Voidus

Second post for the Wastelands done. Love how quickly everyone got posts up, hopefully we can keep the pace up. Also I may be going completely insane (Well more insane) due to excessive Epic and backstory writing.

Every piece of metal he wears is likely similarly invested, indeed given bloods ability to block certain methods of detection (Iron and Steel lines notably) it'd probably appear less invested than his other metalminds are.

Yeah I think Feruchemists would be the limiting factor, they tend to be even better hidden than Skaa allomancers, are also less common and additionally can't be found through regular use of Bronze.

3 weeks ago Jefferson Davis awoke refreshed, the smell of slightly-burned bacon wafting in from outside, his wife starting a fire in the same pit that they'd cooked the bacon in yesterday, she was now laying two steaks onto a grill and placing it over the growing flames. He got ready quickly and exited the door, grabbing his wife from behind and placing a hand on her large stomach. "You can't possibly be feeling good enough to cook this early, you've been spending the last few months hurling up everything you've ever eaten. You need to take better care of the both of you." He said, giving her a peck on both cheek and belly before taking over grilling the steaks. Few people had become pregnant these last few years, most people were simply too terified, some said that there was no point bringing a child into a world that was already on its way to destruction. But for Jefferson and his wife Nyla, well they'd been trying for 4 years before Epics started showing up and they hadn't seen any reason to stop, they'd all but given up hope but in a world where terrible miracles like Epics could happen, maybe there could be some good miracles too. And eventually it had. And now Jefferson would do his damnedest to protect his wife as well as their little miracle. A loud rumbling interrupted their busy breakfast making, one of the few cars that still worked it sounded like. But soon more rumbling overlapped the first. A convoy. "Get inside." Jefferson hissed at his wife, the rumbling was being replaced by the steady thump of marching soldiers. A loud banging sounded, coming from the front door. If he ignored it they'd likely just search the place, so he opted instead to exit around the side of the house and approach the soldiers while remaining outside. "Good evening gentlemen." He said nervously, trying to avoid eye contact in case any of them were among these soldiers. The soldiers said nothing, two instead marched up to him and grasped him by the arms. He knew better than to resist. Another soldier continued to hammer on the door. "There's no one else here, place was abandoned when I got here." Jefferson said quickly. Too quickly it seemed. One of the soldiers holding him gave a sharp backhand to his face and for a brief moment he thought he was dead. But no, it was far worse than that. "Break it down." A deep voice said from behind him. Someone he couldn't see. The door splintered into pieces as the soldier put his full weight into it, a few others followed him in and a short scuffle could be heard followed by a high pitched scream. "You bastards." Jefferson growled, struggling against the arms holding him. "If you hurt her I swear to god I'll-" "Don't swear to god." The deep voice said, sounding from closer now. A face peeked into view from beside him, an attractive middle aged man to all appearances, there was just something off about his eyes, his voice, his bearing. His fears now fully realized, Jefferson went limp in the grip of his captors. If one of them was here then he was dead no matter how hard he struggled. "God is dead." The face continued. "His throne lies empty, and all over the world a thousand divine beings have spawned to try to take it. But only one shall succeed. So don't swear to the dead gods of old, swear to the next god, swear to me." No, it was worse than he had feared. It was not just one of them. This was Necropathy himself. "Please, please god, just don't hurt them, I'll do anything." Jefferson sobbed, tears flowing freely as he confronted the ruler of the city. "Anything?" Necropathy asked, eyeing the woman the soldiers were now dragging out the door. "Ah, pregnant? Now that is something to be admired, the truest form of human nature, that which is fleeting and ephemeral, lasting but a moment upon the earth seeking to gain immortality through the continuation of its line. Excuse me mr?" Jefferson blinked for a few seconds. Necropathy, the ruler of the city, slayer of a hundred thousand men and women was asking for his name? "Er, Jefferson sir, Jefferson Davis." "Mr. Davis then, how would you like to make a deal? I find that family men tend to be more loyal than others, a trait I'm in some need of lately. Whether or not this woman lives or dies is entirely up to you, it will be your decision. Will you serve me unconditionally? Protect this city and your family? Will you advance my cause wherever you are? Will you become one of my immortals?" Immortals. People didn't even like using the name and a thousand rumours had sprung up around the elite soldiers in Necropathy's army. They were said to be stronger than most Epics even, what could he do with that kind of power? But then it wasn't just power that he would receive, something else happened to the men who became immortals, people said they were dead from the moment they received their gift and anyone who had seen one up close would believe it. But if it was to save his family... "I will." Jefferson said, bowing his head. "Excellent. Your family will be taken care of until you're ready to see them again, they'll have food, safety and accommodation. All you need to do for now is get in this truck and your family will be safe from these men." Jefferson nodded, wiping his tears away as he was released. He glanced towards his wife, sobbing on the ground, pleading for him not to leave. Thank god she hadn't been injured. "I'll see you as soon as I can." He promised, climbing into the truck which was full of other men already, each just as terrified as he was evidently. Their long trip was completed in silence, there were several more stops and a few other men were shoved into the truck. Occasionally someone refused the offer, the screaming of those poor souls as they died was something Jefferson doubted he would ever get out of his head. They eventually pulled up outside a large building and were lead into a cold basement, dim lights were on the roof and chains were spaced every so often. Were they going to be prisoners here? Tortured? Is that what happened to the Immortals? They were broken. But Jefferson had his family to hold on to, he would make it through whatever they had to offer and see them again. "Greetings gentlemen." The deep voice said, Necropathy descending the stairs behind them. "Forgive the drama and the humble lodgings we have here but the changing can be a bit... violent." The soldiers lined up the waiting men and even a few women joined them. First Necropathy walked up the line, touching each person in turn. Some shuddered at the touch, others jumped as though they'd been shocked. When Jeffersons turn came he simply didn't react at all. He wasn't sure what he thought it would feel like, a great surge of power, a feeling of invincibility, some terrible pain, but it just felt like the slightest of breezes being passed into him. Then Necropathy looked at the line once more and smiled. Each of the men and women in the line trembled before that smile, they were all quickly held by the soldiers, their arms pinned to their sides. "This next part is going to hurt." Necropathy said, still smiling. "It is going to hurt a lot. For to become truly immortal, first you have to know death." With that he swiftly turned, his hand whizzing past Jeffersons face. His hand leaped up to defend him but was too slow and by the time it had reached his face Necropathy was already moving on. His heart beat with tremendous force, seemingly rocking his entire body... but nothing had happened, Necropathy had only given him the lightest of scratches on one cheek. It hadn't even drawn blood. A second later, his skin began to itch, he was about to reach up to scratch it when the soldier behind him grabbed his arms even more tightly. Was this what he meant by pain? It's annoying I guess but it isn't- It hit suddenly. A wave of sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. He could feel his skin, every inch of it. Every inch was burning. Burning like he had been shoved straight into the fire at home, and his face, he felt for sure that it must have melted straight off, that his face must now be made of some material found only in the heart of stars, burning, scorching, surely the whole world must be set aflame by something so hot. But a second later he realized his face was still attached. After all how else could he feel the pain there double? Several days later Jefferson Davis lay on the cold stone floor, manacles on his wrists and ankles prevented too much movement but he nonetheless writhed on the ground, limbs jerking sporadically and froth spewing out in bursts from his mouth. Jefferson Davis did not wonder why he was chosen, he did not wonder where he was, what was happening. He did not wonder what the blackness eating away at his flesh and liquefying his organs was. He did not wonder how he was still alive when every vein of his body was pushed against his skin and throbbing. All Jefferson Davis wondered was when. When would he finally be able to die?

They're embedded into his flesh and circle his arms, you'd need a significant amount of force to rip them off, even with the help of the mists Vin had to pull quite a bit to rip them out, Vasher would also need to know TLRs weakness (Which seems unlikely) know that they're the bracers (Which is nigh-impossible) and get close enough to pull off this plan without the Inquisitors or TLR himself noticing (Which is probably completely impossible) In that one very specific scenario he might be able to win, TLR wins pretty much every conceivable other fight though. I think his best bet would be that if he knew about the bracers to try to hit them with Nightblood, that'd probably drain them at the very least and probably straight up destroy them, but he'd need to hope that TLR didn't just backhand him and send him flying all the way back to Nalthis. If you're on a computer rather than mobile there should be a 'hide' button next to the edit button, that's what I use when I accidentally double post.

Unless it spills over into Australia.

Wish we could get another season I'm hoping this seasons Arrow fills the void in my heart that can only be filled by a truly mystical setting. That or I guess I'll have to read a lot more.

The blessing of Awareness is made from stolen human attributes, not Allomantic ones, that'd just be a waste of a tineye.

Can we dance around a burning topiary while we do it?

Remove them with what? His metalminds are both Hemalurgic and feruchemic stores and so resistant to most investiture, using anything else has the same problems as just trying to grab them off, TLR has compounded speed, pewter and allomancy, no way is anyone removing them without affecting them directly. Copper provides resistance to mental manipulation, it could very well work on Nightblood too, plus there's no way that Vasher can be fast enough to stay away from TLR, he can move nigh-infinitely fast when he wants to. Giving Nightblood to TLR is just levels of insane beyond any other plan, you're not only trying to use metal on an Allomancer, you're taking the most powerful weapon in the known cosmere and giving it to one of the most powerful people in the cosmere and just hoping that things end in an advantageous way. He's healed from beheadings, flaying and being burned alive, Stormlight has healed people from death and Shardblade wounds, Miles healed from completely blowing himself up or taking a shotgun to the face, we really have no evidence that there's any limitation to it whatsoever.

Well Geralt would lose both his swords within seconds, assuming this is still Mistborn era 1 speed would be less useful to Marsh since actually hitting anyone while speeding would rip his arm off but he could just tap a smaller amount and just be constantly faster. But the key question is does Marsh have Atium? Cause if he does then he absolutely wins. If he doesn't he probably still wins but Geralt at least has a chance.

We're running the Australia RP a bit differently to the regular one, it has a set game time: real time ratio and we really need players to be able to post at least once a week, but if you're ok with that then the city of Hobart is still at present unclaimed or you could join another players city.

He asked for cookies? Man the one intro thread I miss... For being a frequent discusser of Random Stuff, consoler of people in the Bad day thread, complimenter of people and of course the featured members list.

Three posts within hours of opening? Things are looking good for the Wastelands. Well as an RP anyway, as a location home to sentient beings it's looking less ok.

Neverthere is definitely going to insist on calling the Dominion Dominos now, whereupon when she is discovered she wil be ordering a Meatlover with no pepperoni.

They may have been in a spike shape, just to make them more aerodynamic and someone may have tripped and accidentally impaled one of their bindpoints onto the spike but we can hardly be held accountable for that!

I think there have been multiple references, (Particularly in SoS) that Invested metals had fainter lines and until Vin drew on the mists she didn't see a line to TLRs bracers IIRC.

And here I thought I was the only Oregoner with a penchant for evil plans involving cookies. (Aside from all the other DA Oregoners I guess and there are actually quite a few of us... it's all a coincidence I'm sure though. ) Should I be posting anywhere in particular? Been busy writing 113 Epic backgrounds for my evil city of Adelaide but I'm in the mood for a bit of a break from that.

General knowledge stuff is fine I think, particularly since it's been confirmed in so many WoBs, it's only specifics of unpublished works that should be avoided.

One year ago today Kobold vaguely mentioned the possibility of Elizabeth Trattner becoming an Epic with bakery-related powers called the cookie cutter. Random WHIO fact.

We tried a fabrial once, just created a hole in reality that kept asking us to feed it Lvetvaas. Still don't know what those even are but we gave it some tacos and it shut up.

Or a crossbow, or a coin and Allomantic steel. Or come to that a coin and Allomantic iron, drop a coin and then speed up while it's falling to behind someone and pull it through them.

Day 0 Outskirts of the city of Adelaide A dark tower, surrounded by crows, being struck by lightning, the near constant cawing of crows temporarily subsided, replaced by the rumble of thunder until it grew dark again, the birds screeching all the louder until the lightning drowned them out once more. “What’dya call a group of crows again?” Jed asked his companion as they walked down the nearby street. “Flock isn’t it? Thought birds were all flocks?” Came the reply. thunk. “Nah, crows is something else, a murder of crows innit?” “Don’t think it matters much what you call em, those ones’ll eat you up if you get close whatever you call them.” “Bloody Epics. Tellin ya Jef, the day they all go back to whatever pit what spawned em’ll be the best day of my life.” Jed said, spitting to one side. “It’s not so bad, hear some places got completely wiped, old Crowbar up there don’t cause much trouble, just watches you all creepy like for the most part.” “You’re right there, not as bad as old Necro up in the city, you hear he emptied half of Glenelg the other day recruiting again?” crunch “He’s working his way out from the center, be a couple months before he sends them soldiers out this far.” Jef said back. Jed shuddered slightly before replying. “Hate them soldiers, almost worse than Epics that lot, what kind of man betrays his own race just for some fancy powers that only ever hurt people? They all look wrong, you ever look at one of their faces?” thud “I try not to.” Jef said, shuddering in turn. “Heard they could suck out your soul if you look em in the eyes and the first time I saw them I believed it, look like dead men walking they do.” “Ah whatever, hurry up and get more wood or it’ll be morning by the time we get back.” The two set to their daily routine, chopping and gathering firewood and loading it onto a truck. Ever since the power had gone out people in the inner suburbs had found themselves in a sudden need of wood and no means to get it, surrounded by concrete structures as they were. It had been Jeds idea to get into the business of firewood, everyone needed to eat and while most people had focussed on supplying the food aspect of that not many had thought about peoples need for fuel. He tried not to overprice it, everyone was in this together after all, but no one could blame a man for looking after his family first in times like this could they? thwack. A short distance away from the working pair a lone black crow stood watching, cocking its head to one side curiously before flying back to the dark tower to join its fellow. Inside the tower stood an old man wearing a long flowing cloak, the weather was still hot and it caused him some discomfort but he was an actor after all, if he was going to live in a dark tower surrounded by crows he’d better look the part. “Anything interesting?” A voice called from across the room, a gorgeous young woman reclining in a luxurious chair with one arm draped on the windowsill. “Just a couple of layabouts getting some wood for the village and worrying that the dwellers of a certain evil tower might come and steal their souls.” Crowbar said, taking some liberties with what had actually happened and adding his own little embellishments. The room was suddenly lit by an incredibly bright flash, Crowbar recognized the warning signs and closed his eyes just in time to avoid getting blinded before opening them to watch the woman, small bolts of electricity now dancing between her fingertips. “Do you still need to do that?” Crowbar asked with a sigh as soon as he could hear again. “What?” His companion, an Epic known as Powervault replied, idly watching as the bolt continued to play between her splayed fingers. “I’m a lightning Epic, I need lightning to charge myself up again.” “You were charged three months ago, can you even hold anymore than you already have? Or do you just like the noise?” Three more bolts struck Powervaults hand in rapid succession, leaving the indignant Crowbar squinting as he failed to close his eyes in time. “You can never have too much.” She said, continuing to lounge languidly. “Besides it takes days to get a proper storm going to charge with, might as well make use of it while its here.” Grumbling to himself, Crowbar turned, attempting to swirl his cape dramatically before striding to a staircase. “I’ll be up top replenishing the flock since you just fried half of them.” He grumbled. “Have fun dear.” Powervault said before shooting another crow from the sky with a bolt from her hand. Crowbar wisely decided not to comment. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ An elaborate manor on an island to the south Sergeant Kimberly sighed deeply before sucking in a deep breath and rapping three times on the large door. “Enter.” A voice inside called, strangely high pitched for one so commanding in tone. Kimberly had drawn the short straw again, which meant that now she had to deal with him. “I’ve brought the evening meal sir.” She said, trying to keep a calm voice as she approached the back of the large leather seat. “Set it over there please Stuart.” The voice said again, without the door obstructing it it was now even more obvious, this was the voice of a child. A small hand accompanied the phrase, gesturing to a desk on one side of the room. She walked over to the desk and placed a silver tray gently down onto it, the smell of freshly made soup, toast and perfectly roasted beef wafting up towards her. “It’s er… Kimberly sir. Stuart’s still in the kitchen cooking for the rest.” “Ah, sorry Kimberly, I sometimes forget which of me is me and which is another me.” As usual she had absolutely no idea what he was saying, one of the reasons the soldiers stationed in the manor all hated having to be the one who served Psionic. “Would you like me to take it away?” He asked gently, his small face turning in his chair to look up at her. Upon seeing Kimberly’s confused expression the boy clarified. “The anger, fear, hurt. They’re useful sometimes, but distracting, unpleasant. To dwell on them is not to live life but rather to be consumed by it. Or so I think anyway.” Kimberly’s face paled still further. “Um…” She stuttered out, trying to think of how best to refuse an Epic. “Ah, you worry that I’ll steal your mind entirely? Leave you a broken shell? Worry not, you’ve no memories I want. Not yet.” He stood up, approaching the shaking sergeant, her toned body trembling as the small boy walked up to her, stood on tiptoes and brushed her cheek softly. “I’ll need to cultivate you more before I reap the harvest.” He walked to one side, approaching one of the bookshelves that lined the room before pulling out a volume and then approached a desk, sitting down in his desk chair and pulling a blank notebook towards him and beginning to write. Behind him, Kimberly just managed to retain her footing as she hastily retreated from the room, sparing only a glance for the young Epic-genius. She’d need to come back later to pick up the notebook, trying to make sense of his usually indecipherable scribbles and copy them before putting the original into storage. But before then, she needed a drink.

And given that Hoid's from Yolen and was alive before Devotion existed I'd say the odds of being descended from an Elantrian are around 0.

It generally protects against the direct side effects of tapping it but there will still be limits, pretty sure WoB is that if a Steelrunner tried to punch someone while speeding they'd probably break their arm.