Szeth Pancakes

Have you ever played mafia?

A day and a quarter left in signups! I would appreciate a couple more players than this, if you’re on the edge

I think the biggest thing is Scadrial technological progress. Since Mistborn Era 2 is between the front and back halves of Stormlight, and the back half only takes place a couple decades later than the front half, Scadrian technology can't conceivably have progressed to a point in which they're involved in a cosmere-wide arms race in such a short amount of time. Unless I'm missing something.

I like that idea, but in the Yumi epilogue Hoid tells the reader that they "might have heard of" UTol. That wouldn't really make sense if they were there. (ps: quoting this from memory. fair chance i might be wrong)

You are most definitely able.

Your guess is correct.

No. Yes.

Long Game 97: Midnight Whimsy The one thing nobody expected of the Tree of Dreams was the pervasive smell of rot. As an Upper Roots native, it didn’t bother Cochalis as he climbed, calloused hands and feet finding holds in the worn, rust-brown bark. He had the confident, practiced gait of a native: he had nothing to prove by climbing fast. He made the Climb twice a day, once up and once down (though never as high as today); he took every chance he could to minimize his chances of falling. He’d read the statistics. Ten people a day plummeted to their deaths and rotted at the base of the Tree, their precious nitrogen fueling the Tree’s growth. Of course, most of them were pilgrims, usually drunk, trying to prove their Whimsy to the heavens, and many of the rest were Gardeners, taking in Investiture by trimming branches that couldn’t hold them. But accidents happened, and Cochalise preferred to be careful. He’d had enough close calls to know that he was far from infallible. The smell slowly faded as he traversed towards the apex of the Tree. After half an hour of climbing, he reached his destination, a nondescript door carved into the Tree above a particularly large branch. (He didn’t make the mistake of looking down, but if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to see the ground through the clouds.) Carved into the door was a small carnation, painted pink. Cochalis took a deep breath before knocking, watching the green light, filtered through the leaves of the Tree, dance across the door. The door opened immediately, and a woman with a bored expression and raven-black hair greeted him, her robes and the pink flower tattooed on her left cheek making her as a scion of House Carnation. “Your business,” she said flatly. “Scion Cochalis of House Rose, ma’am. Your Floral sent for me.” She looked him up and down, silently judging his lesser status, then stepped aside, inviting him in. The soil covering the floor of the House was warm under his bare feet as he took in his surroundings. Carnations climbed out of the soil on the sides of the lobby. Incandescent bulbs hung from the tall, arched ceiling, lighting the room a sickly, menacing yellow. “This way,” the aloof scion said, leading him through a door at the side of the room and through a curved hallway, pink and purple stained glass windows bringing in ethereal light from the outside. The two of them entered another chamber at the end of the hallway, filled with wooden tables rising out of the soil. Only one of them, closest to the door, was occupied. A slender, smiling man sat there, intricate embroidery covering his robes and flowers weaved through his long brown hair. The Carnation Floral, of course. Cochalis gulped. This man was one of the most powerful people in the world, with a direct line to Whimsy Themself. At his whim, Cochalis could be thrown out of his house, disgraced. Or worse. The Floral beckoned him towards the table, his long, manicured fingernails catching the incandescent light. Cochalis walked towards the table and sat in the seat across from him. The Floral smiled, apparently trying to put him at ease, but in the yellow light, his grin looked predatory; malicious. “Shivi, prepare us some tea, dear,” he said to his scion, his voice light and melodious. She bowed and left the room. He fixed his gaze on Cochalis, the Floral’s ice-blue eyes peeling away his flesh and bones and staring directly into his soul. “I’ve heard many things about you,” he said. After a second of silence, Cochalis realized he wasn’t going to elaborate. “What have you heard, your Floral?” Cochalis’s throat was dry. “Many things. Is it true that you’re one of the greatest Mages alive? On par with, say, Scion Alavar?” Cochalis took a moment to place the name as Carnation’s head mage. “I wouldn’t say–” The Floral cut him off. “Then why are you working for a House like Rose?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Cochalis knew he had to choose his next words carefully. “I find I enjoy helping those who… need it more.” “Hm.” The Floral cupped Cochalis’s chin in his hand, licking his lips. Cochalis’s heart pumped harder in his chest. “I have a… business proposal for you.” *** Report Office of the Upper Roots Coroner Name: Unidentified Time of death (est.): 4.16.135, 00:31 Cause: Broken neck, crushed skull from probable climbing fall Description: House Rose scion. Dark brown hair, hazel eyes, medium-brown skin Notes: Rose Floral contacted. Body likely not important enough for retrieval. ------------- On the Shardworld of Ira, in the Tree of Dreams, the nexus of Whimsy’s power, a dark force is gathering. A corruption of Whimsy’s Intent, perhaps. And those affected manifest powers that no mortal should have… [OOC: This is a blackout game. Beware, for nothing is as it seems… Due to the nature of the game, I will not be taking any questions.] Welcome to LG##! Your IM is @Elandera. RP-ful, story-driven play is highly encouraged The game with begin at 5:30 PM PDT on Saturday, October 7. Rules General Factions Roles ------------- Participants Quicklinks [meet me at midnight.]

I wrote about the Constitution and defended it well

I was louder than the crack in the bell

“I think you mean you couldn’t care less.”

"But... who are you? What are you... interested in?" They trailed off.

The hyperdrive started up, producing a faint, familiar whirring sound. "...Who are you, anyway? Why are you here?"

“Well, these meat strips aren’t gonna last forever. I’ll route us towards a port system where I think we’ll be safe.”

They passed a plate around

I wrote my way out

I wrote my way out

no your MOM is accusative Am I crazy, or is that a sheep?

Buttsicles! 2193

Why are you covered in pig's blood? meatloaf more like NEATloaf

proof: depression theory: Kaladin x Moash is canon endgame

When I'm GMing, yeah. When I'm playing, on the other hand... Favorite non-Sanderson book?

Azure