I think I am here.

Max heard the order to stand down, and was just about to hesitantly step back when he saw Althea. No going back, Devaan’s voice was fresh in his mind. This is our burden. Sethramir lay stationary in his grasp as Althea said his name, asked how he was. She seemed to care. Max couldn’t find the words to reply. Only a short few weeks(?) ago she’d talked to him, comforted him, tried to help his situation. He’d left DIDGERIDOO better than he’d ever been. But it wasn’t enough, a spiteful voice whispered in his ear. The voices grew stronger and their words of pity WEREN’T ENOUGH! The words became unintelligible as the voice turned into a scream. Even flaring his calming Aons he could no longer ignore them. He shuddered just at the thought of what would happen if he took his helmet off. The Ghostbloods were weak. He’d heard the legends, the myths of what they’d been before the War. It was the only thing he could grab onto for comfort, a dream for his drowning mind to hold on to. He’s seen the new Ghostbloods. He’d seen Lusk. He’d seen the way they used him, the way they wanted him only to control their beasts. He was a tool. A tool! He’d joined the Ghostbloods to be like Rashan. But Rashan hadn’t been treated like a tool, had he? He hadn’t spent day after day in a locked room, being forced to Riot lest he starve. He hadn’t been mocked, and teased, and ridiculed for his skills. Teased no longer, he thought as he unsummoned Sethramir And began to lift his arms up, outstretched, palms to the crowd. Mocked no longer! Max began to yell. A primal roar of destruction sounded as he supertapped his Nicrosil-minds and sent a wave of Rioting through the veins of the whole city. His scream continued as he gave each individual in the city a duralumin-boost of Fear, Chaos, Panic, Hopelessness. He Rioted their insecurities, he enflamed their worries. The strongest Riot in the history of the Cosmere was happening in Oasis. Mistings were specialised in their metal than Mistborn. If his Rioting was not equal to the Lord Ruler’s own, it was stronger. But Max didn’t care. His eyes were closed and full of tears as he lifted his head and stared into the sky, channeling his anger, his frustration, his insanity. Like the scream of a Pheonix, Max was unstoppable. Allies, enemies, he didn't care. His hands trembled, and his forcefield remained as Max screamed.

A yell erupted in the crowd, tearing through the rest as a dome of light surrounded a figure coated head-to-toe in glowing turquoise armour. The dome moved with him as the figure advanced, pushing anyone in front to the sides. Another yell, and he expanded the forcefield to the size of a bus instantly and then back again to its normal size, throwing everyone away and creating a large clearing where the man stood. The armoured man thrust a hand to his side and a silvery-white sword fitting for the amour appeared in it. Max was here.

Mission Six; Callsign: Icon. Confirmed.

Yup. It could be possible she directly made the predators of FotS sense thoughts just so they could be deadly for travelers in the Cognitive Realm. That, or there just happened to be a place with giant mind-reading emus and she couldn't pass up the opportunity

"Uh, hello?!" Alask yelled, seeing the sick man groaning in pain again. "You're hired? That's great, now can you please get to fixing our friend here up?" @Cyanic @AxeliustheGrizzled

maybe I should start quoting that song from Portal.

I lost again. And now I can actually say what I want instead of writing song lyrics. I’m hungry. Where’s @Gancho Libre?

Declaring war against a guild that doesn’t exist yet? I like the sound of that Edit: I hereby declare war on the Medium-Lighted Alley. They haven’t arrived yet, but the name is too perfect not to be used in the future, so I’m saving the time and effort and declaring war on it now.

The Hospital was a squat white building, crescent windows lining its structure. Alask ran, looking at the sun. Good, not night yet. If night fell and Alask was still running, that would technically be a violation of the Threnodite Rules, something the Shade inside of him probably wouldn’t like. Entering the prestine structure, Alask called for a doctor, making sure not to look into any rooms. One time, he’d glanced at someone taking a blood test. Shedding blood. As usual, the dormant Shade that remained spiked in his body had flared up, taken control of Alask, and basically murdered everyone. Alask didn’t remember it, all he ever saw was the aftermath of the Shade. Fortunately, that had been a small clinic a while off, nothing too big to warrant the full attention of the Skybreakers. “Any doctor here?” He called out, hoping Ishek, Laonin and the man who’d fallen was behind him. “We’ve got a friend who’s pretty injured.” @The Grumpy Elantrian @Karnatheon @xinoehp512

Alask eased knowing the man who’d fallen was alright. Hearing The Man who Fixed, Laonin, as he said his name was, introduce him to the other visitor (Ishek, from what (Alask could make out), Alask waved. “Hello,” He said, glancing back at the man who’d fallen over. “Not exactly the best circumstances to meet under, but still, pleasure to meet you.” Ishek asked Alask if where they could find a hospital. Immediately Alask thought of the one he’d seen, the one some members of his crew had heisted from. Theivery. It had been what Alask had resorted to in the Alleyverse, the only thing that would allow him a steady stream of income to send to his parents. They believed he had a job, but when the guilds wouldn’t accept you and no job wouldn’t awaken the immortal demon in your soul, there was really only one path to go. “North, about 800 Threnodite meters,” he said, then hesitated. “That’s about 960 Scadrian meters, if that helps. After that, two lefts, one right, and you’re at the Hospital. Try not to get stuck in the Alleys. Rumour has it they never end.” Gesturing for the two to follow him, Alask ran for the Hospital.

Oh, that’s just the sheep. Don’t mind them.

Only 26? Tsk tsk, I expected better, DA. Tsk tsk. *Tsk Tsks instensify*

Alask turned sharply at a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” he said to the Man who Fixed and bounded to the old wooden door. Opening it, he saw a man waiting outside. “Hey, h-” He glanced at another man in front of the Forge, collapsed on the floor. Immediately leaving the door, Alask jumped to his side. He had no medical experience, but maybe someone else did. “Hey!” He called out to the Man who Fixed and the other man who’d been waiting. “Do any of you have anything that could help this man?” @Karnatheon @The Grumpy Elantrian @xinoehp512

Hey @Archer, just letting you know you put Mara’s cause of death in Max’s bio. Thanks!

“One exception?” A voice called out. The young Ghostblood was a recent recruit, recent enough not to know any better than to call out at the Righthand of the Ghostbloods themselves. “You mean, out of your Council, the most highly trusted members of our organisation, you mean out of them, one of them just betrayed you for Solace? Who would this blasphemer be?!” A small mob of people surrounding the Ghostblood murmured in ageeement.

(Ba Ba Ba Ba) (Ba Ba Ba Ba) (Ba Ba Ba Ba) (Ba Ba Ba Ba) *My sweetest friend* (Ba Ba Ba Ba)

A really hungry man came up to the parchment seller and offered to buy all of the parchements to eat. He was very hungry.

Alask had always been observant. Observance was what helped him when he was living with his family in one of the poorest districts, observance was what had assisted him when he needed it, observance was what allowed him to survive, even with the curse spiked into him. As Alask entered behind the Man who Fixed, he observed him, his demeanour. He seemed a man who’d seen much, a man who valued good, hard work over flashes and sparkles of Investiture. Alask could see it in his hands. Leathery, hard. They’d seen work. By the look of this place and the man’s analogy earlier, this man was a forger. And not just physically, it seemed. The man also had the Investiture of Forgery, though for someone who had the ability to do things so easily through stamps, he still seemed to value practicality over theatrics. Alask valued that, even if he was a voracious watcher of movies. Walking around, Alask remembered where he was. A forge. Would there be fire here? Of course there’s fire, you rustwit, a voice inside of him said. It’s a forge! Despite that fact, Alask continued. Fire would be fine. As long as it wasn’t made, or ‘kindled’ as the Rules said, Alask was completely in control. Still, he worried. He tried not to let his nervousness bleed through his face, but he’d never been the best at hiding his emotions. “So,” He said, taking a seat on a nearby empty stool. As far as he could see, the building was empty apart from the man. Which meant lots of empty stools to sit on. “Can I first say thanks for inviting me here, and second, what ideas did you have on how I could help?” Alask would have offered to make the man’s drink, maybe as a repayment for waking him up in the middle of his sleep - which, Alask admitted, he felt a bit guilty for - but he didn’t know how and really wasn’t in the mood for accidentally poisoning the man who invited him in their home through his deplorable cooking. So he waited for the man’s ideas on how Alask could help him. Help. The man hadn’t minded Alask’s lack of Investiture, a fact that made Alask appreciate the man’s geniuneness all the more. He’d heard the guilds only accepted those of high Investiture levels. Of course, it wasn’t like Alask would join them anyway. “My name’s Alask,” he said suddenly. He didn’t know why. “Just so you know.” @Karnatheon

I wholeheartedly agree with this statement even though I’ve never tried eggnog.

A short man opened the door. His skin was leathery, and he sported a bushy beard that looked like it was taken care of well. Alask himself didn’t think he would be able to take care of a beard if he got one. He already had too many other things to worry about. The man (The Man who Fixed, as his current name on the street was) asked if he could help Alask. “Oh, no thanks.” Alask said. “I was just here because, you know, there’s word of you fixing buildings and stuff and I’m here wondering: ‘how is this guy doing in days what the guilds couldn’t do in months?’” Shadows. Alask needed to remember not to show his distaste for the guilds so often. He found his dislike, even hate, was justified, though. The guilds had been the ones creating the war that messed everything up. They’d been the cause of Alask’s family’s poverty, they’d been the ones to kidnap Alask and experiment on them. If anything, they deserved his dislike. Alask took a deep breath, and resumed what he was saying. “Anyway, your soulstamps are sort of like an autograph on buildings, and seeing someone like you, one person, trying to help people is sort of inspiring. ”I haven’t got any Investiture, but if you ever need any assistance in your cause, I’d be happy to help.” @Karnatheon

We’re going to have a Threnody novel? Yes! Threnody’s one of my favourite settings by Brandon, so atmospheric, and the Shades are just awesome. As for speculation, I can’t really say much. I hope we get some more insight into the fortfolk in the novel though, they seem really interesting.

*I would find a way* That’s the whole song ‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash done, line by line. Storms, that took a while.

Alask walked to the upright Forgery, one of the only standing buildings among many ruined ones. 16 years rebuilding, he thought. And the Alleyverse still hasn’t recovered. Alask had been born after the Seven Day War. He grew up among ruins and dust, born at just the right time to feel the impact of the war but not live through it. Times were tough after that. Alask was pretty sure his father died in the war, his mother was still alive though, along with his brother all the way across the Alleyverse, living in poverty. He wished he could help them, but... The spikes in his chest still throbbed, even today. He’d never gotten over the feeling they granted, the sense of having something inside of you. Maybe if the guild who Spiked him had thought about that they wouldn’t have captured him against his will do so, but then again, he doubted it. Approaching the Forge, Alask knocked on the door. “Hello?” He called out. Rumours of the Man who Fixed spread quickly, if quietly, but Alask was a Master of knowing the current stories of the street. He knocked again. “Anyone here?”

Max thought for a moment, taking the whole facility in. It was rather huge. And for someone like Solace, almost too nice. “Yours, judging by the scan,” he replied to Solace’s question. The man had made this entire facility, and then had been rejected by the Ghostbloods. He must have masterplan. Max knew it. “So,” He said, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. “What’s your plan? Why have you brought me here?” @Mraize

While that sounds good, we already have a very detailed summary on the wiki: http://alleyverse.wikia.com/wiki/Seven_Day_War which works just as fine.