Khyrindor

guess not EDIT: Ohhhhh

When your high-school age and everyone thinks your a freak because you can read over 1000 pages in four days.

I don't know about six words, but the best seven words (arguably) are: "I was just wondering what you were doing here."

I love it!

Yes I had to rush it a bit, I had a deadline and it could be a maximum of 4000 words, for a contest. I plan on re-writing it a few times and playing around with the characters more. It will probably be several pages longer, and it may (as Quiver suggested to me) be from Skanev's POV, allowing for more mystery. You raise a good point with the Sunderer not being detected like that, so let's say that the evil power inside him was hiding it effectively. Maybe you can also (if you're experienced enough) switch between the good/evil powers. I'll have to think a lot more, obviously, but like I said, it's not done

I really like that idea, thanks. I know that the actual prelude will be much longer, and I would be able to expand more on what you said, the mysteries of it, because I only had 4000 words to work with. Having it from Skanev's POV would be a great way to have both the mystery, and without going into too much detail about about the power, since they will have a lot less to work with in the book. Maybe at the end I could have the same thing from Alvondir's POV, since by then everyone reading it would be screaming "WHAT HAPPENED?!" Yeah I'll play around with it some more. 4000 words wasn't really enough to write a complete prelude, and I wanted a few more characters in it. Particularly someone going with Alvondir, you know like his 'Samwise Gamgee' to help him remove temptation.

I noticed Jasnah's hair as well., you could give her a braid on her shoulder? By the way, Kaladin looks like Jesus.

When you wonder if Hoid is The Doctor

Hey guys, this is a thing that I wrote in the last couple of days. I designed it to be a short story as well as a prologue or prelude to an epic novel. Criticism is welcome but please be nice. ALVONDIR TALDRIN WAS WOKEN AT A MOST UNTIMELY HOUR, by the servant whom he hated the most. “General Taldrin, Sir,” Skanev said urgently, shaking him awake by his arm. “You need to wake up, Sir, the rebels are approaching, and we need orders!” What was the fool servant talking about? Alvondir was no general. “What are you waking me for?” he tried to yell, but it came out as a groggy croak. “Get my father, damnation you! I’m not in charge here!” He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Skanev took his hand off Alvondir’s arm. He looked regretful. “Sir…” he started to say. “Your father’s dead. Assassinated in his sleep by a Sunderer.” Alvondir felt a stab of horror. No. That couldn’t be true. This was a nightmare, he would wake up soon. He didn’t. “What of Selnavidor?” he asked Skanev. “He’s the successor.” He already knew the answer. Skanev looked down. “Your brother’s dead too, Sir. You’re the General now.” Alvondir cursed and closed his eyes. “How many?” he asked. “How many are attacking?” “We don’t know, Sir, there won’t be a lightday any time soon. There could easily be six thousand.” “Engage them. I want their blood!” The Taldrin army had at least twice as many troops as the rebels. What more could they possibly do? “Sir! We’re more defensible in the camp. They have a river to cross, and visibility would be limited if we go to their side, but here we can see them.” “Fine. Defend the camp, then,” Alvondir sighed, standing up and running his hand through his hair. He had no business leading armies; he could barely command a platoon as a captain! Everyone knew it. “Sir, there’s something else. We captured the Sunderer, what would you have us do?” “Hold an execution. I will kill him myself.” Both his father and brother had been Fusewardens, with limitless power and endless life. That man had their power, now, even though some had been lost in the transfer. He would reclaim what he could. “Now get out of here, Sunder you!” Skanev nodded and ducked out of the blue and black tent, leaving Alvondir alone with his anger and self pity. He realized that he probably shouldn’t think so badly of Skanev, it probably took guts for the man to talk to him. Especially with the news he had delivered. Alvondir didn’t exactly have the best reputation in world. He got dressed by himself, even though he could probably have his new servants to help him with that. He looked in the mirror. He was shaking visibly. * * * SOME HOURS LATER- he didn’t care how many- Alvondir stood before the same mirror, this time surrounded by servants who had just finished dressing him in his ceremonial garb. It was nearly time. “Anything else, Sir?” one of the servants asked. Alvondir didn’t know the man’s name. “Give me my Lightblade,” he tried… and failed… to keep his voice steady; the horrific reality of what had happened had finally begun to sink in. His Lightblade was an expensive weapon made to work like those that the Fusewardens and Glyphwardens wielded. One could replicate their powers with technology, but Alvondir couldn’t create it from thought. His glowed and was incredibly lightweight. Also, the edge never needed to be sharpened and it radiated heat. If Alvondir used his Lightblade in battle, the enemy hesitated to attack him, thinking that he was a Fusewarden. And soon he would be. Yes, focus on that, not Father and Selnavidor. Truth be told, he was sometimes envious of their powers. Or… used to be. The unnamed servant strapped Alvondir’s Lightblade to his back, where he liked it. How did the man know? “Thank you,” he mumbled. It was a rare thing to get a ‘thank you’ from Alvondir, and the servant smiled. “Is that all then, Sir?” He thought a moment, then nodded and dismissed the servants; he didn’t want them to see him cry. It probably wasn’t very leader-like of him to show emotions in front of his men. He shuddered as silently as possible- the tent walls were thin- and then wiped his tears off his face. Skanev entered without announcing his arrival, “Sir, it’s about to begin.” “I’ll be right out,” Alvondir replied, again failing to keep his voice from shaking. He idiot man probably thought him weak. Perhaps he was. A moment later Alvondir stepped out into the bright white of the lightbeams that lit up the camp’s roads. They were only on during darkdays, when the Skylands, floating continents thousands of metres in the air, blocked the sun from the view of the Lowlanders. Ironic, how the lands of his people stopped the world of his enemies from burning to ash. Well, half of it anyway. The half that wasn’t covered completely by ice; it was always dark there. He could see the mountains surrounding the large valley they were in. The men were considerate enough to set up the execution pavilion just outside his tent. There were few men in attendance; most were on the walls or across the river fighting the insurgents. The battle was close enough that Alvondir could hear battle cries and the screams of the dying. In the pavilion, six tables surrounded a floating platform made, he presumed, from selmium; it was a metallic light blue, and light enough to be brought to his tent from where it normally would have been. The execution would take place on the platform. On it were three men; the Sunderer on his knees and the two Fusewardens suppressing his powers. His arms glowed with a bright light. Alvondir walked towards him. As he reached it, the platform activated and shot a beam of light diagonally to the ground before him. He kept walking, using it as a bridge. He stopped before the man. The Fusewardens, also glowing, bowed to him. “Look at me,” Alvondir said angrily. The Sunderer looked at him defiantly and Alvondir kicked his chin, hoping to break the man’s teeth. He cried out and fell back, then put a glowing arm on the ground to stabilize himself, and get back up to his kneeling position. Up close, one could see a design to the light of Sunderers and Glyphwardens alike. His arms wouldn’t have been glowing if he wasn’t trying to break through the Fusebinder’s suppression. It would probably work if he wouldn’t have been dead in a few minutes; though he was outnumbered he more than matched them both in power, especially now that he possessed not only his own power, but a portion of his father’s and brother’s. Alvondir shivered. That power would be his as soon as he killed him. “I assume the two of you had no luck interrogating him?” Alvondir asked the two guards. “No, Sir.” A horrific thought occurred to him. “How many other men did this demon kill when you tried to capture him?” he spat the word ‘demon’. The guards glanced at each other, and then one said, “twenty-seven, Sir.” Alvondir closed his eyes. He hadn’t even thought of anyone but his family until that moment. He drew his Lightblade. At his touch the blade lit up and warmed his hand. Soon, with this man’s power, he’d be able to summon his own. He pointed it at the Sunderer’s throat, anger boiling up inside him, and he shed a single tear. In an execution ceremony the condemned were allowed one chance to convince the executioner to let him live. Alvondir was tempted not to give it to him. “So,” he said. “You, who just killed twenty-nine men- including my father and brother-, have one chance to redeem yourself. What say you?” The man grinned a bloody grin and then spat on Alvondir. Pity, these were nice clothes. Alvondir slammed his blade into the man’s neck, and into the selmium platform, screaming like a beast. The man died faster than he’d expected, not even trying to save his life with the power he possessed. His tattoos stopped glowing, and disappeared. Alvondir felt a searing pain, unlike he’d ever experienced, and his arms flashed with a dark light. He felt an evil power, enter his soul. He screamed again, this time because of the pain. The amount of power was far less than it should have been; this man had killed two full Glyphwardens and probably several Fusewardens as well. Not to mention his own cursed powers. The light should have outweighed the dark by far. But it didn’t. In fact, the light wasn’t even close. This man hadn’t killed his father or brother. He was a decoy, and he had just filled Alvondir with an evil power that would end up dominating him and an eighth of the king’s army that he controlled as well. And it felt wonderful. Alvondir’s newfound power pushed him to move. Fight. Kill. KILL EVERYONE! No. Yes! NO! Alvondir couldn’t focus. Warmth flooded through his body, pulsing through his veins. Let it out! NO! He had to control it! Force it down. Focus. Focus! Alvondir fled, not wanting to kill anyone else, as much as he wanted to. His guards called out to him, asking him why and where he was going. He knew where he was going without thinking about it: the battle. He had to kill something to sate the beast inside of him. He was running, he realized. Fast. Faster than anyone he’d ever seen. He wasn’t in control. It was. He could only barely hang on to himself. The gate. Go to the gate! He shouted at It in his head. No. The wall. He complied. It was closer. Alvondir was there before he thought he would be. He flew over it in a flash of power, the Glyphs on his arms shining darker. His leap cleared the river, and soldiers looked up at him with surprise. His soldiers cheered. They died anyway. * * * ALVONDIR SAT IN HIS ELEGANT TENT, crying his eyes out. He felt sick. It was like he’d forced down poison, and it was trying to come back up. He couldn’t let it. He tried not to think of the lives of the men he’d just destroyed. His once beautiful attire was now crimson with blood not his own. Think. Kill more. Alvondir had tricked It. In that moment flooded with power, It could control him. But when he’d fed the thing, he was able to force It out of his head. Mostly. I almost had you, you know. But you have a strong mind. The other one, Hetesik, I had him. Alvondir tried to ignore the ever-present voice in his head. I just have one question, Alvondir thought back. Why weren’t his Glyphs darklight? They were glowing as if he were a Glyphwarden. That was me, It replied. I had to make sure you took his power. Alvondir knew why. It thought he would be controlled, but he had forced it down. For now… Alvondir had something to do. He had to leave fast. He would travel Sunward, to the temple which housed the two essences, and he would scatter them. He had no idea what would change if he did so, but if this…this thing ended up controlling him, it would mean death for his army. He had a responsibility to them. Skanev entered suddenly. “Sir, they want to know what happened.” “No, Skanev. I will leave this place. You can choose someone to take my place until I return. I know how we can win this war.” “Sir…” “Skanev, I must do this. Make ready to storm the Citadel to the south of this valley. Contact some of the other armies and tell them to assist you. I will meet you there.” Alvondir stood up, facing him down. “Alright,” Skanev spat. Alvondir left the tent and walked to the stables to get a horse, not his own, because the trip would probably kill it. He rode out as fast as the horse could. Though it was still a darkday, he could see orange sunlight on the mountains in the distance, and just past that was where the Skylands ceased to protect the land. It was a desert. You shouldn’t go there. You should go kill more. Alvondir figured that whatever the voice said, it was best to just do the opposite. It was the enemy. As he rode, Alvondir argued with the voice. He knew it was futile; mostly he did it to pass the time. He reached the Mountains the next morning, but got rather annoyed that it was still dark. His homelands spun too slowly. He decide to camp for a few hours. He didn’t need to eat or sleep; It sustained him, though he suspected he should still sleep anyway. Mainly he stopped so that the horse could rest. Alvondir knew where to go because he had seen this world from above, but he had not seen the centre of the desert, just the edges. It was amazing to behold, even the edges. There was steam in the air from the oceans and rivers that he could see from the mountain. He was going to get boiled alive if he went in there! You will be fine. I help. USE ME! Was that an option? There was no one around to kill…would he turn around if It began to control him again? Is it possible to use just a part of you? Like turning a faucet? Alvondir asked. It hesitated. No. Alvondir knew he was lying, unless It was trying to trick him again. He looked to the south, to the glows of burning cities and camps, smoke in the air. He even saw armies themselves, large masses of light, obviously battling forces of dark that remained hidden by the dark. He realized then that it wasn’t the people who were rebelling against the Skylands; it was this darkness inside of him, controlling their leaders. He knew the thing inside him was enhancing his sight. It was one of the side benefits of holding it, much like healing and resisting pain. Ironic how Alvondir, of all people, the second son of a general, holder of the evil power of his enemies, would be the turning point in all of this. What was it that allowed him to hold back the power? Did he really hold it back? Uuuussssseeeee mmmmeeeeeeeee!!! The temptation was overwhelming. The air around him darkened slightly. No. The air turned back to normal. What was that other voice? It wasn’t Alvondir or the thing. Then he remembered. The man, Hetesik or something had had some light power from Fusewardens he had killed. He reached for it. His tattoos turned to a bright light from the glowing black they had been. Ah, good. You’ve found me. It was a female voice. Do not let him tempt you. While you can use it like a faucet, he will begin to warp your mind. You cannot trust anything he says. He can only destroy. Thanks for the warning, Alvondir thought back as sarcastically as he could manage. Am I on the right course to scatter the power? The other thing inside him hesitated. Yes. It is for the best, I suppose. You must keep going. He must not be allowed to win this war. It is better that you stop both of us entirely. Alvondir had to wonder if it had even been his idea in the first place. And then the voice dissipated, as though it had never been there at all. * * * IT HAD BEEN TWO HOURS SINCE WHAT ALVONDIR TOOK FOR THE voice of light had left. It had seemed wise, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t feel It’s power. Had the other one killed It? He tried to put the thoughts out of his head as he climbed down the steep side of the mountain; he’d had to send the horse back to the camp. The orange sun shone through the light purple sky, intent on burning his skin. The power protected him in this, but he was still dreadfully thirsty. He was trying his best to ration the water for the return trip, but had greatly underestimated how much he would need. The voice in his head was growing stronger by the minute. Alvondir was beginning to doubt that he would hold on much longer, but every time he thought of it, it just strengthened his resolve. He would reach the great temple there. He had to. Hey, Alvondir said to the voice. How about this? If you agree not to tempt me any more, I will use you when we arrive where I’m going to destroy the world! You’re lying. You want to destroy me. I want to destroy the other one! Not you! I’m on your side! This thing was smarter than it seemed. If you’re on my side, then why don’t you use the power? It...makes me sick! Alvondir said. No. You lie again. * * * ALVONDIR WAS ALMOST THERE. He could see it, in the distance. It wasn’t far, unless it was another mirage. Like the man he’d seen flying past him, or the orange woman crying blood while she danced. Or the snow that was falling around him. He downed his second last canteen. There would definitely not be enough for the return journey, so he had been getting increasingly generous to himself. He wondered again if he was close enough to destroy the temple. He decided for the tenth time to wait until he was at front gate to try anything. Alvondir stumbled forward, wading through the heat like it was water, determined to keep moving. His father and brother walked alongside him, encouraging him. He knew they were mirages, but didn’t try to keep them at bay. He was soon there. He hesitantly felt the wall to make sure it was real, and then hastily opened the door. The shade felt amazing. Use me. You said you’d use me. He tried to channel a safe amount through him, and make himself some water in a puddle nearby, ignoring the screams of MORE, MORE. Then he remembered; it could only destroy. It was fuelled by destruction. Death in particular. So he reached deeper within to pull out that light, shrouded in darkness. And he caught it. Everything was clear to him. The darkness screamed, but he couldn’t hear it. His pain and exhaustion evaporated in a second. The temple was bright inside, but from what he could not tell. There were no torches on the walls, no Lightbeams to show the way. He walked towards the source of the light. The voices became stronger. And then he saw it. A ball of both light and dark floating above the floor and spinning around each other. He reached out to touch the power. “Stop!” Alvondir spun, and suddenly there was a Lightblade and a Darkblade in his hands. There was a man there, with glowing arms. Much brighter than his father’s or brother’s ever were. This was the real assassin, he hadn’t been a mirage. “Don’t listen to the voice!” Alvondir shouted. “It will deceive you!” The man looked confused. “You don’t listen to it! I hear no voice.” Alvondir paused, looking at his arms. “But…” “The light has no voice, and I have more light than dark, so you should trust me.” He lies. Kill him. He killed your family! “Do not do what the voice says,” he said. “Never.” Alvondir didn’t know what was true. For all he knew, he could still be on that mountain, and this was a mirage. Or he had been dreaming since he woke up. “You killed my family.” The man closed his eyes. “Look, their deaths were necessary. I don’t have time to go into it, but you need to trust me.” “No. You want my trust? Convince me.” The man’s arms stopped glowing. “Fine.” He thought for a moment. “Okay. When I was controlled by the dark voice, he told me not to kill your father. You always do the opposite of what it says. When I got their powers, I was rid of the voice. I knew that to end this war I had to come here and split this power up. It would be much weaker and my side of the war wouldn’t be controlled by it anymore.” “With you so far. Except, why didn’t my father or brother have the same idea?” “It could be because I needed both of their combined power to reach this information. Or it could be that they were too selfish.” “Selfish?” Alvondir didn’t understand. “You need to give yourself up in order to split the power.” “So why’d you stop me? You could have lived.” The man smiled. “I need the light to be stronger, and you have more dark than light. Now, do you believe me?” Alvondir did not let go of his blades. He jumped at the man, as his arms started glowing. He slammed into the air before him, as if it were a wall of stone. He fell on his face. He was boxed in, he realized. The Glyphwarden stepped passed him to touch the ball of light and dark, good and evil. He shot as much dark power as he possibly could through the air wall, and he felt things break. He figured that if he killed the man then he would know for sure if he were lying. He hadn’t come all this way for nothing, and he wanted the satisfaction of killing the man who had killed his family. And he wanted to be rid of the voice in his head. His power would grant that. No! Don’t kill him! Anyone but him! “Hmm. I guess Hetesik had more than I thought. I didn’t want to ki-” In that second of hesitation, Alvondir was able to enter his mind. He didn’t know how, he just knew that he could. He knew everything about the man. Everything. Where he grew up, who his friends were, why he did what he did, and that he was telling the truth. How could he kill someone he knew so well? His name was Sestarum. “I’m…sorry,” Alvondir said to him. The Glyphwarden was holding his head in pain. “Are we…done here?” “Yes.” Alvondir grimaced. “Sorry.” “I understand. I could see your thoughts as you could see mine.” Alvondir nodded, winded. “You should go, I will keep in touch.” With that, he jumped into the light. * * * ALVONDIR WAS BACK HOME. Four days had passed, and he hadn’t heard the voice since. The powers were scattered around both the Skylands and Lowlands, in what the people had called Citadels. His powers had dwindled greatly; he could barely start a fire. The war was over, and everyone thought that Alvondir had done it, even though he told them otherwise. The Skyland’s force had left the Lowlands (mercifully) and took their technology with them. They would be in a Dark Age for, well, ages, and wouldn’t even know that anyone existed in the Skylands apart from perhaps legends. And for once, no one hated him. Not even Skanev.

I meant to say "it grows from Stormlight," but it wouldn't let me edit.

Since there was that nice tidbit in someones book that Stormlight grows plants, and that the KR can hold Stormlight in perfectly when they have a Shardplate of their own, I think that once they utter a certain ideal, they gain the ability to grow Shardplate, except, you know, they can take it off if they want.

but does Syl have Investitiure?

He can sense Kaladin too, by the fact that he woke up when he was near

and you know Hoid is Wit right?

where can I get Liar?

That...Would be interesting. We are pretty sure that Taln isn't who he says, but I don't know if the physical description matches. Why would Spook be in damnation in the first place?

One weird thing though: Siri can see the God King's aura. And on the cover she is Breathing.

You get basic abilities depending on how many Breaths you have, but First Heightening is 50. I think Hoid is an exception to be honest.

(Sorry about the double post) Some of my other thoughts that I forgot to put down: Lightsong (before he returned) was in the Spiritual realm. It made me wonder if Kelsier came across Endowment could he Return? And if he could, would he still have his Mistborn powers? Would taking control of Thousands of Lifeless soldiers feel like holding Koloss? One of the biggest things while reading Vasher's revelation was that, since hes hundreds of years old, is that he might have been on Roshar before. Where else would he have gotten the wealth of Investitiure in the form of Breaths and how does he know so much about Investiture in the storms?

Shardbearer, this was my thought too, but how does Vasher transfer stormlight into Breaths in order to sense things? Is it the spiritual DNA? Because it seems to me like magic would change if you go to another world, unless you find a way around it, because or the Shards and their focus. Like how being far from Elantris dwindles your power, the same goes for Shardworlds.

Canadians say Lieutenant as well

Haha AWWWWWWW Dalinar wasn't handsome. . . Well at least she's honest!

EDIT: (It wouldn't save on the origional) I realize it has nothing to do with the title, can someone tell me how to rename it?

So over the break I read Warbreaker. I read it once a while back, but I was stupid back then and didn't pay attention to half the stuff in it. However, this time around, I picked up on a TON of things that I felt the need to post on here. There will be some theories in here, and I neglect to put this on the Warbreaker Forum because it is much less used. As I went through, I folded the pages when I found something interesting (don`t be mad, it is a paperback). I started doing this about a third of the way through, so forgive me if I missed anything and please point it out if its relevant. NOTE: There are extensive spoilers here, obviously, and this will be a long post. The first thing I noticed while reading a Lightsong POV is that he kept on using instincts to notice and not reveal information. I noticed this when he ... noticed the trapdoor and didn`t tell the priest that were there. Page 293, paragraphs 6 and 7. Paperback edition. I noticed a few more of these throughout the book, but this is the most important. I will find them if you guys ask though. Now, we know later in the story that Lightsong used to be a scribe who sniffed out robberies for nobles etc. This (to me) doesn't account for this instinct, so it makes me wonder if it is another benefit of being returned, having a lot of Breath, having a Divine Breath, or perhaps if Endowment was trying to communicate with him. The next page I folded is when Lightsong is musing about how the Returned look. Page 350, paragraph 2. This I marked because it reminded me of the powers of observation and the way the spren worked. This point is proven later towards the end, when Vasher tells Vivenna about this as well. I folded down page 360 because of a Slumlord named Rira. I seemed to remember a thread somewhere that mentioned a Rira in Words of Radiance or TwoK. It may just be the country that Kaladin mentioned when thinking about Adolin's hair though. I might also be crazy. For the record I thought that if he was somewhere else, then he must be a Worldhopper, and my mind got away from me a bit. I folded down the beginning and end of the Hoid conversation as well. Due to events later in the book and how Hoid has a knack at being places, it seems stretched for me to believe that he wasn't on Nealthis for the Manywar and the events that happened there and I wondered why he didn't tell the whole truth to Lightsong and Siri. Pages 373-384. This next fold is when Vasher kidnaps Vivenna. Now, she mentioned before I started folding that she couldn't sense Jewels because she is a drab. I remembered this and marked the page because she mentioned Vasher approaching her with a lot of Breath. WoR spoiler: I'm too lazy to get the exact quote from the book at the moment, but I triple-checked earlier. I will (maybe tomorrow) make a thread dedicated to a Vasher theory, and I will put the link down here as well. I folded the pages where Vasher explains most of the BioChromatic entities to Vivenna. 507 and 508. I folded 513 because of Lightsong's thoughts at the beginning of the chapter. Can there only be a certain number? This would be a good question for Brandon in my opinion. Does it have something to do with the power of belief/observation that seems to be an important role in the Cosmere? Next worthy point of mine: This seems like WAY to much of a coincidence to the topic of the power of belief, and how an object views itself to not post it. Page 567 Thanks for your time, and sorry if these have been brought to light before