Turos

Rend studied the the scene through binoculars. There was a break-in at the palace. Aparently it hadn't gone very well. When he saw a new figure take down a crowd of strong men and carry their unmoving prisoner away, he decided to follow from a distant. Rend slid along cables connecting between buildings, forming his feet into an upside down V and balancing without much effort. At the occasional deadend wall, Rend would push his palm into the surface and dissolve a handhold out of it. After a few blocks, he saw the stranger enter an apartment complex. Not many seconds passed before the stranger left alone. Rend was curious to see who the unconscious man was, but decided to get to the root of the problem. That stranger was strong, and had freed an infiltrator on the king's estate. That was reason enough to confront this criminal. He focused on his heartbeats and leaped for a slanted rooftop a few stories down. He focused on his feet, rebalancing the friction on each part to allow for no friction or less friction, depending on the spot. He put the most on the end of his big toes. As he landed on the sloped roof, he grunted slightly. It was still a long drop, but the angle wasn't too great and his momentum redirected easily enough. Rend reached the edge of the roof and tipped his toe on his left foot down slightly. The grip made him swing to the side, where his feet met a pipe that dipped down to a railing that carried him all the way to the ground. Right in front of the stranger. He regained his friction and turned to face the approaching person. "You chose the wrong time to make a scene, kid." Rend couldn't tell how old the person was, or even the gender in this low light, but he tended to call everyone kid. Rend stuck his right arm out to the side, his move causing his long jacket to flare open. His jacket settled and a sword was in his hand. The black blade was longer than Rend, and almost two feet wide in in a few places. Mist coalesced around it and along the red engravings all over the strange metal, almost making it seem more solid. Water droplets fell off the uneven blade to the concrete ground.

I am going to take the advice I've been given and stay silent, giving a whole-hearted thanks to everyone who shares their thoughts in advance. Thanks very much! This is the first part of a new story. I hope you enjoyed it. Anything else to say? Nothing vital that I can think of. Proceed with the ravaging!

I saw the same thing, WEZ313.

I'm very late, but mind if I pop in for a new short submission?

I hope nobody minds, but I'm going to make a new character, too. A Dustbringer Knight Radiant named Rend. I'm not aware of any canon examples of the surge of Division, but I'll assume it can make complex molecules divide into basic elements. Add the surge of Abrasion and things can heat up ;) BOOM!

BOOYAH! My first confirmed theory! Woot!

Sounds like you already have an idea. Plus you probably have a better singing voice than me. Go for it!

Hmm. I stand corrected.

Moon rocks falling from the sky? That sort of thing isn't normal. What made the rocks fall off of the moon? Odium? If so, why? Is the moon, perhaps, the place the shards dwelt?

You know you have a problem when you burn through thousands of spheres just so you can keep cool in the summer.

Ah, good to know. Thanks, I'll fix it.

@Delightful That's my pet cat... @Venture Mission Accomplished Thanks both!

OK, not spiking people with shardblades. I wonder about the similarities between a hemalurgic spike tearing away a part of the soul and a shardblade severing a part of the soul. Does the severed soul remain in the limb? If not, where does it go? When a Radiant heals their soul, is that part reconnected or is it regrown? Another question would be if a Radiant can heal or regrow a part of their soul stolen by hemalurgy. Would a spike in someone else then be rendered useless?

He pulled a Robert Jordan and changed the spelling of one word to turn it into a name. Maybe. Probably maybe.

It's OK, phattemer. At least your vote counts for 50% of the populace.

Maybe Lutha was his favorite wolf hound.

I'll try to be more obvious. xD Btw, people should feel free to kill my characters in this RP. Or not. Interacting is fine, but I intend them all as temporary and won't feel bad if anyone godmods my people, even dialogue. My goal is only to augment RP with 'NPCs' and offer elements to play off. If no one chooses to react, that's totally fine, too. If anyone needs a temporary character with a viewpoint, but doesn't want to flesh them out, give me a heads up and I'll gladly do my best.

The word garbage actually originally meant viscera, so you might want to rethink your description, unless you look like guts 'n stuff.

*roll my eyes* ALL kobolds think of themselves as majestic dragons. All of my hair has migrated to the wrong end of my head. I've inherited my maternal line's hair turning red as I get older, though all I have is my beard, so it's sparsely red, mostly brown. I keep forgetting I have freckles. I wear stylish glasses. I am probably two feet shorter than Slowswift, but at least two feet taller than Kobold King. I am caucasian, bloodline hailing from mostly Germany, Scotland, and France, though lots of other places in there. No, I don't even lift, bro, but I'm certain I can lift you.

Oh hey! Glad no one beat me to this song, then. xD

Ha ha! That's awesome! Does he attend Anger Management?

To the tune of "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi. All credit to said artist. (Original) Mistborn spoilers run rampant:

Carson stumbled and tripped on nothing in the alley. That was what happened when one stored Luck. You were just, well, unlucky. It was a risk and he knew it, storing when he was so close to 'people of interest'. Those were the kinds of people he was supposed to tap Luck around. It was his free day. No assignments had come in. There was no one he was supposed to keep a lookout for, in particular. Just the default understanding that if he heard anyone new talking about "Jon" or "Ms. Born", he should report the details immediately. Carson had no clue who those names belonged to, but didn't dare pass up on a standing order. Those always meant the employer was very concerned about something, which in turn meant more money in Carson's pocket. He would haggle the payment a little for a bonus, laying his Luck on thick like frosting on a cake, of course. That was why Carson was desperate to store Luck now. It was risky, but the payoff would be well worth it. He picked himself up and noticed both knees of his new, finely-threaded trousers had ripped, and his shoelace had somehow come undone on his left foot. He stooped down to tie them back up and one end of the lace snapped. He took a deep breath and sighed. "It will all be worth it." He mumbled to himself.

She could interrogate someone from the palace guard. Does she know how to spike?

http://www.gemmellawards.com/award-voting/ The Words of Radiance is in the list! Get your votes in people. : )