Amanuensis

CHAPTER THREE Ashetvl has been arrested. She was guilty of Mutiny, Smuggling, and Multiple Counts of Theft! Two Bonds have been formed! Thanks to ya'll having the interrogation figured out as soon as you did, I managed to get this write up knocked out super early, so if anyone's awake still, enjoy the extra two hours! This also means I should be able to get the GM PMs out fast. If you can't be bothered to read the entire write up, I recommend you read the third part (that's right, there's only three this time, though I don't think the write up is much shorter than the rest), as it describes the scene in which your characters will be interacting this time. I know a few people have been looking forward to this scene, so I hope you all enjoy it! Note that I planned on writing the Chasmfiend death scene myself, but if you all want to finish it off before the next Chapter and start a dance party on its corpse, feel free. Anyway, have fun! And good luck. VOTE TALLY (1) TheSilverDragon: Hemalurgic_Headshot, (1) Quiver: Alvron, (5) AliasSheep: Jondesu, A Joe in the Bush, Magestar, Assassin in Burgundy, Drake Marshall, (1) Jondesu: TheMightyLopen, (1) Alvron: Arinian, (1) Arinian: DroughtBringer, (1) Ecthelion III: Arraenae, (1) TheMightyLopen: Ecthelion III, INITIATES A Joe in the Bush as Jonly Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade Jondesu as Kintas randuir as Ranatar Hemalurgic_Headshot as Sareth-son-Erneth TheSilverDragon as Rea Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless Arinian as Arionium JUQ as Hess Quiver as Veriq Shqueeves as Leif Doc12 as Hithon Magestar as Balthazar Arraenae as Ralaani TheMightyLopen as Shinon Drake Marshall as Teresh The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet Alvron as Naihar DroughtBringer as Petrik Darkness Ascendant as The Phantom Stranger & Hashiv Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu PRISONERS Ashetvl, Guilty of Mutiny, Smuggling, and Multiple Counts of Theft. CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate COUNTDOWN Chapter Three will end on Tuesday, February 14th, at 0400 EST. Chapter Four will begin approximately 2 hours later.

Shadesmar really was a beautiful place, Jasnah reflected, whenever she wasn’t busy running for her life. In her right hand she held an enormous glass bead. Age, here, seemed to equal size, as the orb containing the ancient road that stretched from Northgrip to Kholinar could hardly fit in her palm. Holding onto it for dear life, she sprinted across a bridge of glass beads just like it, clinging to one another, falling apart behind her and reforming ahead, as she fed it with stormlight. In her left hand she held the backpack that the highspren had lent her. It was a sacred relic, apparently. A gift from a god who once visited their city, seeking answers and offering some of his own. For a sacred relic, though, it was very nondescript. Dull brown and tattered, but thankfully whole enough to protect the dozens of infused spheres nestled within. She had the generosity of Herdaz to thank for those. If not for their kindness she wouldn’t have been able to return to this place to hasten her journey. While the other side might have been a little safer, assuming she didn’t run into too many of those cursed Voidbringers, it would have taken her days to travel as far as she had in the last hour alone, Stalkers chasing her or not. “Are they ever,” Jasnah panted, “going to give up?” Ivory, her spren that resembled a man made of ink, ran alongside her. He looked at her, then, if what he did could be described as looking. At the very least, his blank face tilted towards her, and though no lips parted, he spoke. “Not until you stop being afraid, Jasnah,” he said, the words slipping over her ears like oil. “Afraid?” Jasnah tried to laugh, though it came out more like a gasp of exasperation. Even if she wanted to renounce it, she had to admit, those things were frightening. Besides the unnatural shape of their lithe, violet bodies, and their jagged claws and bloody fangs, the way they moved without making any sound was disheartening at best, and terrifying at worst. At least with the Grinders she could hear how far away they were as she ran. With the Stalkers, she could only use sight to judge the distance, and considering how fast they traversed this plane, it was much too risky to look back. This road wasn’t exactly the most stable, either. Not only did the beads merge together imperfectly, forcing her to be careful where she placed her feet so that she wouldn’t trip, but it also took a lot of mental strength to keep the beads fused together. Even the slightest distraction could cause them to crumble beneath her. Seriously. How could she not be afraid, in a scenario like this? In here she couldn’t turn Ivory into a Shardblade, and his own sword wasn’t very effective, given that it was made of the same inky substance as his flesh. Soulcasting didn’t work the same in Shadesmar, either. Perhaps if she had a bead containing a weapon, she could pull it into this place… but no. She’d either drown or be ripped to shreds before she could find one, and doing that would use up so much of her Stormlight, she might be stranded in this place again. For the first time in three years, Jasnah was absolutely clueless. That, perhaps, was even more frightening than her pursuers. How long could she go on like this? Forever, she supposed, so long as she had the Stormlight, but she was beginning to realize that infused spheres couldn’t heal her mental exhaustion. A chase like this might not have been demanding on her spirit, but… A wail that sounded like a long, drawn out bark reverberated through the air, shaking the beads beneath her. The call sounded different where the sea-was-land, but she recognized it instantly. Grinder. “Harmmore…” Ivory muttered at her side. “You’re really not helping, you know? Where the braize is it, anyway?” As if on cue, the beast burst from the sea of beads ahead of her. It was an ugly thing, bulbous and orange with a mouth that was little more than a gaping, black hole. While the Grinder couldn’t consume the beads, Ivory had explained during her first encounter with the creature, they had no trouble devouring other spren, nor would it a fleshling like her. “Ivory? Please tell me the Stalkers are gone!” Jasnah demanded in a panic. In her peripherals she saw Ivory’s top half turn completely around, despite his legs still facing the front and running with the same intensity. “Oh.” Ivory replied nonchalantly. “Oh?” Jasnah exclaimed, hopeful. “Oh, as in, oh, you’ve attracted three more.” This time her gasp of exasperation came out as a laugh. “For what it’s worth,” Jasnah said as she began to slow down. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. If I give up now, is there any way you can escape?” “Give up… oh!” Ivory yelled before skidding to a halt. “Oh?” Jasnah sighed, resigned. “Oh! As in, oh, Grinders and Stalkers hate each other.” “So what you’re saying is…?” Jasnah struggled to catch her breath as she halted by his side. Together they looked back and forth between the spren. A pair of tasty prey caught between several hungry predators. “Jump!” they shouted at once, leaping into the sea of beads. As soon as she splashed into the ocean, Jasnah willed herself to sink faster, and miraculously she did. Above her, the lone Grinder and the pack of Stalkers crashed into each other, causing the glass beads to recoil with a shriek. Jasnah was drowning, though fortunately for Ivory, he had no nose or mouth to let the beads in. Like before, she clasped her hands around her face and blew outward to clear out her windpipe, but the beads were many and so desperate to get inside her, to feed on her light. Worse, when she jumped, she had lost the orb containing the old road. Fortunately she still held the bag, it’s strap now fastened around her shoulder, so she wasn’t entirely helpless. Desperate, she searched the beads around her for the giant orb, rummaging through spheres that contained little more than cracked rocks and blades of grass. Before she knew it, the darkness was upon her again. The Stormlight would keep her alive, sure, but it couldn’t keep her lungs filled with air. If she didn’t find something useful soon, she would fall unconscious, and once that happened… There! Reaching out, she grasped a bead not much larger than a broam, eager to feed this one light. The orbs of glass that had nearly suffocated her were leaving now, coalescing in her hand to form the wheel of a wagon. On Roshar it couldn’t do much on its own, but here in Shadesmar, things behaved differently. It knew instinctively that it had to move and so it did, dragging her up towards the surface. Jasnah burst out of the land-made-sea, the vicious spren battling behind her, not that she bothered to acknowledge it beyond the Grinder’s cries of pain. Keeping her head above the surface, she continued to command the wheel to move. Further and further until eventually… Kholinar. Ashetvl whimpered. She was beaten. Bruised. The Highstorm had been relentless. More so than Tanb had ever been, when he was drunk and desperate to prove a point. This is my ship! Mine! I am the Captain, and you! Must! Listen! She closed her eyes then, just as she closed them now. The pain was too much. She could hardly breathe. Ashetvl could have sworn she saw Tanb’s face in the darkness, staring at her with hatred burning in his eyes. Not just hatred for what she had done, but hatred for what she was, inside. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t. Ignorant, backwater men like him… they despised things they couldn’t wrap their simple heads around. That was what Ashetvl had to tell herself to ease the pain. Breathe. She had to breathe. Once she did, all the agony would get washed away. She would be reborn again. Made into what she always knew she was. What she always wanted to be. “Last night, an Initiate died.” Ashetvl retreated so much into herself, she didn’t even notice the storm had stopped, or that the man who condemned her to this fate had returned. Not that she could blame him. Unlike Tanb, she understood. He was trying to cull the weak. “Or, should I say, an Initiate was murdered, as his eyes now resemble smoldering coals.” She didn’t hear the words. Not exactly. She gasped for breath, but the Highstorm was over and there were no spheres here. Her wounds would not mend. “Highprince Dalinar is convinced at least one person here was involved. Under normal circumstances, we would cease all training, but as you all know, these are desperate times, and thus we cannot afford to stop for anything. As such, he has given me permission to make your lives a living hell until all those who are responsible are found.” That was it. She was being punished for being stupid and weak. How could she ever expect to become a Knight? For a day, perhaps two, she almost believed she was chosen. But then she spoke to Shallan, and her resolve was shattered, irreversibly, just like that. “So take the day off to talk amongst yourselves. And don’t worry, you won’t have to leave this wonderfully frigid rain for a second. In fact, my Squires will be waiting just inside to make sure you have all the time you need to come clean.” What did they want from her? She was only a girl, but they expected her to brave Highstorms, and only the Almighty knows what else. “Enjoy, Initiates, and please, try not to get too sick. I’ve got big plans for you all tomorrow. Plans as big as a greatshell, in fact.” Ashetvl shuddered. Inside and out, the agony was too great. There was silence for awhile, other than the rain falling, the wind blowing, and her endless sobbing. With time, though, the others began to speak, although their voices sounded so far away. At least until someone approached her. “Hey… Ashetvl, was it? Are you okay?” The man touched her shoulder and she recoiled, though the rope she had tied around her waist only tugged her back to where she sat. She hadn’t spoken with Kintas before, but she remembered his name from the day they swore the First Ideal. “Get away from me!” she cried. The tears kept streaming, obscuring his face with the gray sky behind him. Fortunately he did, though there was hesitance in his departure. She just wanted to be alone. Couldn’t they see that? She wasn’t strong enough for this. Again, silence. Her outburst had quieted the others, it seemed. But after a few minutes, someone else had called her name, though growled would have been a more appropriate word for the way he spoke. “Our mutual friend Kintas believes you to be Lomot’s murderer, but since he isn’t willing to convince others to arrest you, I’ll do it for him.” He couldn’t be serious, could he? Her? A murderer? But the truth was, her hands were stained with blood. Perhaps not Lomot’s, but another's. Not even a Highstorm could wash her clean. Even if Ashetvl wanted to defend herself, she couldn’t cease weeping enough to respond. Perhaps if she just kept ignoring them, they’d go away. Instead, more just chimed in. Balthazar didn’t speak to her. He wasn’t even accusing her, it seemed. Instead, he offered her an opportunity. An out. Maybe he realized just how broken she was. That she couldn’t handle this. She might have thanked the man, if she had not been in so much pain. Araon, too, wanted to get rid of her, though his reasoning didn’t sound as generous, or pleasant. Eventually Uther agreed too, though not for her sake, but the sake of the rest. “So? What have you learned?” That was Dalinar’s voice. When did the Highprince arrive? Ashetvl wasn’t the only one who didn’t see him. Startled by the stern voice booming from just behind him, Hithon jumped. “Brightlord!” he said instinctively. “I… we haven’t learned much, sir. But Ashetvl there… she’s not doing well. We suspect the shock of the Highstorm might have gotten to her, but-” “-Don’t worry, Hithon,” the Highprince cut him off. “I’ll take it from here.” Footsteps that crashed as heavy as boulders. A sigh like a quiet before a storm. The air felt heavier. Tense. “Ashetvl. Is there something you’d like to tell me?” This is my ship! Mine! I am the Captain, and you! Must! Listen! No… Look at me! Ashetvl yelled. Look at me! She screamed. I am the Captain now! “I… I…” she stammered, trying to find her voice. When she did, the truth came out in a rush. “I can’t do this, Brightlord. I’m no Radiant. Six months ago, I was working as a sailor. I… convinced my crewmates to mutiny. We killed our Captain, and threw his corpse overboard. I thought I could control them, but I was wrong. They started doing terrible things. Smuggling drugs, criminals. Even robbed a fisherman blind on the open ocean, once, and left him at sea without a sail or a paddle to starve. Eventually I got away… stole some of their wealth, but only so that I could survive. But then I was robbed by bandits, and… and…” Ashetvl stopped to take a breath. There was one more truth she had to admit, but she couldn’t. The pain was too much. The world went black. When she woke up, she found herself in a makeshift cell, lit by mundane lamps rather than with Stormlight. It seemed they had brought her near a few spheres. Enough to heal her serious wounds, but not enough to banish it altogether. She deserved it all. The pain, the loneliness. Curling into herself, Ashetvl whimpered. Kaladin was the first to exit the Oathgate, though it wasn’t his first trip that morning. Earlier, while the Initiates slept off yesterday’s trial, he had come here with his Squires to prepare for the next event. It wasn’t easy, subduing a greatshell without wounding it so much that it had no fight in it left. If not for Adolin and Elhokar he might not have managed it at all, but they knew what they were doing when it came to arranging these sorts of hunts. Only this wouldn’t go down like the ones they were used to. It would be more like the last one the royal family went on together, when the chasmfiend broke free and nearly killed the King. This time the chasmfiend would be allowed free. And instead of an army and a small entourage of Shardbearers, it would be fought by Initiates, equipped with whatever ordinary weapons they favored. They were nervous. At least those with any sense left in them. Kaladin had fought a Chasmfiend on his own, once. Syl was gone, then, nearly dead, but at least he had Shallan’s Shardblade to fight with. It made cutting through the creature a breeze. This battle… it would be anything but. When they came to Urithiru, they had teleported atop the platform, but this time Kaladin wanted to show them the inner chamber of the Oathgate. He made sure to demonstrate how it could only work with a living Shardblade, meaning that none of them would be able to operate it on their own. He had an ulterior motive, of course. Perhaps if he showed Lomot’s murderer how to use it, they would reveal themselves by trying it themselves. Dalinar had ordered his best scouts to watch the devices day and night for that very reason, in fact. Rising into the daylight, Kaladin took a deep breath of fresh air. “These Shattered Plains, they made me into the man you see now. During my time as a bridgeman in Sadeas’ army, those winding chasms were as much my home as the Warcamps. Back then, I hated them. We all hated them, in fact,” he said, gesturing to Teft and Skar, who were waiting ahead, heels on the ledge, “but now we love them as much as our mothers and fathers…” and brothers, too, he thought sadly, “for they helped shape us into something greater.” At the edge of the crem-crusted platform, Kaladin came to attention before his Squires. They saluted him, and he saluted back. “You know what to do.” With a nod, the two men straightened, then leaned back. Their heels tipped over first, and then they were gone. Vanished beneath the edge on which they stood. Boots stomped and greaves scraped as the Initiates surrounded Kaladin to look at where his Squires went. They were falling towards the ancient city, Stormseat, that rested below, trailing light as they plummeted at a breakneck pace. As they approached the ground, however, they began to slow down and spin until finally they landed, feet first, with a graceful bow. Kaladin grinned proudly. His Squires were learning. Soon enough he’d have friends to ride the winds with. Needless to say, he couldn’t wait. Teft and Skar were already running. Towards what, the Initiates did not know quite yet, though he could tell they had their suspicions. What else could be writhing beneath a tent so large, held up by ropes tied to a pair of leaning towers that in their day would have been as tall as the plateaus themselves? There certainly weren’t many options… “Don’t suppose any of you have seen one of those up close, have you?” Reaching the tent at a sprint, Teft and Skar leaped with so much strength that they cleared the height of it with ease. Grabbing and pulling at the cloth, they ran across the top of whatever was moving beneath it, slowly revealing its gigantic claws, its spidery legs, and its flat face with its beady eyes and razor-sharp mandibles. Atop the tilted towers, Drehy and Leyten stepped out, walking straight despite the pull of gravity, and cut the ropes binding the monster with their spears. A minute later, the chasmfiend was free. Free, and very, very angry, given how quickly it swiped at one of the towers, knocking it down and forcing Leyten to jump away for safety. Looking around, Kaladin had to fight to hide his amusement. Though a lot of them wore brave faces, that didn’t stop the awe from shining in their eyes, or the fearspren from crawling out of the ground where they stood. A few of them even shook their heads, maybe to answer his question, but perhaps also in disbelief. “Well then I guess today is our lucky day. Cause not only are we seeing one of them up close. We get to kill one!” Most of them didn't seem to like that, though Kaladin was glad to see a few of them were eager. “Did I say we? I meant you all, of course. My Squires and I are only here to supervise.” Beside him, one of the Initiates gulped, so Kaladin decided to grab their shoulder reassuringly. “No better way to build teamwork than to face adversity together. Am I right?” he asked no one in particular. No one answered, anyway. “In case you’re all wondering how you’re getting down there, well… I hope you listened when I said to bring every infused sphere you own, because trust me. You’re going to need a lot to survive this drop.” Feeling the Initiate tremble in his grip, Kaladin let his smile grow wide, unable to fight the urge any longer. When he pushed the Initiate over the edge and turned to face the others, his smile grew even wider. He learned this one watching Zahel as he mentored Renarin. Only it wasn’t a Shardplate’s limits the Initiates had to get comfortable with, but their own. “So,” he said, scanning the faces of the others, taking note of those who backed away from him and those who remained at arm’s length. “Who’s next?”

Chapter Two is now closed. Chapter Three shall begin... well. Right now!

Another late night reminder from your friendly neighborhood GM that the turn will be closing soon. If you haven't earned all your Honor yet or put in your order for where you want it to go, you've got a little over three hours left to do it! See? Even the countdown timer agrees.

I will. Anyone who is free counts.

Negative. No inactivity filter in this game.

I may have just realized I made a mistake in the initial thread regarding win conditions. Here's what they actually are (if there's a mod who can edit it in for me) In order for the Honorable to win, all of the Unjust must be imprisoned or executed. In order for the Unjust to win, their free members must outnumber the free Honorable.

Strikethrough, maybe

Vote tallies, no. Votes, yes, though only if there's some explanation for them (yours is fine) For this game, only the Dustbringer has a specific condition. However thanks for the idea for Honorspren. I'll make sure to use that in this games sequel. In other games you would use green text to retract a vote. That does not apply in this game. To retract a vote, you just have to place a vote on someone else. Kolo?

I have finally got around to the GM PMs. If I missed you, please send me a message there. Thanks.

Thank you very much, sir

All draws will result in nothing happening. The Knights Radiant must be decisive.

CHAPTER TWO Lomot has been murdered. He was an Honorable Initiate! I finished the write up early so I decided to give ya'll some extra time (if any of you are even awake at this hour). I will have to reply to the GM PMs a little bit later because I have work to do, but given there's no powers involved this game yet, take solace knowing anything you did do was successful. Note that, with Lomot's death, ya'll are free to accuse one another all you want. Since no one is imprisoned, that means you can only vote on who to interrogate for now. If you can't be bothered to read the entire write up, I recommend you read the fourth part, at the very least, as it describes the scene in which your characters will be interacting. Feel free to take some creative liberties with it, if you wish, as I've not given nearly as many details as there should be. I have a feeling I'll be saying that last part a lot. Hah. Also, as a disclaimer. Any events I've portrayed this game so far are purely fan fiction, for the purposes of the game, and have no real life implications beyond the story. INITIATES A Joe in the Bush as Jonly Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade Jondesu as Kintas randuir as Ranatar Hemalurgic_Headshot as Sareth-son-Erneth TheSilverDragon as Rea Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless Arinian as Arionium JUQ as Hess Quiver as Veriq Shqueeves as Leif Doc12 as Hithon Magestar as Balthazar Arraenae as Ralaani TheMightyLopen as Shinon Drake Marshall as Teresh AliasSheep as Ashetvl The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet Alvron as Naihar DroughtBringer as Petrik Darkness Ascendant as The Phantom Stranger & Hashiv Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu CASUALTIES Lomot the Honorable Initiate COUNTDOWN Chapter Two will end on Saturday, February 11th, at 0400 EST. Chapter Three will begin 2 hours later.

More overwhelmed than he was on that very first day, Adolin continued to wander the dark halls of Urithiru for several hours of the night. As of yesterday, the scouts had finished exploring the tower, although they had not yet begun rummaging through all the rooms for artifacts. At least not all of them, Adolin hoped, though he was certain that a few were looting whatever they could find, especially those belonging to Sadeas, Ruthar or Bethab. Well, belonged to Sadeas, he should think. Adolin still found it difficult believing that monster was finally dead, despite being the one who killed him. It wasn’t guilt, exactly, that made it hard for him to accept. Since the Battle of the Tower, Adolin was always worried about what Sadeas had planned for his father next. Not even feeling the man’s body slacken beneath him or watching his Blade coalesce by his side could alleviate that terrible feeling in Adolin’s gut that Sadeas wasn’t through with them quite yet. Truth be told, Adolin didn’t feel guilty for killing the man at all. As he explained to Kaladin the very same night, he knew in his heart that what he done was right. His only regret now was that he still hadn’t found the courage to tell his father what happened. Perhaps if tonight hadn’t been so important for his dad… But no. That was just an excuse, and Adolin knew it. Something else was keeping him from approaching his father, though he wasn’t sure what that might be. How could a man be so confident about his decision, yet so clueless on what he should do next? Is that… a Herald? Adolin recognized the man in the portrait, despite this depiction looking unlike any he had seen before. The Nalan’elin in this picture was still a youth. Not too much younger than Adolin was now, in fact. His skin - save for that pale, hooked crescent that marred his cheek - was dark not from the shadows cast by his hood, but from many long days in the sun. Rather than a stern expression, he wore a look of innocence upon his face, his cheeks round, his smile rounder. He was neither bare chested or wearing a military uniform, like he was always portrayed, the sleeveless robes draped over his shoulders bearing wrinkles and stains that an elder Herald of Justice could never tolerate, not in himself or his subordinates. It had to be a work of fiction. Maybe an artist from the Heraldic Epoch had wondered the type of people the Herald’s would have been, had their world not been ravaged by countless Desolations. “In case you’re curious,” a voice echoed out of the darkness, “I cannot remember those days very well. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t so long ago that I left my home behind. I suppose fled would be a more fitting term, though that might imply that I had committed some kind of sin, which in my many years of life, I can honestly say I’ve never even come close to considering.” Adolin was tense, his heart beating faster and faster in a vain attempt to catch up with his thoughts. As his Shardblade dropped into his flexed hand, his eyes searched the shadows desperately for whoever had found him. The man's calm, emotionless voice was impossible to pinpoint, however, and the shadows did not stir as he spoke. “Tell me, young prince,” the voice continued. “Are you willing to kill a man just to keep your sins a secret?” In his heart, Adolin knew the answer. Not that he would speak it aloud for a stranger. “Who are you?” he asked instead. Rather than answer, the man only laughed. Like his words, it was cold and empty, though it did seem a bit louder in one direction than any other. Spinning, Adolin raised his Blade towards the darkness from whence it came. “Show yourself, coward!” Hands clasped behind his back and a mien so confident he that Adolin's blade might as well have been a stick, Nalan’elin, Herald of Justice, stepped into the lamplight. Although the Herald did not smile, he seemed to be amused by Adolin’s choice in words. “I think we both know which one of us is the true coward, young prince.” Adolin shivered. This had to be a nightmare. Fighting Voidbringers was one thing. The Knights Radiant returning was another. But meeting a Herald… that was just insane, wasn’t it? “You have nothing to fear, young prince. Put away your weapon. I only wish to talk.” Reluctantly Adolin lowered his Blade, though he was not quite ready to dismiss it. For all the Herald’s talk of sin and secrets, there was still a chance he came to bring Adolin to justice, just as Adolin had done to Sadeas. Still not glancing at Adolin’s weapon, Nalan waved a hand, his own Shardblade manifesting. Resting its flat against his shoulder, he rubbed the hilt casually with his thumb. “For my own protection,” he explained, not that he seemed bothered by Adolin’s still-hostile stance. “So?” the Herald asked after a long, awkward moment of silence. “You still haven’t answered me, young prince. Are you willing to kill a man just to keep your sins a secret?” Taking a deep breath, Adolin finally tore his eyes away from the Nalan’s Shardblade. “No,” he answered and nearly said more, but noticing that the Herald was anticipating it, he decided not to say anything just to spite him. “You’re easier to read than you think,” Nale began. “I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but you were right, killing Sadeas. That man was a monster wearing a man’s flesh. I would have dispensed of him myself if I didn’t have higher priorities to take care of. So, firstly, I want to thank you. You did well. “Of course, giving thanks was not the reason I came here. This might come as a surprise, but occasionally we immortals have business with you regular folk. So there I am, passing orders to my apprentices, when I hear that someone has executed a Highprince, and that it was none of them. Naturally I just had to find out who was responsible. And guess what I found? “A prince’s side knife, so carelessly forgotten in the brain of one Torol Sadeas. Very incriminating evidence, that. I told myself it would be a shame if the wrong person found it. So, being the right person, I freed it from his head, wiped it clean, and now deliver it to its rightful owner, at absolutely no cost.” Half-expecting the Herald to stab him, Adolin gazed warily at Nalan’s hand. Unconcerned by its sharp edge, the immortal held the knife loosely by its blade. Instead of taking it, Adolin just had to know. “Why?” “Why what?” the Herald asked, face as rigid as stone. “Why me?” A flash of something shone in the Herald's eyes and, suddenly, Adolin regretted asking the question. “Because you remind me of myself. Or, rather, the man I used to be,” he said, gaze shifting slightly towards the the portrait hanging upon the wall beside them, before drifting back down at his hand. “Well?” Swallowing hard, Adolin grabbed his side knife, still without dismissing his Blade, and then sheathed it at his waist. “I’ll be watching you, young prince,” Nalan said as he retreated into the shadows, his voice becoming an indistinct echo once again. “Oh, and try not to do anything I wouldn’t. Next time we meet, I’d prefer us to be friends. Not enemies.” Once certain that he was alone, Adolin finally let his Blade dissolve into mist. He no longer felt up to wandering, and so finally decided to retire to his chambers, a lone question ringing in his head while he tried desperately to sleep. What was he? Lomot was drunk. But how? The whole night he had only taken from the bowl with the orange wine. Not once did he taste the faintest hint of alcohol, and yet he knew this feeling. Despite years of abstinence, he realized it immediately. Stumbling alone through the dark halls of Urithiru, searching for his assigned quarters, he desperately retraced the events of the night with hopes of finding the answer. Had he set his drink down, only to pick up another’s glass? No. He was sure that wasn’t the case, as each wine had its own unique flavor. And besides. He had a glass to wash down his dinner and another two to quench his thirst while talking to Shallan Davar and several of his fellow Initiates. Not even violet wine could get him so drunk with so little. Maybe someone had slipped something tasteless into his drink? Some kind of drug that could mimic the sensation of being drunk… but to what purpose? That thought alone made him feel sick. Next thing Lomot knew, he was on his knees. His stomach churned and he retched, spewing half-digested chunks of meat, vegetable and bread on the ground between his sprawled hands. Up! Run! a voice told him. You. Must. Run! He already had a migraine, but that buzzing made his head ache even worse. From the shadows, a figure manifested, tall and dressed in a black and silver uniform that wasn’t so different than the ones Dalinar had issued to the Initiates. “Feeling ill?” the man said, his voice ice cold and crystal clear. “Yes,” Lomot groaned, then coughed a few times as his stomach decided to finish emptying itself on the floor. “I think I’m lost. Can you help me find my chamber?” he asked, dry heaved, then added: “Please?” Around! Turn! Run! Storms, how that voice grated his brain. “No. You are well beyond helping, Lomot. Or would you prefer I use your real name?” For the first time, Lomot - no, Tomol - looked up at the man’s face. It was dark, especially beneath his hood, but his skin, particularly the white birthmark on his cheek, was glowing just a little. “Apprentice. Please recite this man’s crimes, for the rest to witness.” “Tomol Sadeas,” a disembodied voice began in an unpracticed tone of officiality, “is guilty of criminal battery, on two counts. First, in the administering of a noxious substance to render his victim incapable of consent, and second, in the intentional infliction of both physical and emotional injury upon his victim.” “Tomol, what say you to these charges?” the Herald of Justice asked airily. “I…” Tomol choked on the words. His bowels roiled for some more food to vomit. “I was wrong," he admitted and then, suddenly, his mind found clarity. "Absolutely and irrevocably, I was wrong. I was young and dumb, influenced by the wrong kind of crowd… but no, those are only excuses, and there are none for what I did. That is why I fled from home. Why I dyed my hair blonde. Why I changed my name. I haven’t even touched alcohol since that day. Surely you can see that? See all of the progress I have made?” Please, the buzzing returned. Run. Please… “Yes. You have come far, indeed. But tell me. What happened to your… victim?” “Eren?” Tomol asked. “I… I don’t know.” “She’s dead,” another disembodied voice answered. “Unable to cope with the trauma, Eren Leiken committed suicide. All because of you, Tomol.” “No…” “Yes. Tomol Sadeas, you were an accomplice to murder,” Nalan’elin steeled his voice as he tightened his gloves, one at a time. He didn’t even seem to notice Tomol’s relentless sobbing. The Initiate could hardly breathe. “Let it be witnessed that I, Nin, have declared this man a sinner in the Eyes of the Almighty. Let Justice be done.” “Let Justice be done,” several disembodied voices said, seemingly all around Tomol, in unison. “Er- en…” the name escaped desperately between a pair of whimpers. I’m so, so sorry. The world burned around him, though strange enough, it started from within. Me. Too. GATHERING THEM LIKE THIS. I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE. “Who did this?” Dalinar asked. Not to the rumbling thunder of the Stormfather, but to the only man he trusted more than his own children. THE RIGHTEOUS, the Stormfather scoffed. “I don’t know, sir,” Kaladin replied. “But I intend to find out.” Crouched on the floor besides the body of Lomot, surrounded by a pool of blood and vomit, the Squire, Teft, examined the corpse thoughtfully. Oddly enough, he did not seem affected by the gory scene. This man had seen worse things before, Dalinar was certain. “You know what this means, don’t you?” the Squire asked, pointing at Lomot’s burned-out-eyes. “That there’s a rogue Shardbearer in Urithiru who’s not happy about me refounding the Knights Radiant,” Dalinar answered, unhesitant. “Or,” Kaladin interjected, “someone with a spren and a grudge.” “You can’t be serious,” Dalinar said, though Stormblessed’s tone wasn’t anything but. “You know as well as I do, only a living Shardblade can start the lift, and there’s no other way, apart from flying, to reach this floor. It certainly wasn’t any of us,” Kaladin said, referring to Dalinar, Renarin, Shallan and himself, “and that leaves only the Initiates.” “And what about your Squires?” Dalinar asked, prompting Teft to look at him questioningly. “If it was them, I would know it immediately. I can feel them, sir, and the power flowing through me to them. If one of them did something like this, they would be cut off from it for sure. Besides, they have no spren of their own, and hear the screams of the dead just like us." “I know, I know” the Highprince said with a sigh. “I just find it hard to believe that any potential Radiant could do, well… this,” he gestured towards Lomot's remains. “Do you think it’s possible one of them could have reached the Third Ideal already?” “Certainly. From what Shallan’s told me, she could transform her spren into a Shardblade at the age of eleven. Who knows how long these Initiates have been attracting their spren? Though they may act like breathing Stormlight is something new, we cannot rule out the possibility of them pretending.” Dalinar didn’t like this. Not at all. Thinking back, his conversation with Wit did seem a bit off, as if the man knew that something was going to go wrong tonight. He’d have to find Wit again to once again ask what he knew. If he was somehow involved… Dalinar’s conversation with Sigzil seemed even worse now, too. “How does this affect your training regime?” “Well, sir, that depends on you,” Kaladin answered, then held out two hands before him. “The way I see it, we have two choices. One, we delay our plans and invest all of our resources into performing extensive background investigations on the Initiates,” he said as he rose one hand in the air and dropped the other. “This option would probably allow us to find the culprit, or culprits, relatively quick.” “But?” “But, in your very own words, sir: The Everstorm is upon us, and it is worse than we feared. The Voidbringers have returned, and every day we waste not training them is a day that they can wreak havoc throughout Roshar.” “And our other option?” Kaladin swapped hands, raising his left and lowering his right. “We go on as planned, except that we make what happened here known, and ask them to watch each other closely. If an Initiate does something suspicious, they bring it to our attention, and we can decide what to do from there.” “But wouldn’t that destroy any semblance of trust they might have for one another?” “Perhaps. But in my experience with the military, that seldom happens. To put it in perspective, during my initial training in Amaram’s army,” Kaladin paused after uttering the man’s name, trying, and failing, to hide the malice behind it, “my squad leader had discovered stolen food from the camp’s mess in our barracks. Unsure of who had taken it, he set us against each other to find the thief. In the beginning things were tense, but as the days passed and our squad leader deliberately made our training more difficult, the boy responsible gave in and admitted his indiscretion.” “So, you think it could work in this situation, too?” “Well, that was minor theft, while this is murder. I doubt a murderer would come forward as easily, but I’m certain that over time, the pressure would cause them to crack, and the more eyes we have searching for those cracks, the better.” “For what it’s worth,” Teft said, rising from his haunches, “I agree with the Captain. This sort of tactic has torn ordinary squads apart before, but the ones who did manage to succeed always came out better than they would otherwise. And this is a group of almost-Radiants we’re talking about, here. “Besides, myself and the other Squires will be supervising their training as well. While we teach them how to fight and wield their newfound powers, we can watch for anything suspicious as well.” “Very well, then. So we shall proceed according to the schedule?” Dalinar asked, still exasperated by the situation, but satisfied with their decision. “Well… not exactly,” Kaladin replied. “Teft. Fetch the other Squires. I think it’s time we put the fear of the Almighty into our new recruits.” Going stiff, Teft saluted Kaladin with his wrists crossed and shouted “Yes sir!” before running down to where Drehy and Skar had posted for security. Urithiru was in chaos. Atop the tower, Kaladin stood, facing eastward as a Highstorm rapidly approached. Despite the rumbling in the distance, he could hear his Squires screaming at the Initiates to wake up, get dressed, and hurry to the roof. Even Rock was helping, though instead of yelling, he preferred to beat on a massive cookpot only a Horneater could lift without Shardplate. By the time each and every one of the Initiates had been rounded up on the roof, the Stormwall was nearly upon them. Exactly twenty two ropes had been firmly knotted to a series of loops that would - hopefully - not be torn loose by the Highstorm when it hit. “You all have about five minutes to brace yourselves!” Kaladin yelled to the Initiates, his wide back facing them, his voice being carried to them by the wind. A few were confused, even more were frightened. At least one had attempted to climb back down the stairs, but the entrance had been sealed off by Teft already. Bound by a Full Lashing, the doorway would not budge. “Four minutes!” Kaladin shouted louder, and at once, every Initiate scrambled for a rope to tie to their waist. “Good luck,” Kaladin told them, smiling, as the Stormwall crashed into the city. They wouldn’t be able to see him, now, but he had just taken flight. The last time he rode a storm like this, he was fighting for his life against the Assassin in White. This time, he aimed to have a little fun. He was a Windrunner, after all, and run the wind he did. When he returned, the Riddens was in full effect. All twenty-two of the remaining Initiates were alive, if not a little worse for wear. Any serious injuries that might have been inflicted would already have healed, thanks to the Stormlight they could all breathe. Unfortunately for them, it couldn’t repair their uniforms, but that was a part of Kaladin’s plan. No better way to instill pride and discipline in a soldier than to make them frequently care for their own equipment. That would have to wait for later, however, for there were more critical problems to address. “Last night, an Initiate died,” Kaladin declared, watching the crowd for reactions. “Or, should I say, an Initiate was murdered, considering his eyes now resemble smoldering coals,” he paused to let that sink in. “Highprince Dalinar is convinced at least one person here was involved. Under normal circumstances, we would cease all training, but as you all know, these are desperate times, and thus we cannot afford to stop for anything. As such, he has given me permission to make your lives a living hell until all those who are responsible are found. “So, take the day off to talk amongst yourselves. And don’t worry, you won’t have to leave this wonderfully frigid rain for a second. In fact, my Squires will be waiting just inside to make sure you have all the time you need to come clean. “Enjoy, Initiates, and please, try not to get too sick. I’ve got big plans for you all tomorrow. Plans as big as a greatshell, in fact,” Kaladin finished with a laugh before diving off the ledge and falling into the sky above.

Chapter One is now closed. Chapter Two shall begin in 2 hours.

Ah, I see what you mean. Yes, if you ask me in PMs I will inform you, but I won't make it clear in thread.

Only one Radiant can exist at a time.

Afraid not, since the more honor you invest in a specific spren, the better chance you'll have of snagging it, in the case that multiple players qualify.

If a Bond is formed with a spren you have allocated points towards, you will receive a message stating "You feel that a Bond has formed, though you do not know with who." This will not clarify which spren or which player, so in the case that you invest 4 points in a valorspren and 2 in a honorspren by the time you get this message, you won't be able to tell which of the two powers it is.

You will not, no. Players will only ever know where their own Honor is being put, unless informed by another player themselves. If a single post contains both discussion and RP, I will count it as one of each, yes.

It has been answered. Whenever a bond is formed or broken (for other means than death) it will be announced in thread. It will look something like this. A Bond has been formed. Or... Three Bonds have been formed. Or... A Bond has been broken. And of course this means that the public will not one which specific Radiants have been made when they are.

That's entirely up to the players. The way I view it is how honest or deceitful you (and your character) want to be. Most people have thoughts that are too personal or embarrassing to share in public, and in the case of those with ill intent, some may simply put on a face that directly contradicts what they're actually thinking or feeling, for whatever purpose. I would apply that to these games as well. Also, let's take an example from Words of Radiance. We get many scenes in the perspective of Dalinar, and yet we never know the trick he's been playing on Amaram until the man is finally confronted. So even good men can keep their most important plots under wraps. So, if you personally want game decisions and RP to intermingle, than go for it. If you want to be more cautious or secretive, than feel free. I personally love to see both, and when it comes to me, I enjoy keeping people guessing. My best advice is to just follow your heart. Negative. A maximum of 2 Honor can be earned each Chapter: one from discussion, the other from roleplay.

They do not. It doesn't matter how much words are per post, so long as you get 200 total by the end of the Chapter, and at least two RP posts.

Here's a friendly reminder that Chapter One will be ending in a little less than 8 hours. So if you'd like to post more, or want to put in any orders for Honor allocation this turn, you have until this clock runs out for it to count. Furthermore, I will be amending the rules for earning Honor just a little as well. Only two "discussion posts" will be required a Chapter to earn 1 Honor (a discussion post being defined as something regarding the game itself, not the story, whether it be the players or the mechanics, that responds to another player's post or opens up another player to reply back). In the case of RP posts, if your first contains 168 words, for example, and your second contains 73, I will combine the total value for your required 200 words. I wish I could upvote all your RP, but I'm only allowed 16 a day, so I want to let everyone know how happy I am watching this game unfold. I sincerely hope it keeps up, and for those who have been busy so far, that life allows you a little time to participate as well. So with that being said, thank you all very much.

Reflectionspren can spot Highspren as well, yes. You will be informed. For example: Kaladin has been murdered. He was an Honorable Windrunner! Not that I plan on killing Kaladin, of course