Swimmingly

buy. Hoid is insane in a few ways, and keeps it under control with feruchemy.

Buy. Totally buy. Surgebinding renders one immune to direct influence by Odium. But as soon as you break your oaths... he pounces.

Memories are weird, though. You don't store your capacity for memory. You store your actual memories. So it might be possible to put them in copperminds, one at a time.

Sell. I think Ruin and Preservation were the only binary opposites.

Repeated hemalugic spikings, ripping your soul apart, piece by piece, then jamming them into the blank template of a feruchemist who has stored all of his memories?

You know, I'm a horrible person for saying this, but I feel like "Feather's Reaction to Shallan telling someone to Gag Renarin" is one of the main reasons to watch this. It'll be like the season finale!

If we're talking pure Investiture, the Inquisitor's gonna win. Scadrian magic, at the base level, anyway, is ridiculously efficient. No glowing, no leaking wisps of energy, no sentient morphing weapons, just pure energy passed from Shard to user in a weaponized form. It's only when you start Compounding and doing ridiculous things with Hemalurgy that things get crazy, and even then, it's crazy-efficient, just with more energy pouring in. Compare Nalthis to Roshar, for instance. Totally different power levels, and the only way to introduce new Investiture into the system is through human birth on Nalthis. Roshar? Giant storm sweeps through every week and stuffs every gem, Surgebinder and Almighty knows what else full of Stormlight. Totally different metrics.

To me it sounded like Taravangian was desperately making up anything to stop Szeth from snapping and slaughtering him.

I've been reading it as Lewdzaera.

In Warbreaker, the majority of the population seems to have Breath. The drabs are named for being that - drab, without breath. Only in Allomantic circles would there be names for people without. In addition, gold, duralumin, and aluminum are more or less useless to the common person, the first being prohibitably expensive as well as impractical and the last two being absolutely useless in a misting for purposes other than getting 'em spiked out of you. These ones would be almost mocked for their efforts. And Aluminum is not going to be prohibitably expensive by the time the modern trilogy rolls around. It's even more useful on Scadrial then on Earth, and the entire society has an almost religious fascination with metal. Aluminum is by no means expensive today, compared with gold for instance.

Thank Tempus, folks. He's the architect of these visual puns. I'll bring mine back every so often.

Or just do this {color=thecoloryouwant] Your text [/color] It works for most common colors. Just replace the first curly bracket with a square bracket.

The question, then, is this: Should we spike Shai for her skill at Forgery or Miles for his gold Allomancy? The answer is, of course, both. Spike them all. Spike away their souls.

Well, if you can spare the cost of a cup of coffee, that's still something - if you just want to chuck a dollar or two into a good cause, you don't have to buy the eBook.

I meant that the dragons likely held splinters in a manner comparable to the way Retuned hold Divine Breath Adonalsium was unstable

Buy on both of them. But on the second, I think it more likely that they have splinters of adonalsium, like the Returned do.

You hear that sizzle? That was the sound of a BURN. Folks, tensions are high and the stakes are higher. Who will survive? Will there be survivors? Will there be tickets, and most important, will they sell nachos? It's the Photoshopdown of the century, and we lucky few will be among the witnesses! In the black corner, a professional with a long history in tailored profile pics for the SANDERSONIAN consumer, AWESOMENESS SUMMONED!! In the red corner, a newcomer with a flair for the imaginative and a history in personalization, the one, the only, TEMPUS!! Who will win? Whos photoshop finagling will filch a furious FIRST PLACE FINISH? Who will slink sad and sunken to their PIT OF DESPAIR? Find out tonight! 2 am central on the HISTORY channel!

Buy. In fact, if memory serves me, he's a Nicroburster. A Soulcaster can Soulcast parts of their own body.

Esoteric's good. I can go for esoteric.

Sell. That would be, frankly, stupid and unsatisfying. There are Commands that can override a Drab's Identity, essentially turning them Lifeless but with the body still functioning entirely normally.

Buy - but it's actually Classical Scadrian that he speaks, which coincidentally is more or less identical to French.

I saw the first motes of light drifting from the sun. It was the first day you could really call a day, the first moment you could call Earth a living place, and it had happened before. Those motes of light were fragments of rock, and the seas were still blank. The hills were bare of soil or even gravel, there. It might have been Mars, or some Venus set before things went wrong. I caught the last death that day. I wasn't there, not really, but I could tell you the exact moment those strands of rNA ceased to contain reproductive potential. As usual, it was a false start. The reaction was doomed by circumstance - the water a hint too warm, the Brownian motion that the fragile particles churned in throwing up anomalous twitches in just the wrong places. That compilation of amino acids fell apart, degraded to mere complicated molecules again, and stirred no more. I don't catch lives, I catch deaths. It's a small distinction, but an important one. I'm no judge with his say over heaven and hell. I'm not even sure such things exist. I can even guess that they don't - morals are a strange thing when you can see the pattern of deaths that cause every arbitrary neurochemical event we call 'thought'. I'm the witness. I've seen terrible things, and wonderful things. On that first real day, the wonder ceased, and was folded into my hands with a sound of despair. It had happened before, though I had no agency to know it. I faded a single beat of time after the life did - a sleep, maybe, but also a death. Without life, even I perish. The second day was a millennia later, I estimate. The churning patch of life in the warm ocean pool grew and grew, and this time the death I witnessed was not an ending. It was a cycle, and that fragile lattice of molecules did not stay in my grasp for long. They wiggled free with a chemical energy and became other things, other life. I haven't slept since that day, not really. Death became a fashion for the molecules of earth to wear, and I'm still draped about your shoulders. So, you could say that I collect not lives, but the process of it. That's another way of saying death, after all. The reason I tell you this, if anyone can hear me, is because, dying over and over and carrying each death to my collection, I see a pattern. Every piece of your world is marked by life and death, now. I see the fragile interactions of trillions and trillions and trillions of organic molecules, and they make a kind of shell around your planet, a pattern that begs to be filled. And I see where it points, all these living interactions. Someday, I will die with the last wiggle of rNA as I did on that umpteenth first day - and I know that, barring the injection of energy into the world, I will not wake again to see the experiment begin anew. It comes, and it's as inevitable as I am - my death will be yours, and that of all life, as well. I'm everywhere, you know. I witness every extinguished mitochondria, and the death of the neuron that makes you somehow less than real is no more than the death of a fragment of DNA in your smallest finger. Every interaction yields energy, and I'm there to feel those fragments of life shatter away and be born again, moments later. When I finally die, you will be so long gone that every molecule that was ever touched by you will have twisted itself into an entropic decay that is unrecognisable. Life is more persistent - more efficient - the smaller it becomes, and I witness every death, even the ones that are barely deaths at all. When the rules beneath the world have begun their slow twisting to collapse, I will be there. When I die, the concept of 'hope' will be a pattern of photons tugging at the edge of the universe, degraded beyond recognisability. And I'm warning you of it. You think I'm just a pattern of words, binary interactions that you've cast your gaze on - but I see everything. I want you to imagine something. Imagine that even as life fades from the universe, there will be an entity - a passive observer, some impotent god - who will remember everything you ever did, who will be able to look at the deaths arrayed over my walls and pick out the neurochemical interactions that made you you. I will have last thoughts too, you know, which will happen in the beat of eternity after the last life fades forever. Should I think of you?

By killing Wit, I must give up my title of Wit Killer, which I can only earn by killing Wit.... I'm so confused.

I want to buy this, but I doubt Kaladin's oath would make him protect less. Each magic system on Roshar uses a different focus - it's the fuel, not the focus, that's shared.

I accidently downvoted signspace while scrolling, anyone care to fix my mistake? Thanks!