linger as she straightened his scarf. "Gag and hold to ground." Vasher's eyes widened as one end of his scarf forced itself between his lips and down his throat, while the other encircled his body and yanked him to the floor of the platform. From his new angle, he could see where Shashara had discarded one of her shoes when she walked over to him, and the patch of grey where she had leeched the colour from the floor. Shashara wasted no time, and was already reaching into her satchel taking out a length of starched cord and one of the little straw men Vasher had made her. "Hold things". The chord shot towards him, further restricting his movement. "Explore and disarm". The straw man sprung to life in her hands and scampered over to Vasher. It began to clamber over him, digging under his clothes and exploring hidden pockets, searching for hidden weapons or coloured objects it could remove. Though the Command was simple, the visualization was complex, and difficult to master. Shashara replaced her shoe, and then cautiously approached Vasher has he desperately tried to escape his bonds. Breathing through his nose, he tried mouthing the words he needed to Break the Command on his scarf, desperately trying to force any air he could to make a sound. She has more breath than you, fool. You couldn't break her Commands even if you could make a sound. With the precision of a master inventor, Shashara methodically began stealing the colour from Vasher's clothing, using it to Awaken her own. The tails of her own scarf rose, preparing to snatch arrows from the air or entangle would-be attackers, and tendrils of rope uncoiled from where they hung at her waste, reaching out like the tentacles of an octopus. As she continued, her pant legs seemed to stiffen and the tassels on her sleeves sprung to life. This can't be happening. She won't do this to you. She can't. "I'm sorry to do this Vasher, but I won't let your softness stifle our vision. Nightblood is the future, and we cannot let its potential be wasted for the sake of sentiment. Just watch. You'll see." Shashara gave a few more careful Commands, causing Vasher's bonds to prop him upright and bring him over to the spyglass. "There you are. Nightblood will make us proud. I promise." Shashara turned and clambered over the edge of the railing, using her scarf, her sleeves, and the ropes at her belt to climb down to the ground. The front lines had moved and been pushed into the shallows of the river below. With the magnificent waterfalls in the background, the sight might have been breathtaking if it weren't accompanied by the sound of the more grisly breath -taking going on, and the increasing redness of the waters down stream. Shashara came into view again, gliding across the land on the back of one of the giant ropes their Awakeners used as catapults. In the brilliant uniform, with her hair, still blonde, flowing behind her, and her brilliant Bio Chroma, she seemed like a hero of out legend riding a serpentine dragon into battle. Hero, or villain? The enemy archers and Awakeners recognized Glorysinger instantly, and began training their arrows and boulders on her, hoping to take out a powerful enemy before she could join the battle. It was fruitless, of course. Shashara was too well prepared and her Commands were the most nuanced in existence. The rope she rode wove deftly down the hill, dodging between the falling stones, while her scarf deftly plucked arrows from the air mid-flight. Before the archers and Awakeners could get off a second round Shashara had joined the fray. She didn't draw Nightblood. As the large rope carried her through the battle, the cords at her waist unfurled lashed out, wrapping around necks and breaking them, or slamming soldiers, both living and Lifeless, into the ground. Others found themselves flying backward, pulled back and held by their own uniforms. Though it was inefficient, the ninth heightening allowed her to Awaken using only the sound of her voice. Vasher knew she kept some coloured scarves in her satchel for exactly that purpose. The tails of her scarf continued to defend her, narrowly deflecting the few attacks that managed to catch her as she slid past. Soon, Shashara had crossed to the other side of the battle. The rope she was on arched, lifting her into the air. Though many of the living soldiers turned to regard her with wonder, the Lifeless continued to fight, ignorant of her glory. With the falls to her back, Shashara looked down on the battlefield like a goddess descending from the heavens to smite her enemies. Arguably, that was exactly what she was. And then she drew Nightblood. She cried out as she held the weapon aloft, slamming nearby Lifeless to the ground with a forceful Command. Nightblood began to leak black smoke, it’s flaw corrupting Shashara’s Breath. An enemy Awakener, seeing an opportunity, sent a boulder flying towards her. The hurtling stone met Nightblood and vanished, dissolving into smoke. Shashara smiled. Her rope turned and dove back into the fray. A trail of black smoke followed in Shashara’s wake as both living and Lifeless were vapourized by Nightblood. Finally, unable to watch anymore but unable to turn away, Vasher closed his eyes. **** Later, when Vasher found her, Shashara was picking through corpses, scavenging for Breath to recover. VaraTreledees, only recently arrived, glanced down at them occasionally as he discussed the battle with some of their officers. “I can’t say I’m surprised you managed to free yourself, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with keeping it a secret.” Shashara smiled, but Vasher could hear the strain in her voice. Her Bio Chroma was significantly weaker than before, putting her just shy of the Eighth Heightening. “You don’t get to do that.” “Specificity is a scholar’s friend, Vasher. Vagueries are a waste of time.” Vasher stepped forward, unconsciously increasing his size. “You know what I mean.” His tone was low and menacing, but thankfully he kept the trembling in his hands from creeping into his voice. Shashara met his eyes for a moment and then shrugged, unconcerned with his anger. “Fine then, pout if you need to. When you’re done sulking we can go over the Nightblood’s performance. Now that we have a proto-type we can start discussing a test group. We will need more Breath though, lots of it. It might be a good idea to get a team together to test the weapons so we can save our Breath for Awakening. Conversely, I suppose we could teach others the Command and then handle testing personally, though I do worry about them being able grasp the nuances of the visualization.” Vasher stepped back. “You want to create more?” Sashara frowned. “Of course I want to make more. Did you see what it did, Vasher? I was. . . Nightblood was unstoppable. A few more victories as decisive as that one and the war will be over. A thousand Breaths is really a pittance when you think about it. If we equipped some elites with these weapons, and then backed them with a squad of lifeless, even Yesteel would have to admit our superiority.” Sensing his hesitation, and no doubt anticipating his arguments, Shashara continued before he could get a word in. “And who is to say we need only create weapons? The potential of Type IV Biochormatic Entities could be limitless. I know you disagree, but what if we could create Biochromatic poets, or even scholars? We know Roshar’s Radiants gained valuable counsel from the Spren. Think how our research could be enriched by getting an Awakened perspective.” “No.” “No?” Shashara scoffed. “No.” Shashara's eyes narrowed. “I promised to be your wife, Vasher, not your slave. You don’t control me. Here. . .” Vasher flinched as Shashara reached for Nightblood. Noting his discomfort, Shashara smirked as she unslung the sheath from her back and held the weapon out for Vasher to take. From anyone else, freely offering a weapon like Nightblood would have been a sign of trust. Shashara made it seem like an act of defiance, emphasizing his failure to intimidate her. She was handing him what might be the most deadly object in the Cosmere, confident that even then he would not be able to stop her from achieving her goals. She’s right. She’s always right. He saw that now. No matter what arguments he used, or what pressures he applied, he could not control Shashara. Nalthis itself would be dissolved into nothing before she let anyone get in her way. “Go on, take it. If I can’t talk some sense into you, maybe Nightblood can. It was drowsy after the fight, but it’s seeming to wake up now.” Hesitating, Vasher took the sword. Vasher? Shashara was right. Nightblood’s voice did sound strange. Did you see me? I think. . . I think I. . . um. . . I think I destroyed a lot of evil. Shashara says I did verrrrry well. I think she’s going to make new friends for me. Vasher scowled. “You can’t make friends Nightblood. You’re a sword.” Shashara smiled and turned, searching for more Awakened clothing she could recover breath from. Who sayssss? Shashara’s my friend. And I think you are too. “How do you know what friendship even is?” It’s. . . It’s like you and Shashara. You’re friends. You do friend things. The sword’s voice, which Vasher couldn’t help but see as masculine, seemed to be growing more clear, and less muddled. Nearby, Vasher watched as Shashara recovered some breath from a fallen soldier’s tunic, causing her Bio Chroma to brighten slightly. Giving a woman like Shashara an idealized appearance and Bio Chroma had always seemed painfully unfair. She could dazzle kings and charm the most skeptical of scholars with her mind and wits alone. Adding inhuman beauty and a glowing aura seemed like overkill. See? Frieeeendsssss. Are you two going to do that thing? “I’m going to do something, Nightblood, but probably not what you think.” I mean that thing where you . . . DESTROY EVIL. Shashara--Vasher’s brilliant, fearless, incredible wife--turned in surprise as Vasher drew Nightblood. “Don’t worry, I will.”
  7. "Stop!" he finally bellowed. "Stop it! Stop killing each other!" Everyone heard the voice of Kaladin Stormblessed, the man they all had grown to respect, and dropped their weapons. Beard began telling Sah one of his stories, this one about meeting a listener when he was only three. Kaladin turned, and saw King Elhokar on his knees. In one hand, his son, in another... a piece of paper. Storms, was that a sketch? In the hush that had fallen over the battlefield, everyone could hear his whispered oath, spoken with a determination rarely heard from someone who was supposed to command a nation. "Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination." The first ideal of the Knights Radiant. A burst of light came from the ruler, revitalizing Kaladin and healing all the wounds the soldiers had taken during the scuffle. The illusion faded, and he fell to his knees. Shallan and Adolin were both there to witness his weakness. "Bridgeboy, I don't think this was a good idea." With difficulty, he stood. "I know. Shallan, I won't ask you to do that again. I just... had to know what might have been." //tears
  8. Hey guys! I'm currently working on a Fan comic for The Reckoners. It's an aftermath story for Calamity. It's called Absolution and I hope you guys take a chance to read it,and enjoy it. If you like it, please tell me your thoughts, Plot: Tavi Phaedrus has become very uneasy since the fight with Obliteration. For months, She's not eating much, she's become restless, and becomes extremely jumpy. She remembers clearly on what happened during the battle. She was brought into David's world to fight Limelight, a version of her father, and nearly died because of it. She now worries that he will find a way to finish the fight she was dragged into . Prof also has a hard time living with himself. After all the horrible things he's done, he finds it hard to accept it all. He does everything he can to avoid his powers. He doesn't want to hurt his closest friends more than he already did. In doing so, he slowly grows more distant. After an alliance is made between the two dimensions, the two meet. Again. Can the two Epics learn to work together. Can they do that whilst two Epic plan a way to destroy New Cago?
  9. I've hit a strange writer's block where the only thing I've been able to work on is a Voltron fanfic involving my own character. The subject of the fanfic isn't important, though. My problem is that it's really hard for me to write somebody else's characters. Whenever I start writing dialogue, I get caught up thinking, "Would they really talk like this?" "How would they react?" "What would they think in a situation like this?", and then I stop writing. I was wondering if anyone had some suggestions. I know all writing blocks pass, but I'd like to finish something for once in my life.
  10. Hi. I am currently doing a quest (a reader driven interactive narrative) on 4chan's /qst/ board. I figured a good way to find interested participants would be to advertise at the hub of the Cosmere fandom. It is currently running right here: https://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/1047081 The pitch is a bounty hunter during Era 2 of Mistborn is going to a town named Crowther to try and find revenge. Here is the first Thread so you can read it and see if it interests you: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/979396/ And my twitter where I post when the threads are live: https://twitter.com/WhistlerDM Thanks for checking it out!
  11. Hello my fellow Mistings! I've been searching around the internet a bit (as any self respecting fangirl does ), and I've noticed something. I cannot find a Mistborn fanfiction for the life of me. Like, at all. Does anyone know where I can find some? If not, would anyone be interested in reading one? I dabble in writing here and there, and have been interested in writing a fanfiction for awhile now. Since is my absolute favorite series and I know the world so well...I thought it might be a good place to start. Thoughts? Suggestions? Comments? I'm open to all. Thank you for your time! --MWAK <3
  12. Now hear me out, this actually makes sense. Also Spoiler Alert!!!!! This will have lots of spoilers for the three Dragon Age games. They are great games so play them and come back when you are done please! Okay, so let me get into this. I was playing Dragon Age Inquisition and I started noticing some things. Maybe its all the Sanderson books I've been reading lately but I couldn't help seeing the similarities. the more I played, the more I thought they are similar. But toward the end of the game, I realized that the similarities are strong enough that I wouldn't be surprised to see Hoid showing up in Skyhold to impart some wisdom upon the inquisitor and tell tales with Varric. Dragon Age is a fantasy series, sometimes called "dark fantasy" but the world is vibrant and super enjoyable. The world has Humans, Elves who used to be immortal but are now second class citizens, Dwarves, and Qunari who are grey skinned people with horns. Now I could go on forever but I wanna get right to the meat of things. First of all, the nature of the world is strongly influenced by the interaction between the physical world and the Fade. the Fade is a place where people's minds go when they dream. It's a place shaped by the thoughts and emotions of the dreamers, and has spirits who represent a aspect or emotion of humanity (anger, sloth, wisdom, justice, ect) I think that there are a lot of parallels to the Fade and the Cognitive Realm. In the Fade, it is an unstable version of the real world that has different rules, but is tied to the world. The beings who live in the Fade embody a pure ideal, and can grant strength to men who uphold their ideal. However they cannot go against their nature without becoming corrupted. Now this is reminiscent of the Spren of Roshar, except that the spirits of the Fade don't just break, but they become the negative version of their ideal and become hostile and powerful. Imagine if the pain spren could enter the world and start causing pain to keep themselves alive. But the similarities are apparent. The next thing I noticed that was very Cosmere-ish was magic. Instead of just learning spells, the castor needs to access the power that flows from the Fade, and the ability to use magic is a genetic ability. There is also a way to enhance magic power with fresh blood, using the life force of a person to fuel magic. This is reminiscent of Bloodscealing or Hemalergy. The idea that living energy can be used to enhance abilities feels like it fits with the workings of the Cosmere. They also can use magic to trap spirits and use them by creating a bond, but this is dangerous because the spirits are forced to change their nature. Sometimes however, a person exhibits a specific trait or need so powerfully that a spirit that resonates with another person can forma bond with that person, often saving them and granting them powers. There is even an example of a man who bonds with a spirit of Justice, but as the man changes from seeking justice to vengeance, he starts to slowly destroy the spirit that bonded to him to help him. Once again, similar to spren in execution, but different enough. And Finally the biggest thing that made me want to make this post, there was a shard pool in the game! Toward the end of Dragon Age Inquisition, there is an ancient eleven temple that you are racing your enemies to reach before they do. They seek a power hidden in the Temple called the Well of Sorrows. The guardians of the temple are ancient elves from the old times who sleep until someone tries to invade the temple. When you make it to the Well, you find that it is a pool of smoky water that belongs to an old mythical being called Mythal. This being was a God that was worshiped who apparently still lives as a silent force. When your character steps into the pool you absorb the liquid and take it into yourself. your mind expands and fills with knowledge and power, the power you need to defeat your nemesis. As I watched how it was animated, I couldn't help but think about a shard pool. (If you want to see the Well of Sorrows Scene here is the link to a video of it.) Anyway, just thought I'd post this. I'll be surprised if very many people know what I'm talking about. It was just a fun Idea to imagine this as just another part of the wonderful Cosmere. Hope you liked this and I look forward to posting more random thoughts in the days to come! Also if you like "Letters from the Cosmere" I will be releasing a new one very soon!
  13. UPDATE: This whole story can be found broken into cohesive chapters on Archive of Our Own. It is a more up-to-date and better proofread version with proper formatting, without all the random comments from other people scattered in between. Feel free to comment or leave a review here or in the comments section on AO3. There is also an option to download the story in EPUB or PDF format to read on your eReader or mobile phone. This was originally posted as part of this thread, but since it was a multiple part entry I decided to post it here where it would be more visible and easier to find. The original idea started here and I decided to extend it. The author I was stylistically trying to emulate was Charlotte Bronte, but if you read through you can tell that there are more modern influences in my writing style. The Stormlight Archives Regency Romance PART ONE "That ship, you may have noticed, had two very fine cabins that I hired out for us at no small expense," said Countess Jasnah, with a sigh of dignified resignation. "It is rather a shame that I cannot say likewise for the quality of these...lodgings. And it seems my dearest cousin shan't be gracing us with his presence – he has engaged a proxy to escort us to the Court." Shallan hadn't thought the journey tedious - not at all: it was one thousand nautical miles from Kharbranth to the great port of Varikev in Roionshire, most of it spent splendidly barefoot and scandalously clad only in her chemise and petticoats. The days on the road since had been less pleasant, of course: fifty miles a day by carriage, a night spent in a common coaching house, fifty miles the next. It was only a wonder that the constant rhythmic rattle and clop of the horses hadn't been drummed permanently into her head. But now they had arrived at the very last coaching house, curiously named "The Black Thorn Inn". The idea of her marrying still seemed strange to Shallan, though it hadn't necessarily been one she was dreading. Day by day the journey had shortened ahead of her, and though she was glad of it, she had mused on what few joys she had left. Kholinar Court, the hereditary seat of the Kholin dukes, was the destination - the terminal, one could say, and Shallan was briefly solemn as she was reminded that it could very well be the place where her body was interred. It was not her home; it could never be - it was not a place where friends awaited her arrival with fond welcome. Shallan and Countess Jasnah stood under the shaded eaves of the inn, porters scurrying around them to pile up their numerous steamer trunks, travel valises and awkwardly shaped hatboxes. As they watched, a cloud of dust slowly drifted over the horizon to soften the sharp blue of the sky with a fringe of golden mist. A line of carts - that was it - clattering down the road, gaily painted in Kholin blue, preceded by a carriage with the Duke's arms in white upon the doors. "Hallo!" cried the man sitting on the high driver's seat next to the coachman. He was a lanky man whose long legs bumped up against the coachman's on the narrow shelf of a seat. With unexpected grace, he swung himself to the ground, and Shallan noticed that his shoulder-length hair had not been tied into a tail as current fashion dictated. He had on a plain gentleman's suit - no sign of ducal livery - the wool worn shiny on knees and elbows. "There you are. We must make haste-" "If it pleases you...sir," said Countess Jasnah, rather coldly. "Might I have the pleasure of an introduction? Cousin Adolin promised a trusted proxy to receive us, but I am afraid I do not recognise you." She did not hold out her hand for a kiss. He did not bow. "Doctor Kaladin," said he, pulling a leather wallet from the inside of his coat. "The Duke's personal physician. My letter of introduction, addendum by the Prince Dalinar and reference from the Duke's brother the Marquess of Kholinshire." He held it out to Countess Jasnah, who stared at it for a second, then took it stiffly. "You must be the girl, then. A Scot," Doctor Kaladin said, as he turned to Shallan, looking her up and down, then added, "though I can hardly imagine that you would be any more of a nuisance than the Duke's, ah, previous matches." Shallan felt unpleasant emotions rise up in her throat; she was scarcely aware of what exactly they were, though she was certain they were neither becoming nor ladylike. She did know, however, that impertinence answered by impudence was fair and just, and that Jasnah was out of earshot directing the porters to load the carts with their luggage. If this stranger, this Doctor Kaladin, had been properly courteous - or even good-humoured in the least, in his manner - Shallan would have felt no inclination to respond with insolence. But he had not the air of an elegant gentleman; that surely would have made her shy instinctively towards girlish hesitance. Doctor Kaladin had instead a dark face with heavy brow furrowed in irritation; though he was young - not much older than her, on inspection - his face had none of the softness or gentleness of youth; his lips were set into a stern line. This Kaladin creature spoke with the cultured tones of gentle breeding; despite this, he seemed set on being disagreeable from the start: Shallan had always thought herself sympathetic with those of lesser station, but here, she could feel nothing but antipathy. "Aye, ye be addressing the Lady Shallan," said Shallan, exaggerating her rural accent to one fitting of the servants back home. Her former governess, Madame Tyn, made a study of regional accents and dialects, and had taught her on the condition to never speak like that in front of distinguished company. That would hardly apply to Kaladin. "Pledged clanswoman and shieldbearer to The McValam." "You don't sound like a lady," remarked Kaladin bluntly. She gave him shallow curtsey, no more than a mere dip of the knees, and with a curt toss of her head, circled around him. "Ye dinna look like any doctor I ken," Shallan said. "A real surgeon would ha' better hair than yers, I reckon. Do ye keep it for emergency bandages?" Kaladin sputtered. "Emergency bandages-" "Too stringy fer tha', maybe. Emergency sutures, more like." Kaladin's brows gathered together, and his mouth twisted down with ire. "You do not seem like any lady, would I not be mistaken if I judge you an opportunistic impostor who has managed to deceive herself into Lady Jasnah's good graces? And I, Miss, am no leech-peddling barber surgeon." "E'en tha' job's got folks looking foward to yer comin', aye," said Shallan, "I'd think ye'd be better suited fer bailiff...or hangman. Ye would'na need a rope when yer breath would work faster." Kaladin's face reddened pleasantly, or so Shallan thought, and his body stiffened. He took a breath, then stepped closer to her, hands clenched in tense fists by his side. "Look, you-," he began. "Lady Shallan, the carriage awaits," called Countess Jasnah. The last trunk had been loaded onto the last cart; the first had already departed and was now a merry puff of golden dust on the road ahead. "Doctor, your credentials are in order. My uncle the prince recommends you warmly, I am most astonished to see." "Yes," Kaladin said, and after a pause, "thank you." He turned finally away from Shallan, and took the offered wallet from Jasnah's hands. He did not offer the wallet to Shallan; instead he tucked it into his coat's inner pocket. Lady Jasnah nodded; a footman bowed as he held open the carriage door painted with the tower-and-crown in white with gold details. The folding steps had already been pulled out. "A Kharbranth Academy scholar, I was naturally impressed to see that," said Jasnah, holding her skirts, as she ducked into the soft curtained dimness. "Will you be joining us for the ride to the house, Doctor?" Doctor Kaladin's eyes flicked sideways at Shallan. He had composed himself by now, and she observed that when he wasn't dis-tempered, he made a well-formed figure of a man - taller than most, with handsome breadth of shoulders, and graceful hands etched here and there with pale white scars over tanned fingers and knuckles. His face, though it lacked in beauty or elegance, had its own decisive character made more distinguished by darkly perceptive eyes. Shallan tore herself away and took the footman's guiding arm into the carriage. She did not look back. "I shall ride with the coachman, if it pleases you, Lady Jasnah," said Kaladin after a few moments. "I would not want the road dust from my journey here to soil your clothes nor the upholstery - my Duke had it cleaned for your arrival. He comes from The City to-night and expects Lady Shallan's informal presentation for this evening after supper." There were a few clinks and creaks as footmen found their places, and the horses shuffled impatiently in their traces, then the carriage started moving. Shallan twitched aside the pale blue lace curtains on the window and watched the warm green countryside trundle by, dotted and dashed with the occasional hayrick or wind-breaking treeline. She now felt a thrill; elation gently warmed in her chest: the world suddenly seemed to blossom around her when not very long ago she had imagined that it was like a box folding inwards and unstoppably inwards. She had dealt with that Doctor Kaladin, unpleasant as he was, with remarkable ease; no doubt this unfamiliar southern land would be filled with many such as he, but she could - yes she would - crest over such trifling difficulties and find herself comfortably settled as a lady Duchess that all of Anglethi society would look to. Author's Notes: The last time I wrote short stories or fanfiction was 4 or 5 years ago, so I'm a little rusty with my prose. For stylistic influences in this work, though I'm copying the writing style of classic period romances in general (not the modern paperback bodice-rippers), I would name Charlotte Bronte as the main inspiration to fit with the thread topic. Of course there's some Austen in there as well, mixed with more modern authors for the dialogue lines because I feel using old-style for that sounds too stiff and lacks emotional impact. A few hundred years ago, barbers and surgeons were the same thing. Physicians diagnosed illnesses, but it was barber-surgeons who did the actual surgery and amputations. Their razors could cut skin and give a close shave. Shallan is joking Kaladin on his unfashionable and messy hair. A bailiff in medieval times collected taxes as part of their job. I also referenced the scene in the hallway of Elhokar's palace when Shallan meets Kaladin for the second time in Words of Radiance. If you're wondering why I made Shallan Scottish, it's a reference to the post from a similar thread here, and since all those classic romances took place in England, I tried to make a weird fusion for humourous reasons.
  14. So I was checking up with my Deviant Art when I found this recent pic by Jazzy-Kandra (Please check out the link and tell him hi) http://www.deviantart.com/art/Melaan-621536006 When I saw it I instantly thought, "What if we were to write a story about the characters from Alloy of Law as if they were High School students attending a Elendel High School as normal students? Heck what if we did that with ANY of the Brandon Sanderson books!?!" Now I know this is probably not the first time someone has thought of this. I am reminded of the `Attack on Titan Junior High' series. Literally just using the characters in a completely different/more normal setting. But if there is anyone who fancies the idea, write a quick scene as how you would see the series. If you know of such a project that already exists, please leave a link so we can all check it out! I look forward to all the submissions, and when I can I'll write up one myself. Have fun!
  15. Hello there, fellow farers of the world of fiction! Here lately I've been delving into the sea of fanfiction that the web's so full of, enjoying the stories crafted by fans such as myself. Sadly, Sturgeon's Law is in full effect--90% of everything is garbage. The Internet is rife with poorly written tales about Mary Sues and Gary Stus, with poor punctuation and terrible writing everywhere you look. This thread is for sharing the remaining 10% with others who might enjoy them. If there's a fanfiction you liked, share it here! Tell us what work it's based on and give a content advisory where applicable, but above all, simply share the fictions that made you enjoy the original work all the more. I'll start. Eclipse: Based on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Eclipse is a thrilling adventure story that explores the relationship between Celestia and Luna. It's filled with intriguing characters, touching moments, and spectacular pieces of worldbuilding and headcanon. The Keepers of Discord: Another MLP fic. This piece is an alternate universe story told from Discord's point of view, conscious and trapped in stone as he watches the ponies assigned to entertain him for all eternity. It's a surprisingly touching story. Rest in Chaos: What's this? Another MLP fic? And about Discord, no less? Yes, I confess to having a soft spot for the ol' spirit of chaos. This story is written as an official document: Discord's will, to be opened in the event of his untimely demise. I found it darkly humorous. A Bluer Shade of White: The one non-MLP story on my list, this Frozen fanfiction deconstructs Elsa's powers, exploring their extent, possible uses, and the ethics surrounding them. It's a lot more mature than the original movie, but there's nothing graphic. And if you're like me, the ending will leave you slack-jawed and giving a round of Internet applause. Anyone else have recommendations to share with us?
  16. I wrote this Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children fan fiction as a creative writing assignment. My instructor and my other classmates really enjoyed it though, so I thought I would put it up on here and see what you guys think of it. Any thoughts, criticisms or compliments? Thanks guys, hope you like it! Miss Peregrine's Fanfic.docx
  17. I started to publish the third and last book of my Mistborn Trilogy "The other Side of the Coin" at AO3. Please enjoy. http://archiveofourown.org/works/2056326 Summary After a long and cumbersome journey, Alana and her people finally arrive in South Searan. But instead of finding a peaceful place to live, they are confronted with ignorance, hatred and death. And as if that isn't enough, the mists steal more and more daylight until eventually the whole area is permanently covered. Does an old tale help them survive? Book 3 "Killing Mists" plays about the time of "Mistborn: The Hero of Ages" but mostly in South Searan, showing the impact of the events on the "Legacy" and "A World in Turmoil" characters there. Words: will be about 114.000
  18. No one understands what I’ve lost. The worst to me are the ones who think they do. I see them judge me. I hear them whisper that I’m arrogant, that I lament losing something that made me better than them, that I’m complaining because now I’m just a normal person, now I’m not special. This cannot be what normal feels like. I don’t care about the allomancy. I loved it, and it was a part of me, and I would never have given it up for the world… but I never thought it made me better than anyone. It was like being left-handed, or good with numbers. Just one part of me. Still, even without it, I could find a way to go on. It’s not even my eye. The pain is always there, but without my tin, even that feels dull most of the time. Even the flat world my one good eye gives me isn’t that bad. If that were my only problem… well, yeah, I’d still be very sad. But no one seems to understand. People see these things, and they add them up, and they think they know what it’s like to be me. I’m angry all the time. But… it doesn’t feel like how I remember anger. It feels… hollow. It’s the shape of anger, but it doesn’t have the fire. I remember being angry, beforehand, and it felt passionate and strong. Now it feels like my mind is trying to act angry but can’t remember how. I don’t understand what happened. It was over in a moment. I didn’t see whoever did this to me, I just heard some sound behind me, turned around, and suddenly I was in a world of pain. My eye hurt a lot but it wasn’t just there, all over my body like a rash on the inside of my skin. Eventually passing out was a blessing. When I woke up, one of my first thoughts was that I had lost my tin. I don’t know how I knew, I’d never felt it inside of me before when I didn’t have a reserve, and I certainly can’t recall what it felt like before I ever Snapped, but among the other things wrong with me, I could just feel this part of me missing, and I somehow knew it was tin. I think I realized that before I realized I was only seeing out of one eye. I don’t talk to my friends anymore. They irritate me now. I mean my real friends, the ones who’ve stuck by me. Maybe they’re the worst. Every last one of them is convinced she just needs to drag me out to a party, take me for a walk in the sunshine, show me that life goes on, that it’s not as bad as I think. I don’t need tin to hear what they’re really saying. This is your fault. Just get over it. Just want to be normal again, and you will be. Fun is like anger to me, now. Even when I’m genuinely enjoying something, it’s just the shape of happiness. It’s only skin deep; it can’t reach my heart. No one understands what I’ve lost. No one understands what was taken from me.
  19. So we have been playing several campaigns of the Mistborn Adventure Game over at steelministry.com, and one of the ones I have been narrating jut came to an end. Kurkistan came up for the idea for the campaign, and described it thusly: "Scenario: The Narrator controls TLR, who knowledgeable sources have succinctly described as "a thousand year old, expert-[near]savant-Lerasium-Twinawesome-Sliver." However many people as possible comprise a group who are, at adventure's beginning, mere moments away from executing an assassination attempt on TLR. A handful of beats later, the entire crew is dead. And thus the adventure concludes." We wanted it to be quick and messy, which it was, albeit if only by play-by-post standards. It took a little over 6 months to complete. We titled the game "Futile Efforts." Anyway, as I was narrating, Lord Claincy Ffnord liked my write ups so much he started compiling all the narration into one place, which can be found here: http://www.steelministry.com/viewtopic.php?f=55&t=518 It makes for a fun and exciting little story, as long as you don't mind the choppy narration from switching from one viewpoint to the next so frequently, as well as a few tense-change inconsistencies. Now that it's all done, Claincy suggested that I post it in here, so here you go. Enjoy everyone!
  20. I just published the second book of my Mistborn Trilogy "The other Side of the Coin" at AO3. Please enjoy. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1043094/ Summary The Lord Ruler is dead. That information turns Alana's life upside down. Ten years have passed since her return from Luthadel and she has just started to live again. To find out what happened to her friends and her cousin, and to keep a promise, she returns to the old capital of the Final Empire. But back in the dark city Alana finds more than answers. Three armies besiege Luthadel and threaten the newfound hope of the skaa. Book 2 "A World in Turmoil" plays mostly about the time of "Mistborn: The Well of Ascension", showing the impact of the events on the characters from "Legacy". It also adds missing scenes and explains the absence of characters in some of BS's scenes. Words: 111.735