Amanuensis

Chapter Nine is now over, and with it the game. Due to me attempting to write an especially epic conclusion to Part One of The Most Important Words (the saga of Roshar games I will be running) - as well as a conflict in my work schedule - it will take longer than usual for me to post the next Chapter. I'm not sure how big the delay will be exactly, but I hope I'll need no longer than an extra day to take care of what's left. Thanks for playing, everyone. I look forward to seeing the survivors return in Part Two, along with a new, equally wonderful batch of characters.

Well, there will be a direct sequel to this game. I figured Uther would participate in that

Due to work commitments (and a rather annoying bout of insomnia messing with my sleep patterns) I've decided to extend this chapter another 24 hours. Good news is, everyone gets an extra day to participate in what has been the most quiet Chapter thus far. Bad news is, everyone has to wait an extra day to see what I have planned for Chapter Ten. This write up was by far the longest, but I have a feeling the next will be even more lengthy and action-packed.

@Drake Marshall They refer to bonds other than the deaths. Deceased Unjust cannot give orders for their living teammates. I can't say for certain that I'd call the game there but in most scenarios I would not want to drag things out.

CHAPTER NINE Shinon was arrested! Teresh was teleported out of prison! Petrik was teleported into prison! Arionium was executed! He was an Honorable Initiate! Petrik has been murdered! He was an Honorable Stoneward! Kintas has been murdered! He was an Honorable Willshaper! One Bond has been formed! Two Bonds have been broken! Well, this one was another doozy. Once again, writer's fatigue got to me there towards the end, so the latter half is a lot worse quality than the beginning, in my honest opinion. FYI, both the scenes involving Fifth/PRIME were written by Ecthelion III, as he wanted to have some character stuff featured in this Chapter's write up, so if you liked those two scenes, make sure you show him some love, too. So yeah. Everyone, meet Nergaoul. The Unmade responsible for the Thrill, and thus Adolin's sudden desire to murder Kaladin. Those in the process of forming a Nahel Bond are immune to the Thrill, but expect that the ordinary soldiers will start acting out petty revenges on people who have angered them in the past. I'm actually little sad that Lopen got arrested, only because seeing Aran show up again for the first time since the Prologue and try to kill him would make for a really interesting scene. Maybe @TheMightyLopen can write that and have me put it in the next write up? No pressure. As for Nergaoul itself, or rather, Eshonai, who has been empowered / possessed by the Unmade... you can basically consider her a boss. I would love to see as much participation in this fight as there were for the Chasmfiend hunt, but sadly with so few active roleplayers left, I'm not sure how likely that will be. I will say that I have been sad in the decline of participation these last few Chapters, but for those of you still keeping strong, I want to thank you for your continued efforts. Anyway, if you're reading this, you're probably eager to write (or, at least, I hope) so I'll stop rambling and let you get to it. Have fun! (And try not to die). INTERROGATION (3) Alvron: Darkness Ascendant, TheMightyLopen, A Joe in the Bush, (6) TheMightyLopen: Ecthelion III, Doc12, Jondesu, Alvron, randuir, Droughtbringer, EXECUTION (10/8) Arinian: Doc12, Jondesu, randuir, TheMightyLopen, A Joe in the Bush, Alvron, Darkness Ascendant, Ecthelion III , Droughtbringer, JUQ, PARDON (7/12) Drake Marshall: randuir, TheMightyLopen, Jondesu, A Joe in the Bush, Alvron, Darkness Ascendant, Droughtbringer, INITIATES A Joe in the Bush as Jonly Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade randuir as Ranatar TheSilverDragon as Rea Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless JUQ as Hess Doc12 as Hithon Drake Marshall as Teresh, Guilty of Murder, Murder and More Murder! The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet Alvron as Naihar Darkness Ascendant as The Phantom Stranger Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu PRISONERS Veriq, Guilty of Cowardice and Being an Accomplice to Murder Shinon, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Aggravated Assault, Negligent Discharge, and Theft Leif, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Desertion CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate Ashetvl the Honorable Initiate Ralaanar the Honorable Lightweaver Sareth-son-Erneth the Honorable Initiate Balthazar the Honorable Initiate Arionium the Honorable Initiate Petrik the Honorable Stoneward Kintas the Honorable Willshaper COUNTDOWN Chapter Nine will end on Wednesday, March 8th, at 0400 EST. Chapter Ten will begin approximately 2 hours later

Adolin waded through the Voidbringers like a raging storm, his body no longer belonging to him, but the Thrill. Somewhere behind him, Kholin soldiers fought not just for their own lives, but for Kaladin’s as well. A darkeyed bridgeman who had not only his father’s favor, but the favor of the Almighty Himself. The prince had not thought much of it before, but engaged in battle with monsters from every child’s worst nightmare, the stormblessed bridgeboy was all he could think about. In a way he could not put into words, Kaladin infuriated him, and with each Voidbringer he fell with a sweep of his Shardblade, his fury only grew. If he kept going like this, he knew it would consume him. Too far gone, Adolin could not, would not stop. When the battle had began, Adolin held back and played the role of the commander. He issued orders to his lieutenants to maneuver his soldiers in ways that the Voidbringers had never seen before. Skirmisher patterns and various echelons, constantly shifting whenever the monsters began to adapt to the new tactics. At first it had been working. The Alethi had breached the Voidbringer’s outer defenses, slowly but surely gaining terrain advantage as they forced their enemies into their defenseless allies, the monsters who chanted that beautifully vicious song of theirs. In the blink of an eye, something had changed. The Voidbringers did not transform, but they did seem… revitalized. It was as if an energy washed through them all at once, empowering them. By the looks on their faces, it seemed to drive them mad. Next thing he knew, the Alethi were being pushed back. Men were dying, good men, and what was Adolin doing? His father’s job. Dalinar belonged here, guiding his lieutenants, not Adolin. The prince belonged on the battlefield with the soldiers, like he had always been. “Someone get me Captain Khal!” Adolin shouted, prompting a pair of lieutenants to salute and run off towards the battle. Impatiently, Adolin tapped his foot and flexed his sword arm as he watched more Alethi soldiers die with every passing second. “Brightlord!” Khal yelled as he ran towards Adolin, his Plate broken in several places and leaking light. “Take a break, Captain. I’ve been on the sidelines too long. Until I return, you’re in charge.” Khal saluted, but the prince only ran past him. Too much time had been wasted already, and his men needed him. Kaladin needed him. When he reached the mass of soldiers, Adolin did not bother to order them to clear. Instead, he leapt. As always, the strength his Plate granted had amazed him. The prince had only meant to fly just ahead of the Alethi frontlines, but instead he soared into the center of the Voidbringers, landing on a pair of them with so much force that their necks snapped on impact and a few of the monsters nearby staggered. In his heart, the Thrill sang for the first time in a long time. Careful not to trip on their corpses, Adolin fell into Windstance and began to spin, swinging his blade around him in a circle to cleave through the enemy's left standing in the wake his landing. There was a stronger tug on his Blade than he was used to, but the Voidbringers died no differently than when they fought as ordinary Parshendi, the crimson globes of their eyes turning black and shriveling before they even hit the ground. When the crowd around him was all dead, Adolin slowed to regain his bearings and assess the situation. Standing on top of a pair of corpses, he could see the heads of his soldiers in the distance, each wearing a look of proud determination after seeing their prince dive in ahead. He could tell they were eager to join him, just as he was to join them. If they felt half as good as he did now, he was sure they could manage it without his help. Beneath his foot, something moved. It seemed a Voidbringer didn’t die when he landed on it, but was just knocked out. It grabbed at his ankle and tried to yank him off, but Adolin saw it coming and sliced its wrist with his Blade. Drained of color and vitality, the Voidbringer’s hand went limp. To the monster’s credit, it didn’t scream. Shoving its arm beneath its torso, the Voidbringer tried to flip and throw Adolin off his back. Before it could raise its shoulder more than an inch off the ground, Adolin drove his Blade into his neck, then did the same thing to its friend, though his Blade sunk like any other, and when Adolin pulled it free, thick, orange blood dripped from its edge. There was a flash, a crash, and a wave of heat as Adolin was blasted in the back with lightning and sent spiraling into the tangled mess of soldiers and Voidbringers. Several of the monsters had been knocked off their feet as well as his men, but most seemed fine as they quickly jumped back up and rejoined the fight. A lighteyed officer whom Adolin recognized as Moratel was the first to help Adolin. “Are you alright, Brightlord?” he asked as he slipped his head beneath the prince’s arm and lifted him to his feet. “I’m fine. Did you happen to see which one of those monsters blindsided me?” Adolin asked. His back felt like it was on fire, though he was pleased to find the Plate still holding itself together. Moratel paused as he searched the battlefield. “Yes, sir, it was that one there,” the officer said as he pointed at an unarmed Voidbringer standing atop a boulder in the larger rock’s shadow, chanting as he threw bolts of crimson electricity at the attacking Alethi. “Thanks,” Adolin said, then ran a few feet into the clearing he had just created before leaping again. This time when he landed, he was crouched on top of a boulder overlooking the battlefield, an unarmed Voidbringer pinned beneath his feet. “That really hurt, you know,” he told the monster before he swung his Blade through its neck not once, but twice. The first time to kill it, the second to decapitate it. Watching the severed head fall, Adolin saw it hit another Voidbringer. He expected the monster to stop and look up, but it was lost in a trance, as were the Voidbringers flanking it as not one reacted when it rolled in front of their feet. Exposed, Adolin had no choice but to drop from his perch and begin the slaughter. At first the necessary evil sickened him. He hated fighting unarmed soldiers, but the situation was dire, and Voidbringers were monsters, not people. That was what Adolin had to tell himself to get started, though after slaying dozens of the monsters, he had no such reservations. The Thrill was alive in him, and nothing but that cursed bridgeboy could quench his thirst, now. The Fifth Nameless climbed his silver pike back up to the top of the rock formation. Atop it, he found Shallan hacking away at the rock with her Shardblade. “Mind if I show you something real quick?” Fifth asked innocently. Shallan turned to him, a little disgruntled, but instantly curious after she saw the object he proffered her. It was one of Fifth’s weapon coins. She had been interested to see how those worked from the moment she saw them. As she dismissed her Shardblade and took it in her hand, it flashed with light and expanded into a silver quarterstaff. A little overdramatic, but all of her negative impressions quickly went away as she examined the workmanship of the staff. It appeared to be pure silver, although by the weight of it, it was less dense, and not a single scratch had marred its smooth surface. “Where did you get this, Fifth?” Shallan asked. She received no response. “Fifth?” she repeated before tearing her eyes away from the gleaming weapon to look at the man who had handed it to her. Shallan gasped. Fifth loomed over her with a hook sword in either hand, his entire demeanor changed. His eyes, which were normally a bright shade of green, were empty and cold. When he opened his mouth to speak, the voice was not his own, but instead deep, gravelly, and without emotion. He sounded like a monster. “SO,” the man began, “YOU APPEAR BEFORE ME AT LAST, SHALLAN DAVAR. IT’S A PITY THINGS HAD TO END THIS WAY.” “Who are you?” Shallan asked as she backed away from whatever entity had possessed Fifth’s form. “OH, WHERE ARE MY MANNERS? ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. I AM THE SEEKER, THE HUNTER, THE COMPLETE. MORTALS MAY KNOW ME AS PRIME, BUT I AM MORE. MUCH MORE. “I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING OUT THOSE WHO ARE SKILLED IN THE MAGICAL ARTS AND HUNTING THEM DOWN ONE BY ONE THROUGH MY VASSALS, THE NAMELESS. AND YOU, LITTLE SURGEBINDER, HAVE JUST SHOWN ME ALL I NEED TO KNOW. “FAREWELL, SHALLAN DAVAR,” Fifth - no, PRIME - brought down his blades upon Shallan… ...and was met with a glimmering Shardblade as Shallan threw aside the quarterstaff and caught the weapon as it coalesced from the mist. The demon in Fifth’s body laughed, though there was no humor in it. “I CAN’T SAY I DIDN’T EXPECT SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM YOU, BUT YOU CANNOT PREVAIL AGAINST AN IMMORTAL FORCE, MISS DAVAR. YOUR SOUL…” the demon paused as he pulled a round object from his cloak, “IS MINE!” It was a large disk with the same symbol as a few gold and silver disks Fifth had been handing out earlier to his allies. “I WISH I COULD TELL YOU MORE ABOUT HOW SOULBINDING WORKS. IT’S A SHAME TO LOSE A FINE YOUNG MIND SUCH AS YOURSELF. UNFORTUNATELY YOU ONLY HAVE TIME TO LEARN ABOUT INVESTITURE LINKS, SO I WILL EXPLAIN THIS MUCH.” The demon breathed in and the sigil began to glow, its light dim, at first, but as if inhaling had stoked its inner flame, the sigil shined brighter and brighter until it was as if the sun itself was trapped inside the disk. Desperate to look away, Shallan held up her hands and looked at Fifth’s face as its features began to change. Every second she looked, she found him resembling someone else. The Initiates, to be exact. She knew not all their names, but she recognized a few. Sareth, Kintas, Hithon, Ranatar… “YOUR FRIENDS DON’T EVEN KNOW THAT THE COINS THEY POSSESS HAVE BOUND THEIR SOULS TO MINE. HOW SAD WILL THEY BE WHEN THEY FIND THEMSELVES RUNNING OUT OF STORMLIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF BATTLE,” he finished with a laugh as a cloud of light began to form around him. The demon breathed, sucking in the light until it was all gone, his muscles beginning to swell with newfound strength. Raising his sword up perpendicular to the ground, PRIME launched himself at Shallan, ready for battle. Renarin tried not to look at It, but wherever he turned, It was all that he could see. Whatever It was, it rode the Everstorm like a steed. It had no form that he was familiar, let alone comfortable, with. Whatever It was, It was darker than the storm, darker than even darkness itself. Whenever lightning flashed, It’s body remained unlit. In that way It became more visible, only because It could no longer blend in with the clouds that obscured It. It was unfathomably large, and yet Renarin found himself unable to truly look at It. Like something that moved in his peripherals, he could recognize the basic shape of it: tenuous and thick, yet somehow empty. It writhed like smoke but was cold like the void of space. Beyond that, It was a blur. Even though It filled his vision, Renarin could ascertain nothing more than a vague impression. Glys whispered in his ear, describing horrors from a time when It was still alive and free. “Nergaoul,” Renarin spoke It’s name. The honor guard that held him upright didn’t seem to hear him, but a moment later, Dalinar’s head snapped to his son and he ran to him. “Tell me, Renarin. What do you see?” “I… I can’t.” “Tell me, please. Renarin!” “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” Dalinar sighed, then turned to the sky. “Stormfather?” he pleaded. Quiet at first, but after a few moments passed without his expression changing, the Bondsmith shouted the Sliver’s name, this time demanding. Renarin blinked the tears out of his eyes, hoping to see his father’s face rather than that hideous blur, but all he saw was the man’s body become rigid as he straightened himself and turned westward. “We’ve must run!” Dalinar commanded his honor guard before turning back to the man holding Renarin. “Peet, can you carry my son?” “Of course, sir. But where am I taking him?” “To the next plateau!” he yelled, pointing, before running off in the direction of a bridge. Confused but unwilling to disobey, his honor guard ran after him, including Peet who had slung Renarin over his shoulder. It took all of Shallan’s strength to not fall over from the sheer force of the demon’s strikes. The Stormlight he was stealing from the other Initiates made him impossibly strong and agile. Significantly more powerful than Shallan, who was breathing from infused spheres of her own. It was a miracle she had managed to parry any of his blows so far, even as her limbs grew weaker. It was clear, then, that her attacker was playing with her. He could probably finish her off at any moment that he wanted, so why didn’t he? No matter the reason, Shallan fought on. Though it felt like hours, the battle had only lasted a few minutes before Shallan could retaliate all more. Her counterstrikes were a waste of energy, anyway, as every time she thrust at the man, one of his two hook swords would find her Blade and casually brush it aside. She needed a plan, but she just couldn’t focus. She never felt more hopeless in her life than she did now. Finally, the demon crossed his swords and used their combined weight to smash Shallan to her knees. A swift kick to her side sent her flying into the rock, face first, her Shardblade sinking into the stone like water. “YOU’VE FOUGHT ADMIRABLY, THOUGH I EXPECTED A BIT MORE OF A CHALLENGE FROM A SURGEBINDER,” taunted the demon. “EITHER WAY, YOUR STORY ENDS THE SAME. GOODNIGHT, MISS DAVAR.” Ripping her Blade free, Shallan flailed it in the air, desperately. Holding both of his hook swords above him, PRIME lunged at the Lightweaver once again, this time looking as if he meant to finish her, once and for all. Desperate, Shallan breathed in as much Stormlight as she could handle, her heart pounding so hard it sounded like thunder in her ears. Breathing out, she created an illusion of herself where she sat and dove. It wasn’t perfect, but the scene caused the demon to hesitate enough for her to strike for his heart. Empowered by his Soulbinding, PRIME turned just in time to stop the blow, but instead of a sword, it was his hand her Blade collided with. It seemed like such a small nick, but the demon cried out with a horrible shriek and froze. The look on his face as he stared at Shallan seethed with hatred. A flicker of green light shone in the demon’s eyes. “I… cannot…” Fifth’s voice came from the demon’s lips. He sounded in pain, as if he were struggling for control. Muscles convulsing, Fifth, or PRIME - Shallan could hardly tell which one was in control - stepped backwards, inching closer towards the ledge. Becoming suddenly still, PRIME looked up, revealing his hollow, grey eyes once more. They focused on a ring on his hand, the engraved gemstone imbedded within it split cleanly in half. When PRIME spoke, his voice trembled with rage. “WHY YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-” -a crimson bolt of lightning landed a meter in front of the demon, casting him off the ledge towards the Initiates gathering below. Kaladin was cold, bleeding, and not for the first time, alone. In his chest pocket, Syl was shivering, her glow paling as badly as his skin. A small part of him was glad that she was able to sleep during this nightmare, but judging by the way her eyes shifted beneath her lids, he didn’t think her dreams were much better. For the twenty-third time, a clap of thunder resounded from outside his prison, following by a quaking of the earth that caused tiny pebbles to dislodge themselves from above and fall on top of him. Feeling grim, he watched as one of the pebbles bounced off his shoulder and landed in his chest pocket. For some reason he expected Syl’s figure to ripple like a puddle when it fell through her, but it did nothing to her but momentarily darken her complexion as it sunk to the bottom. Kaladin could feel the wretch inside him surfacing once more. He didn’t have to see what was going outside to recognize that a battle was being fought. The sounds of steel clashing against steel and desperate cries of pain were enough. Dalinar had come for him, an army at his back. It was the only thing that made sense, considering how long this battle had last so far. It could have been just the Initiates and his Squires, but when Kaladin had climbed into this rock, he had seen enough of the Voidbringer army to recognize that his students would not last long if they came to save them. Stormlight or not, there was barely more than twenty of them left. Twenty against at least two hundred… and Kaladin was sure more had come after he hid. Aside from Syl, the room was barren of light. All of Kaladin’s spheres were dun, and he had no materials to build a fire. Occasionally a flash of lightning would shine through the crack in the wall he had climbed through, revealing a pair of Voidbringer corpses lodged between him and the outside world. Despite his curiosity, Kaladin spent most of his time staring at Syl so that when the lightning lit the room again, he’d be able to quickly examine the wounds on his arms, legs and chest. Another crash and the ground rumbled beneath him. The noise outside only seemed to grow louder, as if the storm was gaining momentum and more soldiers were joining the clash with the Voidbringers. Kaladin wouldn’t be surprised one way or the other, but the two possibilities seemed to contradict each other. Unless… “Kaladin..?” Syl stirred in his pocket, her voice inspiring a surge of hope in his heart. “I’m right here, Syl. Are you okay?” he asked her, wishing desperately that he could comfort her by stroking her hair. Instead of wasting his energy, he itched his own face, knowing that his fingers would only pass through her. “Kaladin…” she muttered, still shaking, her eyes closed. “Unmade…” she whispered before falling unconscious once more. Kaladin repeated the word. Unmade. Just speaking it made his skin tingle, though he knew not what it meant. Did she mean that their Bond was unraveling? That her connection to this world was on the brink of falling apart? Another crash, though this one was different. It was loud, but not strong enough to shake the rock. A moment later, a voice came from the other side of the corpses stacked across the room. “Kaladin!” the voice yelled. It was hard to tell, but the voice belonged to Adolin. “I’ve come for you!” he finished, and Kaladin realized why the prince sounded so different. He was angry, not that Kaladin could blame him. Good soldiers had probably died trying to save him. More names he would need to commit to memory. More guilt to weigh upon his shoulders with that black cape and its golden sigil. Behind him, the faint sound of scraping came from the wall. Whether it reminded him of a Chasmfiend clawing it’s way through the grooves of the Plains or if it was some kind of primal instinct telling Kaladin to move, he couldn’t help but roll forward and turn, just in time to see a Blade pierce through the stone. It’s surface glistened with light the color of blood. Dark red, like a human’s. Had the Voidbringer Shardbearer found him at last? The Blade cut through the stone downwards at an angle, then vanished when it reached the ground. A moment later it surfaced again, this time several meters to the right and angled in the opposite direction. Once again it disappeared and reappeared at the top of both lines, cleaving through them both to create a triangle. A gauntlet leaking Stormlight burst from the opening beside Kaladin and slapped his head as it reached for something to grab. Adolin grunted as if he was struggling to fit through the slight opening, but judging by a wet thump that sounded a lot like rock splashing into a puddle, Kaladin realized he was widening the entrance with his Blade. Not wanting to get hit again, Kaladin moved away from the opening. On the other side of the tiny cavern, the maroon Shardblade had shown itself again, this time staying locked in place, but being used to leverage the shift the cut stone. Light filled the chamber from both sides as two figures entered the room. On the left was Shallan, Stormlight wafting out of the pores of her skin, her face exposing uncanny confusion. On the right stood Adolin, Stormlight leaking from the cracks of his Plate, his face betraying eerie rage. For the first time that day, Kaladin breathed and did not feel pain. Power flowed through him, instantly mending his wounds. Syl’s eyes opened just in time to see Adolin lunge his Blade at Kaladin’s throat. Kaladin leapt to meet the prince, Syl coalescing into a spear between the two of them, blocking the blow. “What’s wrong with you?” Kaladin yelled before he tilted his body and threw Adolin into the wall, his Blade digging into the stone as the prince stumbled to his knees, the armor around his shin exploding with a flash of molten light. Adolin tried to stand, but found himself lacking the strength as Kaladin breathed in more of his Plate's Stormlight and turned to Shallan. Beyond her, he could see the Initiates and his Squires fighting for their lives. In the distance, a stormwall was approaching. Black and menacing, red lightning coursing through it like bloody veins. “Take care of your boyfriend,” he told her. “I’ll take care of the rest.” Petrik watched with awe as Ranatar severed the Shardbearer’s hand. He stared as it fell to the ground, the claws on its fingers still twitching as sparks danced across its knuckles. If Ranatar could grab it, the hand would make a worthy trophy, but the Initiate had no time to consider it as a pack of Voidbringers rushed to the Shardbearer’s side, one of them striking Ranatar in the back with an electrified mace, the extra power granted by their lightning sending him flying, smoke drifting from his back. Petrik gazed, hopeful, as Ranatar tried to get up, but after a moment his skin stopped glowing and he slumped down with fatigue. It seemed that, like Petrik, the last of Ranatar’s infused spheres had been drained of Stormlight, leaving him just as defenseless as Petrik, and Fifth, not that the man was anywhere to be seen. The battlefield was covered in corpses. On this side of the rock he could only see Voidbringers lying on the ground, which seemed a good sign until Petrik checked those still standing and couldn’t find any more of his allies. If the Voidbringers attacked him and Ranatar now, they’d be dead for sure. Their only hope would be working together. Unsure of where he found the strength, Petrik began crawling towards Renarin. His left knee hurt too much to provide any momentum, so he was forced to kick off the ground with his right leg alone. Fortunately the pleateau was uneven enough that its rocky texture provided him with holds to grab, as otherwise he’d have to rely on digging his elbows into the ground. Unfortunately the plateau was jagged enough that it scraped him as he moved, adding more wounds to his collection. Determined to reach Ranatar, Petrik pushed through the pain. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Voidbringers staring at him and could hear them talk in their sinister, melodic language. He had no idea what they were saying, but it didn’t sound good. Petrik began to crawl faster as soon as he noticed the Shardbearer push its allies of its way, a Blade forming in its one remaining hand. Petrik began to shake the man as soon as he reached him. His eyes were open but he seemed dazed, his gaze unfocused. Waving his hand in front of Ranatar’s face, Petrik shouted in his ear. “Ranatar! Snap out of it!” Wearily, Ranatar tilted his head towards Petrik, his eyes a little glossed over, but to his credit, he tried to blink the haze away. “What the…” he said to Petrik, his pupils growing wider as he noticed something over his shoulder. Petrik looked up and found the Shardbearer stalking towards him. With its long legs, it would only be a few moments before it reached them. “Petrik,” Ranatar whispered. “You’re glowing.” When Petrik looked down, it wasn’t his skin glowing, but the ground around him, or more specifically, a circle of light that flickered a lot like Stormlight, though it did not leak. The circle, more like an oval as it was shaped around his prone form, was solid, and growing. Was this some kind of power of the Stonewards? If so, what could it do? Petrik looked up at Ranatar, who’s eyes were locked on the Shardbearer looming above them both. By the time Petrik lifted his eyes towards the monster, it was too late. He was unsure what happened first. The blinding light, or the sharp pain. Both of these things overwhelmed his senses so much that he didn’t even hear the four words that were spoken just before the light faded into utter darkness. The last thing Petrik saw before he died was a confused guard watching him from behind a wall of bars. Uther went to sleep shortly after Sebarial’s lawmen came. Left in control of Urithiru while Dalinar was gone, the Highprince decided it was time he started “cleaning out the cage,” as he put it. Starting with Arionium. The Highprince had deemed Arionium’s crimes the most heinous, which Uther doubted considering the countless people he had killed in service of the Ghostbloods. There was a hint of a grudge in the Highprince’s announcement of the man’s execution, however. Particularly when he listed “inciting a brawl in my very own pub” to punctuate the list of crimes the man committed. Apparently an investigation had revealed it was Arionium, disguised as someone with red-gold hair, who had caused the fight between Uther and Naihar. The same fight that ended with Uther's own arrest. Such a petty squabble it seemed now, in retrospect. Uther knew not all the details, but before she left, Keph had told him the other Initiates were fighting the Voidbringer’s on the Shattered Plains in a desperate struggle to save their Captain. Oh, how badly Uther wished he could be have been there, fighting alongside them. For valor, and glory. Even dying there would be a mercy compared to awaiting a sentence in this dirty prison. In his dreams, Uther saw himself fighting, a sword in one hand, Keph spinning around the other so fast that it looked like he was wearing a glove made of flame. As he ran towards his allies he slashed one Voidbringer with his sword, orange blood spewing out from the gash he left in its chest, then he cast a ball of fire at another and watched the monster turn to ash. As he got closer, he saw a one-handed Shardbearer, their Plate decorated with ridges that looked a lot like the Voidbringer’s chitinous armor. Fury plain on the parts of its face revealed by the broken parts of its helm, it stood above two Initiates, ready to strike. Uther recognized them as Ranatar and Petrik. He couldn’t see their faces but he could feel their fear. He had to save them. “Keph!” he yelled, holding his flaming hand before him. Breathing in the lungful of Stormlight, he cast the inferno into a long spear and fired it towards the Shardbearer. As the spear of flame soared, the air around it shimmered, his vision distorted by the heat. With a flash of bright, white light, it collided with the Shardbearer, momentarily blinding Uther. A deluge of rain pounded against him and the sounds of war thrived around him. “Teresh?” asked Ranatar. “Is that you?” Opening his eyes, Uther found himself lying in the same place Petrik was in his dream, staring at the Shardbearer as it raised its Blade above his head, poised to kill. He would save them. Shinon and Kintas were not front line fighters, and yet here they were, in the thick of war. Their only backup was each other, unless you counted Kaladin’s four Squires, who seemed uninterested in anything but getting to their dying leader. Shinon supposed he couldn’t blame them. Their powers were not like the Radiants. Instead of spren, they relied on their Captain for strength. So long as he was trapped alone inside that rock, Stormlightless and slowly bleeding out, they remained on that precarious ledge of shallow mortality and the taste of divinity. Having run out of arrows a long time ago, Shinon had no choice but to pick up a sword and plunge into battle with Kintas, who was similarly unfamiliar with swordfighting. Unlike the self-proclaimed scholar, at least he understood the basic stances, like vine and iron: the same two which Shinon relied on for the greatest defense and control. Maybe if Aran was here, urging him on, he would feel motivated enough to take the offensive. Without his best friend’s influence, however, the archer was content to keep his enemies at arms length to allow the better trained foot soldiers like Skar and Teft to finish them. Thankfully, the battlefield was beginning to calm itself. Above him the storm still raged, but there were less Voidbringers crowded around him, which meant more room to breathe. Besides Kintas at his side, he could barely see any other Initiates through the endless rain and dark overcast, let alone any Voidbringers. Hopefully the other Initiates were okay. He hadn’t seen many since the chaos fractured them into many small groups. It was selfish, but Shinon was glad that the one he ended up in was accompanied by Squires who were willing to do most of the work. Speaking of the Squires, Shinon heard one of them sigh with relief. His attention drawn, he found that tall, lanky, bald man - was it Drehy, or Leyten? Shinon could never remember… - sheathed his spear through a loop hanging from his back with one hand as he pressed another against a wall of stone. Kicking off his shoes, Shinon noticed that man’s hands and feet begin to glow. The other Squires followed his example, holstering their weapons and making their feet bare. Why? Shinon didn’t understand until they began climbing up the rock wall, leaving patches of glowing light wherever they touched. If Shinon had the power, he would have joined them, or more preferably just teleported up onto the ledge. Alas, he would have to rely on breaks in the rock face for grooves to climb. “Grab and pull.” Shinon turned to look at Kintas, the color draining from the black hilt of his sword and the orange blood that stained its blade. As soon as it was all the same gray as the clouds in the sky, the rope around his waist came to life and jumped to the tie itself around a stone that jutted out from just below the top of the ledge. “Care for a lift?” Kintas asked, dropping his sword and extending his arm. “Gladly,” Shinon replied, sliding his arm through Kintas’ elbow just as his rope began dragging them up the side of the wall. Man, Willshapers are weird, Shinon thought, smiling as he passed the Squires who climbed with the Surge of Adhesion. When the ride stopped, Shinon looked up. “You’re going to have to reach for the ledge and pull yourself up. My rope couldn’t grab anything higher,” Kintas told him. “Fine,” Shinon said before throwing his sword arm above the ledge, only able to get half of his forearm on top of it from this far away. “I’m not sure I can pull myself up. Don’t suppose your rope can get us any higher?” “No can do. But hold on a second. I’ll get my arm around your thigh and haul you up a little. Just make sure to return to favor once you’re on top.” “Alright!” Shinon said, then braced himself. “Go for it!” Shinon’s stomach dropped as he felt himself swing a little after Kintas let go of his arm, though relief flooded into him quickly when he felt the scholar wrap it around his leg. With a solid push, Shinon gained enough height to get most of his arm over the edge. After throwing his other arm over, too, he found plenty of leverage to raise his chest to the ledge. Crunching his abdomen so that his knees could reach it too, he swung his body over, dropping the blade as he rolled a couple times. Mouth and eyes open, rain berated and blind him, caused him to cough as some of it leaked into his throat. “Shinon! You okay? Still need help, here!” “I’m coming!” Shinon answered, turning onto his side to spit some of the water out. Though it was cremless, it was the worst thing he had ever tasted by far. “Shinon! HELP!” Driven to his feet by the fear in Kintas’ screaming, Shinon ran for the ledge and launched an arm over it, grabbing hold of the man’s rope. He pulled and it came up easily, a short nub of barely frayed cloth, the break to sharp to have happened naturally. Gulping, Shinon peered over the ledge. At the bottom, Kintas’ body laid in a heap, broken and unmoving. Throwing himself backwards, Shinon pushed himself away from the sight. A few feet to his left, the first of the Squires pulled himself over the ledge. Hoping for an explanation, Shinon looked to Skar - or was it Teft? - who stared at him, and the sword beside him, with a dark, stern expression. “What did you do?” he barked in a tone that reminded Shinon of his first drill sergeant. A second later, the tall, bald Squire joined them, contempt twisting his face into a grimace. “Why? He was your ally!” “You think I did that?” Shinon said, pointing to the severed rope he left at his feet. “Weren’t you even watching? I was nowhere near the rope when it broke!” The first Squire, who was certainly Teft, stepped forward to examine the rope as the last two joined their bald friend. “This was clearly cut.” “Yeah, and?” “And you have a sword.” “So what?” “You’re the only one up here.” “It wasn’t me!” “If not you, then who?” “I don’t know!” “Teft!” shouted the other short man, which by process of elimination, made him Skar. “We don’t have time for this!” Sighing angrily, Teft took a step towards Shinon. Instinctively, Shinon scooted back further, grabbing the weapon at his side. Teft stopped in his tracks. “Going to kill me too?” Teft asked. Too stunned to move, Shinon remained quiet and still. “I don’t know if it was you who cut him loose, but just in case, we can’t let you run free. I’m sorry, Initiate. Let go of the weapon and turn face down. Our Captain is in trouble, and if you aren’t willing to comply than we’ll have no choice to use force, and believe me when I say none of us want that.” Nodding, Shinon slid the sword towards the three Squires and flipped onto his stomach before placing his hands behind his back. A moment later Teft was on him, bonding his arms together with Stormlight. “Leyten, I trust you can watch him on your own?” Leyten groaned, but inevitably responded with a sure. “Good man. Drehy, Skar. Our Captain needs us. Let’s go.” Kaladin exited the makeshift entrance Shallan carved for him just in time to meet Teft, Skar and Drehy. “Captain!” they greeted him in unison, delight ringing in their voices despite the Everstorm gathering in the distance. “Are you okay?” Drehy asked, though the question seemed more directed at Syl. If not for the gravity of the situation, Kaladin would have rolled his eyes right then. “We’re fine,” Kaladin replied before Syl could open her incorporeal gob. “I know this isn’t the ideal time for speeches, but there’s something I need to say. “The entire time I was sitting in that cave, afraid that one more strike of lightning would cause the roof to collapse on top of me, I could not help but feel alone. Never before in my life was I as scared as I was then, not even when we were nameless bridgemen in Sadeas’ army, and I came an inch away from ending it all by jumping into the Honor Chasm. Despite that, I found myself unable to give up. I wasn’t sure how I would make it out of there alive, but seeing you all now, I realize where it came from. “Though weakened, the Bond we share kept me hopeful and sane. I think a part of the horror came from you as well, but that wasn’t all that I felt. There was pride, too, and determination. A sense of duty. Honor. “These past two days, I’ve learned something. I am just one man. With Syl I might have more strength than most, but even with her, I cannot save everyone no better than Dalinar can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Men like us, we need good soldiers like you to fight alongside us. “Looking at the Everstorm for the second time, I feel no fear. I left that useless emotion in the dark cave behind me. Emerging from it, I’ve found something new. Something profound. “I’ve found faith. “Not in the Almighty, but in Man itself. “Thank you, Teft. Skar. Drehy. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me so far, and thank you for everything you’ll do from this day, onwards.” “Kaladin,” Syl interrupted, watching as the Everstorm crashed into a plateau, less than a mile away from theirs. “The words. You need to say the words.” Ignoring her, Kaladin stared at his Squires. “Did you bring them?” “Yes, of course,” the men said as they unslung the leather bags at their waist and opened them, each filled to the brim with infused spheres. “Thanks again,” Kaladin said one last time as he took them and tied their strings together before fastening them around his torso like a bandolier. “The words, Kaladin!” Syl shouted as the adjacent plateau disappeared within the approaching stormwall. Kaladin breathed deep; deeper than ever before. The Stormlight did not just surge through him. It became him. Lashing himself upwards one hundred times at once, he burst into the sky like a bolt of white lighting in reverse, then Lashed himself downwards just enough times to keep him floating there, his skin glowing nearly as bright as the sun. “I will lead those who’d give their lives up in the name of Honor!” he shouted as loud as he could, though he doubted anyone but Syl could hear him from this height. The sky, however, grumbled before him, the air around him spinning and shining like a flurry of snow. Kaladin breathed in more Stormlight as he clenched his teeth to keep them from clattering in the frigid cold. If one more minute passed, the Everstorm would consume the last of the people he knew, loved, and respected. He would not let that happen. “Kaladin!” Syl shouted. “Finish this!” “I will lead, for this duty is not mine to bear alone!” From his body, a bright, cold light exploded, energy saturating the atmosphere mere seconds before the stormwall crashed into the plateau below. Dalinar made it across the bridge just in time to get thrown off his feet from the force of impact. Whatever the explosion was, he had felt it surge through him, its light so bright that no matter how many times he blinked his eyes, he couldn’t see a thing. “Renarin!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, though he couldn't hear his own voice. as if the explosion had somehow deafened, too. Instantly he realized he could no longer feel the rain falling upon his face, and that his body was completely numb, as if he had spent hours outside in the winter. Finally his senses returned, and what Dalinar saw left him struggling to find any words. The first sight that drew him was Stormblessed. Kaladin was hardly recognizable, considering how bright he was shining, but Dalinar knew it was him the second he spotted the luminescent man floating above the plateau. Frost whirled around him blurringly fast, a lady made of a soft, blue light twirling around him with an entourage of windspren clinging to the ribbons of wind that trailed from her like coattails. The second sight that drew him was the bright, red, angry eye staring at Kaladin from the darkness above. Whatever it was, Dalinar knew it was alive. Looking directly at it overwhelmed the Bondsmith with all kinds of horrible emotions. Terror, loss, and hatred among them. Bulbous gray clouds gathered around it, and lightning crackled along the surface of its iris, occasionally erupting from it to strike at Kaladin, only to be deflected by his wind shield. Dalinar’s gaze followed one such bolt, instantly relieved of those harsh feelings as soon as he looked away from the eye. The third sight that drew him was the cyclone that enclosed their plateau. It was obviously Kaladin’s doing, judging by how much it looked like the tiny storm that surrounded him, though when Dalinar reached out for the Stormfather, he sensed some of him within it too. Was his spren helping the Windrunner achieve this? If so, he would not risk disturbing the Sliver. The fourth sight that drew him was Renarin. His son no longer shook or clutched his head in pain - was this cyclone somehow protecting him from his agonizing visions like it was protecting them from the Everstorm? - though he did stare off towards the giant rock with horror. The fifth and final sight that drew him was the Shardbearer. Dalinar recognized her immediately, though she no longer had the shape of a Parshendi warrior. Her Plate, like her body, had been reshaped to fit more lithe and dangerous, sharp like her body angular, metal coating the chitinous spikes that grew from her arms, back and face. She was stumbling away from a man who looked a lot like Teresh but couldn’t be, considering that man was currently locked in a cell back at Urithiru. Whoever the man was, he was crouched over a downed Initiate who might have been Ranatar, a sword held in one hand and a spear in the other. Roaring, the Shardbearer lifted her face and her Blade towards the sky. It was hard to tell, but Dalinar had a feeling she was looking at the odious eye. Without thinking, Dalinar glanced up and noticed its void-like pupil shift its attention from Kaladin to the Shardbearer. At once, a feeling of wrath and spite washed through him, then surged as it fired a bolt of scarlet energy straight at the Voidbringer. A second flash of light, this time black instead of white, exploded from the center of the plateau. It almost blinded him, but despite the darkness he could still see the Shardbearer’s form, glowing crimson, writhing and flailing and growing into something massive and monstrous. When the darkness cleared, Dalinar could see Voidbringer’s transformation in full. It was huge, larger than even a greatshell, at least eighty feet tall, by quick estimation. It still had the marbled skin of the Parshendi, but it’s entire body was covered by a complex interlinking of shell that meshed frighteningly like Shardplate. Unlike Greatshells, the monster only had two arms and two legs, but they were each thicker than several trees tacked together, and tipped with pointed claws that weren’t much smaller, though its right hand was severed at the wrist. Jagged, crimson spines - the same color as its claws - traced the length of its back, most of them crooked or bending in odd directions. Fortunately the Shardbearer’s Blade did not grow with it, as Dalinar had spotted it lying at its feet, its unique hilt barely visible with most of the sword buried in the ground. All around it, pieces of the Voidbringer’s Plate lay in molten hunks, shattered from within as the Voidbringer grew beyond its capabilities. Fortunately, the Shardbearer was the only Voidbringer to transform. Not many of the monsters remained now, but there were enough between the giant and the Kholin soldier’s that it would take a while before they could attack, if any of them had the strength or courage to face such a thing. Dalinar had a feeling Kaladin would be unable to help them, too busy distracting that eye in the sky and keeping the Everstorm from breaking through his cyclone. What about Adolin? Shallan? They were nowhere to be seen. Renarin was looking better, but Dalinar wasn’t sure how much help either him or his son could be without any Shards. Amazed, Dalinar watched as Ranatar rose to his feet, glowing softly, whatever wounds he had before healing. Likewise, the man who had saved him began to glow too, as did the rest of the Initiates scattered around the plateau. Was Kaladin lending them his power like he did his Squires? Though Dalinar did not understand how, it seemed to be the only logical explanation, as the glow did not smoke off of their skin like Stormlight. One by one, the Initiates gathered behind Ranatar and the man who had to be Teresh, each one holding a weapon and taking a stance against the monstrosity. Dalinar might not be able to join them on the frontlines, but Ishar Guide Him, he would help whatever way he can.

Whoops, I'm a little late! Chapter Eight is now closed. Chapter Nine should begin shortly.

She needs to live, yes, but I have no problem with critical injuries.

They would be informed that they had the spren.

I was very tempted to sign up as a character named "Vin" in spite of the game's name, but decided not to break the narrative. Instead I'll play as Neer, who totally isn't the alternate reality version of her brother, Reen. You're insane for even considering that. What are you, Spiked?

CHAPTER EIGHT Arionium has been arrested... again! Jonly was released from custody! Veriq was returned to custody! Leif was teleported out of prison! Balthazar was teleported into prison! Balthazar has been murdered! He was an Honorable Initiate! One Bond has been broken! Sorry guys, I didn't get a lot of sleep last night so this write up definitely isn't one of my best. I'm just happy to still be producing content. I hope all the messages above aren't too confusing. It seems very cluttered to me, but figured the more information you have, the better. RP wise the battle is still underway. I wouldn't have your characters discover it immediately, but at some point soon I reckon someone should point out a stormwall is coming from the wrong direction, which can only mean one thing. Since activity was very low this previous Chapter, I hope this one gets used as an opportunity to make up for lost RP, since the next write up will include Kaladin's heroic reappearance, just in time for the Everstorm to reach the plateau. If you want to have a part in the final battle against the Last Legion, now is the time. I'll try to get GM PMs out quick, but there might be a delay for some. INTERROGATION (5) Arinian: Jondesu, Droughtbringer, Alvron, TheMightyLopen, Ecthelion III, (4) Alvron: Doc12, Magestar, Arinian, randuir, EXECUTION (2/8) Drake Marshall: Doc12, Ecthelion III, (7/8) Shqueeves: Arinian, randuir, Magestar, TheMightyLopen, Jondesu, Darkness Ascendant, JUQ, PARDON (4/12) Drake Marshall: TheMightyLopen, Arinian, randuir, Magestar, INITIATES A Joe in the Bush as Jonly Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade Jondesu as Kintas randuir as Ranatar TheSilverDragon as Rea Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless JUQ as Hess Shqueeves as Leif Doc12 as Hithon TheMightyLopen as Shinon The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet Alvron as Naihar DroughtBringer as Petrik Darkness Ascendant as The Phantom Stranger Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu PRISONERS Teresh, Guilty of Murder, Murder and More Murder! Veriq, Guilty of Cowardice and Being an Accomplice to Murder Arionium, Guilty of Murder, Fraud, Multiple Counts of Theft, and Jailbreaking CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate Ashetvl the Honorable Initiate Ralaanar the Honorable Lightweaver Sareth-son-Erneth the Honorable Initiate Balthazar the Honorable Initiate COUNTDOWN Chapter Eight will end on Saturday, March 4th, at 0400 EST. Chapter Nine will begin approximately 2 hours later

Shallan felt like she was suffocating. Not from fear, but malice. More than anything she hated feeling helpless. Despised depending on other people for safety. Her eyes darted left and right, seeing nothing but the backs of the Initiates pressed against her and the feral visages of the Voidbringers fighting desperately to get through them to her. Being lead like this, blind to the ground below her feet and the path lying ahead, she felt like she was locked in one of those cages that slave traders fastened to the back of their wagons, enclosed on all sides and swaying along to the chaotic motions of the earth, or in this case, war. And to think, that wasn’t even the worst of it. When she tried to look up the only thing she saw was that unnatural storm of red and black raging in the sky above. Instinctively she knew two things; one, that the sun had not yet set, and two, that the monolithic rock was looming somewhere in the distance, and yet the overcast was so dark she could see no hint of either. Why was she here? It was a question she asked herself out of anger even though she knew the answer. Kaladin was more helpless than her, both critically wounded and trapped inside a stone prison on the verge of collapsing. Dalinar was bonded to the Stormfather, the closest thing to a god she had ever seen, too proud or stubborn to become a Blade. Renarin, despite being able to breathe Stormlight, had not yet been cured of his blood sickness, and still had painful headaches whenever the Voidbringers began to chant their vile song. And Adolin… he was busy leading his soldiers against the enemy’s main force, who were responsible for the torrent of heavy rain and the bolts of scarlet lightning crashing down upon them and all around. That left her the only Shardbearer free and capable of saving the day. In more ways than one, today reminded her the Battle of Stormseat, when she had saved everyone by solving the mystery of the Oathgate just before the Everstorm hit. Even though she knew the Almighty was dead, she couldn’t help but thank Him for that last piece of history not repeating itself, at least. Perhaps she thanked the Shadow too soon. Two claps of thunder rang out at once. One from the sky, the other from the Stormfather. KHOLIN. I HAVE BAD NEWS. Dalinar watched the battle unfold from the edge of an adjacent plateau, gritting his teeth as he concentrated his powers on the fight. The concept of Surges was still confusing to him, but a few lessons with Shallan and Navani had at least helped him grasp the basics. The powers of Tension and Adhesion were his to master, and if he didn’t try to use it now, when the lives of so many valuable men and women were on the line, then what kind of Bondsmith could he truly be? “Not now!” Dalinar yelled, startling his honor guard, although over the last few weeks they had become accustomed to him yelling at the sky like a madman. As soon as they realized he wasn’t addressing any of them, they returned to their vigil. Dalinar couldn’t see everything, but from this vantage, he hoped he saw what mattered. As if on cue, Initiate Balthazar recklessly charged into the hoard of Voidbringers without any backup, forcing the Bondsmith to focus his efforts there. The Initiate did well enough to plow through his first three enemies, but the Voidbringers, betraying their usual tendency to fight only in pairs, began to surround him, moving closer to him in unison so that when one could strike, they all would. That way if he managed to kill any of them, one should still be able to pierce his defenses. Breathing in Stormlight, Dalinar manifested that invisible cloud of his around Balthazar and the Voidbringers, forcing them to move slower. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was making the air more difficult to traverse or if he was making the combatants feel heavier than they truly were, but either way, it worked. Only problem was that if he affected both the Initiate and his enemies the same, he was just delaying the inevitable, so he ground his teeth and strained the cloud a way he never had before. So far he knew he could change the clouds size, which in turn altered its strength. The larger it was, the less density it had, meaning its effect was less potent. He also knew he could shape the edges so that the cloud could fit in a square room or surround a single person. The question was, could he use this information to create a ring? Exhaling a puff of glowing smoke, he took a fresh breath of Stormlight and began to push. Starting in the center, he tried to expel the cloud outward, not in one direction, but all, which was a rough process considering he had never managed to shape more than one side at a time. It took all of the power left in him to suceed, but eventually the cloud obeyed the sheer force of his will. Only problem was it wasn’t enough. The effects his cloud had on Balthazar were immediately relieved, allowing him to spin around and assess the situation. Dalinar couldn’t make out the expression on his face from this far, but the Initiate’s body language was clearly hesitant. When Dalinar created the ring, the cloud had used the force in its middle to broaden its edges, which may have freed Balthazar but did no good otherwise. If the Initiate was going to defeat the Voidbringers alone, the monsters would need more pressure. That meant the cloud needed to be stronger. Denser. Sucking in more Stormlight, he urged the cloud to shrink, afraid that it would just reform the center, but relieved when it didn’t. Instead, he smiled as he watched the Voidbringer’s backs slouched and Balthazar finally made his move. Balthazar felt heavy, but it wasn’t his first time. He recognized the sensation from that morning, when he had been gathered in formation before the break of dawn, the guilt of all the things he’d done the night before weighing down on his conscious, on his soul. This time, though, he felt guilty for breaking formation. Like usual, he got excited and jumped into a fight, heedless of the consequences. Now he was surrounded by six Voidbringers, swords at the ready, their free hands sparking with electricity. They were closing in on him and no one seemed to notice. There was nothing left he could do. Balthazar was officially doomed… The crushing weight of guilt was lifted off his shoulders, and suddenly he was doomed no longer. He turned in a circle, eyeing the Voidbringers for weaknesses. That one was leaning too far to the left. Trying to lessen the strain on its right leg? This one’s grip on its blade was off, its other arm bleeding from a gash that covered its entire bicep. Debilitating wound to its sword arm? These two were gravitating closer to each other than the others, one with a large beard and the other was shorter than the others, more slender. Lovers, perhaps? The last two, they looked fresh and unharmed, their weapons unbloodied. They must have just got here or not crossed paths with any Alethi yet, which made them the biggest threats. Except, that look in their eyes… were they hungry for battle? Eager to prove themselves? Yes. Balthazar knew that feeling all too well. They would be reckless, like he had been. He could use this to his advantage, too, though it still meant the fight wouldn’t be easy. Preparing himself, the Initiate clenched his sword hilts tighter and rolled his shoulders until he felt a satisfying pop. A few more steps, and… The Voidbringers slumped. It was a negligible difference, but Balthazar was paying attention. Glancing at the one with the leg injury, he noticed it was leaning even further and that its hop-like step had become more lethargic. Now! Encouraged by the realization that the legendary Blackthorn was helping him, Balthazar leapt between the limping Voidbringer and the one who held its blade in its offhand. He had telegraphed the jump when he faced the two of them, but their swings were slow enough that he could block and maneuver their bodies with ease. Sweeping his weapons outward, he threw both of the Voidbringers off balance and executed a sidekick on the one with the limp. Aiming not at but through the monster’s kneecap, the heel of his boot finished the job of whatever had wounded it before, breaking its leg and forcing it drop onto its good knee. Meanwhile, he slid his left sword down the length of the offhanded Voidbringer’s blade, slicing the length of its wrist and digging the edge into the upper portion of its arm to match the wound on its other side. It held onto its weapon despite the pain, which Balthazar did not expect, so he was forced to improvise by spinning around its shoulder and kicking it in back towards one of its allies. Balthazar had only intended to stun them, but was happy to see one of the Voidbringers get impaled by the other’s sword in the fall. Before the other three could respond, Balthazar jumped on top of his last two opponents and finished the survivor off with a quick stab in the neck. Although he could have easily run off to join his allies or call them for help, Balthazar decided he’d rather finish what he started than flee just as the tides had been turned. Smiling, he took a step forward. A second later, a bolt of lightning crashed at his feet. When the light faded, Balthazar was gone. The Initiate could barely move or breathe, and all he saw was darkness. Something sharp stabbed Leif in the back and heaved, forcing him to the ground and onto his face, a rockbud crunching against his jaw. The young man was crying. Not because of the pain, but because he was weak. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t muster the strength. When he breathed and discovered the Stormlight no longer came to him, he only cried harder. For a while, he had tasted power. Now in his greatest moment of need the power refused him. That fact alone hurt him more than any physical wound, and for this pain, he had no one to blame but himself. Everything was fine until he was forced to jump off that cliff. Leif had never been fond of heights, but it wasn’t until that moment he realized just how horrifying falling was. Despite the air literally flowing through him, his lungs refused to take any in. Powerless, he crashed into the earth full force and for a brief moment, died. If not for the Stormlight forcing its way inside him, he would not be here, now. Tied up and gagged in the mouth. Forsaken. He had the opportunity to help on more than one occasion. Instead he did nothing, thinking the other Initiates would be better off without him interfering. As time went on, his inclination to wait and watch became more. Laziness, perhaps, or pure cowardice. It had been a miracle he had survived that day at all. If there was one thing more frightening than falling to your death and hungry Greatshells, it was the Voidbringers. Running away from them was one thing. It was insane, but manageable. But fighting them? From the moment he saw them gathering on that plateau, Leif knew. The only way he’d survive was if he ran. He would have gotten away with it too, if not for Highprince Aladar’s rearguard. The man had directed some of his soldiers to remain behind and hide, to watch for any Voidbringer reinforcements and intercept them. There were no reinforcements, but they did manage to intercept one deserter. When the spear left his back, Leif sighed with relief. Not because the pain was gone, but because he felt no blood. It was either blunt, or the soldier hadn’t pressed it too deep. Either way, Leif was thankful. When they closed the wooden hatch over the pit they had thrown him in, surrounding him with darkness, his thankfulness dissipated. Futily he struggled against the ropes binding him, moaned into the gag lodged into his mouth as he tried to push it out with his tongue. Neither did him any good, leaving him with only other choice. Leif prayed for freedom, and amazingly, was greeted by a bright, warm flash of light. When it faded, he found himself standing in the rain, his hands and feet unbound. Beside him lay the corpses of three Voidbringers, and ahead of him approached three more. Leif fell to his knees, praying to go back to his cell. At least there he would be safe. Jonly and Arionium stared at each other from opposite sides of the bars. When the Kholins left with the Initiates to search for Kaladin Dullbrain, Arionium had got overconfident, or perhaps, careless. He thought that without Dalinar’s men patrolling Urithiru, he could wear his own face as he walked the city and not be bothered. Had worked for a while. He even managed to get a few drinks at Pub Seb, to ease his concerns. Would have been nice to know that Dalinar had told Sebarial about him, and that the gluttonous Highprince had soldiers of his own dedicated to enforcing the law. Jonly, on the other hand, was found to be innocent. Or, at least, innocent of any crimes on this planet, as far as any of the Alethi were able to find out. For a while they did try to fault him for Veriq’s escape, but thanks to Teresh’s statement of witness, they were convinced Jonly had nothing to do with the switch. Not that they'd be able to discover any evidence in the contrary without a reflectionspren. Jonly and Arionium brushed shoulders as they switched places, one of them envious and the other simply curious. Arionium doubted he could escape this time, and Jonly had other Initiates to worry about. While one plopped onto his bed, feigning the acceptance of defeat, the other ran for the Oathgate, hoping he could make it back before it was too late. “Hey deserter! I found you a friend!” shouted Aladar’s soldier. Prodded with a spear, Veriq stumbled towards the wooden hatch. As far as wooden hatches on rocky plateaus went, it was camouflaged rather well, which gave the most useless man in Roshar a semblance of hope for his new cell. The fact that his cellmate had apparently deserted the battle too meant that he understood what Veriq was going through. There were a lot of things he wanted to talk about, though they were the sort of things you don’t say to a soldier unless you’re craving a fight, which was his problem to begin with. The soldier stepped around Veriq to open the hatch, but before he did he made sure to look down on the Initiate, not just physically, but morally too, if the disgust on his face was any indicator of his thoughts. As soon as Veriq realized the soldier wasn’t going to look away, he lowered his eyes. A moment later the soldier shifted his feet, then bent to lift the hatch. He grunted as he rose it to his shoulders, then exhaled as he threw it. Without looking into the pit, the soldier grabbed Veriq by the collar and belt and threw him in. Considering the ease of it, Veriq realized the hatch must have weighed more than him. Landing awkwardly on his face, the Initiate struggled to flip onto his back and get one last glimpse of the sky before he turned to look at his cellmate. Taking one last breath of fresh air, he tilted his head. To his side lay Balthazar. Bound and gagged, a pool of blood formed around the Initiate, leaking from the clean slit traced along his neck like a smile. Veriq did not hesitate to scream for help. "He's dead!" the Initiate shouted. No help came, but he did get an answer. Two, in fact. The first was the hatch closing above him with a loud thump, locking him in with the fresh corpse. Already Veriq could feel the blood seeping into his clothing. The second was a declaration of cries, spoken without emotion through the wood. If not for his cries for help, perhaps Veriq would have heard it better. By the time he realized someone was talking at all and quieted down, all he heard was the closing statement. "Let Justice be done." Renarin could see the Everstorm coming over a mile away. In his dreams it was always there, looming in the distance, but now he was awake and he could see the bloody thing. It was horrifying. More frightening even then the battle taking place on the plateau below. And it hurt… oh Almighty how it did. No matter how kindly Glys whispered in his ear or how much Stormlight he breathed, the headache refused to go away. Fighting the pain, Renarin stumbled towards Dalinar and tripped, a member of his family’s honor guard catching him before his knees could reach the ground. “Father!” he yelled, his voice quivering with agony, but in spite of it he still had to warn him. “The Everstorm is coming!” Through eyes blurry with tears, Renarin saw the silhouette of his father looking towards the western horizon. “I know, son,” Dalinar said, a pang of regret in his voice. “But it’s not alone! Something wicked comes with it, urging it forward!” “I know…” Dalinar repeated, then sighed. “Sir, what do we do?” asked the guard holding Renarin, his tone nervous and his body trembling after hearing the sudden revelation. “Stay and fight. We are too far from the Oathgate to retreat like last time. Attempting to flee would only doom the Captain, and without him, none of us will survive this. The Stormfather has ensured me as much. So we must keep this to ourselves, if only so that our men can finish their battle with nothing to fear. Once we’ve won, we can face whatever happens next. For better, or for worse.” Renarin didn’t like the sound of that.

Chapter Seven is now closed. Chapter Eight will begin in (hopefully) 2 hours.

No, you cannot vote to execute players not currently in prison.

Prisoners can only target prisoners.

Regarding Teleporting players in and out of prison. This swap is temporary, lasting only a single Chapter, so at the start of Chapter Eight, Veriq will be imprisoned again and Jonly set free. Since this ruling makes it so Elsecallers can block executions, I will only allow a single Elsecaller to pull that off twice before they get caught in the act, their identity being revealed to the thread just like a Stoneward who protected a player from execution.

CHAPTER SEVEN Leif has been arrested! He was Guilty of Not Telling the GM his Crimes! Sareth has been murdered! He was an Honorable Initiate! Hashiv has been murdered, and the Phantom Stranger has taken his place! Veriq was teleported out of prison! Jonly was teleported into prison! Two Bonds have been formed! I feel like this write up wasn't particularly fun or interesting, just me setting the scene. It doesn't help that I'm exhausted from this past week, so hopefully I'll get enough rest over the next few days so that I can produce a worthy conclusion to this arc. Now that you aren't busy running for your lives, this confrontation with the "Last Legion" should be more fun. It's an all out battle this time, and with the support of Dalinar and Aladar's army, will likely be the last. I'm still waiting to hear back from Shqueeve's on his character's crimes. For now, we'll just assume that Leif deserted the Initiates before the battle. I will probably have him be found / officially arrested during the next chapter, even though he's as good as imprisoned this one. Oh, and that very last scene. DA wrote most it, though I did some minor editing. He wanted people to know that Hashiv is officially dead and his character from now will solely be the Phantom Stranger. I don't have an exact time for when it happened in relation to everything, but let's assume it was that first night, when Hashiv was Spiked and Kintas tried to help him, meaning TPS should now be at the battle with ya'll. INTERROGATION (3) Shqueeves: TheMightyLopen, Arinian, Alvron, (2) Darkness Ascendant: Jondesu, Hemalurgic_Headshot, (1) JUQ: randuir, EXECUTION (1/9) Drake Marshall: Ecthelion III, (10/9) Quiver: Arinian, Alvron, Shqueeves, A Joe in the Bush, Magestar, Hemalurgic_Headshot, TheMightyLopen, Droughtbringer, Jondesu, randuir, PARDON (12/14) Drake Marshall: Doc12, Hemalurgic_Headshot, Jondesu, Alvron, randuir, Arinian, Magestar, Shqueeves, A Joe in the Bush, TheMightyLopen, Droughtbringer, The lady anarchist, INITIATES Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade Jondesu as Kintas randuir as Ranatar TheSilverDragon as Rea Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless Arinian as Arionium, Guilty of Murder, Fraud, and Multiple Counts of Theft JUQ as Hess Quiver as Veriq, Guilty of Cowardice and Being an Accomplice to Murder, Temporarily Free Doc12 as Hithon Magestar as Balthazar TheMightyLopen as Shinon The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet Alvron as Naihar DroughtBringer as Petrik Darkness Ascendant as The Phantom Stranger Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu PRISONERS Teresh, Guilty of Murder, Murder and More Murder! Leif, Guilty of Desertion and Other Things Jonly, Temporarily Imprisoned CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate Ashetvl the Honorable Initiate Ralaanar the Honorable Lightweaver Sareth-son-Erneth the Honorable Initiate COUNTDOWN Chapter Seven will end on Tuesday, February 28th, at 0400 EST. Chapter Eight will begin approximately 2 hours later

Kaladin was tired of running. All his spheres dun, the man could not heal. He was bruised, sore, but fortunately had no wounds that bled, save for a few abrasions that made his skin wet and red. Aside from the relentless exhaustion that followed the use of too much Stormlight, his only real problem was a lack of fine motor skills. Although his head ached like it was split in half, he had no other signs of a concussion, so the difficulty he had controlling his hands and feet must have come from the Voidbringer’s lightning itself. Whatever the blast of electricity had done to him, he hoped it could be reversed. Not only did it make it hard for him to wield Syl, but it made him clumsy, too. It took nearly all his focus not to trip as he fled from his pursuers, and even then, he still found himself staggering into the chasm walls. It was a miracle Kaladin had survived at all. Syl mentioned that she had something to do with it, although he did not understand how. He’d have asked for details if she didn’t seem so exhausted herself. The spren had never been anything but energetic, but whatever stunt she pulled had drained her and left her struggling to stay awake. Kaladin let her sleep in the pocket on his chest. He might not be able to rest, but that didn’t mean she needed to suffer, too. In a way, Kaladin had the Voidbringer’s storm to thank for getting him this far. If not for the flood sweeping him away from Narak, he was certain the monsters would have tore him limb from limb. He just wished he wasn’t so helpless. Without Syl or Stormlight, Kaladin was doomed if the Voidbringers ever caught up to him. Shortly after waking up, his body jammed into a crevasse several meters off the ground, he had run into a pair of Voidbringers. The battle was less than pretty, but somehow he came out of it alive. It made him realize that he couldn’t return to the Oathgate. The monsters would surely be watching it, waiting for him to show his face. It also made him realize he couldn’t simply hide and hope for help. The Voidbringers knew the Shattered Plains better than him. Anywhere he could hide they would surely check first. That left him with only one option. Run. As far and fast as he possibly could. The earth shook and thunder resounded behind him, waking Syl from her nap and urging Kaladin to move quicker. Eshonai and her allies hummed to the Rhythm of Craving as they leapt from one plateau to another. Judging by the number of Listeners gathered in the distance, her group was the last one to arrive. Around the time her kin began summoning the storm, she found a camp of human refugees in the chasms, and attacked in case the Radiant was hiding among them. It wasn’t a long or difficult battle, more of a slaughter than it was a skirmish, but it kept them from noticing the signal. Given that it was still brewing in the sky, she figured that meant the Radiant was still alive, not that she understood why. Melu was there and Eshonai knew the woman wanted the glory of killing the Alethi herself. What was taking so long? Those who weren’t busy maintaining the storm were casting lightning at a massive stone that looked a lot like those monstrous horses that Blackthorn and his son would ride into battle. For that reason, her scouts had named the landmark Rysharock. It was a good place to hide, for a lone man. The cavern within it was large enough that three people could live in it comfortably, and it had only a single entrance, so thin that even Venli would have to turn her body to squeeze through it. If Eshonai had to guess, the Radiant was probably using his sprenspear to keep anyone from getting in, hence the listeners attempts at knocking it down. All they needed to do was get the roof to collapse. Eshonai would then use her Shardblade to carve a path inside and finish the deed herself, if he wasn't dead already. The Radiant might as well already be a corpse. Rapidly approaching an exceptionally wide chasm, Eshonai concentrated her power into her legs, causing them to spark with crimson energy, and prepared to leap. When she did, she jumped higher than she ever had before. High enough that she didn’t land until she was halfway across the next plateau, and high enough that she saw two armies worth of Alethi converging just beyond it. She recognized the colors and the banners. Blackthorn had come to rescue his prized soldier, it seemed. Barking an order at her soldiers to hasten their pace, she resolved to reach Rysharock first and kill the Radiant before Dalinar had the chance to attack. “Lift!” Grumbling, Jonly followed the command, tapping iron to brace himself and pewter to bolster his strength, careful not to let his swelling muscles grow too much, so that to the casual observer it would just look like he was flexing. The feruchemical combination made hefting the Bridge onto his shoulder easy, although the weight gain made it harder for him to run. Fortunately the other Initiates were moving slower than he was in spite of the Bloodlight flowing through their veins. It wasn’t that he had a problem taking orders from Ranatar. He actually respected the man, or more specifically, the cold, calculating monster that he became in situations like this. He just resented the order itself, as it meant he had to waste more of his feruchemical reserves carrying this rusting thing. He’d use Bloodlight like the rest of them, but for whatever reason, it resisted him unless his life was on the line. Running towards the next chasm, he pondered why that was. He knew that it was hard to mix different sources of investiture. Was it possible that taking the power of the Well had change his soul permanently? If so, he could see Honor’s power struggling to bypass Preservation. They were both stubborn as far as Intents went, but the inherent nature of Preservation was stagnation. Letting another force alter Jonly for any other reason than his survival would betray that, certainly. Satisfied with the conclusion, he focused on the task at hand. “Drop!” Ranatar yelled. Jonly, Fifth, Sareth and Kintas obeyed. Without being asked, each man ran behind the bridge and leaned against it. When Ranatar joined them and gave the next command, they pushed the bridge over the chasm with controlled might. Too hard and it would fly onto the plateau. Too soft and it would fall into the chasm below. Over the last few hours, their team had become rather efficient at properly measuring their strength. Perhaps today wasn’t a complete waste, after all. Hearing the stampede of footsteps behind him, Jonly didn’t linger behind the bridge for long. Running out of the soldier’s way, he found Rea who watched the Voidbringers, his soft face emotionless, but his eyes hinting terror. “Rea,” Jonly called the boy’s name as softly as he could, though by the way the boy jumped, he was sure it sounded like a growl all the same. “Can I have some water, please?” Too small to help carrying the bridge, they designated Rea as their water boy, though he often forgot the task. Nervous, he fumbled through the satchel at his side, searching for a fresh waterskin. “Here,” he said, though he sounded more like a she. At what age did Alethi boys reach puberty, anyway? Taking a long gulp, Jonly breathed out a sound of relief. “Thanks,” he said, trying not to sound scary. Rea’s eyes looked more scared, still. Whatever. He didn’t care that he scared children, and there was someone shouting his name anyway. Ranatar. “Jonly, Rea. After Highprince Aladar’s men finish crossing, we need to follow them over and regroup with the other Initiates. A few of us should stay behind to protect the bridge in case the Voidbringers try to cut off our escape, but I have a feeling that Dalinar is going to want our help. Would you two mind holding back? I can see if anyone else wants to assist you if you don’t feel comfortable defending this location on your own.” “Fine,” barked Jonly. Rea jumped a little, though Ranatar didn’t even blink at his tone. Yes, that man truly was a monster, no matter how harmless he looked. Apparently satisfied, Ranatar ran off to join Fifth and Sareth. Where had Kintas run off to? Not that Jonly really cared. Across the plateau, Aladar’s soldiers formed a line. The Voidbringers had noticed their arrival and begun hurtling bolts of hate at them. They were monsters too, though not the kind Jonly could respect. Odium, on the other hand… Absently, Jonly wondered if he’d ever meet Him. Turning to Rea, he opened his mouth to tell the boy to follow, but just waved his hand towards the bridge instead and running for it, hoping the boy wasn’t frozen by his fear. Already soldiers were dying, and the men belonging to Kholin hadn’t even finished joining them, yet. As soon as Jonly crossed the bridge, a scorched, twitching corpse fell a few meters away from him with a sickening crunch, cast into the air by a bolt of lightning that crashed into the earth beneath his now bloody, stumpy feet. Jonly didn’t bother to check his pulse. If the man was still alive, there was no way he’d survive wounds like those, and so he just ran to the man, slung him over his shoulder, and brought him to the chasm, passing Rea on the way. The boy looked confused, then disgusted, as Jonly threw the seizing man into the pit below. If he was still alive then, he wouldn’t be when he hit the ground. Jonly would explain his actions to the boy if he thought it might allieve his fear. It was important that the plateau was uncluttered in case the soldiers needed to make a hasty retreat. Wouldn’t do them any good if there were men they had to jump and potentially trip over. Behind him, another soldier fell from the sky. Fortunately for Rea, this one had his head blown off and thus was definitely dead. Still, the boy looked like he wanted to throw up when Jonly grabbed the corpse and threw it over the ledge. The sounds of battle filled his ears. So the soldiers had finally gathered and began their attack, then. He heard a crash and spun, thinking he’d find another singed soldier. Instead, he found a bright flash of light, and when it faded, a prison cell. What? “Turn off that light!” Uther yelled, shielding his eyes from whatever that intense glowing was. Unable to sleep the night before, he was finally trying to catch up on lost time. Between this and the snoring, Veriq was probably the worst cellmate in the world. When he responded only with a frightened yelp, Uther finally raised himself from his bed and looked. It was the strangest thing. At Veriq’s feet, a ring of light was forming, although the proper way to describe the process was more like it was being spun into existence. “Help me!” he yelled. Uther didn’t understand why he didn’t try stepping through the ring, let alone over it. He acted like his body was locked inside it, a cell within a cell. The ring… it was growing brighter and taller at an accelerating rate. By the time Uther leapt out from underneath his covers, it was too late. The ring had become a cylinder, covering Veriq completely and cutting off his screams, the light so bright that Uther had too look away or else risk permanent damage to his eyes. “What?” Was that voice… “Jonly?” Blinking, Uther watched the man in disbelief. Warily, the man stepped forward, out of the afterimage left behind by the cylinder. “How the rusts did I get here?” “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” While Adolin and Aladar were busy giving orders to the soldiers, Dalinar, Renarin and Shallan gathered the Squires and the Initiates. “Teft? How is he?” “Alive, sir, but still weak. And that rock he’s hiding in…” “Doesn’t look like it’ll stand many more lightning strikes,” finished Skar. Drehy and Leyten almost made a move to run, but Dalinar halted them with his hand. “During the Battle in Stormseat, Adolin used his Blade to cut a path through a crem-crusted building, allowing him to flank the Voidbringers and turn the tide of battle. Today, I’ll need Shallan here to do the same, only this time she will be opening an exit for Kaladin to escape through. “Problem is, that rock is surrounded on all sides and looks like it’s going to collapse soon. I need you all, with the help of the Squires and my son, to break through the Voidbringers and protect Shallan as she extracts your Captain to safety. I’ll try to help you as best I can, but it seems by powers aren’t very helpful in situations like this. Do you understand your orders?” In unison, the Initiates shouted “Yes sir!” In contrast to their response the night before, it seemed a day carrying bridges had developed a sense of oneness in them. “Then move!” Sareth swung his staff low, knocking several Voidbringers off their feet. Though his weapon wasn’t very good at killing, it was more than efficient at distracting and disabling his opponents, leaving them open for his allies to finish. The felled Voidbringers regained their senses and began to rise, chanting furiously, their arms crackling with scarlet energy. “Fifth?” he asked. “Kintas?” When no one responded, he clutched one end of his staff in two hands and began swinging, aiming for the Voidbringer’s head. The first one he hit fell back to the floor with a crunch, a chitinous protrusion on its face having been shattered on impact. The thing wasn’t bleeding from the wound, but it also wasn’t moving, which was a good sign. Pleased, Sareth spun on another Voidbringer, though this one managed to deflect the blow with its shoulder, flipping onto its stomach. Still very much alive, but stunned momentarily all the same. In the corner of his eye, another Voidbringer had scrambled to its feet and lunged at Sareth. He noticed too late to perform a counter attack, but Sareth had just enough time to step out of the way. Despite the ground being wet, he could still feel the soil packed into the souls of his boots crunching with every step. Narrowly he avoided that attack, but as a pair of Voidbringers stalked towards him, teeth bared like a snarling axehound, he wondered how much longer he could last like this without any help. Backing away, he stumbled over a dead Voidbringer, its face caved in and its left arm severed at the elbow. Who killed this one, and when? Looking left, then right, he saw nothing but Voidbringers surrounding him, though most were facing outward. Some were chanting and blasting the rock Stormblessed was hiding. Others were fighting Initiates that Sareth couldn’t see over their tall, broad shoulders. Then he looked back and spotted two of his teammates. One was staring directly at him, while the other fought off a pair of Voidbringers on their own. “Truth be Told!” he shouted. “For a moment there I thought myself doomed.” The Initiate smiled. “Sareth-son-Erneth, before you became a Truthseeker, you were nothing but a leach. You stole from the labors of others, feasting on the fruits of their fields. When your transgressions were finally discovered, you lied to the authorities. Your methods changed from stealing food to stealing money, becoming hungrier for more every day, until eventually you assaulted an unarmed man, then took everything he had, even the cloak on his back. Including his most cherished possession: a book. The very same book you’ve dedicated your whole life to since.” It was true, though it was a perverse version of it, if Sareth had any say in the matter. “You don’t understand. My family was poor, starving. I did what I needed to do so they’d survive. And the Truthseeker… yes, I intended to rob the man, but he gave those things to me. Is it really thievery then?” A Voidbringer grabbed Sareth’s foot and began to drag him away. “Why are you just standing there!” he yelled, kicking at the monster with his free leg, trying to pull the other free. “Help me!” “I will,” the Initiate said, drawing a dagger from their belt and readying to throw it. Only they seemed to be aiming it a little low… “Oh no,” Sareth breathed. The other Initiate finished their enemy off with a sword through the chest, then turned to face them. “Help!” Sareth yelled, though the Initiate turned a blind eye. “Let justice be done,” the Initiate holding the dagger said confidently. A flick of the wrist later, and the weapon was gone. Sareth could only watch in horror as it buried itself in his brain. Several days ago, in a place that’s both a little bit and very far away... The Phantom Stranger scowled. He should have killed Hashiv when he had the chance. The fool seemed to be blabbering to everyone that his powers had been stolen. A lot of good they did the Stranger, anyway. For some reason the Stormlight resisted him whenever he breathed, and didn’t seem as effective with him as it did the others. Maybe he needed to bond a spren before it would obey him properly. Well that can come at another time. For now, I have a loose end in need of being tied. Finally, the Phantom Stranger found Hashiv huddled in one of the dark hallways, crammed between the wall and an archway. There was an insane look in his eyes. One that the Phantom Stranger was too familiar with seeing, back where he came from. Surely the Spike hadn’t had that much of an effect on the poor lad? Sitting next to Hashiv, the Phantom Stranged sighed deeply. He stared at the Purelaker for a while, head cocked and expression curious. When he finally collected his thoughts, he stood back up and began to approach the lad, a frown adorning his shaking head, a knife in his hand. “I really, truly am sorry.” No amount of apologies could make up for what he did next.

Chapter Six is now closed. Chapter Seven will begin now.

Just announcing this while I have a moment to breathe. I will have to extend this Chapter an extra 24hrs, like the previous Chapter, due to work commitments. Sorry guys and gals.

Depends on the circumstances, really. I won't guarantee that every time a Surge is used, it will appear in the write up. However if you see something unusual happen that can only be explained with a Surge, then you can probably interpret that's why. See above.

Protects will be mentioned in the write up, yes.

Let me quote the rules in the home thread real quick. Second sentence states that Dustbringer's kill their targets with fire. So if a player dies from something other than being set aflame, it was the Unjust.

What you see is what you get. I will add "Let Justice be done" in Rae's death scene to make it clear that it was the Unjust that killed her

Before. Arrests will never act as a roleblock.