NameIess

Yes, it would be difficult, but given that it can work against Shardbearers with support, I think that against an unsupported Shardbearer, with the added disadvantage of getting surrounded, it would be doable with the numbers I suggested. Enlightened Truthwatchers, if we’re counting them, have no combat-focused powers other than perhaps extra-strong healing. Bondsmiths are quite dangerous, but given that they don’t get Shards (with the possible exception of Plate) and require touch to use their powers on people, I would put them below Shardbearers. Maybe 20 or so hazekillers? Even with unlimited investiture from perpendicularities, it doesn’t take too many people to hold a Bondsmith down and crush their skull with a hammer, stick an aluminum dagger or two through their eyes, or use anti-investiture if that’s allowed. As for which orders are more dangerous, Stonewards can sink the legs of large swathes of opponents into stone, especially at higher ideals. Windrunners and skybreakers can fly, making it almost impossible to pin them down. Edgedancers also have great mobility, and their ability to be frictionless makes using ropes against them far more difficult. Compare this to Elsecallers. They have soulcasting, but the average Elsecallers won’t have Jasnah levels of competence. They can retreat to the Cognitive realm, but I would count that as a win for the Hazekillers. Aside from Soulcasting, which would be most useful against ropes and the like, they’re very similar to a Shardbearer, except with the extra advantages of Stormlight and living Shards. They can soulcast fire, perhaps turn a few weapons to smoke, but against aluminum-armored soldiers or soldiers with Half-shards, they’ll get surrounded and overwhelmed far quicker than a Windrunner, Skybreaker, Stoneward, or Dustbringer. Also, on the Plate making Kaladin go faster, it would increase his terminal velocity, but lashing the extra mass would take extra Stormlight.

I did not intend to imply that we should assume that all Radiants of the early ideals have barely any experience, I was merely making the point that Oath level does not equal experience level. A first ideal Radiant could describe someone incapable of even consciously drawing upon Stormlight, or it could describe a fairly experienced Radiant who just hasn’t figured out the next oath yet. Oaths make a Radiant better at handling Stormlight and more powerful applications of their surges, but there is no 1:1 correlation to skill. Hence why I said later in my post that assuming a first ideal Radiant is basically just an average soldier/prospective member of an order with Stormlight, then an estimate of 5-6 ‘hazekillers’ (Stormkillers?) could be accurate. Although now I think about it, maybe 3 or 4 would do. Depends on the order. I was just trying to roughly map skill level to oath level, since for the first two oaths especially, skill with their powers matters more than oaths. You are correct, thanks for pointing that out. My memory is a bit rusty.

I'm a fan of this being a discussion of how many average uninvested troops trained to counter the specific kind of invested troop it takes to bring them down, which, especially when talking about a Mistborn, leads to a very large difference. The average era 1 Mistborn could take hundreds of metal-armed troops comfortably in most conditions. However, depending on the situation I'd say one or two dozen hazekillers should be able to kill them. For Shardbearers, this imo will drop the number Frustration gave quite substantially. Shardbearers alone, without support are rather vulnerable to becoming surrounded. Especially taking into account that the most impressive feats we have for solo Shardbearers come from some of the most skilled Shardbearers on Roshar, (Dalinar and Adolin), or from Shardbearers fighting poorly-trained soldiers with absolutely no experience or training against Shards (Helaran). I would think that a team of 80-100 soldiers, trained against Shardbearers, armed with hammers, ropes and nets, could defeat most Shardbearers. With Half-shards and possible aluminum weapons (or aluminum-coated chains, perhaps?), that number drops further, maybe as low as 40-50. For Radiants, this is a harder question. This is because, unlike Mistborn, when considering oaths we can't just assume the Radiant is reasonably skilled with their powers. Kaladin swore the second Oath while barely understanding his powers. Replace him at the end of tWoK with an average soldier and you'd have a regular dude with healing and arrow-blocking powers. So if we're assuming first oath Radiants to have little to no practice with or control over their surges, basically just Stormlight healing, then I'd say Frustration's estimate is accurate. Second oath is correct for some orders, such as Windrunners and Stonewards if we're assuming they have similar mastery of their powers as squires we see in Stormlight, though some orders like Willshapers, Truthwatchers, and Lightweavers are probably not going to kill dozens of well-trained soldiers, especially considering their average members are not combat-focused. For Third Oath, one or two hundred is probably a reasonably estimate, though some orders would probably do the same or worse than a full Shardbearer. Fourth Oath, I think there's one important consideration that's not been discussed too much: Radiant Plate is not powered by Stormlight. It is powered by a direct connection to the Spiritual realm, implication being that a Radiant can't just heal it using their Stormlight. Still, the more combat focused orders would be able to take hundreds or even thousands of troops, with enough Stormlight. Fifth ideal would probably reach comfortably into the thousands range, although the less combat focused orders might remain down at hundreds, since they're not significantly more dangerous than ordinary Shardbearers. Aluminum-coated weapons and half-shards would likely lower the estimates for the later ideals, although I will assume that Raysium draining devices are off the table. Really, we should do an order-by-order estimate, although most orders we have too little information to be accurate.

“From the Thread you got those Honorblades from. I assume it would carry some measure of the compulsory effects the Honorblades exhibit.”

“Naturally.” An aluminum box appeared, and Malevolence opened to reveal the two Honorblades he’d been studying. “They’re little use to me save for their interesting mental effects. Do you perhaps have any matter from this Thread of the sandwich?”

"Of course." Malevolence said. "I propose setting goals. Whoever manages to kill, corrupt, or break the target's will first wins. In the unlikely case that neither of us can manage that, we should administer a survey with questions to determine which of us was more effective. As for a reward..." Malevelence's eyes glittered. "Evil is its own reward, don't you think?" They did indeed (mostly the being made of metal part), as the poor husk discovered to its detriment. Jack easily knocked the husk backwards, taking several of its companions down with it and creating a sizeable gap in the ring. Lyric sprang forward after Jack, voice filled with tension as he continued to sing. "Evil powers, be bound. Dark whisperings, begone. Your control over us, over husks, be broken." His words seemed to have some effect, and the Sage muttered a curse as his husks responded sluggishly to Jack's assault. "I... yes, I will do so." Balitan turned to the computers, eyes still a bit cloudy. "What task do you speak of?" Malevolence nodded. "Indeed." He snapped his fingers, and a long crate appeared next to him. "A dozen awakened blades, granting access to the surges you requested. Your unkeyed Dor should be able to power them quite ably."

Yep. Page 1297 in my book.

Just Azir, unless you're talking about the Alethi living in Urithiru. He thought about how some of them came from his first set of ideals, not all of them. Given that Kaladin was seeing the Windspren that would become his Platespren throughout OB, well before he said the Fourth ideal, I would say that's not necessarily a continuity error. Still doesn't make a ton of sense, but his Plate being summoned was a rather unusual circumstance, so I'll forgive it. The Oathgate spren said they would let the enemy through, which I took that to mean they couldn't lock the gate. But you're right that it could have been mentioned in the meeting that the locking mechanism had stopped working. Seems like something Jasnah at least would have checked. That was explained in-book as Taravangian keeping the Shard of Honor happy with him. An indication of its growing sentience, I would say, in that it wanted Taravangian to keep his side of the bargain even though he was under no obligation to do so. I agree with this. As much as I love Brandon's books, and as much as RoW was one of my favorite of the series, WaT could've used more editing time. WaT was good, but a few more revisions would've made it a much, much better book. The real-world language in particular felt very off, something I'm hoping Brandon corrects, especially with Lift moving into a more prominent role in the second half. Here's hoping Ghostbloods works well, and that the long break from Stormlight will help Brandon to correct these issues.

It was Nale, and yes, he moved with similar superspeed.

"That is true." Malevolence confirmed. "However, another factor is the makeup of reality." He waved a hand through the air in front of him. "On a fundamental level everything, from the air we breath to the ground upon which we stand to our own bodies, is made of Chaotic Light. The same essence that Narrators have control over. I theorize that most often, Narrators do expend any Prismite to Narrate, but simply manipulate the light already present in the world." Malevolence turned to Rebus. "So you've decided to accept my offer?" He sneered "Predictable. So, what should the terms of our competition be?" The Author who had been watching was amused. Perhaps he should create a similar character. One who chronicled the story of TLT... yes, that would be an interesting archetype. Unintelligible set Sequence down gently, then took a step back, breath catching in his chest. He felt... hope. Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, it had worked? He tried not to look at the darkness that still lingered. Surely that was just residue. Surely... Surely she would be alright. "Sequence?" He whispered in a shaky voice. "Sequence? Are..." He squeezed his eye shut, then opened them immediately, desperately examining Sequence's face. "Are you... awake?" "No." Ortithox took a step forward, saliva dripping down his glowing chin. "Your minds are... unique." He looked at Jack. "A mechanical mind. Wonderful. So orderly. I wonder, what will you be once I have consumed it? Humans become husks, easily controlled. Will your body continue to function, once your mind is mine? And the other." He said, turning his gaze to Lyric. "An aged mind. A mind filled with songs from an age long, long past. Songs faded with age, even within the storehouses of memory." The sage shivered. "Yes... oh yes. I will enjoy feasting upon you both. But first, your bodies must be overcome." Closing his eyes, Ortithox's voice dropped to a low, threatening growl. "Seize them, my followers. Cease their singing and hold their limbs." The illusory surroundings vanished, revealing dozens of humans with glowing white eyes surrounding Lyric and Jack. As one, they raised their arms and ran towards the pair. Balitan slowly returned to consciousness. "You need me," He muttered to himself. "Because if you are the Witherlord, someone will need to invent a Mordite alloy..." He blinked. "Did I black out again? What happened?" Agony felt someone who bore great pain approaching. The pain of death, scabbed over by time's passing, yet perhaps worsened by the time it had been borne. What would happen to Agony if the person who caused the pain is already dead?

I agree with all the other points you brought up, but this one does not seem at all accurate. How exactly could the Windrunner do this? Shardplate is not going to hold up to modern anti-aircraft weapons for long, not even living Shardplate.

"The Narrators are me, writing the slug." Malevolence confirmed. "They see reality as words on a page, and they can change those words as they wish, with a few exceptions." "Age brings many things." Whispered a voice audible only to Ryna. "Experience. Joy. But most of all, age brings endings. Watch, and witness, scribe Ryna. Every beginning promises an ending. Every ending, a beginning. Witness this ending, and this beginning." The Dreamsmith cocked his head at Willow. "Forgive me. My memory is flawed and I must admit, I did not take as much time with Sequence's weapon as I could have wished, but did I not create you? A dagger with an invisible chain, capable of speech?" He glanced back at Sequence, then blinked. "Ah, forgive me. There is no time. Perhaps later. The light on Reverie's back grew brighter, and features of the room changed. A forge appeared, and an anvil. Both were misty, as unreal as the Dreamsmith himself. He stood before the anvil and reached to the side, summoning a hammer to his hand. He closed his eyes, and seemed to grow more misty, more unreal. All of him except for the hammer. The hammer grew more distinct, more solid. The Dreamsmith opened his eyes, and looked from Unintelligible to Sequence to the Great Wizard. "I will do my best to forge a tool capable of manipulating Ivisyre's particular brand of darkness." The Dreamsmith's voice sounded distant, his reality focused into the hammer. "Long ago, I created a weapon capable of drawing out Ivisyre-or Everyone, as they were called-'s power. Now, I must create a similar tool without access to Ivisyre's soul." The Dreamsmith raised his hammer. "Every tool needs three things..." Catching an incredulous look from Unintelligible, he trailed off. "Ah. Right. Time is limited. I will hurry." He brought his hammer down on the anvil, and two lines of darkness appeared leading to it, one originating from Sequence's wound, the other from the Great Wizard's chest. "I am taking power from the Great Wizard, since he will wield this tool, and from Sequence's wound, since it is the only power of Ivisyre I have access to." The Dreamsmith brought his hammer down repeatedly, efficiently forming the power on his anvil into two rods with circles on the end. reaching down deftly, he attached the two pieces together, bare hand hissing as it contacted the dark energy. With a snap of his fingers, the energy solidified. The Dreamsmith dismissed his hammer, nodding in satisfaction. "Behold," The Dreamsmith held up his creation, a pair of forceps made from a metal of purest darkness. "Dark-binder, I call them." He tossed them to the Great Wizard. "A rushed name. But they will work, I hope." He turned to Unintelligible and rested a misty hand on his shoulder. "My friend. Be well. I have done what I can." He turned t The glow on Reverie began to fade, and the Dreamsmith faded away with it. As his form warped, he turned to Aelinor. "Your hands are damaged. You cannot fight as you are. If you wish it, seek me out. I can forge a tool for you. If you wish, then do not delay." The Dreamsmith faded entirely and was gone. The metal creature stood, stepped through a crack in reality, and vanished with him. The Great Wizard took the forceps with a gasp. "These are..." He shook himself, reaching towards Sequence. His eyes went entirely black. Darkness seeped from them, forming vine-like lines that ran down his face and arms, entirely coating his hands and forearms. Carefully, he reached the forceps forward and into Sequence's wound. Then, ever so carefully, he clamped the forceps down and pulled them up, out of the wound. Held tightly within the forceps was a ball of pulsing shadow, beating almost like a heart. From that ball ran lines of darkness, reaching not only into the wound but to every part of Sequence's body. There were dozens of them, ranging in size from the largest, a line about a thumb's width leading directly into the wound, to the smallest, thinner than a hair, that lead to Sequence's head and heart. The old man grimaced. The darkness on his hands moved down onto the ball of shadow, coating it, then moving down along the lines of darkness. Then, carefully but forcefully, he pulled the forceps away from Sequence's body. Lines of darkness stretched, then slackened as they were pulled from Sequence. The pulsing of the darkness sped up, then halted. In the end, the Great Wizard was left holding a ball of darkness with hundreds of slack veinlike cords leading from it, ends trailing down near the ground. He looked to Unintelligible, face etched with exhaustion. "It is done. The corruption... went further than I thought. Her soul is badly damaged. Whether she will heal or not, I do not know. But... I think I removed all the darkness. Hopefully." Regulus's eyes widened in shock. A real dragon! He thought. A real dragon, and I have to fight it! He was frozen for a moment, but fortunately, the advice of his father came to mind. "Son. When you are face to face with a fiery death, don't just sit around." Regulus blinked, drawing his sword. He ran towards the dragon, hoping to get too close for it to use its fiery breath on him. Although this dragon didn't look to have particularly fiery breath. Thinking back to his dragon-fighting lessons, Regulus cried out a challenge. "Fierce dragon! I, Regulus am here to rescue the prince-er, the damsel you have captured!" Yes, get it talking. Can't breath fire while talking. He screamed a battle cry that came out sounding a little more like just a scream than he would've liked, and swung his sword for one of the dragon's legs.

Staring down at Sequence's face, hearing confirmed the futility of his hopes, Ookla the Unintelligible did not feel like a hero. Truth be told, he had never really felt like a hero. But... Sequence saw him as one. Squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him, Unintelligible searched desperately for some way to save Sequence. Surely he'd encountered some Plotblade, some power, some something that could save Sequence. There was nothing. He'd searched far and wide for a cure. The Great Wizard, a being bonded to a Withergeist yet uncorrupted enough to be able to help, had been all he could find. Truly, even finding such a man had been a stroke of luck. If even he could not help, then nothing could. Unintelligible shuddered, feeling hope begin to die within him. Except... With a shock, Unintelligible realized that Ookla season had come and gone. He had been so focused on reaching the Great Wizard that he hadn't even noticed. So full of worry that the boundless, chaotic power of the Ooklas had found no purchase within him. Could I have healed her? He wondered. Then he discarded the idea. The powers of the Ookla were chaotic, powerful, and nigh-uncontrollable, not powers of healing. And yet... A tiny hope sparked back to life within Unintelligible. Seizing on the dying embers of Ookla season's power, he opened his mouth and spoke. His words were unintelligible to those standing around him, his mouth moving without sound. And yet, in another world, in a workshop made from memory and dreams, his voice rang out clearly. Dreamsmith. I need your help. Unintelligible felt shock from the Dreamsmith, then, as he explained Sequence's situation, sorrow. Unintelligible. I cannot interfere in the world of the living directly. Even if I could, even if she were here in my workshop, I could not heal her. I do not need you to heal her. Unintelligible replied urgently. The Wizard could heal her with the right tools. You could make those tools. I know you can. I... do not know. She has little time left. And Ivisyre's power is great. I should know. I forged the blade responsible for that wound. Regret tinged the Dreamsmith's voice. Deep regret. I had hoped the side effects would temper Ivisyre's destructive tendencies. Dreamsmith. You can do this. I know you can. And even if you can't, don't you owe me an attempt? The Dreamsmith made no reply to this. Not at first. Then Unintelligible heard a sound. The quiet clicking of metal on wood. He looked behind him just in time to see a small, but not tiny, twelve-legged automaton appear through a tiny crack in reality. Panels flipped up all along the edges of the robot, revealing tiny eyes with which it observed the room. It walked to the foot of the stairs, between Unintelligible and the old man. Then it settled down, and a prismatic light emitted from a device on its top. From that light formed the Dreamsmith. Smoky, not quite real, he stood and looked down at Sequence. He spoke in a voice translated by Reverie's power, he spoke. "I will do what I can, my friend. I will do what I can." Lyric continued singing, relief entering his tone as the visible section of wall brightened further, then parted to reveal the exit to the mall. There was only one problem. In between Jack, Lyric, and safety stood a man with glowing skin, long, unkempt hair, and a crazed grin. "Your minds will taste most sweet." Balitan froze. Then his mind began to work frantically. A dozen possible arguments went through his mind in an instant, and he settled on what he felt was most convincing. "Because I did not carry out my plan to kill you. I decided not to for three reasons. First, because it would not work. You have split yourself dozens of ways. I could kill one body, perhaps, do some damage to your soul if I was lucky, but your greater self would survive. And kill me. So my plan was useless." Balitan raised a finger. "In addition, I would also like to posit as evidence of my non-intention to kill you the crudeness of this plan. If I truly were determined to betray you, I would have spent far more time researching a way to force you to coalesce, or to spread Mordite damage across your soul fragments." Balitan wiped sweat from his brow, but his voice was gaining in confidence as he continued. "Second, because I realized that while you are not a good person, killing you would create a power vacuum that would result in a more dangerous villain arising to replace you." He pointed towards the screen, where Malevolence's video was still paused dramatically. "If I kill you, who will claim Antagonist? Malevolence? Ivisyre? Some unknown villain even worse? You are... not a good person. That is true. But you are careful. Surgical. You do not wish to expose yourself to defeat, and so you do not partake in plans that create obvious, fightable evil. Your empire? A utopia, or at least a dystopia disguised as one. Your machinations? Mainly focused on gaining personal power and knowledge. Even in your quest for the Witherlord's mantle, you present yourself as the best, most reasonable option. Your plan seems to whisper that the Witherlord will be summoned eventually, so it might as well be by someone who does not want to use its power to destroy everything." Balitan had stopped sweating, violet eyes flashing with passion as he explained his logic. More than ever, he looked strikingly similar to Malevolence. "Third and most important, I stopped trying to kill you because I realized that you need me. I began planning out of the fear that you would kill me. After learning of your plans, I realized that you need me, and my research. Without me, your plans will fail, and you w- Malevolence's video crackled back to life, cutting Balitan off. "Slumber in peace." Balitan's eyes glassed over, and he froze mid sentence. Malevolence grinned. "If you've already killed my poor, weak brother, then I suppose I gave that command for nothing. Still, I doubt you'll kill him. He's as intelligent and arrogant as I am, and unlike me has not a spark of evil within him, making him easy to manipulate." He shook his head distastefully. "Thank you for gathering those resources, by the way. I will put them to good use. For now, I wished to issue you a challenge. The Witherlord is out of reach for both of us while Bacon's Author is inactive. However, we can still compete in other ways." The screen shifted from Malevolence's face, showing instead an image of various characters. Cricket, Unintelligible, Jack and Lyric, Hawks, Cep. "I propose a competition in line with both your main goals and mine. We both attempt to interfere with the lives of a character or group of characters. Whoever does a better job of ruining the life of, killing, converting to evil, et cetera of said character or group of characters wins! That will keep you relevant, incite both exciting plot to entice your Author to give you further life and potentially even a Protagonist to appear, something your Witherlord plan requires. It will also give me the chance to prove myself the superior villain. If you accept, come meet me at the Trisolaran ships, where we can discuss terms." The video ended, leaving Rebus in the dim light of the lab, Balitan frozen in place before him. Malevolence took the paper. Then he crossed out what 18142 had written and wrote instead: 'the man was a slug who hated pineapples.' Then he wrote further: 'The slug was a god. He had created universes and destroyed them. This slug noticed a tiny, insignificant race known as the Trisolarans, and wiped them from existence at a whim. (They reminded him of pineapples)' Malevolence handed the paper back to 18142. "This is the power of the Narrator."

“Narrators are…” Malevolence trailed off, then pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. “Explaining is difficult. A demonstration is better. Write something for me. Something about a person, real or imaginary.” Unintelligible hesitated only briefly, then approached the dark figure. “We need your help.” He said. “My friend is dying, wounded by dark powers that you can control. Please, can you heal her? She has little time left.” The dark figure seemed taken aback. He pulled back his hood, revealing an aged face. “You need me to… heal” A tremor passed over his face at the word. “someone? I… I do not know. The darkness in my soul… the creature bound to me… it has grown strong. I called myself Great, but now… now too late I see my hubris.” He stepped closer, then quickly descended the stairs. “Let me see her.” He said, reaching out a hand. “I will see if there is anything I can do.” Unintelligible walked up to the old man, clearly uneasy, but allowed him to lay a hand on Sequence’s forehead. The old man’s eyes widened. “This… is a terrible wound. She is close to death indeed.” He closed his eyes and concentrated, lines of darkness snaking out from his hand, curling around Sequence’s body, growing towards her wound. The old man grimaced. “I… this darkness within her. It is not a pure Chaotic darkness. There is some property to it, which I have never seen before. I cannot… cannot command it. “ he withdrew his hand, and sighed, eyes downcast. The darkness around him seemed to strengthen, shadows deepening until his features were almost entirely hidden. “If I had time to study this power, create a tool of some sort to draw out the specific brand of darkness, then I could perhaps heal her. But as it stands…” He shook his head. “I am truly sorry. It would have… would have been good to do one final service, before night consumes me.” @Ookla the Knight @Ookla the Shattered Lyric nodded, continuing to sing as he walked towards the mall’s wall. ”Great mall, we thank you. Continue to show us the path. We wish to travel roads new, away from the Sage’s wrath.” As he sang, the visible section of wall expanded, and both Jack and Lyric could see a lightening to it, as if they were approaching an exit into the sunlight. - Malevolence’s face appeared on the computer screen. “You thought this little laboratory was hidden from me, didn’t you? Well, I have known all along. I have Balitan to thank for that. Poor, unwitting Balitan. Yet more proof of the weakness inherent in the path of good. Did you know he was planning to betray you?” A schematic displayed itself on the screen, showing a system to disperse a nanobot-disabling Nullite mist followed by launching Mordite-tipped metal spikes through the entire facility. the video paused, giving Rebus time to process this. Balitan, white faced, looked at Rebus. “I… I would never have implemented it. I just… you’re the Antagonist. I wanted defenses, if you ever tried to eliminate me.” A sorrowful voice interjected itself into this conversation. “Even Bacon will pass away eventually. As X’s avatar, Thaidakar, and the other great characters of old have been forgotten, so too will he.”

“Ah. In that case, they will probably wish to learn more about the Narrators.” Malevolence said. “They are the magic users most threatening to the Trisolaran race.” He could, if Sequence wasn’t actively dying in his arms. To give you a bit more explaining as to the major plots happening right now: Rebus currently holds the Plotblade of Antagonist, and presumably eventually someone will be worthy of the Plotblade of Protagonist. When that happens, the battle between them could destroy the Thread. The Dreamsmith wants to stop that from happening, and offers a plan to forge Antagonist and Protagonist into forms that are less dangerous. However, such a plan would require the cooperation of both the Antagonist and the Protagonist. Related to this plot, there’s a page held by Bacon that contains instructions for a ritual to summon the Witherlord mantle, which would grant its wielder total dominion over Chaotic Darkness, and eventually overpower their will and cause them to seek the destruction of the entire Thread. Rebus wants to claim the mantle due to a deal he made with Fate (an Author) and plans to take advantage of the fact that Protagonists always win to ensure the Witherlord’s defeat. Whether or not this plan is actually going to work is very debatable, but he thinks it will. Malevolence, one of my characters, is seeking with Witherlord mantle out of a desire to attain ultimate evil. He also currently is the only one with access to the vault with Bacon inside of it, although Xinoeph has not been around, so it’s possible Bacon will manage to break out as soon as Xinoeph returns. Basically everyone else wants to stop the Witherlord from being summoned. Unintelligible decided to let Aelinor handle Ryna. He examined briefly the interior of the mansion’s entryway, a dark corridor with open doorways along its length, and a wide wooden stairway leading to the second floor at its end. Unintelligible called out. “Hello? Is anyone here?” At first, there was no answer. Then there came a creaking of wood from the stairs, and a cloaked figure slowly came into view at the second story landing. Shadows seemed to cling to the figure as he slowly walked down the steps towards the group. He spoke in a tired, deep voice. “Why have you come here? Why have you disturbed my exile?” @Ookla the Knight

“Won’t work here.” Malevolence noted. “There’s no dark forest for them to exploit. Although photoids will still be half-decent weapons. However, I meant more generally. What do they want these powers for? What are their goals?” Unintelligible grimaced. “I… look, I don’t have time to explain in detail. My…” he hesitated. “My friend Sequence, she was a Narrator. And she was wounded terribly, in a way that only a Narrator could survive. Then her powers were stolen. So now… now we’re here at this mansion, hoping the person who lives here can heal her. If he can’t, or we’re too late, then…” Unintelligible looked down at Sequence’s unconscious face, and his expression hardened. “No use thinking about it. If you want to follow us, then follow us.” With that, he stepped into the dim lighting of the mansion. Hang on, I’m changing my vote to conlang. Which makes it 1 for British, 1 for Canadian, 1 for abstain, and 2 for conlang. So conlang is winning!

Malevolence nodded. “Very well. Might I ask, what are the Trisolaran’s goals in this Thread?” Unintelligible looked back at her and frowned. “Are you Ivisyre in disguise, waiting until Sequence is healed to kill all of us, to let me taste hope before snatching it all away?” Lyric cleared his throat, then sang in a somber tone. “Spirit of this mall. Guide our path this day. Let us see, set us free, send us on our way.” as he sang, the walls Jack saw shifted. The a path opened, revealing what looked like the natural wall of the mall, lined with abandoned stores. — “Yes, well. Just because it works, doesn’t mean I will get the credit for discovering it.” Balitan said grumpily. “And now he can do what only we could.” Rebus’s search didn’t turn up any of the lost data. It did, however, turn up an encrypted video log. I vote we do half the articles in alternate languages and the other half in cyphers.

I wouldn’t say there’s no way to resist. Aluminum blocks the effect: And also, you have to remember that Larkin are extremely rare. Chiri chiri is the only one we see on-screen, although it’s implied there are others protected by the Reshi greatshells, there don’t seem to be a great many of them. And creatures with similar powers to the Larkin seem to be few and far between. The Sleepless have their strains bred with Larkin, but other than that Leechers would be the closest, requiring physical contact.

Did a quick search through WoB’s, and here are some implying Larkins could feed on allomancy:

By the time Regulus reached the fork in the tunnel, he had long since begun regretting his choice to go fight a dragon with so little preparation. He felt almost as if he'd lost all control of himself the moment he'd begun walking towards the cave, dragged along by some force or being beyond his comprehension. Still, he felt an obligation towards the maiden. Since he'd delayed so long at the inn, he did not feel it was fair to keep her waiting any longer, and so he decided to press onwards. Regulus carefully considered the fork in the road, and thought back to a seemingly incomprehensible piece of advice he'd received from his uncle, Butt Venture. A young Regulus, having just gotten out of bed to use the restroom, overheard the following snippet of advice from his uncle. "She's always right, eh?" Butt had said to Eof. "Never could stand to be otherwise." For long hours, Regulus had pondered this piece of advice, never able to truly understand it. Now, however, its meaning became clear. Confident in his choice, Regulus headed off down the rightmost tunnel. Again, it should be noted that growing up with a father capable of seeing the future who has a tendency towards giving cryptic advice that doesn't make sense until years later, has an effect on a child's understanding of conversational banter. Placing a hand on the pommel of his sword in a way he thought looked cool, Regulus strode down the corridor of stone towards his goal.

Regulus hurried out of the inn and into the street. There, he dug into his pack of supplies, removed a biscuit, and ate hungrily. Fortunately for him, his mother had placed an enchantment upon the pack, keeping all the food within as fresh as when it had been placed within. Now. He thought to himself. Time to go fight that dragon. It should be noted that despite Regulus's extraordinary parentage, there was nothing altogether extraordinary about his own natural abilities. Traipsing off to a dragon's cave alone and with only a sword to his name was as stupid and foolhardy for him as it would be for any other hero. However, the fact that fighting dragons is extraordinarily stupid and a good way to receive a free cremation has somehow never been quite as discouraging towards men of dragon-slaying age as one would think. And in Regulus's case, he was merely doing his best to follow one of the most important pieces of advice either of his very wise parents had entrusted him with. "Regulus," his mother had said. "Whatever you do on this quest, please just remember one thing:" She had fixed him with a firm, motherly stare at this point, the kind she tended to make when her children were partaking in activities like stealing from the cookie jar, or insisting they didn't need to change their shirt for the third day in a row. "Don't do anything stupid. Not unless you have a very good reason." Regulus took a deep breath, then another for good measure, tightened his swordbelt, retied one of his boots, and set off towards the edge of town, determined to fight the dragon and save the kidnapped girl.

Unintelligible stepped quickly up to the mansion's gravel drive, reaching the door with haste. Awkwardly due to holding Sequence, he turned and grabbed the door's knocker and knocked on the large door. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the doors of the large mansion swung open soundlessly. "Excellent." Two drones appeared, picked up the Honroblades with tractor beams, then vanished. "I will require a short time to attune the Awakened Blades to the surges." He paused. "How many of these Blades did you want? They do require a rather large amount of investiture, and I'm afraid I currently lack the resources to mass produce them." After a very long pause, Regulus eventually decided that the man was probably not going to answer him. He looked down at his 'stew', and was pleased to notice that it was now certainly over a month old, and was more mold colony than food. Carefully, he set his spoon down on the bar. "Thank you for the meal." He said politely, then stood from the counter. "You said the dragon is in a cave just outside of town? I'd best get going." @Ookla the Wedded

Allomancy is kinetic investiture, different from souls or inherent properties of souls like the Sleepless’ hive mind, which is probably based off of connection more than active investiture. Considering allomancy can be leached, and Stormlight can be leached, I think Larkins could feed off of allomancers while they’re burning metals.

I was pretty unspecific on the size of the crates, but when I said 'large crates' I meant freight container sized. So a little small for dragons, but they're young. Malevolence nodded. "That will be acceptable payment. As for the dragons, they are creatures with enormously long lifespans, and have a naturally low population, so they have robust genetics-scientific and magical-aiding against inbreeding. Perhaps in a few millennia you will need to find another dragon or two, but that's a bit outside the realm of my capabilities. If you wish, I can give you instructions on how to access the dragon's native worlds, but be warned. Powerful enchanters guard those worlds, and they are very opposed to the smuggling of anything related to dragon's blood.

My take on the sickness is that it's caused by the river vanishing. The inhabitants of the town are natives, connected to the investiture of the river, and so when whatever happened to make it stop flowing happened, they died. December wasn't a native, so she wasn't linked to the investiture of the demon/river, so she lived.