Archer

Suddenly, a dramatic drumroll sounded. It increased in speed and volume as Klasten and Kicker rode dramatically into the room. Klasten was beating a small drum. He stopped and dismounted because riding a horse indoors is a bad idea. Then, he looked around. ... And tagged @Nohadon to see what he saw. Preferably shiny rocks that have been left out in the open and can easily be stolen.

Somewhere on the lawn. Klasten nodded appreciatively, then called to her. "Hey, Tena! Nice entrance, but it was a little jarring. Next time, can you try to be less surprising? I'm no Tineye." Under his breath he muttered something about how much he hated magical items and their rules. Cameo complete, he and Kicker faded away. Then reappeared, two meters to the left of where they'd been, seconds ago. "STORMS!" Klasten shouted. He walked over to Tena, smacked the can a few times, then glared at it. After a brief delay, the pair faded away again, this time for good.

I like the initiative, but I'd prefer to continue using this thread for these.

"Liar!" bellowed the sorcerer. Their words echoed across the glade like the whine of a thousand bees. The brave Waystop patrons stood in dramatic poses, or were displaying great feats of combat skill. Meanwhile, on the front lawn, Klasten was spasming. "I told you to close the lid!" Klasten shouted. He'd accidentally opened a can of cameo which had teleported him and Kicker to the Waystop. Kicker was frantically trying to shut it, but his hooves weren't made for that sort of thing. Klasten rolled over to him, and grabbed the can. He turned it over and started reading the instructions listed on the label. "Open the blah, blah, blah. To close! Interact with OW the main character in an OW insignificant way that OW OW OW THIS HURTS is either humorous or impresses hardcore fans! How am I supposed to do that?" Kicker shook his head in response as, elsewhere, the sorcerer continued shouting. "You recognized the name. You know who I'm seeking. And I will not let you doom this world!"

Woot! Well done, Itiah. That was a great round! I look forward to the Edgedancer Jak vs Jak showdown.

I couldn't have said it better myself. The one thing I'd add is that most of the participants seem to prefer cosmere magic systems because they're more refined and theorized about. But there's nothing stopping you from using stuff from any of Brandon's publicly available works.

Well done, everyone who has made a roast. They've all been fantastic so far! Here's my submission. WARNING: Beware of Stormlight Archive and Mistborn spoilers!

Two men burst into the room. The first, a short Italian bloke with a large mustache, flashed an ID badge in Elkanah's face. "It's me! The company sent me down, I just need to take a look at your meter." Without waiting for a reply, the two of them dashed through the kitchen and out the back exit. Through the open door, the sound of them arguing could be heard. "No, not that one, Louis. The other one!" shouted the smaller man. The taller man, Louis, responded in kind. "Well excuse me if my mustache gets in the way. You try running around with half a muskrat on your lip." "Mine is just as big as yours! Pass me the hammer." "Why do you get to use the hammer? It's my turn." "No it ain't. Hey! This isn't a hammer! It's a spanner!" "Well, it's my turn! Give me that!" "Ow!" This continued for several minutes, until finally the short man reentered the restaurant. He was limping slightly, and his bright red hat was askew. He leaned over the counter to speak with Elkanah once more. "I knew it. Your continuity drive is busted. The meter's readings were much too low. You'll need to get that repaired. I'd recommend upgrading to the Super M model. With installment costs, the price of the dozen or so extra parts you'll need, and the fee to get it inspected by a certified agent, it should cost you between five and five thousand chrysts. That quote was extra by the way. I'll send you the bill. Let's go, bro!" The other man joined the first, then the two of them left the way they'd came.

Klasten walked briskly through the stone corridor. The statue of Mace had been interesting, but yielded no insights. The whole time he'd been looking at it, an annoying feeling had been nagging him. Frustrated, he'd finally given up and decided to follow it to its source. As he rounded the corner, the feeling intensified a hundredfold. "Rusts," he muttered. Barely able to concentrate, he reached his arm up and grabbed the origin of his annoyance: a small card. "I wonder what this is for," he mused.

"I don't know!" Klasten responded. "The vision wasn't very clear. The stone was too nice looking to be outdoors. And the inscription was way too flattering." He searched his memory, trying to recall where he'd seen it before "The Hall! I knew it was familiar. It's from Mace's statue in the Hall. That's where I need to go." Klasten hopped upon his horse. "Thanks for the help, ma'am. See you around." With that, he and Kicker took off at a gallop, leaving behind a a cloud of dust and an extremely messy room.

"First name, matey?" asked Tena. Klasten responded instinctively. "Wrong! Matey Klasten would be a stupid name." He paused to think. "Actually, it might be Matey. It could also be Mark, or Melon, or Marmadooki. I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Isn't that strange?" He blinked, and in that brief moment of darkness, a vision came to him. An inscription, carved on the finest stone. Then he opened his eyes, and the image was gone. "There's something I need to do," he said. "I need to go. It's important, but I'm not sure why." He gestured for Kicker to come to him. "I keep getting the sense that I should... I should remember. But I'm not." He trailed off as he adjusted his horse's saddle. He probably shouldn't be riding in this state, but a something deep inside of him was compelling him to go, like an itch that needed scratching.

It has come to my attention that Clay is a popular name. So, to avoid confusing @The Forgetful Archivist and @Snipexe any further, I've decided to undergo some surprise character development. Clay had wandered outside, following the people, idly listening to them chat. His horse, Kicker, trotted along beside him. "People are funny," Clay noted to his companion. "Their memories are so short. It's like being in a jar of things. Things with other things." He scratched his head. "I know I had a good analogy prepared, but I can't seem to recall how it ended. That's inconvenient. Let's play the Game, that will clear my head." Clay sat down on a nearby rock. Nearby, Tena flew through the air. Clay closed his eyes, reached into his bag, and pulled out a random object. "It's hard, but not metal. Wood? No, it's pottery. I can feel the glaze. It's roundish. This end is thinner than the other, but there's no handle. Hmmm. Feel like... I GOT IT! It's that cursed pot. The one with the black markings!" He opened his eyes to confirm his guess. "Right again. I'm on a roll this week." He inspected the pot for cracks, rubbing his hands along its surface. "It reminds me of that jar we got in Elendel. The one with the spikes? At least that one was properly marked. You could tell it was dangerous. With this one, you'd never know. Better fix that." Clay pulled a marker from his pocket. As he did so, he accidentally dropped the pot. It fell to the ground and shattered at his feet! A black cloud of smoke erupted from it, making him disappear from view. Then the screaming began. A vision of a world of fire. All consuming fire. Then a star being pulled into a hole of darkness. And a million drops of blo- Clay's body hit the ground. Dirt kissed his face. Pain flared where his horse had kicked him. His vision swam as he gasped for breath. Twisted limbs grafted once more. Darkness tried to claim him. He spat in its face. The walking stones upon the floor. His heart raced to match the beat of approaching drums. The storm that knocks the open door. A torrent of water, rushing through his veins. The two-part harmony of lore. A voice. His voice, but colder. AND LOUDER. Shouting in his ears. Writing the message on his brain. Burning it behind his eyes. Repeating the same mantra, again and again. Twisted limbs, walking stones. Storms and doors and lore. Then silence. Utter silence. Clay opened his eyes. He found Kicker was above him, nudging him softly. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. "I never want to do that again. Make a note of that. Then copy the note a thousand times and mail it to me every day for the rest of my life. And get me a tattoo of it, in case I ever forget to check my mail." Kicker rolled his eyes at him. Clay grabbed the marker that was lying on the ground beside him. He scrawled a message on his chest. He then continued talking to his horse as he cleaned up the shards of pottery. "It's weird, Kicker. I've been struck by a sudden realization. A memory I'd forgotten ages ago. It just came to me, right now." He smiled. "I've remembered my name. My real name. From now on, Kicker, you may call me Klasten." To avoid having to reintroduce himself a dozen times, my character wrote 'CALL ME KLASTEN' in Sharpie across his breastplate.

*casually tags this as an ooc thread* *ponders the irony*

You're the second person to have that problem. I hadn't realized the name 'Clay' was so popular. I'm going to have to change his name. Maybe he can get possessed, or swap places with a twin brother. *ponders*

@Nohadon I'd like to open up an account for Clay. I then want all of Mace's money to be transferred to him, giving him a total of 1000C. I'd then like all that money to be transferred to the Ghostblood account. If he needs cash, Clay will just use the money from Mac's estate. Thanks!

Allomancy has its limits. I can't keep it going all the time, and I could only effect a small amount of people, so I'd have to be nuanced to avoid detection. That would be a tricky balance. But if I complete control over the human species, all caution could be thrown to the wind. I'd use my power in every relationship. I would control how you think and feel about me. I wouldn't have to worry about over/underdoing it because I'd always be using the power to its full extent. The power would corrupt me, the greed would drive me to try to become a god. It's inevitable. And no one could stop me. Allomancy has potential consequences, so I'd limit myself and be virtuous. The other scenario has none (besides an over inflated ego, loss of morals, and a sense of loneliness) so I'd go full out.

I was expecting something more... earth shattering. *shrug*

Cake batter. (I was going to say pancake batter, but that doesn't taste very good.)

I'm siriously confused.

You asked for it... What's your favourite YouTube channel? What's one word you wish that the spellcheck on this website wouldn't underline because this is a storming SANDERSON WEBSITE, AND I CAN USE SANDERSWEARS AND COSMERE NAMES IF I WANT TO, OKAY? Which is better: batter or butter? What's the best username someone has on this site? Would you rather read Brandon's honor's thesis, or his notes on SA book four? What's the best thing about living in the US? How much time do you spend Sharding each day? What's my most annoying habit? What's one thing about yourself that would surprise me? This sentence is grammatically correct? Are you a robot?

no.

*wonders why everyone keeps calling me sir today* I'm starting to look unread. No, I haven't.

I haven't read the Silmarillion. Hey girl, my favourite book is Oathbringer. Feruchemist. I don't want to be Mistborn, I would abuse the power to manipulate emotions. It would lead me to question every relationship I'm ever in. Windrunner. I see what you did there. Roosters don't lay eggs... But if one magically managed to, then it would go in the direction the yoke is internally. Eggs aren't perfectly symmetrical Kaladin. He's more motivational and less psychotic. Purple. I still can't get over the fact that they invented that word. Pants. They look snazzier. The moon. I'd destroy us all in a little under an hour testing it out. I dreamed I had a dragon once. *muttering* sixteen, minus the other number, plus what was it again? SEVENTY-TWO! History class. It's super easy when you've only got 151 years to cover. We had to throw in some filler about Britain and France just to make the textbooks long enough. He he he. You asked for it.... Mosquitoes. I'd tell them to leave me alone for once. Humans. A Jaguar. Rawr. This isn't an answer. I'm not risking getting space cooties just to see if the magic rock gives me powers. (I've seen The Martian, so I know the answer to this one.) A farmer, that way we can grow some crops. Otherwise we can never technically colonize the planet. Eight.

We do have BR, and I agree, they make good ice cream. But I was referring to Chapman's business practices. After their factory burnt down, they continued to pay their all of their employees while they were rebuilding. And they've done a great job fighting to keep rural schools open, which has been a big issue around here. Plus, they make tasty products. It's impossible to feel guilty while eating their ice cream. They're the ultimate caring local business. Woot!