NamelessThirteenth

Iknow man, I know. Thats okay. I wasn't accusing you or anything.

 

haha that makes so much sense

Your theory is pretty cool, nice catch. But...

Time for some honesty. The main reason I opened this thread is because you misspelled spren and it looked like sperm. Sorry if that offends you or anuthing. I just thought some honesty is due.

And maybe voidspren ARE parshendi:

On 28/03/2017 at 0:37 PM, Oversleep said:

I think it has already happened. Listeners spoke of how they got free of their gods at great expense and sacrifice. The lost the forms they knew and only somewhat rrecently started rediscovering them.

Maybe they are voidspren grounded in physical forms

I feel real bad now, like I took advantage of everyone and wasted their time.

sorry everyone. Thanks Calderis

Double steel. Infinite flying around plus extreme amounts of speed. Perfect combo.

Ohhh now I get it. So seen here means mentioned not actually met.

Tanks for the clarification.

Before I begin, this is not a promise, or even a guarantee. Do not chase me up on it or be disappointed if I don't do it in the near future.

 

 

I am not a cosplayer, but I like owning items from movies or anime (like my Dominator from Psycho-Pass). Even more, I like making them myself. So I was greatly disappointed when I surfed the web and found that no cosplayer had posted the way they made a Shardblade for their cosplays. And so I decided to plan out how to make Shardblades out of foam.

Here is the problem: I don't have the tools. Cutting styrofoam isn't very neat with a knife (ragged edges and all) and I need a hot wire slicer. These are not the most easy to find tools, especially when you're a fifteen year old student in Australia, and so I've stooped to make my own slicer. I am going to follow TKOR - find him on youtube - and make his Styro-Slicer. To make it, I have to invest a large amount of money in buying wood etc. and I am not very psyched.

But I might. Eventually, and after months of saving up.

So, do you think I should do it, and shell out on a Styro-Slicer? Tell me, and if enough people think it is a good idea I will try.  

I don't know about you guys, but I think that Mistborn would be wasted as a movie. It would be completely mutilated, like most books are in my experience, and the complex events wouldn't be expressed. I think it would look nice as a HBO show (like GoT) but in my mind I've always imagined it as an anime or a manga.

For those who don't know, anime is kind of like a Japanese animation, like DBZ and Naruto. However, they are not innocent, or cute or quaint. Some anime (like Deadman Wonderland and Corpse Party) can actually be violent in a way that i've never seen before in a movie. A manga is a japanese comic. 

Do you all agree?

What Twinborn would you want to be? Note that there are 256 different combinations, so I would love to hear all about what you guys (and ladies) think is a cool power.

Hmm, I totally forgot about the end of Edgedancer, with Szeth and that other lady. Did not think that through. The Death Rattles are also very intuitive. They predicted the coming of Odium, and also the Everstorm by the Parshendi. If they are to go by in everything, I think the Rosharan system will eventually collapse, as supproted by one of the first Death Rattles in TWoK: 

"You've killed me. Bastards, you've killed me! While the sun is still hot, I die! ”

— Collected on Chachabah 1171, 10 seconds pre-death, by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was a darkeyed soldier thirty-one years of age. Sample is considered questionable.

When I think about it, thgis could be a metaphor, but this idea is something that's been circulating for a long time, and I figured I'd put it to paper.

 

WAIT WHAT!!!! WE SAW ALL THE HERALDS???

That makes no sense to me. All I know we've seen is Nale and Shalash (Who I think is Baxil's mistress), but where are all the others?

Spoiler alert

 

 

 

So I made this theory ( I am not sure if it has been mentioned before) and this is based off  WoB in which he says to the readers "You already know how the Storlight Archive will end" (I will source the WoB eventually). The theory is that the end is a parody of the beginning, ie: the Final Desolation. I think the characters become Heralds of a sort, and then they all leave or die, keeping on eof them behind. This really fits, is thematically appropriate, and fits with the way that the Knight Radiant are being reborn with only one Knight each, not more than one.

However some problems include that some heralds (like Nale) are alive, so how does it fit?

Please support or disprove. 

I wish for better punctuation and spelling in my school assignments (that's kind of a divine ability for me), and my boon can be that... anything so long as I can still borrow books and read.

 

Thank you all for the warm welcome, and the cookies, and the upvotes, and the One Ring proposal thingy. And yes, I should have mentioned Locke Lamora. The books are one of the best I've ever read.

Again , thx so much, and I hope to see you around (or your posts)

A shout out to Hugh Gallagher, the author of the inspiration for this introduction. You can find his application here http://www.tejvan.co.uk/economics/funny_exam_answers/funny_college_letter/view/index.html

 

I have stolen techniques from unwary fantasy authors. I wrote the Black Symphony. I cheated in the english exam and left with both my sanity and my life (albeit grouchy and full of Adrenalin). I started writing novels at a younger age than most people begin to read epic fantasy. I write words by moonlight that others praise during the day (I hope). I have talked to novelists, loved books, and written assignments that make the teachers weep.

I am a dynamic figure, often seen crushing stone and scaling mountains. I have been known to remodel the school building in my lunch break, making it more efficient in heat retention. I manage my time perfectly. On one occasion, I was reported to float three metres in the air.

I amaze teachers by teaching concepts which they struggle to understand. I cook five-minutes noodles in two minutes. I am a I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon Basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I have climbed mountains, dammed rivers, and trekked to places all those that have ever touched upon their soil have been taken by the rift of time.

I play the piano with one foot, I play the guitar with no hands, and the saxophone with my mouth closed. I enjoy parkour every Wednesday and Thursday, and on Tuesday I spend my time remodelling famous bridges and towers. Once a week, to let off steam, I compose top-grossing songs while participating in full-contact origami.

I ahve spoken with Trump, Elvis and Ramses the Second. I read The Way of Kings and Words of Radiance in one afternoon and spent the rest of the day starring on a inter-planetary gameshow, which I won with exceeding grace. I have seen the Twin Towers erupt in a blazing flame, and saved thirty people from its fires.  I am a ruthless artist, a sharp-witted book analyst, and a NASA space flight program graduate. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

But I have not yet posted on the 17th Shard.

My name is NamelessThirteenth. You may have heard of me.

reputation is when you press that little heart button in the corner (at least i think so), and the more reputation you have the more your rank is. 

Aim for the 500-600 mark. You will get King's Wit rank.

That is my goal in life.

Patrick Rothfuss

 

Part 1

I have stolen Orbs from dead Alethkar Kings. I have destroyed the royal balconies of Gavilar's castle. I wielded Nightblood and left with both my sanity and my life. I was named Truthless at a younger age than most people begin to Surgebind. I tread paths by moonlight that other's fear to walk during the day. I have spoken to Heralds, regretted murder, and made lashes that made Jezrien weep.

My name is Szeth. You may have heard of me.

 

Part  II

COMING SOON. VERY SOON. EARLIER THAN PART III SOON.

 

Part III

STILL COMING SOON. LATER THEN PART II, BUT STILL SOON. WITHIN TEN YEARS OR SO. 

Cool! I have a set of stories I'm posting, and the topic is called the Black Symphony. If youre interested, pls look it up and give me as much feedback as you can!!

 

i am going to assume it is and laughed because u made a typo.

The small man smiled and laughed, a wicked glow on his face.

It had taken the better part of thirty years to get where he was now. Thirty years of hardship, toiling, fractured relationships and badly cooked food. It had taken him three quarters of his life to facilitate this, to be here, on this day, at this hour, with this legendary object.

The Legacy of Songari glowed with power in his rough, calloused hands, the waves of brilliance washing upon Nidalan's face. He could feel the power, feel it in the crackling air around his body, feel it in his flowing bloodstream and raging heart. The power to destroy the world or remake it anew, right at his fingertips. He opened the book, and dust scattered in the air, the smell of old parchment rising into his nostrils, and began to read the words of a god.

As I write this, I realize it could destroy the world and everyone in it. Frankly, I don't care.

I have given up on divinity. When I applied to be Supreme Lord of all Creation, I thought I could kick back and lay down, relax and unwind, et cetera et cetera. I imagined all those scenes they have in the movies. The guy, laying down, being fed honeyed grapes or whatever by a ravishing maid in a scandalous dress. I thought that would be my life, y'know?

I was wrong. When I think about it, I understand why my job application was accepted so quickly.

For the next hundred years after that, I suffered huamnity's strange and impossible requests. Old ladies asking for immortality. Young men asking for cars and planes and relationships. Little kids asked for pools of chocolate and giant inflatable toys. It got bothersome.

And so I relenquish my powers and immortality into this Book. As you read this, I would probably have ascended already, my power held in the sentence inscribed within this tome. O Lucky One, know that the following words hold the power to realize your deepst dreams, bring forth your desires, or smite your enemies. Speak them , then unto the same breath speak your request, and it will be granted.

And behold, as my regal ink nib ascribes upon these pages my Immortal Power:

"Never become a God"

Go, Lucky One, and know that with this power comes responsibilty and legislation. Rules which, honestly, I am not bothered to list, and don't care about. I don't care if you decide to smite Earth and its inhabitants. In fact, I would love that. But remeber, hold this book with you as you speak. The Words are powerless withut this tome

Nidalan closed the book and readied his tongue for the words, hands grasping the book, preparing. His mind ran through all the options he could wish for. He decided on one and opened his mouth, taking a step forward towards the cliffside melodramatically. 

He stepped into a puddle and stumbled. 

The Legacy flew from his hands and over the side. The Divine poiwers of a good, gone forever. Thory years of pain, gone forever.

Nidalan threw himself off the cliff to his death.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The world ended, adorned by the sounds of out-of-tune goats and and bursts of AK-47 fire. 

 

Oh BTW I have been pressured to mention that this book is actually a joint effort with one of my friends at school. I was trying to troll him but he seems to have figured it out and now wants formal recognition. we take turns writing chapters, but I will not reveal who writes what so you can tell me if there is any difference, and which chapters are better.

Thx for the support

PS: his name is Th3Cr00k3dWard3n. if you see him anywhere tell him "NamelessThirteenth is a better writer than you". He'll understand.

Hello all,

I will now post chapter three. Sorry i haven't been writing alot lately, I had assignments at school.

Note that this chapter is from a different PoV and is a kinda different style. pls comment, and most importantly ask if you d ont understand anything.

Chapter III: Manipulation and wine

¬¬

The silver coin rolled across the contours of Valentin’s hand. The coin was a Tower, the noble’s coin. Alone the Tower could pay a farmer’s wage for a year or so. Valentin carried the coin on his person everywhere he went, if it wasn’t being used to bribe a guard or impress a fellow he used it to practice his ill begotten skill. Both the habit and the coin helped him think. He was no stranger to vast amounts of gold or wealth in abundance but the power the white piece of metal had amused him. The idea of more Towers or Rooks did not drive Valentin or root his ambition, he was familiar with them. After all he was Exchequer to the Queen and Realm.

Still rolling the coin, Valentin let his eyes drift about the council chamber. He ignored the intricately chiseled stone walls and pillars, he ignored the magnificent vista that the windows provided of eastern Dentra. This same view was consistent throughout the windows of the Palace, in which the council was situated. In the multicolored light shed by the sun through stained glass dome above his head Valentin fixated on his fellow council members.

Two seats to the left of Valentin sat Lord Erskine Avanteglo, at the center of the circular table at which they all sat. His eyelids were shut, hiding his amber irises, his stone features were stern as always. The lines of his forehead, his crow’s feet and his jaw were as sharp as the day they were carved, showing his displeasure at being forced to wait. His hair was black and shaggy but his lower face as smooth as a babe’s. Valentin Faxworth could not but fear this man, the High Lord of Covarr, the man with the strongest independent militant force of the states of Cathagravi at his beck and call.

Between Avanteglo and Faxworth, Lord Meric shuffled his notes and parchments. It was plain for all to see that the young man was extremely eager for the session to begin. Glowed would be too mild a term to describe the way his face radiated his honesty, trust worthiness…and naivety. Meric had not been chosen to be on the council for his wealth, cunning or power. He, in fact, had been chosen as an ethical counter balance for the less moral and ambitious of the council. Rumor had it that his state, Fyrdos, was only held together by the inhabitants unwavering loyalty to the handsome young man, rumors that Valentin was very skeptical about.

To the left of Avanteglo the oak bench creaked in protest to the gelatinous weight of its occupant, Lord Aldous Abbernathy, Lord of Tel-Nakos, the largest merchant state of Cathagravi. Valentin fought not to visibly gag at the sight of the rich man’s expansive ‘fat flaps’ and his numerous chins. He was an off putting sight to say the least yet possibly the wealthiest man of his time and age.

Sitting in the furthest point left, glorifying the One Beyond was the short High Priest Sagredo. The man was old and balding, and his white beard stretched to his navel. At a guess the man looked around one hundred and fifty years, but if the One Beyond said he predated creation Valentin would not have been surprised. 

Looking to his right Valentin saw the empty seat of Lord York. Then there was the man between Abbernathy and Sagredo.

Eddin Graymoor, High Lord of Dominia, Lord of the Veil.

Graymoor was the most famous entity after the Queen herself and his reputation was known along the whole of Cathagravi and the Iron lands. His tales were told and heard by thousands in taverns, inns markets and homes. He had unrivalled control over not only Dominia, but the entirety of the Veil. He braved the Thunder Ranges alone to fight the Worker’s Militia during the Segmented Rebellion and destroyed them single handedly. He slew the scum of the Emerald thieves, all sixty of them, bare handed. He declined the offer to be King for his family. He was a warrior prophet from the realm of the One Beyond sent to eliminate evil. His sword Bane could slit the throat of a man in another state without leaving its scabbard. Naturally a majority of the tales were nothing but fables, but if there was a man who deserved such legends, it was Lord Eddin.

He sat there, head propped on his intertwined hands, his grey eyes staring sharply into oblivion. His long greying hair was pushed back and his narrow face was set in a pensive expression, Valentin thought, so this is the man who set-

Valentin’s thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the sound of opening doors, a willowy man bustled in through the doorway. Lord Belric York was sweating waterfalls and shaking nervously. He stood, bowed his head and mumbled an apology then scarpered for his seat.

“Stop,” barked Avanteglo. York faced with the tone of command stopped. “How dare you delay our meeting with your tardiness? What could possibly exceed the priority of the matters of the realm?” Avanteglo yelled visibly holding back his anger. His amber eyes seemed to search Belric for weakness.

“Apologies my Lord, the carriage broke down-” started Belric but Erskine interrupted him.

“Silence! We have no need for your miserable excuses! Seat yourself and appreciate the fact you haven’t been voted off the council for lack of common decency to men and their time.” Nobody else spoke, they merely waited. York looked to be on the verge of tears as he sat down and he lowered his head shamefully. Valentin hid an amused smile behind the porcelain mask that was his expression.

Belric was a hilariously easy mark.
*

The meeting was perfectly pointless.

It went as such: Lord Graymoor sat silent and watchful. Lord Avanteglo dominated conversations and decisions laying the occasional stray insult on Lord York who still hung his head. Meric breathed dreams of justice and peace into them. Abbernathy, not subtle by the least, attempted to pass several motions which would have brought gold to his state. All were declined. Sagredo, much more cunning managed to assert his church and pass the motion to destroy some newly rising heretic mausoleums. Valentin, although he participated in conversation, was still watchful and attentive. He paid specific attention to the emotional state of Belric. If he was not appropriately shame faced and angry then Valentine would not be able to proceed with next step of the plan.

Lord Abbernathy stood up as custom required. “Motion to supply Kian’Orr with 200 men.” 

Everybody in the room focused on Abbernathy. They all knew that he lusted for power and further riches. What end did the motion serve?

Avanteglo fixed him with a stare, “Reason for motion?”

“According to the reports from Kian’Orr, the border guard has been spread very thin to reinforce breaches,” his voice was nasally and he fidgeted, “and the loss of Kian’Orr would give the Iron a heavy advantage, trade between Covarr and Kian’Orr will halt. Isn’t that rather unfortunate for you, Lord Erskine?”

Where Cover’s earth was poor in both metal and plant, Kian ‘Orr’s east side both mined gold and iron. They exchanged their plantation and metals with Covarr in exchange for advanced military training. If Kian’Orr were to fall, Covarr would be next. And that meant a crippling blow to a very powerful army.

Avanteglo did not show his reaction, “And where should these soldiers be sent from?”

Abbernathy seemed to have prepared his answer in advance, “From the Dockside. Fifty from Tel-Nakos, Fifty from Ro’Wyn, Fifty form Emarain and fifty from Ryklos.” When Avanteglo sat silent, Abbernathy said, “Motion placed,” effectively ending the explanation. A moment of silence passed.

“Motion seconded,” said Avanteglo as he stood, “Vote in order. All in favor raise the right, all who wish to deny, raise the left.”

That motion was a smart move on behalf of Abbernathy. It showed Avanteglo that he was loyal to him, at the same time it indebted Avanteglo to Abbernathy. By seconding the motion Erskine had all but accepted the gesture.

Valentin toyed with the idea of opposing, but it was not a good idea to get on Erskine’s bad side and he did not want to see Kian’Orr fall. He raised his right and saw the other council members had thought alike.

“Vote complete, Unanimous in favor,” Erskine said, “Motion Passed. Messages will be sent to insure its application.”

A few minutes of silence passed then the hour glass by Erskine finished. This showed an hour had passed and that the session was over. Another minute passed. When nobody motioned for an extension, Avanteglo stood up and formally said, “Council dismissed. Knowledge of all motions will be sent to the Ucia Det and appropriate actions will be passed. Your presence is required for the next council meeting a Span from now.” Erskine looked pointedly at York, “I pray we all arrive on time.” Belric’s face went red and Valentin’s internal grin widened.

The six remaining councilmen stood up and began walking out. Not one acknowledged the other.

As Valentin strolled out leisurely from the room, loosening his collar and unbuttoning his silk jacket he kept his eyes dutifully on Belric. He tracked him as he walked off into a side corridor. He still walked with his head hung low, shambling like a mannequin with cut strings.

Valentin followed him, but not discretely. Rather Valentin made the stalking seem, to any outsider, like a walk in the Grasa de Graci. He wore his face in a contented mask and even whistled a content tune as he walked along. But his eyes never left Belric.

While Valentin could, ever the actor, mask his face, attitude, accent and habits he could not mask his eyes. They were the beady eyes of a Nys scorpion waiting for the perfect moment to ruthlessly leap onto its prey and poison it with its multiple stingers. When one thought about it, Valentin was a scorpion by nature too, he was seven shades of skullduggery, betrayal and pain beneath a beautiful mask.

The moment came.

Valentin snapped into action and walked briskly to Belric, cornering him. The movement seemed innocent from the outside- just a man stopping to converse with another. It just about summed up his plan.

“Belric, my friend,” he smoothly placed his hand on Belric’s shoulder. Even though he was taller than Valentin he was so stooped Valentin seemed a foot taller than him, “What would you s-”

“Leave me be, Lord Faxworth,” his face was a shade of deep crimson, when it was evident that Valentin was going nowhere, he repeated himself, louder. “I said shove off! If you intend to lecture me on conduct and common human decency you know where to shove your condescending talks. You may not see me as it, my lord, but I am your equal. Give a man his peace and return to your master Erskine. You won’t intimidate me into my resignation off the council.”

Valentin immediately retracted his hand, “Belric!” he said rolling into his words a tone of reproach and surprise, “Do you really think my loyalty so cheap that I would turn to Erskine’s side at the slimmest problem concerning you? You know I would never be such a bastardly fellow. I may be on the council but I’m not like the other subservient council members.” He frowned distastefully at this like he had bitten a bitter apple.

Belric’s demeanor immediately transformed from aggressive to guarded then at ease, he sighed, “That’s exactly what they are, subservient scum if I ever saw some. Imagine the luck, the carriages axels snapped and I had to catch Erskine on a bad day. It’s the dammed carpentry these days I tell you. If I ever catch the man responsible for the carriage’s creation, I’ll chuck him in the iron maiden. You’re a good man Valentin but I’m afraid I must go.” Belric made as if to move but Valentin grabbed him by both shoulders.

“No, no, no my friend. Trust me, when we find that man I’ll prepare the Brazen Bull while you stuff him inside. But right at this moment, you and I are going to go down to my quarters to have two goblets of Firewine. First you’ll pay for one, so that you may heal my wounded pride, and then I’ll buy you one so that you may drown your shame within it!” he smiled to let him know it was a joke.

Belric wore a matching smile, “Of course!”, and they walked down the corridor, arms around each other. Friends, drink mates and colleagues.

Or perhaps puppet and master.

*

Firewine truly lived up to its name. It was brewed so that the drinker’s throat and mouth burned like hell itself. He assumed that alchemical concoctions had a major part to play in its telltale quality, and this also explained while even the veterans of the taverns could not take more than three or four goblets consecutively. By this logic, Belric must have been blessed with an iron throat, for he had just downed his eighth goblet, and was drunk enough to prove it.

It was at this point within the developments that Valentin had to apply the utmost care to what he said. While it was relatively easy to manipulate Belric, it was another matter entirely when sobriety was out of the equation. One word would cause Belric to dance a jig to Valentin’s tune, while another would cause the entire plan to fall into shambles.

Caught in the drunken throes of Firewine, Belric was yelling, insulting Erskine, and cussing like a docksider, not necessarily in that order and sometimes all at the same time. He alternated between silence and colorful barrages of insults the likes of which Valentin had never heard. He could have sworn his ears bled, but if it were due to the loudness of the voice or the sheer profanity of the language, he could not tell.

Valentin saw that the coast was clear, and that it was time for a bit of prodding. “Erskine really is a bastard isn’t he?” Belric nodded “well, how would you like to shame him like he shamed you?”

Belric became instantly more attentive. Valentin whispered “when are you going to stop that house war between Extal and Litania?” these were two houses that owned a few pits in Deokistan. While they were not having an all-out war, they were having a bit of an argument. Lies were most believable when there were threads of truth within the complex web.

“I heard that the collateral damage will be unprecedented! You really must stop them before they destroy Deokistan!” Belric looked confused, the limited mind of his held by drunkenness. “But you don’t have any powerful armies of your own, do you? My advice is to just make a motion to send some of Erskine’s to solve your problems.”

Realization dawned on Belric the drunkard. Valentin continued. “Coincidentally, the Queen’s road is dangerous in these times of the year. And if Erskine’s men were to fail at their mission,” he made a slit throat gesture. “Then it wouldn’t be your fault, and Erskine will become a laughing stock in front of the council! Do you understand?” he spoke slowly, as if communicating to a toddler or a cripple.

“Yes, yes,” Belric bared his teeth in anything but a smile. “I understand you perfectly, friend”

They drank the rest of the night away. Or rather, Belric did, while Valentin continued to fund the flood of drinks until he dropped dead, asleep. When that happened, Valentin called in three servants, who placed the fallen lord upon a stretcher to take him to his quarters in the Palace, and called for an alchemist healer. 

This left Valentin alone, to ponder and revel in his victory.

Every step of this plan had paid off more than was invested. His observations regarding Belric’s drinking habits and moods, the way he made brash decisions when backed into a corner. His observations about the small problem occurring within Deokistan. The fact that Erskine was strict, and the bloated little purse placed in the hands of a needy carpenter.

There were all but small components of a larger plan; useless alone but, when combined, formed a deadly weapon.

Of course, the amount of drinks that Belric had ingested ensured that Valentin’s face would be wiped from his memory. Only the seed of this endeavor would remain. This meant that, next week, a hundred of Erskine’s soldiers would be walking the road from Dentra to Deokistan, while sixty or seventy men wearing Belric’s colors would be waiting to ambush them. Phase one was complete, and the plan was in motion.

Now it was part two. The part which was more delicate and intricate than the previous phase. The part wherein Valentin will enter the trade of money and blood.

It was time for Valentin to contact the Senia Oratio. 
 

Baldric is the main viewpoint in the novel, with a few others but from different areas and occupations. he is the main soldier perspective, and more will be written from his perspective later on.

thx for the tips

woops

who si frost then? from the way he has been mentioned he seems important

 

OMG YOUR THEORY FITS!!!!

barndon said that theer is a shard that just wants to survive. this could be Frost, and thats why he can exist on the same system as Odium and not be detected! plus, you kinda expect Yolen to become dystopian after the shattering so it fits!!!!

To BridgeBoy:

I haven't really thought about how the manifestations would look because the characters won't be travelling to the Riftplane anytime soon. Any ideas of how it would look or how to get there are much appreciated.

Riftselves do not have a choice in the matter, because they are not sentient. Riftselves and sentience is a complex topic. The riftself of a human, regular object, or god doesn't think or have sentience on the Riftplane. However, it can gain sentience by being forced to enter the Physical Realm. At this point you can't Fetter it anyway, so its choice doesn't matter.

Each fire hs its own Riftself. Basically, the Riftself of an object or person is created when that object is created in the Physical Realm, so when you light a fire, a new Riftself specifically for it is created, and when you put it out, the Riftself is destroyed.

 

Now, your magic system sounds AWESOME. I don't know how you go about planning for your novels, stories or magic systems, but it doesnt matter if your magic system isn't complex.

My questions are:

What kind of things are asked for in a contract? Because if the contract is a physical thing, like go stab that guythen how could the soul do it after death? Does it gain a body, like a zombie or something?

How many contracts can you have at once? I suggest here that for your plot the character could have more than one contract and is a powerful individual, so there is some sort of divine politics going on.

How do you get a contract? Is it like the Words in Stormlight Archive?This is important. Also, how do you break it?

If the gods (Im' gonna call them gods, seems best) can give contracts, then why cant they just kill the Oathbreaker? I would put an oath of nonintervention unless specifically asked here.

I thought of a plot that just came to me. Maybe that Oathbreaker has made a very powerful contract which gave him lots of cool powers, but when he made it he was desperate and said that he would kill a king or something for it. the God/demoin/wizard actually wants to invade but cant because they cant directly interfere with humansn, and so the Oathbreaker becomes like a dark god's hand, unwillingly.

Great work and amazing concept. If you want to further establish your magic I would suggest you read the Sanderson's Laws of Magic essays, which you can find on his website. Iread them and they are very useful and inspiring.

Keep telling us about it, I am sure it will be something real huge !!!