Kobold King

He should have put Reader in a garbage can, come to think of it...

It was the flip-flopped miscreant who responded first. "I agree to function as a contributing member of society," he said solemnly, in a low and respectful voice. Despite the man's flippant clothing, Arsenal found himself nodding in approval at his speaking manner. This Epic might actually teach Scribbler and Edgerunner how to behave themselves! Then he ruined it. "So...yeah, as the teenagers say. What's next?" he continued, his voice growing more bouncy and rambling as he cocked his head at his elder. "Do I get a membership card, or, even better, a pack of jellybeans? I REALLY love jellybeans." Arsenal gritted his teeth in frustration as the little slontze continued. The man had changed his tone yet again, striding forward and holding out a hand to be shaken. "In all seriousness, I am perfectly amenable to whatever it is that I need to do or say as an upstanding citizen of this hellho--I mean, lovely city. My name is Ozymandias, but do call me Ozy. I can punch people really fast and break stuff. And you are...?" "I am called Arsenal," Arsenal stated flatly, taking Ozymandias' hand with a tight grip. "You will be assigned quarters to stay the night, and will have to undergo an orientation on your new duties in the morning. I suggest that you keep your less serious side in check." Without waiting for a response he let go of the Epic's hand and turned away from him, still annoyed at the man's temperament. No sooner than he was finished, however, than Scribbler had seized her opportunity to catch his attention. "Sir," she began. In typical manner she stood stiffly and kept her voice flat, pretending to be the loyal and responsible soldier that she had never been. He almost wished she'd speak to him with the disrespect that Edgerunner did, if only so he'd have something solid to reprimand her on. Even so, despite her making a mockery of the military with her playing soldier she nonetheless managed to give a coherent and useful report. The girl who looked like a fairy tale princess was an ice manipulator, at some point a momentum Epic had come through the area, and Edgerunner had apparently followed a dangerous security hazard out of the clinic and onto the streets. If she doesn't arrest that Epic or kill him in the attempt, Arsenal thought darkly, she'll spend her day tomorrow scrubbing every toilet in The Dalles. Mark my words. He gave a crisp nod to Scribbler, hoping that this slight sign of approval wouldn't go to the girl's head. Apparently it did, as she immediately started to push her luck. "Permission to be dismissed sir?" she asked hopefully. "I'd like to see to my parents safety." "Not yet," he replied sharply. "As long as unprocessed Epics remain in this city we need all of our assets available for immediately deployment. You have a duty to every citizen in The Dalles, not just to your parents." Ignoring the dismayed look on the girl's face he turned away once more, walking towards the last Epic to catch his attention. "Arsenal!" Reader proclaimed cheerily--if somewhat nasally, considering his hurt nose. "Long time no see buddy!" We're not buddies, was the thought that first came to Arsenal's mind. And I see you all the time. But then, Reader's words were never to be taken literally--this was a man whose every word and deed was calculated to annoy the hell out of everyone in his vicinity. "How've you been?" the alcoholic Epic continued, voice still dripping with false camaraderie. "Nice socks, by the way. Here, why don't you come give Uncle Reader a big one right here on the cheek?" Arsenal had never been touched by a blood manipulator, but somehow he felt like a few veins had just spontaneously popped in his skull. "Now is not the time for your games, Reader!" he shouted furiously. With one hand raised he summoned a steel-buckled belt around Reader's waist, irritably making it considerably tighter than was necessary for keeping his pants up. "This city is up to its ears in strange Epics, and rather than doing your job you're standing here, acting like you have nothing better to do than draw the ire of every man, woman, and child in town!" Arsenal breathed heavily, his own eyes locked on the unfazed Reader as the rest of the clinic cast their gazes on him. Just as I feared, he thought heatedly. Reader's making the town look like a ring of schoolyard bullies. The new arrivals--and everyone else, for that matter--needed to see not squabbling Epics, but decisive action and discipline. Still fuming from the day's many absurdities, Arsenal locked eyes with Reader and made a decision. Reader's face seemed to show a slight glimmer of alarm as he Read what he was about to do. "We treat you generously," Arsenal growled, loudly enough for every Epic in the room to hear. "We afford you many liberties." With a snap of his fingers, a heavy ball and chain materialized around Reader's right hand, overwhelming him with the sudden weight and pulling him to the ground. "The city affords you food, board, and luxuries. All it asks in return in return is a single simple service." Another weight appeared around his other wrist, forcing him into a kneeling position. Arsenal knelt beside him, ignoring his joint aches and glaring into the no-longer-smug Epic's face. "You have forgotten your place, Reader," he hissed, too quietly to be heard by the rest of the room. "You missed your chance at rulership when Koschei fell. In this city, you are our hound." As he said the last words, he cupped his hands together and conjured a new simple object. A large dog crate, of the kind he'd once seen used for an enormous mastiff, appeared around Reader. Cramped in the dog crate in the middle of the clinic, the only visible part of him was his livid face glowering out from the front bars. Arsenal turned from the crate nonchalantly, the same satisfaction he'd felt at cuffing Deathwish returning to him. "Respect and responsibility," he enunciated to the room at large. "Demonstrate these qualities, and this city will treat you with the same. Act with reckless foolishness and irresponsibility as this one has, however, and... and..." Nice socks, by the way... He trailed off, rolling up a pants leg at the sudden memory of one of Reader's taunts. His socks were bright pink. Not a pale, unnoticeable pink; they were a flamboyant majenta that made his eyes feel like they were being pierced with a thousand insulting needles. He shut his eyes at once, his thoughts churning to the most likely culprit, the only one young and irresponsible enough to pull such an idiotic stunt in front of newcomers to the city. "LOCKSER!"

By the way, is it Reader's nose that's injured, or another body part? I can't quite remember.

And if the experience managed to kill them somehow, or they reemerged in the middle of post-Calamity China or another demilitarized country, then David might never have heard of them.

You can't beat the Question threads when it comes to strange quotes out of context.

Not at all. In fact I tried to comic it the other day with Edgerunner and Scribbler as the singers before Real Life called me away. This sounds familiar in all the worst ways the Internet has to offer. I like the sound of all those. Even if they kind of freak me out.

It's fine. Happens to us all.

Uh... if you're into that sort of thing, I guess? I like Mouldbreaker. Can he control the flavor of the Jello he creates?

And I'm looking forward to writing it. (Sorry for always taking so long with posts, guys. I alternate throughout the day between my job and quick forum posts, so writing lengthy RP posts isn't always easy. )

For the time you donned a mistcloak and spun around a room in your swivel chair.

He shot a man in the arm for being too flustered to talk to him properly. Not only does that make zero sense from a diplomatic perspective, but it also makes him kind of a slontze by objective measurements.

This is the embarrassing point at which I have to admit I don't know enough about military ranks to make an educated guess about this. I suspect that the City Guard uses a modified version of the regular National Guard rankings, which should help us account for any discrepancies between real life and what the RP depicts. The only real precedent we've set so far is that Mitchins, a man who was shown as commanding a force of about a dozen men, was ranked as a lieutenant. But then, he's subordinate to an Epic who's technically ranked as a chaplain, so... I'm open to ideas on your character. I think "lieutenant" would probably be best, though. Sad, isn't it?

True. Vondra's not the ideal leader--for instance, if anyone made a habit of speaking out against him he'd quiet or even incarcerate him out of a determination to protect the town's stability. But he doesn't make a habit of murdering his inferiors because they didn't cook his lasagna properly, so that makes him the best civil servant the Fractured States has left.

Oh, and because I learned how to caption .gifs: Brandon Sanderson at most signings:

It's complicated. In terms of military rank he's the commander of a small National Guard division that was assigned to The Dalles. After Koschei's defeat though, he made himself "mayor"--which, technically speaking, makes him more of a dictator considering he seized absolute power for himself. He had the best of intentions though, so there's that.

I prefer the original. The remastered version is too manestream.

ಠ_ಠ I am no longer pleased with the policy directions are administrators are taking...

FOR THE LAST TIME THEY'RE NOT HALLUCINOGENIC Ahem. Sorry.

Thanks, Chaos! And thanks for not sacrificing me to the spambots.

Chouta Wine Ice cream features pretty prominently in The Rithmatist, and bananas are talked about some in Steelheart. And then cookies in Firefight.

Welcome! Have a complementary brony song.

Awesome work! I always love seeing musical adaptations of Brandon's work, which is a shame because there aren't many.

Me, last time my family had seafood: Monty Python meets the Final Empire: The Canton of Inquisition takes an official stance on the memes in this thread: