Invocation

"Yes it did, as it was intended to. I am very good at grabbing attention," Lance said, smirking and sipping his drink.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm. First, go take a spike from the active railway next door, each of you who wants to join. You'll have to bring that back to us as payment for joining. Then all you need to do is find us. Find someone who has our symbol on them, show them the spike, and tell them you want to join. Let them know that you followed Mouras's instructions. Good luck to you, and I hope to see you at our home soon. If you have any more questions, or wish me to judge your spike to make sure it works, I'll be over at the bar having a drink." The crowd scurried off to follow the instructions.

Lance smirked. Nothing like a solid murderfest to gather allies. "You will not regret that choice, my friend. It may leave you in a...unique position soon enough."

Lance winked at the remaining men. "So how was that for a show? This is the power the Farriers hold, abilities beyond compare in this world. Those of you who are still choosing an alliance should make up your minds now...unless you wish to experience, firsthand, what I can do."

We actually have confirmation that this would theoretically work, since seons are pretty much just spren, only they'd need something to anchor themselves more firmly in the Physical Realm. That would take a very, very, very long time.

"Typically, no. But I saw the opportunity and took it -" Everything stopped. The music had cut. Something was wrong. "Well, it would certainly appear that I have. Perhaps next time you should watch all avenues, yes? Silly to leave anyone able to come and go through the ceiling. Plus, you can't tell me the man didn't deserve it. Also, I suppose you could consider that a message...from the Farriers." Knowing this would set the onlookers off, Lance stopped storing determination and began to tap, resuming his pewter-burning as well. "I owe you a dance," he said to Nerin, sprinting towards the nearest group of thugs, drawing his canes, readying a bendalloy bubble, readjusting to his Mouras persona. The moment he got close enough, he fired off a bubble, canes hitting with twin cracks across the first two heads he saw before moving on. Not five seconds of burning went by before they were all down and his bubble was, too, popping as he ran through the boundary, determination tapping keeping him from pausing with the shift of time frame. He jumped towards another pair of thugs, tackling one towards the wall just as he got another bubble up, the momentum from a pewter-fueled charge throwing the other man through the boundary of the bubble (and later through the wall and onto the track of the functioning depot), ribs breaking audibly as Mouras hit. The other half of the pair that had occupied the space rushed behind him, cracking a club across his back, ineffectual from the pewter. Mouras stood up and calmly kneed him in a soft spot before breaking his jaw and smacking him in the kidney to ensure he stayed down. The bubble dropped and Mouras was off again, taking down the next pair as they struggled to get their guns out, holsters in awkward positions. No speed bubble needed there. The next man he headbutted, killing him instantly. Another was standing next to a metal barstool, holding a cane, and Mouras Pulled himself towards it, smashing, feet-first, into his chest, throwing him into the bar's shelf-stock. A gunshot rang out as he stood, and Mouras threw a speed bubble around himself to see where it came from. Sure enough, there was a bullet heading for him, but he calmly moved to the other side of the bubble and dropped it, feeling the wind from the bullet whiz by as he headed towards the final man, the one who was shooting before, but now was putting on knucklebones. Metal knucklebones. The absolute fool. Mouras Pulled, breaking his fingers, and clubbed him upside the head, knocking him out, before braining him. "You. Old man. I am sparing your life, a sign that Mouras and the rest of the Farriers are not without mercy. Be grateful." Lance grinned, shaking himself free of the Mouras headspace. Even as incompetent as these had been, it had been a while since he'd been able to stretch like that. Letting loose wasn't easy most of the time. He marvelled again at the gift he had been given, and how right it felt to be able to do that.

"Making an entrance is nothing more than a different form of dance, so I suppose the two are, indeed, equal. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. After all, there may not be much time before this erupts like a gunpowder factory in an active volcano," Lance said, beginning to lead in an old-fashioned waltz, away from the gore.

"Breaking windows is a wonderful pastime, honestly, even if it is a little...transparent," Lance joked, hand still outstretched.

Far above, the watcher perked up. Something was wrong. A man, frozen on the dance floor. Mid-dance. Pulling out his dueling canes, Lance smashed a panel of glass above them, luckily next to one of the iron reinforcement panings, and jumped through, aimed directly at the back of the man's head, feet pointed like an arrow, pewter flared to prevent shattered legs. It still wouldn't be enough, but at the last moment, he gently Pulled on the pane liner above, softening his impact just that extra bit to prevent injury. His injury, at least. There was nothing cushioning the man beneath him. He went down hard, Lance's feet crushing his skull. Lance, sensing the time for a proper quip, extended his hand to the partner of the late man...wait, was that the Soother from earlier? Even better? "I hope you'll forgive me cutting in, but may I have this dance, madam?"

This is a bit more general than your question, but it's a place to start!

I was rereading WOK today (yay) and I came across an...interesting Death Rattle. "'All is withdrawn for me. I stand against the one who spared my life. I protect the one who killed my promises. I raise my hand. The storm responds.'" Now, who does that sound like? It's Moash, storm him. "All is withdrawn for me" deals with him giving his pain to Odium. "I stand against the one who spared my life" refers to Kaladin. "I protect the one who killed my promises" is probably Odium. The last two portions are...important sounding. Given that Moash now has Jezrien's Honorblade, he can do the same kind of things that Kaladin can, like his "storm pocket" thing in Oathbringer. I propose that there will be another joining of the Everstorm and highstorm, with Moash and Kaladin fighting in the middle, and Moash will end up eventually doing what Kaladin did with the highstorm, only with the Everstorm instead. Alternatively, this Death Rattle could refer to Kaladin as well, through a different set of lenses, but it's more fun to imagine Moash and Kaladin will fight at a joining between two storms.

Two people have voted, two people have given opposite answers.

Sandman did say there were timelines that there were no atium, so it's possible.

That is also something that could have ran in TLR's family. Kwann was his uncle (if I recall correctly) and said "I need not a Feruchemist's metalminds" for his perfect recall.

Nope! Mistborn is great for anyone with any amount of knowledge about the cosmere. I started with them, and was just fine.

In the corner of the defunct train station sat a man. A large, golden-haired man. Upon first glance, he's just a normal man, but something is slightly unsettling about him. His fingers, perhaps, curl slightly more around the glass of whisky he holds. Perhaps his ears are slightly higher and slightly more pointed than they should be. Perhaps his eyes are not exactly human-like. Perhaps it's the air of coiled observation he has, for in the corner booth, Stravomenos sat. And watched.

Try the Pendragon series by D.J. MacHale. 10 books, pretty good. Neal Shusterman writes some nice stuff, including Unwind, Everlost, Scythe, plus their continuing serieses. The Alex Rider series by Anthony Horowitz is good for what it is, along with Eoin Colfer's Artemis Fowl series.

I would highly recommend the Mistborn books, they're amazing. Not as long as the Stormlight Archive books, all things considered, but they're equally as meaty and wonderful and Sanderson-ified. 10/10 series.

Pretty much what Lunamor said! Go to the request thread and post something and you'll get a Word doc of it.

I might do what @Jaywalk said, since the Outskirts are fun, and odds are, since this is voluntary, I'd end up with shaping power. Might go Fablehaven, though, too. Tough set of choices.

I think he'd have had an easier time with it than some people suspect. After all, the Words of Founding are very clear that Rashek did hold some portion of Preservation and attempted to help with it, while also being very clear that Sazed now holds that power in entirety. Seems like between that and Marsh's continued existence, he'd be able to integrate nicely.

Far above the dancing and barely within earshot of the piano stood a man, intently watching the party and the group. A sentinel in the night. For something was sure to go wrong. He would be needed.

Lance landed softly from his Pull, easing up on his tapping as well, now that the Soothing was weak and allowed himself the indulgence of a calling card. He pulled a canister of paint from within his coat and unscrewed the top that had a brush attached, then began to paint directly on the grey steel of the building across from the window. He stepped back in a short time to admire his work, and, finding it satisfactory, left.

Lance felt tempted, just for a little bit, to tell her, but tapped more determination to offset it and hold to his conviction. "You will find out what I'm talking about soon enough. I'm sure the letter has arrived already. For now, though, my time has come." Lance took two steps backwards and Pulled himself out of the window with a final comment: "You will see me again."