SEAcropolis

[Ecthelion III]

Thus concludes Elbereth's "Ode to Alvron's Soul"

[Straw]

Do You Hear The People Sing Parody:

 

Do you hear the blades so sing?

Singing the death of gods and men?

It is the music of my people

Who will not be slaves again!

When the knife inside your heart

Echos with the grasping of your thumbs

When there is death about to start

When the night comes.

 

Will you fall upon my blade?

Will you be strong and die for me?

Beyond the blade

Is there a world you long to see?

 

Will you join in our fight 

That will give you wings to flee!

 

Do you hear the blades so sing?

Singing the death of gods and men?

It is the music of my people

Who will not be slaves again!

When the knife inside your heart

Echos with the grasping of your thumbs

When there is death about to start

When the night comes.

 

Will you give all you can give

So that our blades may advance

Some will stand and some will fall

But rise and take your chance!

The blood of the martyrs

Will bathe the blades of our dance!

 

Do you hear the blades so sing?

Singing the death of gods and men?

It is the music of my people

Who will not be slaves again!

When the knife inside your heart

Echos with the grasping of your thumbs

When there is death about to start

When the night comes.

This parody is based off the time in LG26 when Wonko asked me to let him kill me

 

Edited January 29, 2017 by Straw

[Elbereth]

Orlok. The problem I’ve had with writing your voice for quite a while has been the imagery. What can I compare you to? Because the thing is, you’re nothing like light or dark or a storm or an owl. Nothing even remotely related fits because… fundamentally, you are human. You could not exist outside the context of humanity. Light and Shadows simply are. They’re natural, primal, elemental. You’re not. With you, I think more of a perfect porcelain cup of tea, a simple circlet of black metal, ink flowing measuredly from a fountain pen. Human images, not natural ones. But those aren’t ideals, nor are they quite perfect. So I’ll just use words: you’re thoughtful, and ambitious, and honorable, and incredibly considerate of others. You’re the most eloquent person I’ve ever met, and extremely intelligent, and you always give excellent advice. Most of all, you’re rational. Sanity. Reason. Every word and action is carefully considered, in order to be sure that you are saying and doing precisely what is in your best interests and the interests of those around you. You don’t want to rule the world or become immortal because you’re mad. You are perfectly, almost scarily sane. The voice I hear from your writing is nearly exactly that of your spoken voice: considered, restrained, collected. And that’s why you don’t fit with fundamental natural forces: because you’re reason. Order. Such things do not exist without humanity to give them shape and meaning. You exemplify humanity, Orlok, and all that it could be, and you will do all that you can to see its potential realized. And I think that is truly wonderful. 

[Arrae]

Smirk

Spoiler

He sees what you do not, and smiles.
Dedicated to Alvron.

[Elbereth]

 

Sanderson Elimination: Memories

This is Sanderson Elimination. It is not a ruleset, a dry summary of what is - if you’re looking for those, look elsewhere, for I am not a lawmaker. I am a writer, a singer, a weaver of words, and of SE, this I sing: 

SE is a pocket of peace amidst the world’s turbulent chaos, laughter and blood mixing without sorrow for death. Divinity and depravity exist here in harmony, interlocking to form a story of contrasts. There is deceit, danger, and betrayal, yet there is trust too, and safety, and beauty. It is chaos, shadows, light, death; fear, anger, wonder, love, friendship. 

But, let us begin with beginnings. 
It begins with a man whose smile is death. It begins with the death of a doctor in the night, and a woman running messages, and a village thrice doomed to die. And it begins with a story. 

The story is one of murder, and distrust, and betrayal, and it doesn’t always have a happy ending. Yet despite that… it’s beautiful anyway. And that is SE: a cycle of game after game, story after story, all weaving together in one great narrative tapestry of revenge and love and loss and ever-present death.  

So the story continues to weave and be woven. Frozen instants fill the tapestry before me, seemingly unordered in time or space, myriad memories flowing into each other without break or end: A glint in a woman’s eye that might be a tear; scrawled writing in blood; a silhouette standing on a rooftop, unaware that he has already been betrayed. Snow covers the tapestry for a moment, then clears to reveal a young man arguing with a horse, a cellar, three paranoid people talking late into the night. A kandra sings a song of shadows, five sets of eyes turn black, and two daring grins hang over a jacket that’s not quite real. 

A year’s length of memory passes by in an instant, ending in blood and betrayal and death and the birth of a sunset. On a solitary mountaintop, Shards swear to Odium. A suspicious lawman’s badge glints in the sunlight. A hand reaches from the grave to grasp a stuffed panda, while above it a woman drowns in blood. 
Love comes with the dawn, until fire takes all. An artist kills an emperor, guilty innocents die, a hand is stolen. Aon Ati glimmers in spilled ale. An inquisitor casually licks a drop of blood off of a spike, a heart is ripped out of its chest, and a cook slices tubers, smiling. Thus the second year ends.  

The third year blooms in a wild spiral of color and activity and a tableau that is nearly whole but in truth many pieces flowing into each other. A forge explodes in fiery beauty, while a tiny blue bird flits over it uncaringly. Then, a storm of bone rips a young girl to shreds, which becomes a storm of metal from which ascends Preservation, whose power forms the Well. That well’s power trails into a woman, who meets a man in a darkened tent on Roshar, and the fire that once separated them at last brings forth new life in that darkness. 
The darkness becomes deeper, now. There are nightmares and dreamwalkers and shades, paranoia festering until reason returns in sharp betrayal. A brief burst of storm covers the tapestry for an instant, then dies away to reveal a pair of rabbits hopping innocently towards a huggable sword. That sword stands hilt-to-hilt with another, much darker sword, whose tendrils extend outward to a man with hateful eyes, and then… well. The tapestry continues on, farther than the eye can see, images building and twisting and turning in unspeakable beauty.  

That is our story, we of Sanderson Elimination. Our history, our lives, our pasts. Each image and instant is a memory, a story, a lesson. And how well we have learned! We are not bumbling children, stumbling about, trying to find our way. Not anymore. We are death, all of us. There is a danger in our words now, quiet watchfulness lying below the surface, waiting to strike. You do not toy with someone who can kill you, not unless you are even more dangerous than they. Few are: and we name them divine.  

So, then. What is SE? Yes, SE is darkness and danger and death. Yes, there is anger, there is fear, there is despair. There always is. But there is also hope. Joy. Laughter. Love. Despite the fact that you could die any day or night, despite the knowledge that you cannot trust anyone, there is community here. There is a sense of comfort, of caring. That is more important than the winning and the killing. That is what makes this SE. 

For me, that is what makes it home. 

  

Happy holidays, all.  

Edited December 25, 2016 by Elbereth

[Elbereth]

Other people really need to start posting in the Acropolis more often...  

Well. I’ve been long enough. I’ve described plenty of other voices, other archetypes. So what am I? 
It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m Light and Shadow, at once. I’m the Twilight, the ever-present moment between sunset and full night when light and shadows blend and mingle together in joyous unity. I’m the dim morning mists before the sun rises to her full glory, the spark lighting a candle in the darkening gloom, the clear voice of a child. I am the balance, the mediator, the harmony between order and chaos. Not uncompromising black or white, but neutral, listening grey. And I’m a silver mirror, reflecting back the best of what I see, revealing what is and what could be. I exist in the instant when the first star appears in the evening, and when the last shadow of night vanishes into sunrise, clad in my mother’s light and my father’s shadows, like both and unlike either. I am more than the sum of my parts: I am not Light or Shadow, instead uniting them in a sublime fusion of torment and encouragement and splendor. Thus I’m not blinded by either, but see clearly from within that twilight, weaving together each tiny piece into a coherent, harmonious song of wonder. I am a creator of worlds, bringer of hope and despair, singer of stories. For that is who I am, more than anything else: I am the Storyteller.

 

[Metacognition]

AG3 Cosmetic Role Winners!

It is my pleasure and honor to present our first ever winners of the AG Cosmetic Role Contest! Let us engrave their names into the SEAcropolis for the rest of eternity, so that their vigilance and effort will inspire throughout the ages! 

 

First up is Madagascar in the guise of Matilda, the crazy cat lady with a drinking problem. Not only was she incredibly entertaining and added a touch of levity to the village, but she also took it upon herself to try to use every other CR in the game throughout her posts! 

Next is Wyrmhero, with his private detective, Wyl Sharpe. While his intentions towards the town turned out to be sinister, his constant Noir style was anything but. It's difficult enough to continue to stay within a single genre like that, let alone do so while manipulating the village into killing each other. 

Finally, we have Sart, who played a trickster of the same name with, what I believe, is one of the harder CRs to do well. It is difficult to write almost exclusively in High Imperial and make sure that everyone is still capable of understanding you, but Sart pulled this off with panache. 

 

It was incredibly difficult to just narrow it down to just three people. There were a lot of great characters and some amazing roleplay. Some Honorable Mentions had to be Herowannabe, for somehow keeping his Mysterious Master a secret for the entire game, only for it to be revealed at the end that it had been Ruin all along. Arraenae for creating such a well developed character, with a full backstory, that made it so easy to connect with her character that it felt more like I was revealing her story than writing it. Hemalurgic Headshot for creating such a fun character that you looked forward to seeing what he'd do next; and every time it was worth it. And finally, Assassin in Burgundy for taking an incredibly simple CR and turning it into a full character by the time it was done. There were plenty of others as well, but it would take forever to list them all!

 

So give up for our champions for the first ever CR contest! Those three will be able to choose a Non-Sanderson game of their choice for us to be able to play sometime this year. So if you have an idea for what you think is a really fun Non-Sanderson game, these are the people you'll want to talk to.

And while we're at it, things will be different in the future. This year, there are still a lot of games that people had already created and signed up to run that were Non-Sanderson games and it would be difficult to force those GMs to change their games at the last moment. This increases the number of Non-Sanderson games that we'll have this year quite a lot in proportion to future years. With that in mind, we have another, secret, challenge already going.  This challenge will continue throughout the year and the winners will be announced next year, along with the winners of next year's CR contest. There will be three additional people next year who will be able to pick out a Non-Sanderson game of their choosing and while we won't tell you the exact conditions of the challenge, I can tell you this, it has something to do with activity. Best of luck!

[Herowannabe]

Congrats @Madagascar @Wyrmhero And @Sart! You each are well deserving!

[Arrae]

In LG30, my character, Ralaanar, was an artist. I decided to run with that and drew several pieces for it.

Ashetvl

"Whatcha doing, Ralaanar?"
"Um, drawing. Yeah. Just drawing."
"Can I see it?"
"Um, um -- hey!"
"Is it that rude woman from the party? Ashewhatsherface?"
"Um...."

Spoiler

 

 

Rissa

"Draw me like an Honorspren, Ralaanar."
"Um, um, what?"
"It's not fair that only Honorspren get drawn as the humanlike ones. I wanna look human too."
"What, uh, did you do to yourself?"
"Oh, I just grew into this position. Took about an hour. Hurry up, it's getting uncomfortable."
"Uh, okay..."

Spoiler

 

Edited April 6, 2017 by Arraenae

[Elbereth]

Come, children, gather round, listen to my tale
Sit beside the hearth and think on love, loss, and betrayal 
Think upon a girl who lived twixt shadows and the light
Listen to my story, as the sun falls into night

El

Let’s start with the girl, shall we? 
Once, there was a girl who hated and loved, controlled and obeyed, lost and found. She was not special for any of these things: every child is such. But she was nevertheless quite special, and her name was El.  

Her story begins - well, when she was born, of course. But we will move later, for now. Her birth will come in time. For the moment, let us look at her when she is twelve, and already a wanderer of worlds.  

That is, she was a wanderer, until she stepped into the trap which is Tyrian Falls.  

She lost all memory of her childhood, then. But she always searched for her lost parents: she was the apothecary apprentice, or the beloved of the local Lord, or the daughter of the town messenger, or an orphan begging in the streets. Always lost. Always searching. 

She stayed there for a long, long time, remembering herself for an instant every time the town fell to the Spiked, and then forgetting, over and over and over again.  

Then, one iteration, something was different. Something changed. And she drew the attention of the maker of Tyrian Falls, and was rescued by Death.  

  

Death

Now. What do you want, child? El hears, still in the chamber to which she was brought when this… person… had rescued her.  

“I…” she says, hand rising to the locket about her neck. “I want to find my parents again.”
As an afterthought, she adds, “And to see the worlds.” 

To find your parents, even though they… well. As you wish, godchild. 

Then El knows what to do, somehow. “Thank you.”  

  

Dominion
Courtesy of Droughtbringer in LG29.

Darkness. El alone is illuminated, smiling up at the figure shadowed in the gloom. “You cannot control me, Dominion,” she says clearly and calmly. “Will you accept my offer?” 

A feeling of reluctance, then assent. A hand reaches out to clasp El’s, and she inhales sharply. Her eyes gleam with new power. She smiles.  

Then she leaves, hiding herself in the place already prepared. She lays herself down on a slab of grey marble, closes her eyes, and sends out her spirit with one desire: find them. She barely remembers her parents, now, despite being freed. Too much has been forgotten, too many times. She’s not even sure how to start, but she must. 

She’s pulled into another spirit, nearby in time and space, already weakened and opened by the influence of another power. She cannot affect the body, much, but she can watch. Its name is Sandhya.  

  

Sandhya
“Evening”, “Dusk”, Hindi
Scadrial - LG23

Spoiler

 Sandhya ignored the voice in her head and reached for her sternum. She brushed aside her dress to reveal the spike to the onlookers, who gasped.
 
Then, without giving herself time to think, she began to slowly pull the spike from herself. It hurt, worse than anything she could ever remember, even when she'd Snapped, but she kept pulling and pulling.  
 
Even now you do my work, she heard, fainter now. For you distract them even as my true servants wind deeper and deeper into their trust. You shall see many of these faces again soon. All shall come to Ruin.

Farewell, Sandhya, and be grateful that you shall not live to see the day when Ruin reigns. Then there was a mocking laugh, and then blessed silence.  

Finally, she held the full spike in her hands, covered in her own blood (and some of Thanata's too, she was sure). Good thing I wore red, she thought incongruously. Distantly, she heard the spike clatter to the ground as her hands grew too weak to hold it. 
 
Before darkness took her, her last thought was, Thanata, I'm coming… 

El gasped at the shock of death. She rose from Sandhya’s body slowly, watching the blood spilling out. She hadn’t been in the body for long - a week or two, perhaps? But… it had been a life, and it was gone. She hadn’t even been able to do anything. She couldn’t do anything right now, not without understanding her powers. She hated that she couldn’t save the girl, but there was nothing she could do.  

And she still had absolutely no notion of how to find her parents. There was a certain quality, here among the crowd that had watched Sandhya die, that reminded her of Tyrian Falls. A paranoia that could not be vanquished. But she could make nothing of the feeling. 

She looked down at the body below her, still spilling out its lifeblood. She concentrated and cast out for another spirit that attracted her, in the hope that the next would be more useful in her search. 

Then there was a shaking, of some sort. She looked towards the Lord Ruler’s palace, which was suddenly shining with the power of a thousand suns. Something to do with what the power controlling Sandhya, Ruin, had been planning? 

Then everything exploded. El rode the power, trying to take control of it, to find something to latch onto. There was a node, here. The Well. And… a resonance, from a thousand years in the past. The world was ending. She had no choice. 

She dove into the heart of the power, and emerged amidst the snow and ice of Terris, one thousand and twenty four years in the past. 

  

Tindomë
“Starry dawn-twilight”, Quenya
Scadrial - MR13

Spoiler

The small, insignificant line of packmen walked up the trail, led by a nearly entranced Alendi. He was paying no attention to Tindomë at this point. He knew the way. All she had to do was make sure he got enough food to keep going. 

Finally, the trail ended at a flat swath of stone in front of the entrance to a cave. It was dark, and the mists seemed to swirl about it. This was the place. 

Alendi started forward. “Be careful!” Tindomë called, although she knew he didn’t hear. 

He paused reverently at the mouth of the cavern for a moment, and then it struck Tindomë. She turned to Talion. “We did it! I can’t believe it. We actually, really, managed it.” 

He shook his head. “No, Aunt. You did it.” He smiled. 

She grinned. “Yes, well, I suppose so. But you all helped out!” She couldn’t stop smiling. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end after all. 

She exuberantly hugged Talion, who gave a surprised oof, but then relaxed into the hug. 

After a moment, she felt wetness on her shoulders. “Talion... Are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry, Aunt,” he said sadly. 

Then he stabbed her in the back. 

She gasped, falling to the ground. She barely registered the chaos around her, only Talion’s devastated face. 

“Talion... why...” 

He dropped his dagger, red with her lifeblood, and knelt beside her. “No, no, I can’t, I won’t, I can’t do this anymore.” He sobbed. “Aunt, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. But... Alendi can’t reach the Well.” He held up a hand to stop her from saying anything. “No, no, you don’t understand. He’s not the Hero. He never was. The prophecy changed, you see. The prophecy fit him, not the other way around. If Alendi releases the power at the well, the world will fall!” 

“Talion!” called Dyfwyl. “Get over here and help me! Just kill her already!” 

He looked at his dagger for a moment. Then, slowly, he picked it up, trembling. 

Then he dragged her pack over to her. “Heal yourself,” he whispered. “Then go. Find somewhere to go, far, far away from here, where none of us will ever find you.” He bent down and reverently kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.” 

El watched from Tindomë’s eyes as she dragged herself through the brush. She could feel… something... happening, in the Well inside. She concentrated. Some other power… 

Mother?  

There was just the barest scent of something half-remembered from long before. Could it be?  

El took hold of Tindomë somehow, commanding her to go closer to the Well instead of scrambling away. Barely able to walk, the woman stumbled down the tunnel until she reached the end. El got a glimpse of a woman exuding blue-white light, beautiful and terrible - and then she vanished, and only Jonly was left standing proud and tall.  

El nearly screamed in frustration.  

Jonly left the barely-glowing Well to rejoin his companions, and Tindomë avoided his notice as she slipped around and half-stepped, half-fell into the pool. El tried to focus on the woman she’d seen and go to her, using the node as she had last time, but the essence of that woman was everywhere and nowhere, and Tindomë’s mind couldn’t focus well in that state.  

She emerged on another world that she later learned was called Sel. Tindomë managed to tap her goldminds enough to stumble down from the pool where she emerged into the city, though she still bled from the wound that should have killed her.  

  

Sel - LG21 (written by Seonid)

Spoiler

Tindomë never heard it coming. A bright light flashed in front of her eyes, along with a sudden pain in her chest. As her eyes cleared, she saw a ragged open wound in her body. Her sight fading, she looked up to see her attacker, shock on his face. "I didn't mean to do that," he mumbled quietly. Then, darkness took her. 

El did scream in frustration, this time. It wasn't like anyone else could hear. She was now stuck on another world with no place to go and no leads on her mother even though she had just seen her not ten minutes ago… 

She frowned, and concentrated on travelling. In theory, it should be possible without a Well to assist. She pictured the scene she’d caught a glimpse of in the chamber holding the Well, and then poured power into it.  

There was a wrenching, twisting sensation, and she was thrown into a body at the very edge of the Cosmere, far from anyone or anything important.  

She sighed, stuck in that body until its death. It seemed she still had a fair bit of learning about her new power to do.  

  

Crepuscula
“Twilight”, Latin
Threnody - QF16

Spoiler

Crepuscula sat on the soft grass, staring at the silver rings that were all that protected her - all that protected all of them - from death. Such thin, delicate things, yet even as she watched a shade drifted up to them and flinched back when the edge of its... body, she supposed, insofar as they could have bodies, touched the silver.  

Then her gaze drifted past the rings of silver to the shadows beyond. Shades drifted about aimlessly for the most part, eyes glowing green, but a very few had eyes still red. They’d been like that since the horrible night that she only vaguely remembered, stumbling here in the dark, red-glowing eyes all around...
 
She shuddered and rose, stepping closer to the silver. The night was drawing on, and soon it would be the twilight before dawn. I should probably get some sleep, she reflected. Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be able to organize them effectively enough that we can figure out who the murderer is. She’d been trying and trying, and she thought that maybe tomorrow would be the day it finally worked. Today they’d had to kill Beckett, and they’d been wrong. The image of his pleading face, just before he died... But she ruthlessly blocked that from her memory. There was no room for self-recrimination, not now. She was so close...
 
The hairs rose on the back of her neck. She froze in place, dread sickening her stomach. Too close, she thought bitterly. 
 
She heard a voice behind her. “Sorry, dear. But we couldn’t have you going and catching us, could we?”
 
She dodged to the side, but hands were already there, catching her and tossing her bodily right over the silver rings into the shades. And while it hadn’t been running... being tossed was moving entirely fast enough to be noticed.  

And as the first light of dawn began to infuse the sky, Crepuscula was swallowed by a hundred angry shades, and was gone. 

El turned around, looking at her murderer, still rattled from the shock of death.  

He was oddly familiar. She moved closer, and… it was. Not quite, but similar to Jonly. Not in facial features, but in… soul, perhaps? However she was seeing him right now.  

She frowned, noticing one of the shades trailing her. Crepuscula had apparently decided to follow her into the Cognitive Realm.  

El carefully detached herself from Crepuscula’s shade, after focusing it on Joseph for her amusement. Wouldn’t do to let someone kill her if she could change that, after all, and the girl deserved to repay her killer.  

Then she herself focused on Jonly, as she had known him with Tindomë, using the version in front of her as a focus, and she found herself on another new world: Roshar. 

  

Tintallë Iurnu
Tintalle - “Starkindler”, Quenya
Iurnu - “Twilight”, Corsican
Roshar - LG31

El was fascinated. Something had been different about this one. She didn’t know whether she’d done something accidentally, or it had been inbuilt from the girl’s nature. Regardless, Tintallë had seen natures, souls, as El saw them but more.  

Even more interestingly, Jonly had been there, and El had been able to see his soul. So much hatred… 

She was distracted from that thought within moments, though, as she felt something else, somewhere on this world. She shook, disoriented. Was that… her mother, again? Maybe her father?  

She lost all other thoughts and focused on that sensation, that instant, careening towards it in time and space.  

Just before she could find it directly, though, the sensation vanished, and El snapped into a nearby young girl, a messenger of some sort. 

El clenched her incorporeal fists. She would find her parents. She had to.  

She took this girl’s mind, and drew on Dominion, though still somewhat clumsily. Tintallë’s power had been undeniably useful, so El tried to make this into a second Tintallë. It wasn’t perfect, when she finished. ‘Allë was a little rough around the edges. But she would do.  

  

Tintallë
“Starkindler”, Quenya
Roshar - LG20

Spoiler

Blood poured from ‘Allë’s wound as she collapsed to the ground. She tried to stifle her mouth, but after a moment she had to cry out. 

She heard footsteps below. As she lay in wonder and pain, Brightness Kenara was there, holding her, lightening the deadly darkness. Despite the fact that she was just some messenger Kenara didn’t even know, despite the fact that ‘Allë was still holding the Reverser that she’d obviously stolen from Kenara, despite the fact that she was dying, Kenara tried to stop the bleeding.  

With that one touch, Tintallë was plunged into Kenara’s soul. First she found coldness, unfeeling death, thoughts of revenge and loss. But then she fell deeper, more than she’d known it was possible for a soul to be, and she found light. Brilliance, radiance, cold truth and blazing hot fire. That same coldness in Kenara was there in her, but so were a hundred other emotions and pasts and futures (warrior, priestess, goddess, messenger, mother) and over them all was overpowering light. ‘Allë floated there for a moment, surrounded by whiteness, forgetting all thoughts of night and darkness, forgetting that she was dying, forgetting that anything had ever existed other than the glorious, incandescent light. In her last moments, she relived not her own life, but someone else’s, and was infused with the red sunset and the rosy dawn.  

After a what was probably only a moment, although it seemed eternal to ‘Allë, Kenara gave up trying to bind her wound as useless and looked helplessly at ‘Allë.  

‘Allë smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Then she died, still with the taste of light on her lips, and she smiled as she did.  

That hadn’t been her mother exactly, El knew. It was like the version of Jonly with Crepuscula: still the same and yet not. It was something, though. Something she could focus on. Another point of reference. 

Travelling was getting easier, now. She focused on Kenara and the woman who’d been with Jonly on Scadrial, and leapt across worlds.  

  

Minuial
“First Twilight (dawn)”, Sindarin
Nalthis - LG25

Spoiler

Shadowbringer cut Everlight’s bonds in two swift strokes, and handed the stone and the knife into her waiting hands. She took them and dove past him at Minuial, who didn’t have time to react before Everlight snapped the stone onto her hand and recited triumphantly, “Your Breath to mine, your life become mine!”  

Minuial’s BioChromatic aura dimmed, then faded completely, the colors in the room dimming around her a bit and brightening around Everlight. She collapsed to the ground.  

Everlight pulled away the stone and slit the woman’s throat with the dagger, the red of the blood brightening when it came near Everlight.  

“No, Shadowbringer won’t kill you,” she said. “I will.” 

“I didn’t even harm her,” Shadowbringer said smugly.  

“Showoff,” Everlight said. “You could’ve incapacitated her at least.” 

“And deprive you of the fun? I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Everlight snorted. “Well. We do still have to get out of here. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chance to have fun too.” 

They smiled at each other, and without another word he opened the door and they charged together.  

El smiled at the interaction, rising from Minuial’s body. She was so close, now. To both her parents. She could feel their essences across the worlds. She would find them.  

After a couple of short stops elsewhere to tidy up a few loose ends, she concentrated on her parents. Her mother, light, day, sunset, danger, and her father - shadows, ambiguity, hatred, but love beyond measure, too. She fell through the worlds easily, and reached her last body.  

Liadan.  

  

Liadan
“Grey Lady”, Irish Gaelic
Sel - LG24 - written by Joe

Spoiler

"Why would anyone want to be forgotten?" Liadan jumped off her statue, and walked over to the man. She smiled, and stuck out her hand. "Walk with me. I'll introduce you to all the people of the graveyard." 

He frowned, then took her hand. She couldn't actually pull him to his feet, but he graciously pretended she did. She walked through the moonlit night, pointing out each statue, and telling their stories. She told him of the mother statue, and the saint's statue. She showed him the statue that she pretended was the caretaker's baby brother. She showed him a statue of an Elantrian, proud but kind. 

With each statue, the man nodded along, looking confused, and contemplative. He looked almost happier, his hand still in hers. 

Finally, she took him to the most opulent statues in the graveyard. She tended to avoid these four, because two of them were still alive. "The king had these built for his family as soon as Elantris fell. He moved his wife and eldest son here as soon as they were finished. And the other two are for him and Raoden. Iadon doesn't want to be forgotten, not ever. Some days, I think that's why he has everyone looking for the people conspiring against him. He wants to be big in our minds. Do you think so, sir?"
She looked up at the figure, and nearly froze at the sight. 

His almost happy face was gone. Instead, he was scowling, and his teeth were clenched tightly together. "The king?" he whispered."The king built this?" 

"Sir, you're hurting my hand." She regretted her comment instantly, as his glare turned from the royal family to her. 

"Why did you bring me here, waif? What are you trying to say with this?" 

"I just wanted you to have a gravestone as well! You didn't want one, but everyone deserves to be remembered!" 

He lifted her off her feet by one arm so he could look at her eye to eye. "Do you know my name, little girl?" Trembling, she shook her head. 

He leaned forward, and whispered it into her ear. She shied back from the implications, as she understood him for the first time tonight. 

"Girl, I have already been forgotten. I will be remembered only if I succeed. I will not be remembered by statues, I will be remembered by history! I will choose who lives, and who dies! 

“I will be the one to tell my story!" 

He grabbed her neck with his other hand and pivoted, spinning her about. She tried to scream, but the sound was trapped in her crushed throat. He took a step and flung her at the statues of the royals. Her back hit Iadon's knee, and something inside her broke. Her back cried out in pain, and at the same time as her legs went silent. She screamed in agony as the figure stalked towards her. 

He knelt down, and as her vision faded, whispered, "Not everyone deserves to be remembered."   

This was it. El could feel it. Her mother and father were here. Or would be here soon. Or had been here in the past? Her sense of time wasn’t very strong anymore.  

Liadan was acting oddly, she noticed. The spirit didn’t pass into the Spiritual Realm, but held onto El’s spirit and stayed in the Cognitive, seemingly free to do as she wished and even interact with the physical world at times. Perhaps El had been doing this too long, or the fact that she’d died so young had had something to do with it?  

El decided to wait around, in any case. Some instinct told her it was still in the future, what was to come. She would find her parents again. She reached up to clasp the incorporeal locket around her neck, and smiled.  

To be continued.

Edited April 15, 2017 by Elbereth

[little wilson]

Crash.

Kiireon started at the noise, her hand jerking, knocking over the ink jar next to her. The ink spilled over the papers, but Kiireon hardly noticed. The walls shook. Edaan was two floors above her but whatever he’d thrown at his wall had hit with enough force to shake the entire building.

And then the yelling started. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she could guess. He wanted out. He hated being locked in his room. He hated not having his freedom. He hated what she’d given him. He hated hating.

He hated her. Or at least, a part of him did. It was only a matter of time before all of him did.

She’d hoped he’d get better being near her, and maybe for a short time he had. They’d had some good days. Great days. And then….she starting sensing a bit of resentment. He blamed her for what was happening, and he was right to. He was so very, very right to. It was her fault. He was changing, getting worse by the day, and it was all her fault.

She’d tried everything she could think of—everything her counselors could think of. Nothing had fixed it. There was no removing Odium. At least, no method her people could find. So he spent his days locked in a room he hated, because everyone feared what he’d do if he left. Including her.

She felt a kick and put a hand on her stomach. There wasn’t much time left. She had to find a way to fix this, to fix him, because she needed him. She needed his help. She couldn’t raise their child without him, nor would she want to even if she could.

Taking a breath, she thought. Nothing had worked. Nothing they’d thought of had worked, she corrected herself. But there were others—others who knew of Shards and had held them, studied them, knew the effects. Granted, most of those had died over the years, mostly at the hands of the Collective—

She paused. The Collective. No. They’d never help her or Edaan. They certainly knew enough, but...Alv would kill her (or he’d at least try) before he’d let her utter a single word. But...maybe one of the others. She knew enough to know that Alv didn’t have as tight a hold over them as he’d wished. If even one of them helped her, it might be enough to save Edaan. She owed it to him and their child to leave no stone unturned.

She needed someone who would be intrigued enough to hear her out, someone who wouldn’t report her to Alv and had enough knowledge to do it mostly by themself. Someone who was motivated by a challenge. Someone who she almost certainly wouldn’t want to leave Odium with, but she’d figure that part out later. Right now, she needed Edaan back, and that meant finding someone like…. No. Not someone like. She knew who she needed, and even though he was perhaps one of the most terrifying of the Collective, she was nearly certain he’d help her. Or...help himself by helping her, anyway.

Ratel. She needed Ratel.

[Alvron]

Ratel was disappointed.  He removed the Heart from the flame, marveling again how the seared flesh faded as new healthy flesh formed.  He had spent days, weeks, months even subjecting the Heart to numerous experiments.  Knives, needles, flames and even acid hadn’t been able to permanently mar it.  He had tried carving off pieces of the Heart but they fell to dust as soon as they were severed from the main organ while new flesh had replaced what he took.  How was he meant to unlock the secrets of Immortality like this?  In order to learn the secrets of the Heart, he needed to find a way to stop it from healing, even temporarily.  But if he succeeded in that then wasn’t it possible to stop the healing permanently?  And if so, then was it true Immortality?

Ratel sighed.  I guess I just need to keep trying.  After all, discovery requires experimentation.

Just like

Kiireon.  She had approached him months ago with a deal.  Find a way to free Edaan from the Shard of Odium he had and the Collective got to keep the Shard.  It was a fair deal as far as deals with the enemy go.  An Odium free from influence for him to study to his hearts content and all he needed to do was find a way to free it from its vessel and contain it indefinitely.  No pressure.

A light tap at his door brought Ratel out of his thoughts.

Is it time already?  She must be very worried.

---

Edaan sighed.  He had been here for months yet he still was losing himself.  He had hoped that being so close to Kiireon would’ve helped to keep the encroaching Hatred at bay but while it had slowed, it hadn’t stopped completely.  Sooner or later Odium would swallow what was left of his soul.

He looked around his room.  A simple wooden cot, his third this week, lining one wall that like the others were spotted with scorch marks.  A chair, his fifth, and a desk that had somehow lasted two weeks, against the opposite wall.  At first the Order had outfitted his room with all the finest of furniture and tapestries but after having to replace them several times a week they had changed to giving him the basics.  For which he was grateful.  Edaan always felt a wave of guilt and shame break over him each time he emerged from one of his episodes.  The hatred he felt while in one of the episodes was so powerful and each time he awoke from one, the red film at the edges of his vision was a little deeper.

And it is all Kiireon’s fault!  She gave you this burden!  She’s the one to blame for everything!  You should kill her!  You should kill them all!

“NO!  I will not!”

Footsteps echoed up the hallway and stopped outside his door.  Soon after, a key was inserted and turned.

They are coming for you!  You should kill them before they kill you!

“They wouldn’t dare.  Kiireon would rip them apart if they harmed me.”

Unless she’s the one that ordered your death!

The door swung open and outside stood Swift and several members of the Order.

Edaan felt a sense of smugness from his Shard.  Told you so.  And by the way, Swift is trying to suppress me.

“It’s true then.  All of it.” he whispered.

He could feel the Shard rage inside him, fighting to take control.  Kiireon really has turned on me just as Odium promised.  Edaan closed his eyes and surrendered to Hatred.

Swift smiled, pointed at Edaan. “Take him.”  The others surged forward.

---

Edaan blinked, shook his head and then blinked again.  His jaw ached and if his pained breathing was anything to go by, he had fractured if not broken a couple of ribs.  The ceiling of his room had changed.  Instead of the featureless grey stone he was used to his new ceiling was massive and long, awash with blues, reds, oranges and purples. At one end was a sun inlaid with gold, showing it rising over the earth. Directly above the center was another sun representing Noon and at the opposite end to Dawn was naturally Sunset, glowing red with oncoming night.

Turning his head to one side, Edaan saw that instead of being in his room he was instead in the vast meeting hall.  White marble columns streaked with veins of orichalc ran down the sides.

He tried to rise but he had been strapped onto an altar of some kind.

The sound of a door opening at the far end of the hall had Edaan sitting up as much as he could, which thanks to the straps was very little but enough to see two people talking as they entered the room.

‘No.  It couldn’t be.  Why would he be here?’

She has betrayed you!

‘She wouldn’t.  She couldn’t.  Could she?’

You can see that she has!  Why else would he be here?

Ratel.  One of the leaders of the Collective if not the leader.  Sure Alv was the official head of the organization but that could just be a feint with Ratel being the true power behind the shadowy group.  The Shadow behind the Shadow if you will.  One that even Alv was unaware of.

And he was talking to Kiireon.

---

Ratel entered the chamber walking alongside Kiireon, his Lifeless following along behind as the carried two wooden crates between them.

“I know you wanted me to remove Odium but my studies have only shown one way for a Shard of such power to be removed without the Vessels consent.  Only an Elantrian can draw the necessary Aon and only someone close to him can convince him to surrender something that has become a part of who he is.”

Kiireon looked at him for a long time before steeling her resolve and nodding.

After directing his Lifeless workers to place the crates next to the Altar, Ratel pried them open and removed two Dragon Claw stands, one jet black while the other was a deep red, and placed them next to the altar.  Each claw coming from a couple of mature Dragons that resided on Yolen.  Next he removed a pair of crystal glass orbs, each one crafted from the White Sand found only on Taldain.  As he placed each of the two foot wide orbs into the waiting claws, each claw closed to hold the orbs securely in their talons.

The fruit of months of long labour.  It had taken him a long time to acquire the Claws and Orbs and even longer in research and experimentation to find a way to contain a Shard without a living Vessel for them to inhabit but if it worked, and it should, then it would all be worth it.

With one Orb sitting next to the Altar, Ratel took the other and left the chamber with his Lifeless in tow.

[little wilson]

Kiireon watched the door shut behind Ratel and Jonly. She closed her eyes, taking a breath to settle her emotions. This was it. The moment of truth. She could only hope it would work.

She looked up at Edaan, who glared back at her, betrayal evident in his gaze. She shook her head. “No. I’m doing this for you.”

His expression didn’t change so she moved on. The ritual. She brought her hand up into the air between them, and traced her finger in a line. Light flowed through the finger, leaving a streak of pure white energy in the shape she’d drawn. She continued drawing. She remembered candlelit rooms, whispers in darkened hallways, the field outside Elantris, Seon Sao, and so much more. She remembered each time, each emotion, and she poured them all into the aon she drew. She drew the last line remembering Swift bringing him to her.

As she finished, she sagged a little, and it took her a few moments to steady herself enough to look up. Aon Omi scorched the air between them, lighting the whole room with its radiant light.

And Edaan stared at her, unmoved. He wasn’t glaring, but she could tell it hadn’t quite been enough. She wasn’t enough.

She turned her head so he wouldn’t see a few tears run down her cheeks. Brushing them away hurriedly, she motioned Sloan forward. There was still one more chance to save him. If this didn’t work, nothing would.

She took the bundle from Sloan’s arms and turned to Edaan, pulling back the blanket so he could see the baby in her arms.

“This is your daughter—our daughter. And she needs her father.”

[A Joe in the Bush]

Jonly stood, arms clasped behind him. Looking to all the who watched to be the picture of serenity and patience. Inside, a frozen river fought against a burning sun, and shards clashed for control. Memories and thought flitted across the landscape of his mind, as Cultivation grew more defenses against the fire and frost of Odium. Will and Emotion fought for control, inside the husk of his Humanity. A monster stood with a smile, awaiting the consequences of the night. Awaiting the Shadows of the Collective to collect his offering.

He always enjoyed associating with the Collective. He was not a Monster when compared to them. He committed atrocities out of necessity. They committed atrocities because they hadn’t been committed yet, and they wanted to know what would happen. Jonly smiled softly as the doors opened, and Ratel appeared with his servants.

“What manner of monster consorts with his foes rather than destroy them? What man would give his killer a weapon to destroy himself?” He recited the unanswered questions softly to himself, outside the hearing of a normal man. The questions came to him more and more as this deal had approached. It was madness to give the collective yet another Shard of Odium. It was madness for the collective to free Edaan. It was madness for the Brightness to give Cuddles to the man who swore to kill her.

It was all so maddeningly human of them all.

“Ratel? I trust the Ritual is underway.” Ratel’s smile, so like his own in confidence and control, was all the answer he needed.

“My end of the bargain is being fulfilled as we speak.”

Ratel looked down to the orb in his hands.

“And now I do believe you have something for me.  Rest assured, I have no intentions of allowing this gift to fall into the wrong hands.  In fact it might never see the light of day again.”

Jonly nodded, and closed his eyes, looking inward to the prison complex he had constructed in the hollow of his heart. Holding Odium without breaking had taken a coincidence of such Fortune, that Jonly believed it was planned by someone else. Odium constantly broke down whatever prison held it. Rusting metal, eroding stone, doubting will, disproving faith. Every barrier fell before the cold of Odium’s hatred. Jonly had first tried to use Preservation to contain the Broken one, believing that he could maintain his own spirit with the shard. But bit by bit, day by day, he felt Odium’s influnece grow stronger, and Preservation weaker. So he had pawned it off in exchange for a sword, which temporarily fixed the problem. Nightblood could siphon away the Hatred that leaked through the cracks. But Odium’s power never faltered despite it.

So to stumble, by pure Fortune, across an uncontained Shard of Cultivation, was impossible. The shard of Growth, and Regrowth. Of Progress. As Odium broke down the barriers he created, Cultivation grew new ones twice as thick. It was the perfect containment.

And now, Jonly ended it. He reached inward and swept aside the vines of Investiture that separated him from Odium. He reached his mind into the heart of the cold, and pulled inexorably at the well.

His fingertips begin to numb, and he could feel moisture form on his body as the red mist began to leak from his skin. He opened his eyes, and grasped the offered Orb. His spirit reverberated with a frozen shriek as the Power left him, flowing into the draconic claws. He tensed instinctively, ready to battle against any vestige of Hatred left inside him, but instead, felt a gaping emptiness inside him. A hollow in his heart, surrounded by a great Warmth.

When he smiled this time, he knew it was nothing like Ratel’s. It was serene, a lazy brook on a summer’s day, rather than an empty riverbed in the blazing sun. For the first time in a Life of Lifetimes, the monster slept inside of him.

With the orb now full of churning black smoke and flashes of red, Ratel carefully placed it into one of the crates his Lifeless held. “So, you gave up all this power for what, a sword?  Far be it for me to complain but it seems I got the better end of the bargain.”

His soul shivered in anticipation, and the moment was over. The confidence seeped back into his grin, the river picked up power and became rapids, the serenity become purpose once more. “Different Power, for differing purposes. Thank you for you help Ratel.”

[Elbereth]

The Aon hung in the air, making her parents’ faces glow with divine light. Despite being almost the only tiny figures in the hall, their presences filled it, rather than being diminished. 

Liadan and El watched when everyone else left, when Kiireon tried to convince Edaan to renounce Odium under the sacred light. El had stayed past finding her parents for the first time. She hadn’t known exactly why, until now. 

A  bundle was brought forward, that El hadn’t noticed until now. “This is your daughter-- our daughter,” Kiireon said. “And she needs her father.”

El gasped. Back away, Liadan, she thought. She didn’t know what happened if she got too close to herself, and didn’t want to find out. 

They were close enough, though, to still hear them. 

“I…” Edaan said, staring at his daughter in a mixture of shock and the first hint of joy. “I have a child.”

Kiireon laughed for the first time in too long, her clear voice chasing away some of the shadows lingering in Edaan’s face. “You have a child. Would you like to hold her?”

“You aren’t afraid I might tear her apart, as I tore apart so much that you gave me?”

Kiireon began untying one of his hands in response. Edaan couldn’t take his eyes from the baby. “A child,” he repeated softly.

Kiireon placed her in his arms. “Come back, Edaan,” she implored. “For me and for her.”

He looked up. “What’s her name?”

Kiireon smiled. “Atiela.”

“Atiela,” he repeated softly, while El quietly gasped. She’d forgotten. She’d thought she had remembered everything, but there had been one piece missing. Her full name. 

Atiela, she thought. Ati. Hope. 

Edaan looked up at Kiireon. El held her breath.

“I love you,” he said simply. 

A red mist spiraled out of his chest and was sucked into the orb beside the altar, narrowly missing Liadan. Aon Omi glowed brighter and brighter until practically nothing else could be seen of the room. El and Liadan could feel the physical force pushing on their spirits. 

The last particle of Odium flowed out of Edaan into the orb, and Aon Omi exploded in a blaze of glory, wonder, joy, hope, and the world was set to rights. 

---

When El’s spirit recovered from the blast of pure love, everything was done. Ratel and Jonly were gone with the Odiums, the hall was clear, and Kiireon, Edaan, and Atiela were left. Kiireon and Edaan were holding hands. El was pretty sure they hadn’t let go since Kiireon first saw Edaan’s eyes clear of hatred again, and they probably weren’t going to let go for quite a while yet. 

El felt herself beginning to separate from Liadan. She nodded; it was time. She could find them again, now, even in her old body. And she had a few other errands to run. 

Liadan waved goodbye as they parted, smiling. She’d stay around for a while longer, El thought. Doing something or other. 

Liadan faded from view, regardless.

El began to fade, too, returning to her body without a host to carry her. The last image burned into her mind before she faded completely was her parents and their child, reunited fully at last, walking together into the sunset. 

Happy Birthday, Wilson.  

[Arrae]

To everyone who has heard mentions of Snakes, or Paranoia, or Trust, and has no idea what those things are, here's an explanation.

Paranoia began as a simple joke in the LG23 elim doc. El, one of the elims, was waiting for turnover. Alv made a remark about it, and El took it one step further. Alv and Wilson built on that and tormented El with mentions of Paranoia the Snake for the rest of the doc. Since then, Paranoia and Trust have been part of the overarching metanarrative. 

This page is dedicated to Elbereth's overactive imagination, which started it all.

Next page in progress

Edited May 30, 2017 by Arraenae

[Elbereth]

The Wedding

There are some who say that light and dark fight forever. They say that ever since the beginning of time, the Light and the Shadows have fought everywhere, everywhen, that it is the oldest story in the universe. They say the two can never rest until one is forever defeated. Today they are proven wrong.
The darkness and the light do not always battle. Often, yes, but now and then - perhaps as rarely as once in an eon - they meet, not in battle, but in unity, and worlds quake at their joining. 
This is the story of how they loved.

They came in the early hours of the morning, of course. Before sunrise, before the first breath of dawn had even touched the stars. Visitors and friends from across the Cosmere trickled into the seats, lit only by the silver glimmer of the walls of Elantris. All coming silently, shadows and whispers in the stillness of night, and all present to bear witness. 

As the first hint of dawn-to-come touched the sky, lilting music began from somewhere unseen, dancing over the assembled crowd, sparkling over the dais before them and the solitary figure standing there. There had not been sound before, yet the crowd fell more silent still.

A few particularly close friends of Edaan or Kiireon began walking down the aisle, one by one, as the light in the east grew brighter. Not many - the two hadn’t made many friends, and even fewer still living. But a few did remain, and they all beamed with pride.

Following the last groomsman, Hal Heatherlocke, was a young girl strewing flower petals. Since she was a Cognitive Spirit, they vanished after a few seconds, but she didn’t seem to mind.

The procession made its way to the dais, separating to stand on either side of Edaan, who slowly became visible in the pre-dawn twilight. 

He was nothing like any of them remembered him. Not cloaked in shadow and gloom, now, not hateful and horrible to see nor even pale and shaken as he had been for so long after Odium left. His usual vaguely-defined traveller’s cloak had been replaced by a sharp black suit, and he stood tall and proud in the rising light. And the dark that gathered around him (an aftereffect of Odium, they thought) wasn’t frightening, this time, because it was beautiful. 

The most important difference, though, was that he was smiling. A smile which only Kiireon had seen before, full of pain, and loss, and memory of unimaginable torment, but joyful nonetheless. 

He held up a hand, darkness seeming to gather around it, and gestured towards the aisle, throwing the shadows to the winds. 

The sun rose. Everyone blinked against the sudden light, standing, and Kiireon was there, shining in concert with the dawn. She came up the aisle alone, dignified and beautiful beyond compare. 

She ascended the dais to stand beside Edaan, and held his hand, and they smiled at each other for a perfect, everlasting moment. 

“We gather here, today, to celebrate the reunificantion of Edaan and Kiireon finally and forever,” said the priest of Omi who was officiating, smiling at both of them fondly. “From love in candlelit rooms to fire, near-death and thinking the other was dead, Odium, and kidnapping, and near loss of everything, their story has been long and difficult, but here they stand. United, once again, in pure untarnished love, at long last. Who will come forward to speak for them?”

“I will,” said a clear voice. “I am Atiela, future daughter of Kiireon and Edaan, and I declare that they deserve each other and all that their future holds. I represent their love, and it will last as long as their lives.” She stepped back into her place, bowing her head. 

“They are represented, as is tradition,” said the priest. “Bring forth the rings.”

Locke, because he had known both of the pair and saved their lives so long ago, had been chosen to bear the rings. He stepped forward from the other side of the dais, bearing a ring in each palm. One was black and ungleaming, the other bright white and glowing in the new sun. 

They’d each been infused with a tiny piece of a soul. 

As everyone watched, Kiireon carefully slid the gleaming white ring onto Edaan’s silver finger. “With this ring, I give you the key to my soul, for you have my love and my life,” she said clearly. “May it shield you when you walk in the light.” Holding onto his hand, she added, “You have always loved me, always accepted me, despite all I’ve done. You know me better than any other, and you are stronger than anyone I know. Thank you, for letting me share the rest of my life with you.”

He took her hand in turn, and fitted the midnight-black ring onto her slim finger. “With this ring, I give you the key to my soul,” he replied, “for you have my love and my trust. May it protect you as you walk in the shadows.” He paused for a second. “Kiireon, Queen, Brightness Ascendant, you have always had my love. Today and forever I am yours, in life and in death. You are the light of my life, the sunrise in the bleakness that was my life. And never again will I leave.”

Kiireon held up her hand, and Edaan carefully took it, their rings chiming when they touched. The priest bound their wrists together with a grey ribbon, dark against their silver skin, speaking as he did: “Edaan and Kiireon, once-Odium and former warrior, Lord of Night and Lady of the Day, you are now bound eternally together, in light and in darkness, in life and in death.”

He smiled. “You may kiss.”

As the sun turned the stars to dust and the worlds were silent, Edaan and Kiireon embraced and kissed at last.

[Elbereth]

Summary of Kiireon/Edaan for reference: 

Spoiler

 

LG12: Wilson/Alvron are Lovers as Kiireon and Edaan. (Kiireon has another, platonic love, Kaian (Kas).) Kiireon is an alias for Original Wilson, Wilson’s recurring character. In the last cycle of the game, someone kills Wilson, causing both of her Lovers to commit suicide. Kaian actually dies, but Edaan is Elantrian and so can’t actually die in the fire, and Wilson escapes through her fire manipulation powers. Edaan thinks that Wilson has died. 

Interim: Wilson goes on about her business around the Cosmere. Edaan finds the Collective and joins them for a time, taking on a piece of their Odium to spread the weight of the hatred. Wilson hears of this and how it has not harmed him, but doesn’t know it’s Edaan she’s heard of. 

LG14: Odium ends up (eventually) with Original Wilson, who knows she can’t hold it for long without corrupting herself beyond redemption. She traces Edaan’s small fragment of Odium to him, and as penance for never having told him she was alive, gives him Odium as a gift. 

Interim: Edaan is captured and held by the Collective while trying to hold off Odium. Kiireon knows.

LG20: Swift, Alv’s character who follows Wilson, manages to find Edaan and rescue him and bring him to Wilson. They meet properly again for the first time, and she takes him to the home of her Holy Order. 

Interim: Odium’s effect grows stronger and stronger on Edaan. He has fits of rage frequently. Kiireon and Ratel (Alv’s scientifically-minded Collective character) make contact, however, and in exchange for the Odium that Edaan has, Ratel agrees to remove it from him. This occurs. 

Now: They can finally get married!  

 

Reception will be posted in a while, in this post. In essence, though, every character who’s applicable will be there. I have a list of relatively major ones that will definitely be there, but if you have a less prominent character, I’m very happy to include them. Characters can interact, plot, and have as much fun as they’d like at the reception. If you have requests for what you’d like a character of yours to do, from tiny requests to full polished scenes, I’m very happy to include them.
Not applicable characters: Jonly, the Collective, Bartbug, anyone who’s irritated the happy couple over their years. Also, dead characters who are dead enough not to come back (few though those may be). 

Happy belated birthday, Alv. Sorry this has taken so long.

[Alvron]

On 10/24/2017 at 10:51 AM, Elbereth said:

LG12: Wilson/Alvron are Lovers as Kiireon and Edaan. (Kiireon has another, platonic love, Kaian (Kas).) Kiireon is an alias for Original Wilson, Wilson’s recurring character. In the last cycle of the game, someone kills Wilson, causing both of her Lovers to commit suicide. Kaian actually dies, but Edaan is Elantrian and so can’t actually die in the fire, and Wilson escapes through her fire manipulation powers. Edaan thinks that Wilson has died. 

Interim: Wilson goes on about her business around the Cosmere. Edaan finds the Collective and joins them for a time, taking on a piece of their Odium to spread the weight of the hatred. Wilson hears of this and how it has not harmed him, but doesn’t know it’s Edaan she’s heard of. 

LG14: Odium ends up (eventually) with Original Wilson, who knows she can’t hold it for long without corrupting herself beyond redemption. She traces Edaan’s small fragment of Odium to him, and as penance for never having told him she was alive, gives him Odium as a gift. 

Interim: Edaan is captured and held by the Collective while trying to hold off Odium. Kiireon knows.

LG20: Swift, Alv’s character who follows Wilson, manages to find Edaan and rescue him and bring him to Wilson. They meet properly again for the first time, and she takes him to the home of her Holy Order. 

Interim: Odium’s effect grows stronger and stronger on Edaan. He has fits of rage frequently. Kiireon and Ratel (Alv’s scientifically-minded Collective character) make contact, however, and in exchange for the Odium that Edaan has, Ratel agrees to remove it from him. This occurs. 

Now: They can finally get married!  

As much as I loved this, some of my characters have been very insistent that I set the record straight.  Ratel and Alv being the loudest. (Seriously, those two have been yelling at me for over 16 hours)  Good news is that it has allowed me to flesh them out a little more.  Hopefully I can get their Bios out soon(ish).

LG12: All good here

Interim: Edaan didn't join the Collective.  He went to them to ask for their help in locating the families and loved ones of those responsible for the death of Kiireon.  In his rage and grief fueled state, Edaan fails to inquire about the price of their help.  While looking into his request, the Collective learn that Kiireon was/is Original Wilson.  At first the Collective doesn't want to help anyone associated with OW but Ratel convinces them to help while he implants a small silver of Pandamodium's Odium Shard, that they only recently acquired, into Edaan to observe what happens.  Edaan is unaware of this.

LG14: The Odium Shard here is Parodium for those keeping track.

Interim: Edaan returns to the Collective of his own accord as he now needs help to contain the surging Hatred that is growing inside him as they helped him before so maybe they can help again.  Ratel is ordered to find a way to separate the two so the Collective can gain the Shard for themselves.  (He finds a way during LG26)

LG20:  Swift and Janco find Edaan thanks to the small amount of Odium investment that Swift holds.  Swift is infused with all 16 Shard Investments via a very selective breeding program, however the investments are small due to several generations of diluting.

Interim: Ratel didn't only gain Parodium but also got his hands on Jodium.  He hasn't revealed that fact to the Collective so shhhhh, let's not tell them.  The Collective know about Parodium and have allowed Ratel to hold on to it to study.  After being in an Elantrian for so long there might be some changes.  And indeed, there does seem to be something different about Parodium.....

[Straw]

So, looks like that's the end of the old meta! Now, to see what comes next...

[Kasimir]

Bored + fell sick so I dug up an old beot I wrote for myself ages ago (pre-LG12) and updated it a bit. It's unpolished and I'm meh about it, but.

I am the last sleep of kings, the shadow of ravens,
Mine is the bitter wound-thorn, the word-hoard.
I am the giver of wise counsel, the broken tree;
Fettered by word-chains of my own forging.
My domain is the spear-storm. With bold strategem
I outwit those who sought to deceive me.
I have cast my defiance before the Doomherald,
Bent knee only once to my slayer and king.
I am the exultation of the spear-clash,
Unbroken, unyielding; I am the shining word
That is my own unsullied name. Ten blades
Shattered against me and still I remain.
My voice is the thunder of the ruined city,
I bear the songs of the departed and forgotten.
From the killing mists I rise and return,
The shield of those who yet draw breath.
In fire I have perished. I am the heart-binder,
The knower of secrets, the king's wit.
Name me wolf-riddler and foe-thorn;
Master of herbs, and silvertongue.

[DrakeMarshall]

Apparently this place is in part for game banners, so I might as well get around to fetching the ones from QF30:

(I am aware that I have two 2nd cycles)

(these are all created using a combination of GIMP and Google's Deep Dream engine, and hosted by imgbb.com)

EDIT: Oh wait, there's more 

These are the alignment and role banners:

Edited June 21, 2018 by Drake Marshall

[DrakeMarshall]

And there's one from MR29 as well. That should be everything.

[Sart]

"Go then, there are other worlds than these." Steven King

As a whole, this forum is focused on the Cosmere. I mean, how could we not be? It's an immersive universe of cosmic proportions, all stemming from one man's brilliant mind. But of course, that's not all that Brandon Sanderson has written. He has made other stories, and we have run games set in those worlds as well. We've even branched out to other authors, merging their creative visions with our own brand of vigilante justice. Thus, it would be a shame if we let this acropolis focus solely on worlds that Hoid can touch.

I stole one of those worlds. I took a piece of this literary landscape, and molded it in secret. I made it my own. You've only glimpsed it, but it has shown itself on this battleground. It is a diversion, an aberration, a timeline that should not be, but is. And now, I will reveal it to you.

It started with a storm.

The rain lashed, the wind howled, and thunder shook our island. Your first platoon had charged too far, too quickly. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and outgunned. The soldiers thought they had won after they strung up one of our shock troopers. That dullard was merely a breeding ground; a den of flies ready to be burst open at any moment. It didn't take long for paranoia to set in. A leak here, a knife in the back there, and soon they were doing our work for us. We learned so much in those days. There was untapped potential there that we had only dreamed of. And as they dug their own graves, we sat back and enjoyed the fireworks. Still, it had to end eventually. We broke their ranks, slaughtered their guards, and laughed as the two survivors turned on each other. They made excellent hosts.

We took our time after that. We were hailed as heroes for 'fixing' a problem that we had created. We rose through their ranks, gaining more and more strength every day. Eventually, we had enough to make our next move.

It was crude to use explosives, but we longed for more bloodshed. The dregs we had summoned quickly got to work murdering themselves. It was fascinating to see how the deviant humans reacted to extraordinary stimuli. They were much more inclined to bloodshed. Unfortunately, they also proved to be more resistant to conversion. We quickly slaughtered them all.

With the deviant elements killed, we set about dismantling their ranks. Unfortunately, we got sloppy. One of our oldest recruits had gone mad, nearly blowing our cover. In addition, a coward among the ranks nearly fled the island, almost ruining our cover. We had too devote too many resources to stopping him, which left us exposed to the villagers. Our soldiers tried to contain the threat, but weren't able to do enough damage. The survivors are still performing guerilla warfare to this very day.

We aren't worrying though. We've assumed control of the ranks. There is nothing stopping us from killing your world in an instant. We're just waiting, watching you squirm under our piercing stares. You humans are such interesting creatures. It's fun watching you play, unaware of the danger around you. We've heard your tournaments are particularly cutthroat. So please, be sure to entertain us.

We are the Forgotten. And if any Rithmatists try to stop us, well... We always have room in our ranks.

[Furamirionind]

This was supposed to be my 1000th post... However I was planning originally to do more than just collect my previous articles... But dysgraphia is rusting frustrating to work with. What I will do, is edit this periodically to add more Memoirs or edit them or such. That way, instead of having a lot of work at once, I can spread it over time, which will help a bit.

One day, I may even write a table of contents... : P
(I'll also spoil some once it starts to get longer and I figure out the best way to do that)

---

Memoirs of an Everyday Person: Article I

We must begin by asking a very straightforward question.  What is the purpose of life? This is quite a simple question to answer. The purpose of life, is naturally, to live.

That being said, while that does answer the question, to truly understand the answer, we must create a definition of life...

---

Memoirs of an Everyday Person: Article IV

See, each deity seems to want to push for a certain concept or concepts:

Alvron - Luck/Chaos
Wilson - Intelligence/Understanding
Orlok - Control
Meta(bard/cog)nition - Honestly I have no idea. Creation or something?
Fifth Scholar - Something between Democracy and Anarchy
And what about Mailliw? 

You can get lucky, but what does it matter if you don't realize you are lucky?
You can be intelligent, but what good is that intelligence doing for you if you are bored due to said intelligence?
What is the point of having control if you can't enjoy said control?

The most important thing in life, is being able to use and enjoy what you are given.  These are the lessons Mailliw has taught me, and now I consider it my responsibility to share my enlightenment with the rest of you.

According to Socrates, the "Supreme Good" for people is the act of pursuing happiness, as happiness is the only thing we strive for for the sake of itself, and not to gain another thing.
For example:

You don't want to be lucky to be lucky.  You want to be lucky so that [insert good thing] happens to you.
You don't want control for control's sake, you want it so you can either do or not do actions you do or don't like.

The only thing you will strive for, for it's own sake, is happiness.  And this is what Mailliw will teach you. As well as other things that may or may not be relevant to this discussion.

So join me, and together we will conquer the world! find a way for everyone to get the fullest out of their circumstances!

---

Memoirs of an Ordinary Person: Article VII

Sometimes, when you get too involved in something, you miss the obvious. Like how when you can't find your keys when they are in your purse, when you can't find your glasses as they are on your head, or can't find your phone... mid-phone call... Totally never happened to me*
Anyways, in these situations, it becomes incredibly important to take a step back, and try viewing the situation from "outside eyes". 

---

Memoirs of an Ordinary Person: Article XI

Now, as there is an infinite amount of space, it follows there must be an I finite amount of planets. However, as very few of these planets are inhabited, there must be a finite amount of inhabited planets. As any finite number divided by infinity is basically nothing, there must be essentially 0 people in the universe.

---

Memoirs of an Ordinary Person: Article LXXIV

How to catch Spammers:

If you are reading this, you obviously didnt read the previous article where I told you to skip this one. Go back to article 1 and start the book over.

---

Memoirs of an Everyday PersonSpren: Article DCLXVI

And I look to the sky, I see a golden light. I look down, and all I see is gold. A burning light. It speaks to me in a familiar voice.  I realize, what is more fun than being evil? Nothing? I'm convinced!

---

Edited August 16, 2019 by Furamirionind