Swimmingly

Now imagine that dude in shardplate and the caption says "Jezrien wants YOU! Come to Urithiru immediately!"

The feruchemical wallpaper was the release I believe.

I thought that bendalloy actually draws kinetic energy from Preservations power and grants it to anything in the time bubble, taking it away as the bubble contracts?

Of course, an Allomantic atium Feruchemical zinc twinborn is essentially omniscient in combat. Depending on how the limit to atium works, steel might be even more effective.

I don't, actually... Mind PMing me what you mean by that?

Hemalurgy. It's how inquisitors were made, remember?

I think that would require a hemalurgic spike stealing the allomantic ability you want to store, personally. That would set the feruchemical properties of the spike to work according to the hemalurgical charge, which would hold allomantic ability.

This is excellent. We have good character, printing is used well, and the setting is well described.

Edgedancers would probably be best against Thunderclast then, given that they could just slick the ground around their feet and make them crash into the ground.

Interesting. So these are mechanical pit-fighting golems in a futuristic setting?

This story is nice - but it's rather disconnected. I think it would be excellent set in your own world, so you aren't constrained by the constructs of Roshar.

So, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?

Brass and zinc only let you broadcast, not read, emotion. Breeze was so good because he was an expert at reading body language, then nudging it with brass.

Perhaps the rift between honorspren andcryptics Revolves around how they choose their bonds: instinctually vs politically

Maybe dragons are not dragons as such, but a race of dragon-like people, or perhaps the magic and setting on Yolen was much closer to traditional fantasy, given the mishmash of magic said to have existed there. Also, it was written quite early in his career.

Given that Stain is one letter away from Stalin, this comes off to me as a fantasization allegory of the problems surrounding communism...but maybe that's just me.

Tarbe was out on a summer stroll, breathing in the warm air. He might be going on seventy, but no one was going to keep him from his walks in the red Orra but the old reaper himself, no sir. Out of Quarrystown, toward the college, the smoke of the village became a barely visible plume behind the hills. The college itself was hidden over a rise, and the sparring grounds in the pit were always deserted at this time of- His thoughts were cut short by a flurry of jade missiles that arced haphazardly out of the pit, shining despite the midday light and spraying white mist behind them. Tarbe ducked for cover, though the green flares came nowhere near, and, against his better judgement, creeped closer to the pits. Peeking over the top and getting his own Charge ready - just in case - Tarbe watched the duelers below. One boy stood in the centre of the large, irregular patch of sand - he was tall and stringy, wearing a reddish brown shirt, and the green flashes that had arced out of the pit earlier gathered around his right arm like fireflies, buzzing off toward his opponent every few seconds. In his left arm, he held a staff coming up to his chest, and every so often, a pulse of deep red light would run along its length, bouncing off the ends before soaking back into his skin. The lights flashed off of the stony, dusty walls of the sparring pit. The other boy was shorter, but thicker, with a head of dark hair, and he dashed around the outside of the yard, trailing smoke and blazes of blue and orange from his weapon. The staff was held two handed, and he used it like a vaulting pole, sending blue down it to blast him away from whatever it touched and orange to anchor it when he should have gone into a skidding tumble. Sand rolled around him as he sprinted, including a few puffs he launched himself to act as a smokescreen. Tarbe grinned, remembering his own duels in that very pit as a young man. His Charges were similar to the fast one's, but more of a general deflection away and a drawing towards, and much weaker. Still, he could pull the salt to him from across the table, and that boy would have to touch something to affect it, from the look of it. It had made him a devil to hit in close quartets, but a caster like the tall one could have taken him down easily. The fast one had spiraled in close enough to make a pass at the tall one now, and rammed his staff into the ground with a blue flash. It catapulted him sideways, and he soared towards the middle position the caster had taken, pulling his legs up into a tight, swift ball. The caster was calling green flashes more and more quickly, using the staff now to aim them, until the air flashed with green lightning. Fast had already swung his feet up, however, and they soaked in to his legs and shins as he flew toward Tall. Tarbe winced - whatever the green stuff was, it couldn't feel too good. Tall backed off cautiously as the shorter boy shoved himself to his feet, leaning on his staff as his legs recovered from the missiles. His heartstone healed him a few seconds later, and he dashed forward, staff charged blue from his right hand. The staves descended, and each clack of wood was punctuated by a harsh blaze of blue, staggering Tall backwards. For the moment it gave him the advantage, but the counter to Tall's missiles -the red charge he had been using earlier - must have sped up his reactions enough that he could block each charged blow, evening the field. A moment later, the combatants drew apart again, settling into formal fighting stances. Tall - Tarbe recognised him now, a boy named Bird who wandered into town for supplies every couple weeks - fell into Boar stance, low and cautious as his staff pulsed red again, while the fast one - Derek, if Tarbe was any judge - took the aggressive Bear stance, staff held higher and slightly to the side. They circled for a moment, then Derek leapt forwards, staff shimmering blue. He swung at Bird in a series of quick blows from the sides, breaking his defence with charged strength, before switching into a brutal set of overhand blows. Bird's left arm blazed crimson as he drew all he could from it, boosting his reflexes to supernatural speeds for an instant. As Derek brought another glowing blow down toward Bird, Bird reversed his grip and planted his staff in Derek's chest. He sent one last pulse of green brilliance through the staff, falling backwards from the effort, just as Derek reacted, grabbing the staff and pulsing blue into the taller boy's gut with a shove. Tarbe watched in morbid fascination as Bird flew backwards with a sharp crack of concussed air - or bones - and Derek fell over, spasming and unconscious. They both landed with puffs of sand, out cold. Tarbe hurried down. Derek would almost certainly be alright, as Bird's stunners weren't lethal, but Bird might be in trouble if the charge had hit anything vital. As far as he could tell, though, he was lying as still as a corpse, face towards the sun. Tarbe craned his neck as he got closer, trying for a look at Bird's face. It seemed fine, but was he breathing? A second passed, then two, as Tarbe watched his chest for signs of life - what would he tell Derek?

For all we know, that was written after the whole fiasco was over, most likely during the events of a later book.

Well, yes... You didn't think everybody was just gonna drop like a gull in a highstorm the moment the deadline passed, did you?

I think the kind of tantrum the high princes are gonna have is probably the type that gets discussed around big tables with maps and troop movements sketched out on it.

This is very well written, though Vallano's dialogue seems a bit stuffy. Also, if the Shin hold Stormlight as sacred, I don't know if they would really use it like that. last, what Surges does the girl use?

They are not attracted to frivolous liars - they are attracted to those whose lies hide important secrets. It's like the way that Forgeries are more powerful the less people know about them.

Also, I believe Dal makes a reference to an obsidian fortress at some point, and he's talking literally - so it's a material that exists on Roshar.

Does this mean that Shallan can freeze spren with her Memory? Because if those tainted spren from Dal's visions start showing up again, that ability could prove very, very useful.

Unless all rock on Roshar is actually hardened crem, which can burn at very high temperatures. Also, the smouldering bit could just be those various metals and salts evaporating into the air.