Jazzy Kandra

Actually, now that @Oversleep's mentioned it, I believe that he's right. In the first five chapters of BoM, VenDell and MeLaan talk about how kandra reproduction works. It is never directly stated that there are more mistwraiths, but it is indeed implied: ~BoM, 37-38, kindle edition So, yes, I'll throw in the towel on this one. I hadn't thought about what might happen if the Set were using Trellium spikes to create/raise evil kandra. BUT, it's a lot more plausible that this is the answer, since getting spren/skaze from their worlds would be a pain in the chull and would, probably, require a lot more skill than the Set has (and the right materials) to do so. It also fits with my pet-theory that while Trell is Odium, Odium isn't necessarily involved directly because he's "chained" to the Rosharan star system like Ruin was chained to Scadrian, still. All his actions are still indirect at this point, someone or something else (perhaps one of Odium's bigger spren or some old Scadrian) with plenty of knowledge about the way Hemalurgy works but not enough know-how to make the medallions themselves, is directing the show. ;D I'm not sure what's more troubling: the fact that the Set figured out how to make evil-kandra, or that they would corrupt innocent mistwraiths into such terrible beasts...

Speaking of questions, Brandon is, once again, skillfully coming when I must grade final exams (as has happened pretty much every time he has gone to Chicago in the last few years...) Likely a conspiracy, I think, just to make sure I can't attend (kidding). Anyways, if it's not been asked by this point other than that time it was inevitably RAFO-ed on reddit because certain people were asking to many questions and I don't think he would've answered it on there anyway...hehe, I think it would be grand if one of you could ask about VenDell's coat and Awakening in my absence. While I have a few others, they can wait...for reasons.

Right right. Yeah... I mean, it would ultimately depend on if they have the inclination, but I could imagine them making a picture out of metal like Kelsier does here to troll the nobility. I mean, they would be able to make it using metalminds, where some pieces of metal are more Invested and others are less so, thus appearing only to those with metallic sight as whatever picture they made. I also think they could do cool things with sculptures too or engravings... Making the metallic arts...art. Hehe. Part of me imagines that they might like more abstract art, but who knows.

You can absolutely do so, thank you. @Oversleep It depends, I guess, on lot of things. Inquisitors may not have the same motivations as Kelsier does here...and so, the art would be different based on those motivations and their culture too...

So, this is what happens when Kelsier listens to somebody other than himself...xD I guess he explored the cosmere a bit and learned a bit more about himself in the process or something, seeing as he was all gungho about it by the end of SH and wanted everyone to get involved... *snickers* A fully/somewhat mature Kelsier might be scary but good things can be frightening...(if it is a good thing...lol)

More than ten years after the Wax and Wayne books, Waxillium finds he is not impressed by Modern art. (Canon compliant up to the end of Bands of Mourning and Secret History. AU*). For @Kingsdaughter613; whom requested that I post it here. It is little changed from the original, so all...issues are still there, etc. A/N: With apologies to Duchamp... 000 Wax had agreed to go to the exhibition because he had nothing better to do, and well, Steris had insisted. Rotting at home like a piece of old-furniture under a white sheet was not the way he wanted to spend retirement. Admit it, he thought, examining the gallery of truly...strange...’art’, Steris’ arm wrapped around his; they shuffled throughout the exhibition, abut slowly and stiffly, you’re bored, Wax...and curious. It was like a new mystery, waiting for him to solve it. Rumors abounded at parties and other functions he still found himself attending, the nobility and wealthy whispered about the frightening, sometimes ‘horrifying’ art. They said painters had gone wild. That they used bright colors, strange shapes, and lines of all kinds. Creating ‘abstract’ art (whatever the hell that meant, exactly) of every kind: from ‘landscapes’ to ‘portraits’ to ‘sculptures’. Worse still, were the found objects, things taken from everyday life and then chosen by artists as art. The whole upper-crust of Elendel was in a panic about an art gallery...At first, however, Wax didn’t give a dam-n. He didn’t even like art. Then MeLaan had flung a newspaper in his face (more or less) that morning.(1) He muttered something about being ‘too old for whatever crap she had found,’ She’d responded with a candid reply about her age, which didn’t count, after all, she was an immortal, but Wax hadn’t gotten a word in edge-wise before she pointedly strutted out of the room to talk with Wayne. Wayne had never moved out of Ladrian manor, and when Wayne had married MeLaan...they’d just acquired a new house ‘guest’. Leaning back into his plush chair, Wax had taken a sip of whiskey from the glass the kandra had brought him behind Steris’ back; (his wife insisted that one of the causes of his...health issues...was whiskey, he doubted it, though, chasing after criminals had done hell to the knees and back). Wax glanced down at the newspaper...and stared, blankly at it. There was a photograph of a...urinal on the front-page? He fished for the reading glasses Wayne had given him(2) on the end-table. After sliding them on, Wax squinted. Indeed, an urinal. Wax’s eye twitched. It hadn’t done that in nearly a decade...but... ”Dam-n.” That episode had brought them here, to this gallery, surrounded by the strangest rust he had ever seen. Each piece had a plaque, some plaques described the art, others said nothing at all related, and Steris insisted that they stop at each, dam-n piece. To gawk, to stare, to admire it, he guessed, Wax didn’t know what nobles even did at art exhibitions. Except maybe wish they had stayed home instead. His feet hurt, his knees ached, and he rubbed the small of his back to alleviate its pain. He wasn’t even that old yet, but dam-n he sometimes felt like a man in his nineties, not fifties. ”And this,” his beautiful wife said, dragging him over to a sculpture that looked like a giant railroad spike hammered into a wooden stole, “Is a piece by Kay, he is a wonderful artist, renowned for his ‘readymades’...” ”Kay?” He frowned. That named sounded...strangely familiar. He couldn’t place it. Maybe he had read it in the newspaper...or heard it on the radio. Wax wasn’t sure what to make of this Spiking thin air, either, except that he doubted some random... Wax bowed his head then whispered in her ear, “It looks like hemalurgy...or a mockery of it...” Spikes in dead wood couldn’t bestow powers or attributes to that object. Even if it was charged, it was losing whatever Investiture it had, its powers slowly slithering back to Harmony. Still...he lifted a hand to his chin in thought. ”He’s an artist,” she rebuked; then tugged on his arm, trying to urge him to move on. Wax hadn’t expected her to be so...excited about this. Yet, Steris’ subtle smile hadn’t left her face since they had arrived, almost an hour ago. “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t also be a...” “Waxillium,” from her tone of voice he knew he was in trouble, “you will not...” Despite her warning, Wax burned steel (which MeLaan had slipped into his whiskey), checking the spike. It was...heavily Invested metal, he couldn’t Push it. Iron, probably. Too heavily Invested to be a spike, considering that the show had been going on for a few weeks. Probably a metalmind. Huh. Kay had an interesting sense of humor, it seemed. If I didn’t know better... “Is there any more work by him?” Her brow furled slightly as she considered his words. “Yes...” “It’s probably innocent...” Steris sighed. “I couldn’t Push it,” he whispered. This made her eyes widen, he noted a little fire in their blue depths. Excitement. Wax nodded. “Does Kay have any more sculptures at this exhibition?” “There are some others pieces of work, yes,” Steris said, leading him away, “if it gets too dangerous...” “I’m sure it will not,” he answered, “I’m retired.” She flattened her lips for a moment. “It’s not like...” “You brought your ironminds?” He nodded. Of course he had. He didn’t feel comfortable walking around at his actual weight. He hadn’t done so in years; even months into his retirement, Wax hadn’t let go of vital, old habits. “And?” “Two.” She glanced at the two holstered guns, their tips sticking out under his coat, then at the third one on his leg, and up at the fourth one, too, which was in a holster on his left arm. It was a small, experiment weapon Ranette had given him a few months back. Ranette, like both MeLaan and Wayne, insisted his retirement was fake. “Four.” “I couldn’t...” “Learn the meaning of retirement in only three months, therefore, I must act like it’s a clever jest pulled on me by my wife...,” she said, he smiled, “try not to make a scene here, it’s an art gallery.” “That’s art?” Wax pointed at a strange painting, two light blue gears on a green background. It looked more like a diagram for a weird machine than it did a any art he had ever seen. A cruel mockery of it, considering that the artist had labeled one gear ‘woman’ and the other ‘man’. “It’s a Spool.” “Is that what it’s called?” “Spool’s the artist,” she answered, taking his hand then slowly leading him away. Soon, they entered another room. From the plaques, he saw that all these pieces were works by Kay. Like the Spiking thin air, most were everyday objects, or slightly modified things. One sculpture was a chair laid on its side. Another was a tall, slender box of glass filled with random pieces of metal: nails, screws, and other things situated to make plain of metallic pieces. A few abstract paintings hung on the wall. In the center of all this ‘art’ stood the urinal, on a thick, wooden pole, like it was some kind of strange... Is it supposed to be a spear? He chewed his inner cheek. “If you burn steel,” said someone behind them, “you’ll see what’s actually there.” Wax glanced over his shoulder, then, turned around slowly. That had to be the artist. Wax had read in that earlier article that Kay was a tall, blond haired man whom often wore well-tailored suits. Kay did not dress the part of the typical, poor artist. He wore his hair long, bangs falling past his right eye, which, Wax noted, was covered by a thick, black patch. Kay’s one good eye was lined, hazel; all things considered, he looked like one of Wayne’s fictional pirates in a nice suit. Wax didn’t like him. The paper said he was twenty-nine, he looked more like fifty. Either time had lied to Kay, or he had lied to them. “Come again?” Kay grinned. “Burn steel.” Wax did as asked, curiosity pecking at the back of his brain. The grin on Kay’s face grew larger, a little wild, a little feral. That caused Wax to frown...he looked back at the glass box, not sure... Wax blinked, then stared. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he burned steel, he saw...that some of the pieces of metal in the glass box were noticeably more faint than others. They formed a picture, one that only a person who could burn iron or steel could see, and only if they were looking for it. It was supposed to look like any other piece of...chaotic anti-art in the gallery. Ironically meaningless, mocking the upper class that expected art to appeal to their aesthetic tastes... But, this...was beautiful. The portrait of a woman, her hair blowing in the wind. A portrait only people like him could see. It must have meant that Kay could burn iron or steel, too. And...Wax realized he knew that woman...it... He swiveled around, then glared at Kay. You’re getting slow in your old age, Wax, he told himself. In the old days, he would’ve known when he saw the blond hair and the ill-fitting, thick eye-patch. “You’re him.” “He doesn’t like this idea,” replied Kay, crossing his arms, “but as I have assured him, no one would think to look for it.” Wax heard something that may have amounted to a sigh... It did not sound like Steris, who had tensed beside him. Only a few others were in this part of the exhibition, and none were close enough for Wax to have heard the their conversation. He’d left his earring in. The others in the room looked blurry, they were in a speed-bubble. Wax reached for one of his guns. “Please,” Kay said, still wearing that obnoxious smile, “we’re in an art gallery.” His hand remained on its handle. Yes, he knew it was useless, but cosmere be damned, he wouldn’t... “You won’t kill me with that.” Kay-no, Kelsier-Pushed, gently, on the weapon. “It’s not worth shooting the whole gallery up for this, is it?” Wax nodded, hand dropping to his side. A part of Wax doubted he could draw and fire fast enough to do any damage anyway. “You inspired the whole countryside to near rebellion.”(3) “I gave them hope.” At these words, Steris squeezed Wax’s hand. “And the Set-” “Kid, why in hell would I want Scandrial’s destruction?” The grin melted off his face. His gaze hardened. “We want to protect this world, not destroy it.” Wax did not answer. He...Harmony had not given him all the facts, and Wax hadn’t asked, presuming god wouldn’t give him those kinds of answers. Wax had jumped to conclusions, ran with (the little) evidence he and Marasi had... “Then why?” “It’s a gift,” he said, not answering the question Wax wanted, but Wax was not completely sure what question to ask, either. Are you still friends? Wax asked. Harmony did not respond. That sent a chill up his spine. “Harmony and I do not always agree on how things should be done,” he said. Steris grew pale, her hand, cold. Wax studied his wife, she hadn’t spoken once in the whole exchange, but her eyes had grown wide and she trembled in both shock and fear. It wasn’t everyday that one meant their god in an art gallery. “He doesn’t always like the actions I take, and I can’t say I like his choices either, but neither of us wanted the Set to succeed.” “And you left it to us,” Wax said, “you let...” “I did help...” But how, Wax knew, Kelsier would not tell. No, Kelsier wasn’t the kind of person who would reveal such relevant secrets. Why would he tell them this? “Where I could...it’s not about my ability to survive, to overcome...” “But ours...” Kelsier smiled at Steris’ words, unlike before, it touched his eye. Wax hadn’t heard that the Survivor was known for being sincere. “But you’re going to buy this piece.” “What.” “Or appear to,” he said, gesturing to the slender, glass case filled with metal, “it’s a gift...an apology, in a way.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “Fullborn need not make sense,” he said. Wax felt a headache starting at his temples. “Bend-alloy’s running out, dropping in three...two...” “We’ll make sure to send one of our servants to retrieve it soon,” Steris said, “it is a wonderful piece, I am a great admirer of yours.” He was amazed she could say that with such a plain look on her face. “Thank you,” Kelsier replied, taking her hand, he placed something in the pocket of her coat as he kissed the tips of her fingers. A part of Wax wanted to punch that obnoxious bastard for that gesture. “My lady?” “Steris Ladrian.” After a few more pleasantries, they left the gallery in a rush, Steris nearly dragging him away. Her eyes never met his until they reached their car and slipped into the back seat. Wax still hated motored vehicles, but no one in their class traveled in horse-drawn carriages anymore. If I hate cars so much, Wax thought, distracted momentarily, what do four-hundred year old men think of these things? Even when they settled into their seats and Steris glared at him until he buckled his seat belt, his wife did not speak. Instead, she stared out the window, watching the city pass them by as their driver, Hoid, took them home. “Steris?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the cab. The driver had shut the small plastic window between him and the cab to give them some privacy, though he could probably here their conversation despite that. “He was not what I expected,” she said at long last. “Harmony is not what I expected,” he answered, placing an arm around her shoulder and bringing her to rest her head against his chest, “not even now, but the first time we spoke I was being shot at.” She giggled, though he could hear the faint echo of tears in her voice, “He’s hard...cold why did he insist on us having it?” Minutes passed. Quiet, uncertain minutes in which he gathered his thoughts. “Wax?” “What did he place in your pocket?” She blinked, then checked the pocket of her coat. Steris took out a small coin attached to a ribbon, bearing the engraving of Sovereign's face; it was a metalmind like the Southerners used. Bastard. “It’s a portrait that can only be seen when one burns iron or steel,” he answered. “Fascinating,” she replied, “it’s a con, isn’t it?” This suggestion left Wax bewildered. Just...like the rest of the art. But Kelsier was a con man, the Historica said, of course it was just another con. “We can see the portrait,” she said, “but most of our guests will see it as just a strange and frivolous piece of modern art without meaning or importance. The elderly, eccentric couple who...” Wax touched her tear-stained cheek. Gently, she placed her hand over his, meeting his steady gaze at last. “It might be better that way...” She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s of Lessie.” His sweet wife squeezed his hand, she did not speak, and neither did he. He was not certain what to say, sometimes...words could do little to speak truths. Some days, Harmony said, I think, he may be my friend, Waxillium. Others, I am certain we are enemies. More and more often, however, I am simply unsure. But he cares for this world, its people...he does love it... Though he does not understand what that means. 000 Three days later, Kay the artist was declared dead by authorities. If Kelsier were to ask Marsh, it was a little too dramatic, but he liked the idea that most of Kay’s art had gone up in smoke. It seemed a fitting fate for art that was supposed to be anarchic by nature, and Kay had burned up with it, a victim of a terrible accident although the authorities never found the body. Kelsier had simply left the burning building joining the crowd, slipping past all the chaos in the streets. No one else had been there, he’d made sure of it. Sazed would probably give him an earful anyways; after all, he had destroyed the work of others as well as his own, and destroyed a building, too. He stored Connection in a metalmind, using it to give him some peace, though Sazed would speak to him about this happenstance eventually. Or, he thought, sitting on one of the highest ledges on top of one of Elendel’s newest skyscrapers, he may send Marsh. What a joy that would be. Another lecture... He loved his brother, but Marsh could be a serious pain in the as-s at times. Sazed had yet to do so. Instead, he perched alone, looking out over Elendel as night fell over the city. The stars above, the Red Ripe too, filling him with worry, and the mist below, covering street and building alike. It was a thick mist tonight, nearly as thick as the nights in Luthadel. A few strands reached the ledge, licking his feet, attracted by his Allomancy. He smiled. Tin and Steel burned warmly in his stomach, but even that could not fully chase away the late winter chill, even in a city that rarely ever received snow. Here though, he could wrap his mistcloak around his body tightly, and watch the night pass by in peace, tapping Wakefulness to keep sleep at bay...Soon, however, he spotted a dark figure bounding up through the mists. Even after more than three-and-a-half centuries, Marsh lacked the gracefulness of a Mistborn. His spikes had granted him immense power, but his Pushes and Pulls were always a tad too strong, a bit too powerful. Whereas a Mistborn’s leaps and bounds were like a dancer flying through the mists, Marsh had as much grace as Windrunner falling with style. (4) Marsh eventually reached the ledge, although he had to Push on it to slow down his fall, denting it slightly. He landed on the skyscraper with a thud, announcing his presence, but Kelsier continued to peer down at the streets, watching the electric lights form pools of white or yellow in the mists. “Kelsier.” “Good evening, Marsh.” He raised a hand at his brother, but did not turn his head as he heard him approach. Like a fellow gargoyle, Marsh sat on the roof beside him. “Burning down art galleries?” his brother asked in that soft, gravelly voice he had managed to acquire throughout the centuries. It really had helped Marsh to make a frightening Death, all things considered. It was a nice finishing to the doom and groom vibe that his black cloak and multiple spikes helped to create. Appearance wise, he was an excellent choice for the role, personality wise, though, he still had a lot to work on. Marsh was still too kind to be Death. “Everyone was fine.” Kelsier waved a hand, trying to push back Marsh’s accusation like he might push the mist into the earth. Neither worked very well. “They found a boy’s body in the debris.” He meant his brother’s spiked eyes. “I didn’t...” “Know?” “There wasn’t anyone there,” he argued, standing, anger powering his steps as he began to pace the ledge, “I swear, I checked...” “He went in to save you,” said Marsh. He ran a hand through his now-short blond hair. It still covered most of his right eye, though he had removed the patch and stuck it in his pocket. “It...who?” “They weren’t sure.” He stopped pacing, standing at the opposite end of the ledge, glaring down the city like his...accident was its fault. “And Harmony?” He lifted his head. Marsh lips bent upwards a tad. “You know how he feels about telling us the last moments of others before they pass onto the Beyond.” Harmony believed that each person deserved privacy when they died. He’d only gotten to speak with...a few when Harmony requested it and if he was in the Cognitive Realm at the time. Most of those had been Survivorists; or their friends, like Breeze and Ham. “How old was he?” “Eighteen,” came his brother’s answer, “twenty at most. They were not sure.” Vin’s age when...His mouth grew dry. Thinking of that made him feel old, tired, but not the kind of tiredness a Feruchemist could simply store in a metalmind and be done with. No, it was the strange kind of weariness which sometimes came to those who had lived for so long... Kelsier gathered his cloak around him as though to shield him from both cold and time itself. “Dam-n.” He sighed, staring out into the mists. He hadn’t...meant it to go so far. He often did not like it when it did. He had gone too far with Spook, even with the Southerners, but he couldn’t always tell what too far looked like, when he went to the extent that he toyed with the hearts’ of people he tried to help. Preservation’s command not to do so still whispered in his Soul. It left him feeling something close to guilt, but what Marsh said next did not. “And you destroyed all that art.” “Anti-art,” he corrected, holding up a finger, “it was almost a perfect con.” Marsh frowned. His brother probably thought he should have been more somber, but, he was Kelsier, somber was boring. “Kelsier,” he said, “you destroyed a whole building...” A part of him laughed at that. Of all the things Marsh could reprimand him for, a building seemed like the least thing on that list, considering that he'd nearly brought down a whole civilization, once. Still, that had been centuries ago. They had to step much more carefully now... “They have insurance,” he answered, shrugging. “Listen, do you know how many wealthy bastards were frightened or bewildered by that crap? They tried to give meaning to shi-t.” “You made shi-t, art.” “I made them think it was art,” he said, grinning, “they bought into it, literally, it’s nearly as good as that time I tricked all those Elantrians to believe I was Ruin.” If his brother had eyes, he might have rolled them. Instead, lips flattened informing Kelsier that he had properly annoyed him. “That...” “Was brilliant.” Marsh grunted. “Bridge Four?” he asked, “Rosharans grunt so much that grunts are now their common tongue. Considering how many languages they have, it's the only one that they all can completely comprehend.” This elicited a chuckle at least. They again sat together in companionable silence, the night quickly passing into early dawn. The first rays of sunshine covered the city, bathing the city in red light, turning the skyscrapers into dark silhouettes against the rising sun. He dimmed his tin, letting it simmer, sunrises up here were brilliant, but he only had one eye to see them with, the other couldn’t tell the difference between night or day. It had its uses, other than creating a Connection to his Physical form. With the old Inquisitor spike, he could see any trace metals in buildings, ground, or even people, and use those to Push or Pull as needed. By creating a puncture in the Spiritual then through the Cognitive and into the Physical Realm, it let his Investiture into his his old body, anew, providing a new string. Spikes pierced into the soul. There was more to it than that, but each day was a new one taken, stolen for-- “Brother,” he frowned, but looked up at Marsh as he spoke, “why did you give Waxillium that portrait?” Why does this feel like one of Saze’s inquiries? He did not ask that, Marsh should have been proud. Perhaps age had quelled his tongue a tad at long last. “It was a gift.” Marsh stared at him with those spiked eyes. Even Kelsier sometimes found them unnerving despite having one of his own. “Is it possible that I feel some guilt for all that occurred? Or...something akin to it?” “Is it that...or...?” “I just wanted to help.” He wasn’t sure if that was true, or if he had just wanted to present his ironic anti-art. Anarchy with a solution. He wasn’t a good man, after all, Vin had taught him that. He had too much ego to be truly good, no matter how hard he tried... In some ways, his Connection to others was frayed...broken. “Alright,” he said, throwing Marsh his infamous insufferable grin, “it was about style too.“ All he got in reply was yet another grunt which quickly transformed into a gravelly sigh. His brother just had to accept it was one of those days. 000 Original A/N: It’s hard writing cosmere fanfiction especially for something that hasn’t been written yet and also based on the Modern art period. I need to add more details on mechanist art, but probably later. Tumblr gets the rough draft, I’m so sorry...not really. While somethings aren’t said outright, partially because of predicting canon is hard, Marasi isn’t mentioned. Also, this supposes that Wax doesn’t meet Kelsier in the Last Metal, which makes this highly likely that it will end up as an AU. I don’t, personally, think that the Set is Kell’s organization [who knows what WoB might brew, though], I think his commented to protecting the world outweighs that likelihood. That being said, I think it might be his fault, partially, that things are the way that they are in the series. Kell is, obviously, messing around, partially because he can’t leave people alone. He’s right, he inspires people, but he plays with them too because he can’t see that other people also have feelings as well as most can [being a sociopath], though I think he’s gotten a little better at it after forming some healthier links with Preservation in Secret History. Kelsier still does not get that harassing nobles just to harass nobles isn’t nice, though. And thus...MISTBORN-STYLE DADA WAS BORN BECAUSE KELL IS ANARCHIST. 1) MeLaan has a passion for throwing news papers in people’s faces, apparently, she did this to TenSoon and now has done it to Wax too. She also will probably do it to Wayne too. 2) Imagine how that went. lol. 3) Since Alloy, lone persons have mentioned seeing Kelsier in the countryside encouraging them; in Bands of Mourning, some of the captured Set members mentioned stories of the Survivor stuffed into their head (to incite Civil War). Assuming Wax heard of the later stories from Marasi, he is drawing assumptions about Kelsier’s role/relationship with the Set (which will probably not be destroyed, I think, but will prove to be a much larger threat than we know). 4) Yes, this assumes that Kelsier has been to Roshar, and doesn’t think that Windrunning is as graceful as Allomancy. What an elitist.

To me, the Kelsier in the scene at the end of BoM seems much more sincere, genuine, and perhaps, concerned for their well-being (despite that he doesn't know them; though he's probably still a bit of an egoist...hehe), it was the first thing I noticed, too. One of my main reactions to it was basically, "woah, wait, did Kelsier actually grow up a bit? Oh, SH did matter after all..." xD

I...really doubt the Set's faceless immortals are kandra, instead, they're just kandra-like, such as rather hard to kill and cause their hosts to live longer lives. So, while perhaps immortal, they are not (for the most part, other than Bleeder) real kandra. I think these are people 'possessed' by spren or something else that gives them red-eyes (like the things from Sel, I can't recall what they're called at the moment). Anyway, red-eyes are almost always linked to Odium (like Thunderclast and Voidspren), so it's likely that these creatures are linked to him as well. My bet is that someone pissed him off directly, somehow... Anyways, the Series seem like a group of political reformers and anarchists, so, being noble is not a requirement. But I would bet most of them are well-educated, at least in matters of technology and the way which the local manifestations of Investiture works as a science. That kind of knowledge doesn't require them to be worldhoppers, but they probably are cosmere-aware enough to know quite a bit more about the cosmere and Investiture than your average Scadrian.

I don't think it's that either, as the scene is actually a parallel to the prologue in The Final Empire. Kelsier walking in an empty field (dissolute landscape), he approaches the central building in the village which reminds him of the skaa hovels and then, approaches the elders. The biggest difference between these scenes other than location/culture/people/etc, though, is arguably his actions after he enters. In the first, Kelsier acts far more flippant and glib, in the second, he barely even speaks (except to try to encourage the Southerners at that point, really). Altogether, I think, despite it's simplicity, the scene in BoM is rather brilliant because of the way it parallels the scene in TFE and also contrasts it at the same time. The Survivor is back, but he's different (whether that's a good or bad thing, well, we'll learn that someday). It might be one of my favorite scenes in the whole series, actually, but I really like parallel scenes like this and BoM has a lot of them...

Yes. Though, what I'd much rather find is a set of young dragon bones. I always wanted to be a dragon...*stares longingly at dragonsteel in sanderson's hidden hemalurgic labotory* Some day...I will be. ;D

Yup, I'm the author of it (I have all these Dada books on my end-table, still, funnily enough). I kind of have a love for placing stories in "weirder" historical settings like that, because history is oftentimes a weird and funny (or not always serious) place...and I enjoy writing about countercultures a tad too much. It also seemed like something that could, probably, happen in the Basin. Not all aspects of Dada would (for multiple reasons), but found objects like shovels, toilets, and fake spikes all for the sake of anarchy with a 'purpose' and playing with the expectations of the nobility and the art establishment? Definitely. xD Also, I expect that Duchamp (the herald of Dada) would've liked it, actually. ;P

So yeah, on a personal level, I found Shai's life and experience quite familiar... It was odd, considering that she was using it to create copies/approximates of the real thing, but that's exactly what historians must do. I have often run into this among my professors... More along the line of, "you're such a talented writer who can, at times, create beautiful prose and imagery, why the hell are you writing history?" As always, it's for the art. That doesn't mean that I won't create a different kind of art later, though, this is just the form I'm doing now...

The history part is something that would take a long time to explain, and...may not make sense to most people on the outside, because you'd need a class in historigraphy to understand it. That said, I appreciate Shai because, as someone who has studied history (too), it really is a bit like forging the past based on what people think happened and, sometimes, who that person (or those people) think they are. It's also a "lie", a story, and the best historians realize that though they gather evidence/primary sources to compile what they think happened, fitting it best to the evidence that they have, the best they can achieve is a approximate truth, a beautiful lie wrapped up in the facts gathered which fits those 'facts' best. That's probably even more confusing. Anyway. Yes,I imagine he's like, oh, I dropped that? Time to let it stew for a few decades. Have a RAFO.

Oh, and a writer too, but writing is art, just like history is art (if you ask Shai, not Jasnah; also, if you ever wanted to know one of the biggest debates in that discipline, it's whether history is science or art, these two characters showcase that...no one really considers that it's probably both), and painting and music are art, too. xD I kind of expect him to be a bit of a troll, but we'll see.

I want skulls. Bones. Things like that. Like any good kandra, all I want are skeletons. It's rather innocent, at least from that perspective... I'm really just here to make bad kandra jokes. Really, I'm just an artist, not a theorist (or whatever). But...my bet is, the place called Silverlight will surprise us all, eventually...xD

For the most part, we don't do that. While there are a very small portion of those who do, it's well-regulated, and I don't personally participate in it, and most people in the fandom would either properly tag it (so that you could block it) or just not post it.

Pfft. No, that's the tumblr fandom. You're just a regular worldhopper...maybe. ;P

It would be a bit like, I don't know, Sazed mentioning moving pictures to the kandra, right?

Except that we're getting Arcanum Unbounded in less than a month, and I expect that we may very well get the name of that place namedropped. Wouldn't this be a shocking development. (Also, I was beaten to the punch, though, glad to see you guys going a bit crazy over this revelation already). xD

Alternate title: Base Metals, Blessings, and the Nature of Hemalurgy, a chart (still poorly constructed, but less so) No spikings or murder were committed in the creation of this chart. This chart assumes that the Adventure Game does not correspond to one of the basics laws Hemalurgy, which is Base Metals steal a human attribute (that anyone has); while alloys steal an Allomantic or Feruchemist attribute. You will notice that the first eight metals follow this pattern, we should assume this is true for ALL metals. In other words, just as we assume that Allomancy and Feruchemy have predictable systems that always follow the same pattern, we should assume that Hemalurgy also follows a similar and predictable pattern. In the end, this chart is meant to help you steal powers and influence people. Originally, I created this chart to predict which Metals should give kandra Blessings and what those possible Blessings might be. The chart itself is based on information provided in the AAs and books (and collected on the coppermind). The purpose of this chart is two fold: to argue that Base Metals always provide Human Attributes and Blessings (making those two things linked), and that one can therefore predict what powers a Spike should steal based on that fact. The charts has been split into four categories (Physical, Cognitive, Temporal, and Spiritual)* and Base Metals have been bolded, while Alloys are italicized and bolded, please follow the directions to read the chart correctly. Reading the chart: First Column: Metal; Second: Allomancy; Third: Feruchemy; Fifth: Hemalurgy; Sixth: Blessing --- Physical Metals Iron | pulls metal | store weight | steals strength | increases strength Steel | pushes metal | stores speed | steals Physical Allomancy | none Tin | improve senses | store/improve senses | steals metal fortitude | increases senses Pewter | improves strength/endurance | stores strength | steals Physical Feruchemy | none --- Cognitive Metals Zinc | riots emotion | stores mental speed | steals emotional fortitude | increases emotional fortitude Brass | sooths emotion | stores heat | Steals Cognitive Feruchemy | none Copper | hides Allomancy | stores memories | steals mental fortitude | increases mental sharpness Bronze | detects Allomancy | stores wakefulness | steals Cognitive Allomancy | none --- A note; it seems that the first two Blessings are to do with the Physical Realm, while the next two are to do with the Cognitive; but still basic human abilities. Nothing especially magical. Assuming that all Based metals (like Dirigible suggests) are INDEED stealing human attributes…we need to rewrite the second table (based on the next eight metals) a little bit. Moreover, it seems that the abilities being stolen are appropriately external/internal; almost seeming to switch between something “more” allomantic related then to something more feruchemical. The most obvious example of this is Zinc and Copper. The second chart covers the Temporal and Spiritual Metals; this is where I argue, more or less, that the information provided by the Adventure Game does not live up to canon. Instead, it follows the same Base Metal-Alloy pattern as seen above in the first chart. Predictions for are in parenthesis. (It should be noted that it is possible that Bendalloy/Duralumin steals Feruchemy and Electrum/Aluminum steal Allomancy instead, however, this pattern fits better with the pattern seen in the original eight metals. --- Temporal Metals Cadmium | Slows time | stores breath | steals human attribute (steals breath/temporal) | blessing (breath/energy) Bendalloy | Hastens time | Stores Energy | steals (Temporal Allomancy) | (none) Gold | Shows Past | Stores health | steals human attribute (general health-related; constitution) | blessing (health/healing) Electrum | Shows future | stores determination | steals ("Temporal" Feruchemy)* | (none)** --- Spiritual (Enhancement) Metals Chromium | Removes another’s metals | stores fortune | steals human attribute (fortune) | blessing (fortune) Nicrosil | Flares another’s metals | stores Investiture | Steals ("Enhancement"/Spiritual Feruchemy) | (none} Aluminum | removes one’s metals | stores identity | steals human attribute (identity) | Blessing (identity) Duralumin | Flares one’s metals | stores connection | Steals (“Enhancement”/”Spiritual” Allomancy) | (none) --- In conclusion, this shows that to Bless a kandra, one needs the appropriate metal base. Thus, if a character like Marasi thinks that a Spike meant to provide a Blessing is made of steel, she is wrong and that spike must either be made of some other metal or meant for another purpose. It may be Atium (for experiments to provide Blessings which were unavailable due to lack of appropriate metals in the Final Empire; Atium steals any human attribute, so it presummably provides any Blessing) or a large chuck of Aluminum (stabilizes Identity, makes for resistant kandra, perhaps), but it is likely a metal she is unfamiliar with. Finally, this chart shows that Blessings and Human Attributes are linked, which suggests that part of the process to create a Blessing is abstracting the proper human attribute from the host. The second part, I think, is emphasized by the term itself, the Intent of the Spiker (or perhaps the person from which the Attribute is stolen, but I doubt it) must be to bless the mistwraith with the Attribute, and endow them with consciousness. In making kandra, proper Intent is mandatory. Briefly and alternatively, Hemalurgy might keep "switching". In the Base Eight, the external physical alloy (steel) steals Allomancy, while the internal physical alloy (pewter) steals Feruchemy; and the external cognitive alloy (Brass) steals Feruchemy, while the internal cognitive alloy (bronze) steals steals Allomancy. It is marked on the coppermind that Aluminum steals Enhancement/Spiritual Allomancy, though no source is given. This seems like a rather random fact to pull out of the first three AAs, and the AAs in the Era 2 books do not provide such information, so it seems likely that this is from the Adventure Games as well (which canonically are disputable). If it is the case, though, it's likely that Enhancement/Spiritual Feruchemy is stolen by Chromium, and that Cadmium (Temporal external) steals Allomancy and Gold (Temporal internal) steals Feruchemy. In this case, the alloys would steal human attributes and Blessines. I don't believe this is the case, though, as it isn't support by the evidence provided by the first eight metals or what we know about the patterns seen in both Allomancy and Feruchemy. --- * Given the name temporal metals, but I do not understand how these attributes (Breath, Energy, Health, and Determination) are linked to the temporal existence of a ferring/feruchemist. That's a subject for another topic, though. ** This might be messed up, though, by the fact that Brass and Electrum were accidentally changed, but I am betting it isn't. P.S.: this chart would not exist without Dirigible; whom suggested, some time ago, that Blessings were linked to base metals. P. S.S.: I thought of including which metals are external and internal, and pulling and pushing, but I will only do so if asked. See! No murders, no spikes, indeed! *stuffs corpses with holes into a fridge*

It's from SoS: ~133, SoS (Wax talking to Harmony in the carriage) I rather like this quote, actually. Harmony obviously didn't like what Spook had done, but could not forbid him. Probably because it was against his Intent to take away Spook's power to chose. Wax, to Harmony, is key piece he uses to allow most others to make their own choices, as Harmony has a tendency to play chess with certain key pieces much like his predecessors had done. I agree that Harmony seems a bit...naive. And I believe that it's more naivety than stupidity, as well as the effects that his Intent plays in how much he can actually act. Harmony meaning balance probably means that he can take only subtler actions to influence events, especially three-hundred-forty-some years after picking up the Shards. His Intent blinds him to issues just as much as his personality might, his Intent also ties his hands: ~134, SoS (More Wax and Sazed) So, I think your problem is, some of you guys want a much more active Shard. But his Intent will not allow it. The actions he took at the beginning of his Vesselship were that of a very earlt Vessel, with more ability to resist that Intent and make the Shard do things it would normally not want to. Plus, he was "balancing the scales" by stopping the apocalypse which Ruin had began, so, his actions (Preserving the world) arguably fit with his Intent anyway... I wonder if after doing so much Preserving with the Basin, if Ruin demanded some kind of payback. Being Harmony, one explanation is that, somehow, the Shard felt that by restoring the North, it could not let itself help the south. It's a bit of a "yin-yang" effect (using the term loosely), and Sazed, despite that he doubtlessly wanted to help the Southerners, was strangled by the effects of his Intent. Being god isn't all sunshine, rainbows, and bursts of power, I guess. (Spoilers for SH) I think that any solution that Sovereign used probably was...researched. I don't believe he got the idea from Scadrial, as it's been stated to be some kind of "hack" of the system (there's a WoB for this somewhere), which, even though it seems probable that the Excisors only use native Investiture, I think that the techniques he used were based on ideas/practices that he learned from other worlds. The Excisors are a Investiture using technology of some sort, the first time we saw that was on Roshar with the fabrials, so, I suggest that it is a Scadrian-type fabrial using some weird combination of the Scadrian powers. Presumably, learning how to do all that took time though...(ten years, I guess). I also think that he had to spend some time learning to use his other set of powers and combining them too. So much to do, at least he wouldn't be a bored-sier (which is bad for everyone).