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Cosmere City: Saga I: The Timekeeper


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"Silver. Even just gray. It's the color of tin, and zinc, and- well, mist, I suppose," she replied, smiling. "It's very calm." She adjusted her hat and pulled out her chocolate.

 

She heard a scuffle in an adjacent alley, and immediately tried to tap tin. It wasn't there, of course. She grit her teeth in frustration. She needed a distraction, so she started talking again.

 

"Any idea where we're going? I heard it was that guy's-" she gestures at Charden- "HQ, but nothing about where that is." She takes a bite. Ah, lovely. Maybe she should put slivers of tin in her chocolate. It would be tastier than having to swallow it from a vial.

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Resool listened. He enjoyed hearing others speak; it gave him the chance to see how they saw life. Zinc and tin.. he knew that she could store mental speed. Was it possible that she could burn tin as well?

"You're a Twinborn, aren't you?" It was certainly exciting. He had never known a Twinborn personally.

He did, however, frown. "I don't know what this all is about. But it makes me uneasy. This Won't end good, I think."

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Mist blushed. She hadn't meant to let that slip, but she was really quite terrible at keeping secrets. "Well, yes. I am. Twinborn, I mean." She paused thoughtfully at what he'd said. "Maybe. But I haven't really done anything with my life so far. If it all ends horribly, it's still better than doing nothing."

 

She took another bite. Suddenly, irrationally, she hated the chocolate. It represented all that she hated about her life. She hesitated and ended up just putting it back in her coat.

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Resool seemed to light up instantly, a bit more excited when she admitted to being a Twinborn. Oh yes, he could ask so many questions! Ah, the potential this conversation had!

"Well, if we're going to die anyway, I want to ask you some questions that I have never had the ability to ask before. What's it like? Being a Twinborn, having both Allomancy and Feruchemy on your side? Zinc Feruchemist, am I right? Quite an interesting ability, isn't it?"

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Ven landed on top of a building, burning pewter. He looked over the city. To the left was the was the Core, a massive high tech building. The king's palace was near it. And Ven was going to break into it. He downed 2 metal vials, then jumped off the building. Ven burned iron and Pulled on a satelite dish. He shot sideways. At the last moment, he burned steel and Pushed off the roof. Ven did 3 flips in the air and burned duralumin, then Pushed towards the palace. He shot like a bullet. The first guard barely had enough time to pull out a aluminum pistol before Ven badkhanded him in the face. He fell 20 feet off the wall, but climbed to his feet, shaky. A Pewterarm. Dozens more charged Ven. He downed a vial, then blasted off. Well that didn't work, Ven thought.

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Bob, the Thug, stood at his post on the thirty-fifth floor of the King's Palace. He tried to pay attention to the city. He really did. It was his stomach that wasn't helping. "Last time I ever eat chouta." He mumbled.

 

"What was that?" His earpiece buzzed.

 

Bob reached up an adjusted the earpiece. "Nothing, sir."

 

"Then keep quiet." His commanding officer said through the fabrial communicator. "I got enough to deal with without having to hear you whining."

 

"Yes, sir." Bob barked. He really hated his CO. One of these days, Bob would get promoted and would take the officer's place. Things would be run differently.

 

Bob heard something like metal twisting from the communications structure atop the Core, the building next door. He turned and scanned the rooftop, which was a few stories lower that him, but had trouble seeing anything. The 'sun' was behind the horizon and what little orange and blue light bounced off of the clouded backdrop made seeing more difficult.

 

It wasn't very many seconds later that Bob saw a form materialize out of the darkness, spinning through the air. It was a... man? He fumbled with his hands, reaching to grab his allomancy-proof firearm, but his stomach began to cramp up. He winced at the heartburn a moment too long. The man was almost on top of him. Bob pulled out his gun and aimed.

 

A fist met his face. Bob reflexively burned pewter. He couldn't tell if it was his consciousness slipping away that queued the subconscious pewter burn or if he equilibrium telling him he was upside down, falling off the side of the building. Either way, he was glad he was burning pewter, for the endurance it provided. What he wasn't happy about was the fact he would be conscious for the impact with the thirty-third floor's balcony. Bob's face took most of the shock, though, so there was that.

 

"What was that?" A voice yelled inside his ear.

 

Bob stumbled to his feet and flared his pewter a little, granting him better balance. He stared up at the place he'd fallen from and glared at the mysterious figure that glanced back down at him. Bob reached up and adjusted his earpiece, which, thankfully, wasn't destroyed by that punch or the fall. "Sir. We have an intruder." Bob said, spitting out a tooth. "He's fast, airborne, and packs a punch."

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The sirens started wailing at the palace when the Bard was only a few blocks away. Immediately, he raced to get a better look. There would be countless people at his door about this. But, he seemed to have arrived too late. Officers were already closing off the area.

 

Never mind. He was late to his meeting anyway. That Charden really did know his disguises. The Bard had never guessed who he was when he had walked into his office that day. Great. Now he owed the flaming aristocracy a favor.

 

Then he felt someone behind him with his life sense. He heard a click. Without hesitation, the Bard ducked around a corner. Grabbing a particularly nasty concoction he had made from under his coat, he lobbed it over behind him, and ran. He didn't look back.

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Mist thought a moment. She took out her bar of tin and shaved off a sliver, pinching it between her fingers. She rummaged through her coat for a vial. "I guess I've never really thought about it before, but it's interesting, having zinc and tin. Added together, I can really figure out a lot of things, though my head gets kinda crowded. I even, I mean, before, when I bumped into you, I was- oh, this sounds so stupid out loud." She shook her head, looking down.

 

Suddenly, she heard shouts and crashes coming from- it seemed like everywhere. She eyed the sliver of metal on her finger with distaste. "Oh, I'm going to regret this," she said, and swallowed it.

 

Sirens started wailing as Mist doubled over, coughing.

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Kae pulled himself out of Shadesmar. Cleo had rescued him from a... mistake on Sel. Kae shrugged.

"So, where are we?" Kae asked. "Cleo, you know this city better than I do." 

 

"Not really. I hadn't been here for long." Cleo pulled a map out of a bag. "By the way, is there any clouded allomancy? I haven't stolen double bronze yet. Seekers are annoying to find." 

Kae burned bronze. He flared it and focussed intently on the pulses. The city was alive with investiture, so he had to focus to sense it.

 

"There's some clouded allomancy right underneath us." Kae said. "You want to go steal some copper?"

 

"I already have copper, remember? That was my natural allomancy." Cleo thrust her hand out to the side and summoned her Shardblade. 

 

"Well, maybe they have some Feruchemists. Do you have any Feruchemy?"

"Only aluminum." 

 

 "Well, let's go. Bust some heads, steal some attributes." They were sitting in an alcove next to the road so nobody heard them talking about killing anyone. "I wonder if there's a Korathi church in this city."

 

"Probably. But, let's wait for you to pursue your grudge against the-"

 

"Storming Korathi." Kae muttered. "All I was doing was a little bit of sacrificing. The type that never hurt anyone. Except those we were killing, of course." Cleo smiled. 

"So, find the hidden pulses?"

--

The two searched out the masked bronze pulses. Suddenly, there was an attack. Guards ran towards them as they entered a long tunnel. Cleo swung her Shardblade and the men dropped to the ground, dead.

 

"Did you have to waste them? They could've been Feruchemists." Kae told Cleo. 

 

"They don't have any metalminds."

"Could've been a Seeker."

 

"Oh. You're right, I suppose." Cleo shrugged. She kicked the body and they kept moving. 

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Lorn:

Lorn prowled down the alleyway. A pickpocket slunk out of a corner, saw the look in Lorn's eye, and made a hasty retreat.

 

The bloody sirens were howling. You couldn't get a wink of sleep with it on, so Lorn had gone to have a look at what the fuss was about.

 

There was a Tineye and a Thug around the corner, but Lorn easily worked his way around them. One regular found himself unlucky to be in Lorn's way, and found himself several hours later in a heap at the corner of the alley.

 

Lorn stopped when he felt the Thug's around the corner. There must have been at least a dozen of them. Quickly, he hid in the shadow of a doorway.

 

They marched around the corner, a dozen men in uniform, carrying a virtually unconscious man between them. Bloody officials. Did they honestly think that this man stood a storming chance against this whole brigade?

 

A memory flashed in his mind. An Inquisitor and several obligators, in that bloody uniform, marching down that bloody corridor, with his parents unconscious between them, on their way to their execution. That day, he'd Snapped. He'd run into a ship to hide, and had been discovered to days later as a stowaway, shivering and starving. It was those bloody Inquisitor's fault. They would pay.

 

Before he could stop himself, gliding in to meet them, two glass knives flashing out from under his coat. A slash here, a thrust there. Two down. A whistle began to blow, before it too, was silenced when its owner hit the ground. Those bloody Thugs, they thought they were invincible.

 

Eventually, Lorn found himself, alone, in a pile of dead bodies, a blaze of quiet fury burning in his eyes. He picked up the unconscious body, which mumbled something unintelligible. He dumped him in a closet a few blocks away. Heaven knows, the world didn't need any more bloody assassinations.

Edited by TheYoungBard
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Rend studied the the scene through binoculars. There was a break-in at the palace. Aparently it hadn't gone very well. When he saw a new figure take down a crowd of strong men and carry their unmoving prisoner away, he decided to follow from a distant.

 

Rend slid along cables connecting between buildings, forming his feet into an upside down V and balancing without much effort. At the occasional deadend wall, Rend would push his palm into the surface and dissolve a handhold out of it. After a few blocks, he saw the stranger enter an apartment complex. Not many seconds passed before the stranger left alone. Rend was curious to see who the unconscious man was, but decided to get to the root of the problem.

 

That stranger was strong, and had freed an infiltrator on the king's estate. That was reason enough to confront this criminal. He focused on his heartbeats and leaped for a slanted rooftop a few stories down. He focused on his feet, rebalancing the friction on each part to allow for no friction or less friction, depending on the spot. He put the most on the end of his big toes. As he landed on the sloped roof, he grunted slightly. It was still a long drop, but the angle wasn't too great and his momentum redirected easily enough.

 

Rend reached the edge of the roof and tipped his toe on his left foot down slightly. The grip made him swing to the side, where his feet met a pipe that dipped down to a railing that carried him all the way to the ground. Right in front of the stranger. He regained his friction and turned to face the approaching person.

 

"You chose the wrong time to make a scene, kid." Rend couldn't tell how old the person was, or even the gender in this low light, but he tended to call everyone kid. Rend stuck his right arm out to the side, his move causing his long jacket to flare open. His jacket settled and a sword was in his hand. The black blade was longer than Rend, and almost two feet wide in in a few places. Mist coalesced around it and along the red engravings all over the strange metal, almost making it seem more solid. Water droplets fell off the uneven blade to the concrete ground.

Edited by Turos
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Lorn:

Lorn knew he was in trouble when his knife disintegrated. Bloody lawmen, he thought. I'll deal with him.

 

Quickly thinking, Lorn ran through the options. Disintegration wasn't anything from home. It was one of those Surgebinding abilities. Which meant... Dustbringer or Edgedancer.

 

He didn't have time to lose, though. Reinforcements would be on their way, and this person seemed to know what he was doing.

 

It's not a defeat, he thought as he took off down the alley, it's a tactical retreat.

 

Still, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of shame in his gut.

 

And besides, if he takes after me, I can always find a place to... deal with him.

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Rend frown. 'Is this guy really trying to run?' He thought. Sighing, he began to follow the stranger.

 

After a short pursuit, Rend figured the man was leading him toward allies, so he decided it would be time to put a stop to this little game. Just before the man turned a corner, Rend hurled his giant sword at him. It flipped over and over in a short arc toward his back.

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Lorn:

He heard a brief pause in the relentless steps, and quickly, Lorn darted a look over his shoulder. The act saved his life, as a Shardblade sailed past where he had just been.

 

The Shardblade lodged itself to the hilt in a wall. Another look over his shoulder revealed a surprised figure, now unarmed.

 

Lorn smiled, and turned around. He still had his Radiant powers, but Lorn was prepared for that.

I think this is taking too long. If any of you want to get involved somehow, it might be handy. Also, it might give Rend and Lorn an idea to go to the pottery exhibit.

Edited by TheYoungBard
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     Turos left the group and Lurched through the city to get back to his original destination. He was supposed to keep an eye on the museum. He couldn't let too much time pass in case his client's mysterious enemy had backup plans to break in. Now that Charden had filled him in, and now that he had Pulled the ticket stub out of Hugh's pocket (thanks to the embossed foil sticker on it with the crest of the museum), he knew what he was looking for. The enemy would be after a specific piece, one containing a special metal that was apparently used by Mistborn. He would have laughed at the idea. Allomancers who could use all allomantic abilities was unheard of, but things were getting strange in the city and who knew what he was bound to discover next?

 

     When the museum came in view, he noticed two people down on the ground level. One was running from the other, who was carrying a very large sword of some kind. A Radiant. Turos Pulled himself closer and closer. When the runner was making a turn, the Radiant flung his sword after him. The target turned out of the way just in time and the weapon lodged itself right into the building behind. Turos gritted his teeth. It was the museum.

 

     He grabbed onto a line leading to a grate in the road and tugged his flight path a little lower to the ground, then grabbed on two lines pointing at street lamps in front of the museum and yanked hard. The metal poles shook as he Pulled and one bent slightly near the base. Turos flew parallel to the ground at breakneck speed and angled his feet before him. His climbing shoes took the Radiant in the back and sent the man flying several yards. The momentum had been transferred and Turos back flipped off of him to land in front of the other man. He studied the fellow.

 

"What?" Turos asked of the man smiling at him. He thought he recognized him.

Edited by Turos
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  • 4 weeks later...

Fable:

Fable had many names.

Novella, Laila, Saga, Fablesinger the truthful, foolish girl . . . the list went on. By now she didn’t care what people called her, names were just more words, and colors knows they had enough of those.

Not that that had stopped her from wanting more.

Fable slunk down the alley, head bowed low. A man was prowling around there. Was he this Das person she was supposed to meet? She drew closer, noting the distrustful look in his eye. Definitely not her new employer. It wouldn’t be a good idea to stick around. Judging from his expression, he probably thought she was a pickpocket, or something like it.

She stared at the man a second longer, then scurried past him and turned left, stubbing her toe in the process. As she grabbed her foot, she felt her eyes go from green to blue. They did that when she was in pain. It was part of her curse. Looking around, she noticed that Das wasn’t in the alleyway.

This is where I’m supposed to meet him, she thought, I hope he doesn’t make a habit of being late to our meetings.

She checked her hair. It was still black. Good. When she was cursed, she had learned quickly that her hair was about as controllable as her emotions; barely restrainable.

There were shouts coming from the next alley over. Fable stiffened, feeling her hair start to bleach white. “Colors,” she swore, “What now?”

Fable peeked around the corner. All she saw was an old closet, left on the side of the street for the waste disposal crews. She walked up to it, opened it, and looked inside. There was a man, covered in blood.

If there had still been any black in her hair it was gone now.

Fable glanced around, bewildered. There, in the distance, she could barely make out the forms of men fighting. She fished out a telescope from her pouch and peered through it. A person with a shardblade, someone with metal whirling around them, they were obviously an allomancer, and the man from before, he was holding knives.

Fable’s gaze dropped back down to the man in front of her. I wonder if he has any stormlight.

She started dragging him into her alley. If he had spheres, she wouldn’t take them. She would just suck out the stormlight and replace the gems. No harm done right?

As she started going through the man’s bag she froze. His hand was clenched around her arm. Fable’s eyes shifted from hazel to green.

Is this good? this is my first RP. :)

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OOC: Nice!

 

Rend rolled on his face a few times before crashing into a wall. He growled. Someone had sucker-punched him. Sucker-tackled. Whatever. He didn't like getting blind-sided. Rend tried to lift himself up but his equilibrium was still spinning.

 

"He got you good, you know." A voice said.

 

"I don't want to talk about it." Rend grumbled angrily.

 

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen."

 

Rend's sight stopped whirling around and he stood up while bracing a hand to the wall. "Time to try that again."

 

"Good." The voice replied.

 

Rend began the countdown. His heart was beating quickly from the initial shock and that suited him just fine. In ten heartbeats, the massive sword formed in his hands again. He started walking toward his attacker.

 

'This one's tough. You should probably say it, just be certain.' The same voice whispered in his head.

 

Rend spoke the words. "Life before death." He muttered, eyes on Turos. "Strength before weakness." He hefted the sword in a mobile form of flame stance as he began to run. He leaped toward his target with a stormlight-powered boost. "Journey before destination!" He yelled and brought the sword down.

 

----

 

Turos heard the man get to his feet and begin running toward him. He clenched his teeth. This one was muttering those oaths. That was never a good sign. Radiants always seemed to get more serious after they did that. More powerful, too.

 

Turos reached out to several sources of metal behind him as Rend yelled, "Journey before Destination!" and pulled himself out of reach of the shardblade just in time. The weapon crashed down and hewed a deep gash in the sidewalk.

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Swimming through pain. That's how Ven felt. So much pain! He rolled over, and immediately yelped. The yelp cut off, when he saw a person standing over him. His instincts kicked in. Years on the streets allowed him to pull a metal vial out, drink it, and kicked the figure with a pewter enhanced blow right in the chest.

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Fable looked down at his hand gripping her arm. This was bad. This was very bad.

The man sat up, slowly and probably painfully, and downed a vial of metals. He then proceeded to pewter kick her in the chest.

"Ack!"

Her eyes were now deep blue, her hair as white as possible. She remembered that when she was younger her hair was always red and her eyes always green and gold. It was before she was cursed and--Her mind was wandering. She wasn't thinking straight. What could she do? Her allomantic powers were useless if she was the one fighting! All this thought happened in a short moment, then she knew.

Drawing upon her metalminds, she touched her cloak. "Protect me." She reached into her bag and pulled out a rope. "Grab things that aren't me." She threw it at the man. It was the best she could do.

Edited by The Honor Spren
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OOC (not sure how to change color on this device): Cosmere City's back? Storms yes!

Mist, my only character

Mist listened intently, hearing... Everything. It hurt, to say the least. She chose one of the smaller sounds- a kick, a scuffle from a side alley. Usually she ignored those, but her tapped zinc cleared her mind enough to tell her that that was definitely not the sound of a normal kick. Whoever had dealt the blow likely had pewter. It intrigued her. So she ran. She yelled for someone to follow over her shoulder- she couldn't deal with an allomantic fight on her own; she had zinc and tin, for Harmony's sake!

But she ran fast enough that it would take a while for someone to catch up. After all, where's the fun if you let someone else do all the work?

You're crazy, she reminded herself. [Thanks,[/i] she replied. [i've finally lost it,[/i] the most sensible voice in her head moaned.

Outwardly, she just grinned.

Following her tin-enhanced ears and trying not to wince at the noise everywhere, she eventually got to an alleyway off to the side of where most of the sirens and shouts came from. A girl with bleach-white hair knelt over a man lying on the ground and a rope- Rust and ruin, is that Awakened?- was wrapping itself around his figure. Mist froze at the entryway of the alley, using her mental speed to calculate chances of her survival.

Maybe, someday, I'll learn it's best to leave zinc on while running so that I can form a plan and not run blindly into terrible danger, that sensible voice said.

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