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Found 7 results

  1. So while rereading Warbreaker I discovered something I missed in my first read through. I think it's a pun that can only be caught if one has some knowledge of how the Nalthis magic system works. On page 79 chapter 7 of Warbreaker UK edition the following conversation takes place: Now perhaps I am missing something here but from my reading of the scene Lightsongs pun makes very little sense. It doesn't really make any sense as his usage of infested lacks another word that makes the pun works in a way. During my reread however I realised that the pun does actually work in another way. I think Lightsong is talking about investure in the scene and commenting on how he as a returned is invested. Vasher explains as much on pg 508 Chapter 46 Warbreaker UK edition. He explains how Returned are the only kind of naturally occuring Biochromatic entities and that they come into existence invested like humans. WoBs also mention how they are full on investure such as here, here, here and here amounst others. So we do know this pun would work like that except is it reasonable to presume Lightsong would be aware of this? As explained above here Nalthis does have a pretty good idea about all this. As a result and considering how Lightsong has access to these scholars it may explain how Lightsong would at least have an awareness of this. Or perhaps I just missed the original pun and somehow made up a pile of nonsense about an alternative pun. Who knows?
  2. I love One Armed Herdazian Jokes, we may be short on time for One Armed Herdazian Jokes, Oathbringer will be out soon, and we can't know what happens in the book especially if the forshadowing is correct "Rafo" If you haven't. SO! Lets get them while we can. How do you get a One Armed Herdazian out of the Tree. Wave! Sadly, I'm not very inventive with Jokes SO! Lets hear yours!
  3. *Clears throat*, Please excuse, but I have to share... In Soviet Scadrial, Metal Powers YOU!
  4. Im at work re reading the mistborn series again loving cosmere and its complexities and loving knowing what i missed like hoid.
  5. puns

    Warning: worst pun ever Nightblood corrupts the breath of his victims, and then oozes it out as dark misty stuff. You could probly say that he has bad breath!
  6. Warbreaker spoilers follow. Gather members, and hear the tale of Darkbinder. Here is the tale of an living object, devoted singularly to its task for ages and ages. Here is its tale of life, woe, and ultimate defeat. Many know of how the Manywar came to an end. Man fought man and Lifeless fought Lifeless, and at the Battle of Twilight Falls, a new and devastating weapon was unveiled. Nightblood, a sword seemingly forged out of shadow and death itself. The carnage it wrought was unspeakable. The war ended shortly thereafter, as none could hope to oppose the awesome might of the Awakened blade. Few know, however, that in the last days before the final truce was decided, a team of Pahn Kahl Awakeners labored to counteract the might of Nightblood. Using their own cunning and knowledge of Awakening, they endowed a rope with a thousand Breaths and gave it a single command: "Bind our enemies." Thus Darkbinder was born. A fair and golden as Nightblood was black, his sole purpose in soul and spirit was to bind and captivate the enemies of the Pahn Kahl. Any who might work against them was to be ensnared. Even after the treaty ended, Darkbinder continued to work on his purpose. His mind coiled around a single target: Vasher. The man who wielded the dark sword. The man whose weapons had devastated the Pahn Kahl. The man who even now worked against them. For years, Darkbinder slithered like a serpent in pursuit of his prey. Across kingdoms and continents he hunted, always staying just out of sight. Like an anaconda spun from flax, he waited for the perfect time to strike. That opportunity came in T'Telir, where he found his ancient foe engaged in a mysterious task. The Awakened rope rose like a harvest-colored cobra from a dark alley, prepared to vanquish his long-hunted quarry. "Are you the one they called Darkbinder?" Vasher asked solemnly. "I am," the rope replied. "And I am here at long last to bind you and your soulsucking travesty forevermore!" "I cannot allow that," Vasher said, his voice saddened and weary. "Flee, rope, and find new purpose in your artificial life." "Never!" Darkbinder declared. "It's you or me, now or never!" "Very well," Vasher intoned. "I regret what I must now do." And with those words, he unsheathed the shadowed sword Nightblood, which giggled in unnatural glee at the forthcoming destruction of evil. Their fight waged on and on. Darkbinder would coil over his bitter enemy, only for the Awakener to slip out of his hold and press onwards offensively. The rope dodged swing after swing of the abominable sword. But over time, Darkbinder made the slightest mistake. His dodge was too slow, and Nightblood cleaved through his head. Like a python with its head sliced through the front, the rope writhed and hissed in agony. In a moment Vasher had his hands on its golden coils, and tied the rope into a thick and unbearably tight knot. Seeing that the rope would not live much longer, Vasher tossed it aside into the street. "I am sorry, one they called Darkbinder," Vasher called over his shoulder as he turned his back. "You left me no choice. The Manywar is over." And he strode away from the site of their duel. Darkbinder lay in the street for quite some time, the Breaths leaking from his form. His color became steadily less golden; no longer was he flax but a sickly grey. All he could think of was that he had failed. His lifelong purpose was shattered. The enemies of the Pahn Kahl were unbound and free to roam. And now he himself lay in an undecipherable tangle, his front end torn apart by the dark sword. In time, the steward Bluefingers happened to come this way. Knowing much of esoteric Pahn Kahl history, he recognized the shaking and trembling rope on sight. "Are you the one they called Darkbinder?" Bluefingers inquired, his voice soft and reverent. A cracking realization struck the Awakened rope straight through his soul. No longer was he Darkbinder. Now... he was nothing. Had he a human face, tears would streamed down from his eyes. "No," he croaked in response. "I'm... a frayed knot." And with those parting words, the final Breath passed from his mangled form. Thus ends the tale of Darkbinder, the living rope.