Popular Post MasterGhandalf Posted May 11, 2022 Popular Post Report Share Posted May 11, 2022 (edited) On a whim earlier today, I decided to see what might happen if I fed the opening lines of the prologue of WoK into a bot and watched what it came up with. Bizarrely, it seemed to have some idea of what the Stormlight Archive is, who some of the major characters are, and even concepts like bridge crews, lighteyes, spren, etc. It also managed to be marginally coherent, at least until the character limit ran out. Of course, being a bot, it has no idea of the context of anything, and so ended up producing a twisted funhouse mirror version of WoK where Kaladin and Bridge Four are trying to build a bridge under the not-so-watchful eye of a nameless king, while Kaladin is apparently pretending to be Sadeas's son for some completely inexplicable reason. Oh, and Szeth may be the Dragon Reborn, but I'm not entirely sure on that. The text I gave it was, of course, "Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king." The bot I used was here:https://app.inferkit.com/demo As for the "story" itself, behold behind the cut! And yes, I know it cuts off in mid-sentence. That's part of the charm;). Spoiler Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king. He had not been taught what was waiting in Kaladin's mind, nor was he ready to confront the Dark One with his Talent. What's more, that day he'd slaughtered more men than he'd ever lost, a feat he attributed to his tremendous strength. Something like that, but- "You see how you sit at your desk, Katarim?" the king asked. "I am your master. You cannot do this without me." Kaladin smiled. "Yes, Your Majesty." "I will go outside and have a quick drink with the men," the king said, "I will come back to speak with you when they are ready. And remember. No one else can do this." Kaladin turned to the deck. "Then go," he said to the men. "It is what I will have you do. We will do this, as the king said." They were standing in ranks along the long wall. Syl darted to Kaladin's shoulder, where she had usually slept. He'd hoped she would stay in her own room, now that she had told him that she was having "daddy" issues. He'd assumed she'd come back to him, which made him feel foolish. He looked toward the king. "Pretend, just for a moment, that you're the king," he said, holding out his hand. "Take my hand, and pretend that I'm holding it. Then tell me what would you have us do." Syl obeyed, curling up against him, head resting on his shoulder. He released a relieved breath. Then the king, Teft, the builders, Skar-all of them-bent down, clasped hands, and pretended to cross over. Kaladin joined them. Then he raised a hand and blasted them, which unfortunately blew away all the yellow paint that had been added to their work. He thought of another bridge that the Sadeas construction crew had been toiling on. The one that had mysteriously fallen down and been pulled out of the water. In their minds, Kaladin still felt the stones rumble as if they were alive, even when they were just pieces of wood and stone. "There is no time to waste," Kaladin said, walking back toward the king's room. "Bridge Four is the only bridge building crew that remains active. We are going to do this as quickly as possible, with as little stragglers." Syl sat on his shoulder. "Sir," said Skar. "It's a bridge." "I know that, Skar. But it's the only one that we have." "I agree, but how do we do it?" Kaladin looked over his men, the Kholin construction force. "You can't just begin again," Kaladin said. "You have to change, if you are going to do this." They thought, shocked, then began to discuss things. Soon Kaladin had a plan. Teft had already marked an area for the bridge to be constructed. A long trench had already been dug out, one of those patterned with drainpipes. He was gathering hammers, chisels, vats of clay, baskets of adhering straw and rice-in short, a whole mess of items that they'd need for the construction. The craftsmen picked them up one by one, bringing them to Kaladin and his men. Kaladin spent the next half hour cutting off the brocade parts of his uniform, then adding the new layer of white cloth underneath, tucking it into his waistband to serve as a uniform shirt. By the time he got to the clothing, the entire group was almost ready. Kaladin raised his hands. Bridge Four were going to build a bridge. They were going to make it in just hours, maybe less. This bridge would not have a crew waiting until the proper time. Kaladin stepped forward. The construction foreman, Elhokar Sadeas, stepped forward too. He was a short man with a long face, but he was still a man, and had already smeared grease on his cheeks, hands, and shoes. The bridgemen stepped back, creating a circle around the ring of men. Kaladin knelt down in the center of it, hands clasped together before him. "Please don't try to stop us," he said, voice hushed. "You and I are the same. We both want to build a bridge. This bridge, we will make it." He waited. And waited. Finally, the king nodded. He seemed troubled, however, glancing to his father, who nodded slowly. The king glanced back to Kaladin. "Go on." Kaladin stood, then drew his knife, which he'd left at the side of the trench where he'd been building up the bridge base. He raised his free hand, summoning the bridge. A brown, flat stone flew over the knoll. It landed atop the metal ring and rolled up to Kaladin's feet. The bridge jumped free of the sagging pile of wood that it was welded to, then grew in height. It had a pair of four-foot beams across the middle, welded by the workers to hold the wooden parts of the bridge together. It held those two beams out in front of itself. In the image in his head, Kaladin could see bridges without them, made from ice, stretched out long and stretched out thin across the chasm. The span was twenty feet, easily higher than the fort. Bridges without walls, bridges without gaps between bridges. The construction workers lowered their bodies until they balanced on those two beams. They were all so pleased. Even if they only stood on the bridge itself, they would look very impressive. But those would be temporary. He summoned another stone and dropped it. The bridge sank back into the trench. A third stone followed. This one caught on a corner of the bridge base, causing it to topple forward. It fell toward the bridge, and a chasmgoddess's girth-which grew with every stone-twisted the bridge upright. It caught in the side of the trench, latching on. The last of the chasmgoddess's size grew with the work, growing as the bridge grew, until the bridge was a pyramid rising fifteen feet in the air. "That's it!" Kaladin said, raising a hand. "Bridge up!" The bridgemen scrambled for their pikes and shields, rushing toward the bridge. They ran in lines, kneeling beside it, grasping the sides as the men outside the trench raised pikes and let them smash down into the men's hands. The king waited in the center of the other soldiers, his face stern. Eventually, though, Sadeas tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, frowning, and Kaladin's heart dropped. The king did not give orders. Instead, the king turned and walked down the hill to a small house. The bridge builders spilled out into the lane. Kaladin met their gazes with a hopeless look, then he vanished inside, leaving them to their fate. The king's house was not far from the bridge base. Kaladin thought he heard the king's wife cry out, though that was probably more imagination than anything else. That was all Kaladin could see, however. He only saw. The men slowly grew back into themselves, armor clinking as they separated. Sadeas jogged up to Kaladin, nodding to the king as he passed, then pulling his helm off and running his hand through his thick black hair. "Ah, that was not pleasant," Sadeas said, shrugging his helm on. "I need to get you out of those things, lad. It's disgusting." "I can ... handle it," Kaladin said. "It is still unsettling. This is for the best." Sadeas walked away from Kaladin, then clapped his hands, yelling, "Unify!" Shouts of the other highprinces echoed the command. So that was Sadeas's command. You make a huge wall, and shout for everyone to obey. The bridgemen knelt beside their bridge, putting their armor on. Kaladin stood on top, and stood at attention as the bridgemen did the same. That was what Sadeas's army was like. Empty, still, with commands without meaning. The same would happen here. "You never answered my question," Sadeas said. "Why this fight? Why waste bridges and men?" "You expected me to run?" Kaladin asked. "Because you're a fool. What if I just killed the king? It's like you suggested. I could do it quietly. Do you think the warlord wouldn't do the same? We'd have an army of murderers. Warriors who would hide behind murder when we attacked other kingdoms. This army isn't even united. You want me to command a manhunt." "No," Sadeas said. "I want you to command a manhunt for the man who raised these scum." "And what if that's who it really is?" "If that's who it really is, then we need to wipe them out." "I want to know why." "Because it doesn't matter," Sadeas said. "Your reasonings about justice are always flawed. Gavilar was a liar, you know. A fraud. He declared himself the highprince of lighteyes, and he could never have pulled that off. He pretended to be his own son, like you've been pretending to be Sadeas's." "No," Kaladin said softly. "This isn't justice. You know he killed people. He put a sword in my mother's belly." "People died because they challenged him. They challenged him on the knife dueling grounds. Gavilar never touched them-he killed them with a thrown dagger." "He used to protect them. With his life. That's why they attacked him in the first place. To make him stop protecting them. But he wouldn't, would he? He killed people who didn't challenge him." "Yes," Sadeas said. "For some things he tried. He didn't get the trick quite right." "If this was about justice," Kaladin said, "I'd ..." He trailed off, cursing himself for forgetting what he was supposed to say. "You'd ... I'd ..." He tried again. "You'd try and change the lighteyes." "We all do, lad. Lighteyes. Highprinces. Just because they have too much power doesn't make them any different from any other king, warrior, or lord." "Your family has the power, Father." "I may have more of it than most, but that doesn't make me better than anyone else. I'm just luckier than others. Unlike the nobles of the Stormfather, I didn't lose everyone I loved when they made me a highprince. Even if I had, they'd have a new man in my place within five generations. Dalinar didn't bother to appoint me king when he set the order, but that doesn't make him any less of a king than I am. Lighteyes. It's all the same to me." "So why do you care if they know?" "Because if they do," Sadeas said, "it will be far worse for them than if we were to let the Edited May 29, 2022 by MasterGhandalf 26 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyndlerunner Posted May 11, 2022 Report Share Posted May 11, 2022 Is it just me, or does Elhokar Sadeas, Kaladin's father, seem to be a decent fellow? 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Olmund Posted May 11, 2022 Report Share Posted May 11, 2022 Gavilar pretending to be his own son? Now I'm imagining Elhokar suddenly reappearing in KoWT, only to reveal that he's actually Gavilar. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted May 12, 2022 Report Share Posted May 12, 2022 This is hillarious XD. I would upvote you but I already ran out. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rg2045 Posted May 12, 2022 Report Share Posted May 12, 2022 I’m trying to piece together who is who in this bizarro roshar and their magic system. so Dalinar is king? Or at least has the power to decide who is king. Kinda fitting elohkar sadeas is neither elohkar nor sadeas but surprisingly lirin! seems to be a lighteyes of high birth that can rival the king, that seems to be training his son in their highest calling, a bridge builder. bridge 4 is kinda the same kinda soldier’s kinda bridge builders they seem to be loyal to kaladin syl seems to be close to kaladin unsure relation now the final, and main character kaladin sadeas? Unsure if he is sadeas son or apprenticing under him and thinks of him as a father. Seems to have bridge magic but we’ll get to that in a bit. Leader of Bridge four and kohlin construction force (dang it doesn’t that sound awesome). Is vary righteous and hates the king it seems for killing innocents (spoilers ikr) but recognizes the previous King was ok for giving his life to save his people. And oh yeah his mother was sadistically killed by the king. setting: Now the magic. interesting it’s bridge magic I think? Kaladin seems to be able to fuse wood and stone and summon it. But it seems that kaladin is unpracticed as the bridge doesn’t make sense and the king is ultimately disappointed with his work. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alder24 Posted May 12, 2022 Report Share Posted May 12, 2022 This is pure atium! Just hilarious! Syl with daddy issues? And then this - "He raised his free hand, summoning the bridge." - I'm dead! Just imagine Syl as a Shardbridge. Can't wait for Words of Radiance! 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MasterGhandalf Posted May 15, 2022 Author Report Share Posted May 15, 2022 (edited) On 5/11/2022 at 1:56 PM, MasterGhandalf said: And now I present to you part two, Words of Radiance! In which the bot somehow knows Shallan is the main character this time around, but we somehow go from a ball to a battlefield halfway through, and both the bridges and people pretending to be other people make their return (as does cutting off in mid-sentence)! Warning for violence and some strong language in this one. Initial text was the opening sentence of the actual book: Spoiler Jasnah Kholin pretended to enjoy the party, giving no indication that she intended to have one of the guests killed. It might have taken a little doing to get the invitation from Zaliek, but he wasn't the only assassin working for her. Somehow they all seemed to know her by sight. Jasnah pretended to do as she was told, smiling, laughing, even batting her lashes at the men of her class. They don't have anything on me, Shallan thought with a rueful smile. I can steal any suit of clothing I want, and make it look like I bought it. But I still can't climb up a rope like Jasnah. She watched Jasnah lead more people to a side balcony to talk, though Shallan had never seen that balcony before. The view seemed rather grim, and the highstorm seemed a good distance away. Those highstormspren were still very much present. Jasnah had been so busy entertaining, Shallan had nearly forgotten the marath'damane Jasnah talked about. The woman. Not the stone. She was the woman. Shallan waited for Jasnah to leave, then looked up the stairwell, picturing what she'd have to do to open the balcony doors. A spot of relief washed through her. Maybe I can persuade the woman to open the doors! The problem, of course, was that Jasnah would realize Shallan was up there, and wouldn't want that image of herself to go to her political enemies. Shallan could try to sneak out. She found a safe spot in the crowd, then started working on the sliding glass doors. She couldn't fool a smith to make her a latch, but her window was wide, and would be easy to reach. Most people didn't pay much attention to her, and for the first time in her life, she didn't think she was being judged by them. They wouldn't care to see her caught and taken to the highstormspren. So long as they didn't look at her strangely, she'd be fine. She moved in and out of the crowd, feigning confusion. I'd better get into the habit of slipping food to the men. The door groaned open, and Shallan slipped into a side corridor. Through the noise of music and conversation, she thought she heard a shout. The doors at the end of the hallway swung open, and a group of highstormspren crawled out. They formed in a tight semi-circle, then split apart, creeping toward Shallan and Jasnah. Fascinating, Shallan thought, feigning embarrassment as she turned to speak to a man nearby. And what would happen if the door to Jasnah's balcony opened? It'll probably make the spren crawl toward me, so I'll probably have to kill it. A sudden, distinct whistle from outside cut through the room's din. Shallan looked toward the side balcony, then spotted a slender woman in white like Jasnah, leaning over the railing and pointing up at the sky. "They're in the city, Skar," she said. "There are spren in the air." Shallan cursed her sudden clumsiness. "I-" The woman nodded, pointing with one finger at the highstormspren. "The ones with...that blue dot. Shallan, they're the spren." Yes. She saw them before, during the sprenstorms. They burned bright and then disappeared. But sometimes they'd fade to a softer blue. Why would Jasnah bother trying to attract their attention? Shallan ducked back inside the ballroom. That woman wasn't just a White. She was a Shadowhunter. Shallan was horrified to realize that she'd been standing there for a moment, gaping at the woman. It's happening, she thought. This is happening. I have to do something. She spun, and began to weave her satchel around her body. She'd just get it on if she had to make a run for it. That would be bad, of course, but she was quite certain she could hide the satchel in the multitude of people. She saw Jasnah moving toward the balcony as she did so, taking note of the woman's hand. The walkway was down at that end of the ballroom, and Shallan saw Jasnah make a few awkward gestures with her freehand, then gesture toward a corridor on the second floor. Shallan hurried up to her. "Please, my lady," she said, holding her hand out. "I-" Jasnah pressed something into Shallan's palm. She took it, then gasped. It was a knife. Shallan's heart beat loudly in her ears. "What did you give me?" the darkeyed woman demanded, cold eyes taking in Shallan, her hand, and Jasnah. Shallan opened her mouth, then closed it again, mind racing. She'd forgotten about the spren. Jasnah shook her head. "Thank you, Shallan." She gestured toward the stairs. "If you want to be useful, do as she asks." Shallan hesitated. "It's over this way, Lady Jasnah," a deep voice said. It was Dalinar, of course, carrying a walking stick and wearing a noble's evening jacket. "The rest of the ladies are in their rooms or in the main ballroom." "The rest of the ladies?" Shallan whispered, then turned, lifting her skirts. As she rushed out, the walking stick left the ground, appearing to hover in the air, then vanishing. Dalinar reached her and nodded to the woman in white, then stepped around the side of a building and began to climb the exterior of the wall to reach a balcony. Shallan followed. "What are you doing?" Shallan demanded as Dalinar stepped up onto the wall. "We have to jump?" "We don't have time for this," Dalinar said, looking down. "The stormspren are rising, and this isn't our path. We need to go to the doorway." "Dalinar..." Shallan began, but he looked like he was going to give her something, so she trailed after him. She pulled out her satchel and stuffed the knife into it. They waited. The windstormspren continued their terrified dance as the light continued to fail. Nearby, Jushu knelt, his eyes wide, his face flushed. "I'll be coming for you, one day, Shallan," he said to her. "Storms, woman, you don't know how to leave well enough alone. Once I leave this world, then you can start scheming." She hoped it was the right thing to say. "We have to jump, Jushu," Dalinar said, sounding exhausted. "We don't have much time." "You said I could jump," Shallan said. "And I jumped. I fell. That's what we have to do!" He didn't say a word. He just nodded. They moved forward. She glanced back, spying Tyn up on the wall of the city. She gestured, as if giving Shallan permission. Shallan swallowed, then leaped. There was nothing to be done. She cried out as she plunged toward the ground, clutching the knife. The stormspren danced in a shrieking scream, shrapnel from the debris raining around Shallan. Dalinar landed beside her. "Careful, child," he said, steadying her with a hand on her arm. She looked back, fear rushing through her. It was all over. They'd made it to safety, but Jasnah was gone. Tyn was dead. Storms. She'd wanted to be sure. She was so sorry. "We need to go," Dalinar said, then vaulted back up onto the wall. They dashed toward the large doorway, the groundspren swirling in terror above. An emergency bridge was in place-it had run off the backside of a building. Dalinar stepped on it, with Shallan following. She hesitated for a second, then jumped, the wind scrambling her skirts. Dalinar lowered her on a beam, then pulled himself up onto another. The city below was utter chaos. There were other bridges, set in other places, where archers had attempted to provide cover to the defenders. The structure was much wider than the bridge they stood on, and both of the archers had been knocked off of it. "Go!" Dalinar called. "Go!" "Storms!" Shallan shouted, leaping up with a roar. She hit the back of the wall with a crack, slamming into it. The wind and debris blasted her off of the wall, hurling her away. She landed with a thud on the debris-covered ground below. She groaned, looking back, catching sight of Dalinar. He had jumped and landed with a grunt of effort. She looked down. Tyn was nowhere to be seen. The dead girl's spine showed at the bottom of the pile of debris, her face a bloody smear. "No!" Shallan whispered, choking. "No!" "Shallan," Dalinar said. "Do you see anything else?" "A Shardblade!" she said, speaking through clenched teeth. "Go, go, go!" The floor was slick with blood. She scrambled her way toward it, frantic. She looked down. Kaladin was there, helping the wounded. He'd broken his sword, but he had made his way to her without it. She held her knife out, using it to wedge between a stone and the ground. She was almost free of the debris. Then a figure stepped onto the stones, wearing Shardplate. A human Shardbearer. A Radiant of the Firestone Throne, wearing a breastplate that was sheathed in a nearly solid red Stormlight. When that new Shardbearer touched the ground, it seemed to steam, the Stormlight escaping. "Hold it," he said, looking at her with an intensity she had rarely seen from a man. "Come here." Dalinar cursed, leaping off the bridge, then throwing himself onto the black bridge beside Shallan. She whirled, trying to run-and nearly fell, the debris still pressing in from all sides. The Radiant moved, Shardplate clanging as he came into place. The Soulcaster sat in his right hand. He charged at her, Shardblade raised. He moved so quickly, she barely had time to react. It was like a fire leaping through the air, striking. The roar of the Voidbringer's approach was deafening. "I am Gavilar!" she cried. "You didn't fight back, Gavilar!" The Radiant smiled, fingers glowing red with Stormlight. She turned, realizing what she'd done. Her companions were wounded and dead. The bridge was destroyed, and they were about to be attacked. She had given away their position! And she had given away Kaladin's. "You son of a whoring slontze!" she screamed, raising her hand. "You're not going to kill me, you're going to take everything I have!" The Radiant met her eyes, his, too, glowing. She saw him begin to run the Blade through her. He was so fast, so deadly, so ... Human. She shrieked, Kaladin's glyphs going black. The Stormlight escaping from him was so bright it blinded her. He reached through her and shattered the Blade in her hands. She screamed, scrambling, as he tore at her with the hilt. Dalinar screamed. Kaladin's glyphs turned red, lighting the ground around her. He Edited May 15, 2022 by MasterGhandalf 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
bmcclure7 Posted May 15, 2022 Report Share Posted May 15, 2022 7 hours ago, MasterGhandalf said: I feel like words of radiance made more sense than Way of kings. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morningtide Posted May 15, 2022 Report Share Posted May 15, 2022 (edited) That's hilarious. "She wasn't just a White. She was a Shadowhunter." Let's just combined two series shall we? Edited May 15, 2022 by Morningtide 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SymphonianBookworm Posted May 15, 2022 Report Share Posted May 15, 2022 16 hours ago, MasterGhandalf said: They don't have anything on me, Shallan thought with a rueful smile. I can steal any suit of clothing I want, and make it look like I bought it. But I still can't climb up a rope like Jasnah. This is Shallan in a nutshell- 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alder24 Posted May 16, 2022 Report Share Posted May 16, 2022 Wait, where is the rest of it? Did Bot learned when to apply cliffhanger to boost sales? It ended in the most intense moment, I need to know what happened next! Did Kaladin saved her as always? Did Jasnah balcony survived? What happened with all those Sprens? I love Radient description, and Jasnah "not the stone, but a woman!". Dalinar is exactly like Dalinar should be 10/10 and even have ShardWalkingStick or is it The Stick™ Shallan's nemesis? And are the archers fighting the wind, the storm, the Windstormsprens or what? And then this piece of Raysium came "The dead girl's spine showed at the bottom of the pile of debris, her face a bloody smear." - so dark, so brutal, so good, Ati would be proud! Can't wait for Edgedancer and Oathbringer, and you know, Words of Radiance part 2 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rosharan Chicken Posted May 20, 2022 Report Share Posted May 20, 2022 On 5/12/2022 at 2:56 AM, MasterGhandalf said: On a whim earlier today, I decided to see what might happen if I fed the opening lines of the prologue of WoK into a bot and watched what it came up with. Bizarrely, it seemed to have some idea of what the Stormlight Archive is, who some of the major characters are, and even concepts like bridge crews, lighteyes, spren, etc. It also managed to be marginally coherent, at least until the character limit ran out. Of course, being a bot, it has no idea of the context of anything, and so ended up producing a twisted funhouse mirror version of WoK where Kaladin and Bridge Four are trying to build a bridge under the not-so-watchful eye of a nameless king, while Kaladin is apparently pretending to be Sadeas's son for some completely inexplicable reason. Oh, and Szeth may be the Dragon Reborn, but I'm not entirely sure on that. The text I gave it was, of course, "Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king." The bot I used was here:https://app.inferkit.com/demo As for the "story" itself, behold behind the cut! And yes, I know it cuts off in mid-sentence. That's part of the charm;). Hide contents Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king. He had not been taught what was waiting in Kaladin's mind, nor was he ready to confront the Dark One with his Talent. What's more, that day he'd slaughtered more men than he'd ever lost, a feat he attributed to his tremendous strength. Something like that, but- "You see how you sit at your desk, Katarim?" the king asked. "I am your master. You cannot do this without me." Kaladin smiled. "Yes, Your Majesty." "I will go outside and have a quick drink with the men," the king said, "I will come back to speak with you when they are ready. And remember. No one else can do this." Kaladin turned to the deck. "Then go," he said to the men. "It is what I will have you do. We will do this, as the king said." They were standing in ranks along the long wall. Syl darted to Kaladin's shoulder, where she had usually slept. He'd hoped she would stay in her own room, now that she had told him that she was having "daddy" issues. He'd assumed she'd come back to him, which made him feel foolish. He looked toward the king. "Pretend, just for a moment, that you're the king," he said, holding out his hand. "Take my hand, and pretend that I'm holding it. Then tell me what would you have us do." Syl obeyed, curling up against him, head resting on his shoulder. He released a relieved breath. Then the king, Teft, the builders, Skar-all of them-bent down, clasped hands, and pretended to cross over. Kaladin joined them. Then he raised a hand and blasted them, which unfortunately blew away all the yellow paint that had been added to their work. He thought of another bridge that the Sadeas construction crew had been toiling on. The one that had mysteriously fallen down and been pulled out of the water. In their minds, Kaladin still felt the stones rumble as if they were alive, even when they were just pieces of wood and stone. "There is no time to waste," Kaladin said, walking back toward the king's room. "Bridge Four is the only bridge building crew that remains active. We are going to do this as quickly as possible, with as little stragglers." Syl sat on his shoulder. "Sir," said Skar. "It's a bridge." "I know that, Skar. But it's the only one that we have." "I agree, but how do we do it?" Kaladin looked over his men, the Kholin construction force. "You can't just begin again," Kaladin said. "You have to change, if you are going to do this." They thought, shocked, then began to discuss things. Soon Kaladin had a plan. Teft had already marked an area for the bridge to be constructed. A long trench had already been dug out, one of those patterned with drainpipes. He was gathering hammers, chisels, vats of clay, baskets of adhering straw and rice-in short, a whole mess of items that they'd need for the construction. The craftsmen picked them up one by one, bringing them to Kaladin and his men. Kaladin spent the next half hour cutting off the brocade parts of his uniform, then adding the new layer of white cloth underneath, tucking it into his waistband to serve as a uniform shirt. By the time he got to the clothing, the entire group was almost ready. Kaladin raised his hands. Bridge Four were going to build a bridge. They were going to make it in just hours, maybe less. This bridge would not have a crew waiting until the proper time. Kaladin stepped forward. The construction foreman, Elhokar Sadeas, stepped forward too. He was a short man with a long face, but he was still a man, and had already smeared grease on his cheeks, hands, and shoes. The bridgemen stepped back, creating a circle around the ring of men. Kaladin knelt down in the center of it, hands clasped together before him. "Please don't try to stop us," he said, voice hushed. "You and I are the same. We both want to build a bridge. This bridge, we will make it." He waited. And waited. Finally, the king nodded. He seemed troubled, however, glancing to his father, who nodded slowly. The king glanced back to Kaladin. "Go on." Kaladin stood, then drew his knife, which he'd left at the side of the trench where he'd been building up the bridge base. He raised his free hand, summoning the bridge. A brown, flat stone flew over the knoll. It landed atop the metal ring and rolled up to Kaladin's feet. The bridge jumped free of the sagging pile of wood that it was welded to, then grew in height. It had a pair of four-foot beams across the middle, welded by the workers to hold the wooden parts of the bridge together. It held those two beams out in front of itself. In the image in his head, Kaladin could see bridges without them, made from ice, stretched out long and stretched out thin across the chasm. The span was twenty feet, easily higher than the fort. Bridges without walls, bridges without gaps between bridges. The construction workers lowered their bodies until they balanced on those two beams. They were all so pleased. Even if they only stood on the bridge itself, they would look very impressive. But those would be temporary. He summoned another stone and dropped it. The bridge sank back into the trench. A third stone followed. This one caught on a corner of the bridge base, causing it to topple forward. It fell toward the bridge, and a chasmgoddess's girth-which grew with every stone-twisted the bridge upright. It caught in the side of the trench, latching on. The last of the chasmgoddess's size grew with the work, growing as the bridge grew, until the bridge was a pyramid rising fifteen feet in the air. "That's it!" Kaladin said, raising a hand. "Bridge up!" The bridgemen scrambled for their pikes and shields, rushing toward the bridge. They ran in lines, kneeling beside it, grasping the sides as the men outside the trench raised pikes and let them smash down into the men's hands. The king waited in the center of the other soldiers, his face stern. Eventually, though, Sadeas tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, frowning, and Kaladin's heart dropped. The king did not give orders. Instead, the king turned and walked down the hill to a small house. The bridge builders spilled out into the lane. Kaladin met their gazes with a hopeless look, then he vanished inside, leaving them to their fate. The king's house was not far from the bridge base. Kaladin thought he heard the king's wife cry out, though that was probably more imagination than anything else. That was all Kaladin could see, however. He only saw. The men slowly grew back into themselves, armor clinking as they separated. Sadeas jogged up to Kaladin, nodding to the king as he passed, then pulling his helm off and running his hand through his thick black hair. "Ah, that was not pleasant," Sadeas said, shrugging his helm on. "I need to get you out of those things, lad. It's disgusting." "I can ... handle it," Kaladin said. "It is still unsettling. This is for the best." Sadeas walked away from Kaladin, then clapped his hands, yelling, "Unify!" Shouts of the other highprinces echoed the command. So that was Sadeas's command. You make a huge wall, and shout for everyone to obey. The bridgemen knelt beside their bridge, putting their armor on. Kaladin stood on top, and stood at attention as the bridgemen did the same. That was what Sadeas's army was like. Empty, still, with commands without meaning. The same would happen here. "You never answered my question," Sadeas said. "Why this fight? Why waste bridges and men?" "You expected me to run?" Kaladin asked. "Because you're a fool. What if I just killed the king? It's like you suggested. I could do it quietly. Do you think the warlord wouldn't do the same? We'd have an army of murderers. Warriors who would hide behind murder when we attacked other kingdoms. This army isn't even united. You want me to command a manhunt." "No," Sadeas said. "I want you to command a manhunt for the man who raised these scum." "And what if that's who it really is?" "If that's who it really is, then we need to wipe them out." "I want to know why." "Because it doesn't matter," Sadeas said. "Your reasonings about justice are always flawed. Gavilar was a liar, you know. A fraud. He declared himself the highprince of lighteyes, and he could never have pulled that off. He pretended to be his own son, like you've been pretending to be Sadeas's." "No," Kaladin said softly. "This isn't justice. You know he killed people. He put a sword in my mother's belly." "People died because they challenged him. They challenged him on the knife dueling grounds. Gavilar never touched them-he killed them with a thrown dagger." "He used to protect them. With his life. That's why they attacked him in the first place. To make him stop protecting them. But he wouldn't, would he? He killed people who didn't challenge him." "Yes," Sadeas said. "For some things he tried. He didn't get the trick quite right." "If this was about justice," Kaladin said, "I'd ..." He trailed off, cursing himself for forgetting what he was supposed to say. "You'd ... I'd ..." He tried again. "You'd try and change the lighteyes." "We all do, lad. Lighteyes. Highprinces. Just because they have too much power doesn't make them any different from any other king, warrior, or lord." "Your family has the power, Father." "I may have more of it than most, but that doesn't make me better than anyone else. I'm just luckier than others. Unlike the nobles of the Stormfather, I didn't lose everyone I loved when they made me a highprince. Even if I had, they'd have a new man in my place within five generations. Dalinar didn't bother to appoint me king when he set the order, but that doesn't make him any less of a king than I am. Lighteyes. It's all the same to me." "So why do you care if they know?" "Because if they do," Sadeas said, "it will be far worse for them than if we were to let the I just blew all the free words for this week. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MasterGhandalf Posted May 20, 2022 Author Report Share Posted May 20, 2022 And now, for Oathbringer! In which Eshonai leads an invasion, Dalinar has trouble with people who like pointy hats, and apparently Bajorans are involved somehow? Spoiler Eshonai had always told her sister she was certain something wonderful lay over the next hill. Then one day, she'd crested a hill and found humans. The gate-beings who'd been hersing threats at her. Here was a blighted planet, but a lot of the planet was gray as well. The way the air hung in the islands and in the hills, dark and dull. This was the kind of thing Eshonai had come to hate. It was why she'd brought her people here. Here she'd held her own, not without effort. Her people had been victorious, defeating the humans. Eshonai had stilled their hate, shored up her people against betrayal, even against death itself. And had felt, on the last night, the longing of the fallen. The fear of those left behind. For all of those wounds, she had not truly faced the worst she'd done to the humans. No, she had not wanted to face what she had left behind. At the head of her army, she fell into step with her two lieutenants, Telise and Tam'sin. The latter was a fat, well-tanned man in a green and black uniform, long in the face and with a wide-brimmed helmet with a ridge of black for a crest. His forehead was furrowed. He hadn't said a word since Eshonai had gathered the men for battle, maybe because she was a woman and Tam'sin didn't trust women as officers. The two made their way toward the ancient structure that marked the center of this city. It was marked by a door in the stone, a broken monolith with an imposing single statue perched upon it. This statue, dark and gaunt, holding an axe in one hand and the severed head of a woman in the other. She still wore the exquisite ornament that adorned her hair. Her feet echoed in the stone chambers, and the commander of the troops finally looked up at the sounds. He looked up at Telise. She did not look up. "What will we do if she refuses to surrender?" Tam'sin finally asked. He didn't turn to face her. "Kill her?" Telise turned to him. "If you must." He continued to stare. The soldiers in front of them looked forward, at the fortress. Telise looked over at Eshonai, and though she said nothing, she had a face that spoke volumes. There was resignation there, guilt, and anger. Eshonai had failed him, even while Eshonai herself had fought on against a failure. I won't let her be killed, Eshonai thought, steadying herself. Not her. The hallway opened up to a large courtyard. Thick stone walls topped with buttresses. No walls between the buildings. Open, with no gates, with no buildings or people around. At the center of the courtyard was a small door, the door she'd seen in the temple. A spren alighted on its surface, shifting colors. She felt a wave of Shaa form, then a pulse of Air. She levitated over the wall and began to chant. She reached out with her Power, with what was left of her hammer, and began to tap on the door. Eshonai kept repeating her mantra, tapping. One hand against the rock of the wall, the other over her heart. She didn't know what she wanted to accomplish. End the tension? Change the terms? Or was this just a diversion? The sounds of the voices rose, answering her chant. But no one came. The voices grew in strength, as if they were all within. The door cracked, and a spren peered out. It was very small. Tiny, even. It sparkled like obsidian. It had short arms and legs, with a head that was all spikes and a body that was a hunk of needle-like spikes. Most odd of all, it had green skin. The entire being shivered as it saw Eshonai. She ignored it, her chant growing in intensity. The spren began to move, for lack of a better term. The spikes shifted shape and color. It became...human. Sort of. It had little clothes, but otherwise was skin and hairless. It tried to stand, but couldn't, and couldn't seem to get off the ground. "What is this?" Eshonai demanded of it. "What's going on?" The spren was silent. It reached out, tapping on the door. The spren was a woman, maybe even a human, only incredibly far gone. Blood ran from its face, leaking from its ears. The spear it held was black and dull, the hilt of the weapon dull black with the blood of the woman who held it. Eshonai couldn't tear her eyes away from the woman. She had no power to spare; she could only keep repeating her chant, tapping against the stone as she strained against the tether on her bracelet. The stone itself began to glow. She focused on the spren. The woman tried to flee, and Eshonai's heart skipped. She reached out with her Power, focusing, tapping against the stone, against the wall. This is how it ends. A symbol of power, burned to ashes. Her voice grew louder and louder as she chanted. The spren paused. Eshonai suddenly didn't know what she wanted anymore. "Let me in," Eshonai said, voice low, calm. The spren continued to tap on the door, turning its back to her. Eshonai had a sudden thought. She raised the tip of her spear, a finger over the point. "Open," she said. "What?" the spren said, then shut its eyes. "Open," Eshonai repeated. A spren's touch could destroy the world. If she focused enough on it, Eshonai had the power to make it open the door. If she focused enough. The spren hesitated. The door continued to tremble, then crack. The spren turned its head toward her, eyes still shut. This is the end, Eshonai thought. She raised the tip of her spear. "Open," she said. "What?" the spren asked. "Open!" Eshonai yelled. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the spren said. "I didn't understand." As power surged through Eshonai, a sensation of relief and awe flooded over her. She shook as the light burst from her. The spren's shell shattered, revealing its mind. "Teachings," the spren said. "Learnings." Eshonai sank to her knees, the pain in her chest making her almost wish she hadn't released the power. The world still spun, but the spinning ceased. She could breathe. The spren closed its eyes. "Blessed are you," it said. "Teachings of the Red Armour, spoken in their home." "How-what?" Eshonai asked. "Shall I teach you?" the spren asked. "For you have changed it. An ancestor will still pass through this way, but you, by your singularity, have changed the path of those before you. Bless you, teacher." With that, the spren vanished. For a moment, Eshonai was alone. Then, the hallway exploded in light. "Dalinar!" Adolin shouted. "Dalinar, what happened?" "Troubles afoot in the warcamps, Highprince," Elhokar said, turning toward him. He was half leaning against a wall, side-arm in hand. "What's going on?" Dalinar asked. "A new force appears to have arrived at the Shattered Plains," Elhokar said. "A collection of zealots from far and wide, delivering captives and straying into your cities. They're demanding your fealty. They're calling themselves the Children of the Blades." "What? They look strange," Dalinar said, squinting at them. "These are the Band," Elhokar said. "A new faction that's loyal to Sadeas." "Let me guess," Dalinar said, voice rising. "They wear pointy hats?" "Yes, I believe that's where Sadeas got his ideas," Elhokar said, groaning. Dalinar cursed. The Band was a group of fanatical zealots who wore pointy hats and had a disdain for Alethi military practices. He hadn't seen them in a long time. Their tendency to kill anyone they perceived as a threat had begun in the time of the War of Rage, when the Blades had supposedly been broken and were fighting amongst themselves. It was easy to see where Sadeas had gotten the idea. The most popular faction in the Tukarii didn't like the idea of war, of suffering for a cause. They loved the good old days, when battle and heroes had been glorious. Sadeas had listened to this sect's teachings, and the same ideas had filtered out to some of the tribes in the north. Now, this sect had gathered in the Shattered Plains. Dalinar pulled a sheet of paper from his belt. "Sign here," he said, handing the paper to Adolin. The prince crumpled the sheet in frustration, but did as Dalinar said, adding his own mark to the paper. "If this goes through," Dalinar said, "we have to move fast. We can't let them get too organized." "This sounds urgent," Adolin said. "What are they up to?" "A hundred archers," Dalinar said, thinking. "They just attacked the Fifth Cohort's camp, and only because they were expecting such a reaction. Their Highprince is conducting a huge propaganda campaign, trying to create the idea that he controls all the camps of Alethkar. Now, the Band is attacking every city they can get into, hoping to provoke some sort of reaction." "But they need a reason to attack us," Adolin said. "The ardents," Dalinar said. "These are followers of Bajoran mysticism. They see the glory of war, and they want to cause a disaster. They are searching for one." "What happens then?" Adolin asked. "Will they attack us?" "They won't come into the warcamps," Dalinar said. "But I don't think we have a choice. We've got to make a stand." Dalinar turned to Elhokar. The man seemed nervous, yet his face was set in grim determination. "We march on Taravangian," Dalinar said. "I won't have us bowing and scraping before this cult." Adolin raised an eyebrow. "Sure, when the emissary fails to show up for hours," the prince said. "Then you give speeches of how you're not impressed by the weak men trying to pander to us with their dirts, food, and mead. That'll work." "Actually," Dalinar said, "I wouldn't mind turning those people out of camp with the rest. I'd rather not be corrupted by their piety." "We could have a huge holy war with the common people if you want to get your hands dirty," Adolin said. "No," Dalinar said. "No." "A holy war would be good for the morale of the others," Adolin said. "It would not be good for us," Dalinar said. "The fact is, I know I'm right about the emissary's plans. And I'd rather not get further embroiled in some power struggle. I want the band out of our camp. With the Blade, we have the strength to defeat them." He shook his head. "I hate this," Dalinar said. "The simplest course of action is taken, and the Alethi instead have to bow to the whims of petty terror. Why would they do that?" "They hate the idea of losing," Adolin said. "It'll make their people worry. They'll want 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Wandering Wizard Posted May 20, 2022 Report Share Posted May 20, 2022 The children of the light became the children of the blades 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alder24 Posted May 20, 2022 Report Share Posted May 20, 2022 Yup, these cursed by Storms pointy hats! I'm with Adolin on this one, holy war is nesesery! "We march on Taravangian" - if only this happens in OB, naaah joking "The gate-beings who'd been hersing threats at her. Here was a blighted planet, but a lot of the planet was gray as well. The way the air hung in the islands and in the hills, dark and dull. This was the kind of thing Eshonai had come to hate." - surprisingly this all fits Eshonai well, I will even suggest that Eshonai planet explorer is much better. This bot getting better and better. The story is more coherent but still cut mid-sentence. I guess it's its writing style. The Bot deserve Aether for this one. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morningtide Posted May 20, 2022 Report Share Posted May 20, 2022 Ok that's just hilarious 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NerdyAarakocra Posted May 22, 2022 Report Share Posted May 22, 2022 That's great. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MasterGhandalf Posted May 22, 2022 Author Report Share Posted May 22, 2022 And now, it's time for Rhythm of War, once again using the opening lines from the prologue! In which Gavilar (who has apparently renounced his throne to become an ardent) and Navani talk politics, business, and sorcery, while the bot is very confused about the exact nature of characters' relationships. Spoiler Of course the Parshendi wanted to play their drums. Of course Gavilar had told them they could. And of course he hadn't thought to warn Navani. That would have been so very typical of him. All things considered, she had to admit it was a better outcome than she'd feared. Kholin would need all the help he could get in the coming days. She rose. These mountains were unforgiving. She'd prefer to stay here with Gavilar until his fever passed, but her respect for his recovery demanded that she move. She couldn't risk infecting him. Maybe the task would be easier than she'd expected. It was dangerous, of course, but Gavilar was strong. She had to believe that he would survive. There. The trail should be about halfway to the landing place. Kholin would walk that way. The rocks crunched beneath her feet. Navani walked around the center of the plateau, then came to stand over her father. The moon was bright overhead, orange and cloudless. They both had a crescent band around their eyes. "What is it, Navani?" her father asked. "This all seems out of place to me." "Don't be silly, Gavilar. The Parshendi are there." She waved her hands. "Tatnedi, Parshendi, rock, crag, they're all there." "Indeed," Gavilar said, rubbing his eyes. "It's probably just some wild animal," she said. "I never would have believed this, Navani," Gavilar said, leaning back against the rock. "Everything should have been so … neatly arranged." Navani looked at the surrounding land. "It is perfectly natural. Though I think the rocks may have been shaken as I walked past. There were no tracks, I'm afraid." Her father squinted up at the moon, then glanced at the plateau. "Where does your light go, Navani?" "I go where I wish, Gavilar. You don't need to worry about it." He shook his head. "There's something I must ask you. You have recently made a decision to give up sorcery." "Yes." Navani knelt, grasping her father's good hand. She had never fully realized that she'd used sorcery in a way that was contrary to the Highstorms. She still wasn't sure why she had. Perhaps, like the Chasmfiends, she had been acting instinctively. Gavilar was right about her. The use of sorcery as a tool to punish—and save—would not do. "We don't need that kind of power, Navani. The world isn't simple enough for such tricks. Perhaps this decision is related." Navani squeezed his hand. "It's not what you think. You don't have to worry about me, Gavilar. I won't lose myself again." "So it seems." He sighed. "You'll need a new business partner, though." "Who said anything about business?" "I have to know that no one is manipulating you." "Someone is trying to use me for their own ends. That's a little different." "My point is that you must be sure you are making this decision on your own. The Alethi court won't be happy if you continue to twist yourself into knots. It is very convenient for the others that you play along with their plans." "You think I can't manage this on my own?" Navani asked. "What good will it do for me to help them anyway? They still don't agree with me. I'm perfectly fine on my own." "But what would it be like to have so many people looking to you for the final word? It must be strange to have the weight of all of their hopes and dreams pinned to your shoulders." Navani shook her head. "It's not that bad. You're wrong. I have nothing to lose. I've always taken care of myself." "And that's why you've decided to give up sorcery." "I didn't give up sorcery. I chose to stop using it. It's a natural development. If people see me using sorcery now, then it'll become clear that I am not yet fully in control. The whole point of my ruse was that the Alethi had to trust me. I could be the one to fulfill the final prophecy. I have proven that, whether they liked it or not. And that means they have to let me take my life back, no matter what they do. You know as well as I do that the nobility have very few options." "I'm not sure that's true, Navani." He smiled. "You have a choice. You can stop using your sorcery now, and allow it to take care of itself. Or you can allow them to rule you, which I suspect will only make them more aggressive. You might find it difficult to please all of the stakeholders." "It will be interesting to see how it plays out. Gavilar, I don't need people to be anxious about my actions. It's the Alethi who have to live with their anger. I wish them peace and prosperity, and I will work with them to get that. It is not in my power to interfere with their goals." Gavilar grunted. "I wish that was true. You may have every right to believe that, Navani, but I don't trust these people. There are too many secrets. Even among those of us who serve the king, you should know that much." "No," Navani said firmly. "Don't you dare let them think they can control me. This is not their way." Gavilar smiled sadly. "It is not in yours, either. It is time you let it go, Navani. Your brilliance can be a force for good or ill, but now is not the time for that. This is a time for hard choices. To pick your allies carefully, to leave those who cannot, even if it means you won't always get what you want." Navani gazed at him, momentarily caught off guard. "Gavilar," she said, shaking her head. "I just got home, and you're already making decisions for me." "It's the truth, Navani. You've had a good day. Perhaps a better one than any you've had since you've come here." "It's been the most prosperous year of my life, Gavilar. What right have the Alethi to interfere? Are you really that worried about my reputation, or do you just want to convince me to return the Sphere of the Earthquakes?" He stepped closer, looming over her, looking down at her. "I know this," he said. "It's not like I don't know what happened, or what my father tried to do. But I was a king once myself. The rumors are wrong. As wrong as they were in my time, they're still wrong now." "So you're planning on making yourself king again?" "As opposed to you? I would be honored. Please do not take this the wrong way, Navani, but your politics disgust me." "So you're going to let the Alethi take my life for me, because I don't think the way they do?" "Yes. It is the lesser evil, of course, but still an evil. You would be the Empress of I'dw tr ybeir, and you would be righting the wrongs. I can't let that happen. Please. Don't let me make that decision for you." Navani stared at him. This was a unique moment in history. Here she was, a spoiled courtier, and her ghola, a king. And she felt her entire world shifting again. This man could die. "How far do you intend to take this?" she asked. "Your life?" "I think I have earned that much. But I will not force you to help. I want you to decide, free of my influence. We've been through a lot, Navani. You have the right to make your own choices. I will not apologize for that." She held his eyes. Finally, she nodded, and she looked away, staring into the growing gloom. After a moment, she sighed and turned back to Gavilar. "I will need to meet with the king. If you are not to be involved, then please don't call me a heretic. That's not what this is about." "Of course." "Good." She kissed his cheek and stood. Gavilar rose to meet her, and the pair walked in silence toward the palace, passing a dozen archers before Navani looked up. "Gavilar?" He froze. "I just realized what you did for us. What you did for Dalinar. I wasn't mad that you killed Elhokar, I was mad at myself for not appreciating what you did. You just saved us all. Even if your idea about Dalinar doesn't work out, you saved us." She blushed slightly. "Oh, I am sorry, did I say that out loud?" "No. Never mind." Navani glanced back at them, but they were still watching the prince. She turned back to Gavilar. "Do you want to go?" "Are you saying that because you want me to?" "Of course not. And yes." Gavilar eyed her. "What is it? Something else you feel obligated to do?" "I don't want to offend you, but I need to tell you something." "You can tell me anything, Navani," he said. "And you don't have to—it doesn't mean that we're... enemies. Or that I've stopped trying to impress you." He gave her a warm smile. "Maybe we are becoming friends." "You have been my friend before," Navani said. "There was a time when, if I had to choose between you and a horse, I would've picked the horse. But that was then. I don't want you to think that, because we are not married, that I am going to jump in bed with you or whatever. You need to understand, the world is full of disgusting scoundrels, and the Arad Amaranth is no exception." "I know." She nodded. "I don't mean that as an insult. It's just that you are a scoundrel, and I will never be. But I like you, Gavilar. I care for you, and you are not horrible, so this cannot turn into a relationship of mutual dependency. It simply won't." "I... well, thank you. I really do understand." "I can't take you back to Alethkar, of course, but-" Gavilar held up a hand. "Don't get carried away. I am an ardent, Navani. If I wanted to see you again, I could have you sent on assignments. You need to understand this isn't a relationship." "It's a friendship." "I'm not in love with you." "We will see." "How do you know I won't, um... accidentally take my husband away?" Gavilar frowned. "You're not actually planning to... get me killed?" Navani gave him a solemn nod. "As part of the deal, I expect you to do everything in your power to protect him." He nodded. "I understand. It is not so bad." Navani shook her head. "No, it's not. I just want you to understand, so that this does not become... Oh, you can even stop calling me 'my dear.' " "That's the second time you've said that today." "Well, you're getting along with the clothes. And you have more taunts up your sleeve now. I'm a woman and I know you can't resist calling me 'my dear.'" "Whatever." "Anyway, you were saying?" Gavilar gave her an annoyed look, which she saw through immediately. "My dear. I am sorry, I just... it's been a while since you talked to a woman. I have gone through many a female-hater in my life. The first few weren't very skilled. There's still a few in Alethkar, but 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alder24 Posted May 22, 2022 Report Share Posted May 22, 2022 Oh Stormfather, what a reveal! Navani is not only Gavilar's daughter, but a sorceress and a chosen one! Wow, that's a lot. Moreover she's not willing to jump into a bed with her own father, who killed Elhokar. Wow, that's a lot. "You would be the Empress of I'dw tr ybeir" that's a great name, it's a hidden Gemheart! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morningtide Posted May 23, 2022 Report Share Posted May 23, 2022 I love it. The bot just keeps changing it's mind!!!! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
MasterGhandalf Posted May 29, 2022 Author Report Share Posted May 29, 2022 And so, it's time for the last(?) installment of our little series - Stormlight 5, as based on the opening lines of the prologue Brandon has already posted! Of course, some would say that seeing the future is of the Voidbringers... but if so, the Voidbringers would seem to have some very, uh, interesting ideas about what lies in store for us in the next volume (and go into first person for a few paragraphs for some reason). And like previous incarnations of the bot, are struggling with what, exactly, characters' relationships to each other are. But at least Bridge Four seem to be well-fed this time around. Spoilers (?) to follow: Spoiler Gavilar Kholin was on the verge of immortality. He merely had to find the right Words to say. And the other men who'd worked so hard to bind him had done that. The only thing remaining was to seek out the king-without spilling anyone's secrets. He had the rest of the day and evening to prepare. I wanted to weep for what was lost, for what he had known would be taken from him. Of course, I didn't. I had servants. I had my arm and leg, which were now poisoned with his blood. I had Malkolm. I had Kholin warcamps and, perhaps, a way to free ourselves from all of this. All right. I had Sadeas's wrist. Kaladin dug the calluses from his fingers and sucked them back into his mouth. Might as well be nice to him. The sun dipped over the horizon. The time for preparations was at hand. He didn't bother shaving the stubble from his face. He had left that to Dalinar and a handful of other men. He found Dalinar at the front of the warcamps, looking at something in his hands. It was large, and dark, and full of metal-hollow orbs and things like that. Dalinar held the object up, turning it over, though Kaladin didn't have the chance to see what it was. The king went in his direction, striding, Dalinar in his wake. Kaladin joined them and crossed to join them on the steps that led up to the center of the hollow. Dalinar's face was tense, though his eyes were relaxed. He stopped and turned toward Kaladin. Kaladin-who had grown a long beard-shook his head. No. Dalinar held out the sphere. "What do you say, Father? This is the last thing of your father I have to give you." He'd considered cutting himself, but hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. "I'd give anything for you to take it and grow as big as you'd like, Kaladin." "Don't do this, Dalinar. It's not right." "The task is complete, son." "Then you'll do something for me." He held out his right hand, palm up, his arm limp. Dalinar reached down and took the sphere, its softness like so much silk in his grasp. It snapped shut, glowing faintly blue. Dalinar stood, looking down at Kaladin, nodding, as though someone had punched a hole in the wall. "I don't know what this is, Father," Kaladin said. "It might be an artifact of Kharbranth, or perhaps a link to the Voidbringers. It could be a weapon of the ancients. Or perhaps some prophecy about the fall of Kharbranth. I just can't tell." "I don't need prophecy, son," Dalinar said, fingers tight around the sphere. He was smiling, but Kaladin saw tears in his eyes. "I have you." Kaladin's breath shook. "Father?" "Yes," Dalinar whispered. "I think I do." Kaladin glanced to the side, seeing a pair of attendants waiting, ready to push Kaladin and Dalinar up onto their horses-and then run them through in short order. He wanted to scream and run at them, but instead he knelt. Dalinar walked over to him, and Kaladin put a hand on his shoulder. His father knelt beside him, arm on the other's shoulder, and they stared up at the king of Alethkar, looking very much the two old men they were. Adolin joined them on the step, and the three of them knelt, looking up to the sky. The king mounted his steed, steadied him, and gave the word to start moving. Kaladin's muscles tensed as the king rode away. With every step that horse took, with every blow it laid upon the Shardblade and Plate of the king of the Shattered Plains, the sphere grew brighter. Adolin took one hand and cupped it about Kaladin's, pulling him to his feet. Kaladin found his legs shaking. His vision was blurring. "We're going to make it, son," Adolin said. "Adolin?" "I'm sorry," Adolin said. "I'm so sorry." He sounded desperate. "We'll keep him from getting off that plateau, Kaladin," Dalinar said. "That I promise you." Kaladin's right arm started to shake, and Dalinar pulled his hand back. "Keep him back, Son," Adolin said. "I'm sorry for all that's happened, Brightlord." "Adolin!" "I have a wife, Brightlord," Adolin said. "You're a Shardbearer. I didn't want to have to be the one to have to ask you to...ask you to let me kill you." Dalinar let go of Kaladin. "Take this to the king," Adolin said. He pressed the sphere into Kaladin's palm. "You can return with it to the Shattered Plains." "I can't leave him," Kaladin whispered, feeling helpless. "Not yet." "We can go for help," Adolin said. "But you have to go back and watch him. And just...you have to try to make him understand. The sky...the Stormfather and its creations. What's happening here. You have to try, Kaladin. You have to try." Dalinar pulled Kaladin into his arms. "Stormfather..." Kaladin said. "What is happening here?" That night, Kaladin stood before the campfire, looking eastward. He didn't know what the next few weeks would bring. He didn't know if they'd find a way to stop Deshi al'Vere. How long would the armies be in the warcamps? How long would they stay there? What if they got defeated before they got out of place? And what would happen to the king? Kaladin had a duty to him, and still, there was that foolish idea he'd had, the one about letting others serve his wound. Would that, as easy as it had seemed, have made the king hesitate before charging on the chasmfiend? It didn't seem worth the risk. He couldn't walk the man back to camp, and he didn't want to try to cross the chasm without a bridge. It didn't feel right. They weren't prepared for that kind of challenge. It would take far too long to rebuild bridges to Dalinar's altitude, if they could even do it, and how would they evacuate those who could still walk? Bridge Four was busy. Kaladin watched men run up and down the length of the central plaza in front of the camp. The men had more breakfast than they knew what to do with. They were making brooms and knives and helmets from the debris of the Shattered Plains. "Sorry, sir," one of the bridge crews said as Kaladin approached. They were led by a battered man in the ragged black uniform of a lighteyes's personal guard. "We're on a tight schedule. You really want to-" "Lift the saddles off this lot?" Kaladin said, pointing to the stack of eight-branch saddles that the bridgemen had just pulled down. "I won't have your men stopping in the middle of the street and dismounting just to go clean a bridge." He looked at the saddles. One was cracked. Another was splintered near the foot. Kaladin picked one up. They seemed perfectly fine, after the wash of the ocean and the chasm winds. But who knew how long the wood would last? Probably not very long. "Adolin," he called. The young prince came running up. "The king's asking for you. He's in his quarters, in his highstorm shelter." Kaladin grabbed the reins of one bridgeman's horse and, with the bridgeman's help, shoved it into the saddle. "I'll go with you," Adolin said, stepping up beside Kaladin. "If I leave, the king will probably abandon Dalinar to his fate." "Are you trying to get yourself killed, son?" Kaladin asked. "You should go see to the king's safety." "I'm not the man to get wounded protecting someone else," Adolin said. "No," Kaladin said, "but you're the man to save yourself. Even if he thinks you're the one who got wounded in the first place." Adolin looked at him, then sighed and jogged back to his horse, climbing on without much trouble. He led the entire group of bridgemen out of camp. They passed Dalinar's pavilion, and Kaladin quickened his pace. Dalinar's highstorm shelter was in a natural gully in the side of a rocky hill. It had a stone floor and a roof of wood and canvas, though there was barely any shelter at all from the winds that blew through the chasm valley. The bridgemen left the horses outside, trudging through the rock as they hurried toward the shelter. Kaladin spotted Dalinar at the door, leaning back on the logs. He wore a soft gray robe and blue shadowplate. His leg still ached, but he wasn't limping anymore. Even that was a blessing. The door into the shelter was just a large stone slab, thick enough to hold an ox. Kaladin had never been inside a highstorm shelter before; the dome-shaped roof sounded like a thunderstorm, and the floor was like an enormous bowl that could safely hold a highstorm itself. So far as Kaladin knew, there was only one such shelter on the Plains. He'd seen it in brief vision, as he'd descended from the bridge. Amaram's men. Dalinar passed without comment, going toward the rear of the shelter, toward the center of the bowl. When they reached the center, he stopped, leaning his back against the stone slab. Kaladin stood awkwardly, looking down at the interior. The center of the shelter was a circular room with a stone floor. It was also raised up on metal legs. A large painting hung in the center of the room, a scene of warriors and bridgemen riding horses across the Plains. Three men stood in the image, one dark, one light, the third in a red Shardplate. That was himself. A man in a red Shardplate. "Amaram," Dalinar said, voice muffled by the rock, "I thought I'd never see you again. Where have you been?" "As Alethi knights are trained," Amaram said, not looking up, "we protect those we are assigned to. It's been more important than you know." "I see," Dalinar said. "I've come here to deliver to you the proclamation of war against Navani Kholin." The other bridgemen clapped. Dalinar didn't reply. He'd changed much in the past few weeks. He was an older man now. He wore a couple of days' worth of stubble and looked haggard. He hadn't shaved, his white hair showing where he'd let it grow long in his confinement. "The Parshendi?" Dalinar said softly. "Didn't you have that agreement with them?" "They've become a threat to us," Amaram said. "A threat to the Alethi people. Navani has long been obsessed with wiping out the Parshendi, and we have done nothing to dissuade her. She keeps working, even after she saw me wounded." Kaladin felt the wind in the storm hole. Navani had imprisoned Amaram-just as Amaram had once imprisoned Dalinar. He could still remember the way Amaram had looked at Dalinar 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
alder24 Posted May 29, 2022 Report Share Posted May 29, 2022 The relationships in this part are like in soap opera - no idea who is who. And that's definitely THE Kaladin, thinking about cutting himself and dreaming about descending from the bridge. i love this journey we went through, sad to see it ending. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Morningtide Posted May 29, 2022 Report Share Posted May 29, 2022 (edited) I love it! Kaladin is Adolin's son? Fun but a bit odd. Poor sad Kaladin. Even in this story he can't cut a break!! Edited May 29, 2022 by Morningtide 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
S. Stormy Posted June 21, 2022 Report Share Posted June 21, 2022 Hm. This is a little necro-y... don't tell anyone. I made one with the first lines of Kaladin's PoV in WoK. So we got this internal conflict about Kaladin accepting the Shardblade... Spoiler Kaladin's stomach growled as he reached through the bars and accepted the bowl of slop. Why wasn't Dalinar still awake? He must be back at the warcamps by now. He stepped into his room and dropped down to the floor, sitting at the base of the bed. The only light came from the tiny window, where the stormlight, raised by the storm, illuminated the walls and table. At one end of the table sat the bag of gemstones. Kaladin stood, pulling out the two spheres that had been made. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he'd do anything with them. He'd just...steal them? He didn't know, and it worried him. The bag thumped to the ground, and Kaladin turned, walking to the window. As he reached for the curtains, the brazier blazed to life. It wasn't a nice little campfire, the way Dalinar's campfires were, but a big, smoke-belching cauldron with a nearly full stock of pottery jars around it. The jars were half-full, and the moonshine wafting off of them made the aroma heady. What a strange day. Blistering hot and free of pain, Kaladin reached up and pulled the curtains closed. As he did, a splinter of pain struck him in the leg. Kaladin dropped down to the floor with a gasp, holding it, staring at the bed, trying to decide whether to pull the stake or not. He sat there with his leg twisted up, taking deep breaths, aware of the storming fury building in him. Stormfather! What was he doing, trying to steal rocks? He snatched up the sack of the spheres and went to Dalinar's chamber, looking inside the bag. Two were very different shapes. The first one was roughly the same shape as the Stormlight shield on his arm, but with a slightly more complicated shape. It was shaped like an upside-down crescent-moon-but larger. It was a Shardblade. A Shardblade for Kaladin to use, if he wanted. It lay at an angle, dented slightly, the stone of the blade worn and rough. It looked heavy. Distant voices reached Kaladin, rising and falling, sounding strange from so far away. Kaladin knelt down and rubbed his leg. He tried to calm himself. It was important that he think straight, but...did he want to use a Shardblade? No. Kaladin doubted he had the skill to be a great lighteyes. Would he kill anyone? No. Would he fight with it? No. Was it worth risking himself for? No. This wasn't him. This was someone else. A different man, just like Kaladin, but with a darker past. With a need for revenge. No, no, he told himself, rubbing his leg and gathering his Stormlight. He'd gotten rid of that past. The truth was, he didn't even know himself anymore. He only knew what he had done. It was time to grow up, and deal with things as they were. With the Shardblade, Kaladin thought, he could do that. He would make it so that the weapon would be like an extension of him, not something he worked with. He held it up, then pulled the drawing that the woman had made of him. Kaladin had taken the time to study it again, looking for gaps in the lines, for places to repair. It was good, he thought. And the final result would show Dalinar's own notes on Kaladin's Blade. As he unfolded the drawing, he found himself returning to the footfalls from the hallway. Footsteps didn't sound much like soldiers, especially these. This was a strange quality about war: that you could hear so much more of what wasn't happening than of what was. The lighteyes walked out of Dalinar's campfire to the north. Kaladin counted nine in all. He looked at the Blade in his hands. No, he thought, lowering it and reaching for the drawn Soulcaster again. I'm not going to fight with it. The soldiers were approaching, walking on a wide trail through the woodlands. Dalinar's soldiers. Kaladin rose, blinking. A moment later, men emerged from the brush. They wore uniform-striped red coats and trousers-along with black vests and belts, light boots, and red berets. The men approached, stowing their weapons and pointing them in the direction of the lighteyes. Kaladin raised a hand and the bandits stopped. Two of the Ta-da! Beautimous. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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