Quiver

Of Dominion and

If you don't mind my asking, how many sessions behind are you? I have to agree with what...uh... Joe(why does it sound stranger abbreviating his name to that than yours to Feather?) said in the thread. Transcribed things are fun to read, but I imagine they take time, so I'm just curious about how many you've done vs how many are posted. (Maybe I should have asked that in the fan club and left this thread open as 'suggestions for what we should reprogram Feather with'. Again, I wanted to save the fan club post for relevance.)

It's for your own good, Lady Feather. If well drawn fan art is enough to make you caps lock squeal, who knows[/] what canon Shallarin would do! And thanks for the fictions. I'm saying it here since I haven't read either of them yet, and want to save my fan club post for my "These are good and this is why" reaction.

Cultivation and Endowment

As unpopular as it may be, I think we also have to consider installing a Shallarin-firewall to stop it happening in the future.

"You should have listened to me!" Quinn yelled, kicking the dirt in frustration. "Why does no one ever listen to me?" He looked around the forge before someone had a chance to probe his selective memory. "Where is that little bug? I'll squah himself myself!" Night time phase. If we're voting for Beetle tomarrow, should we coinshot Gambles tonight? Or vice versa? Or something else completely unrelated to either of them?

So, if Words of Radiance totally short circuits Lady Feathers brain with it's rampant Shallarin, do we leave her somewhere for repairs, or upgrade to the latest model?

Is it possible Endowment simply can't not create Returned? Ruin and Preservation were at the point that they had to follow their Intents, so perhaps Endowment has to create Returned for his/her Intent? (This may be connected to my wild hope that Endowment is a Villain forced into a good Shard, like the anti-Ruin.)

Fixed the colour balance, my mistake. Gamma, I agree that the information both gave was suspect. Honestly, part of my problem is that I don't know how reliable you are as a regular villager; hence voting for Beetle. If he's innocent, your in the clear, if he isn't... Well, aside from anything else, if we kill Beetle and it's another damnation villager, I'll out my role in the forum. Might give us another solid base to be voting from.

I have to say, I find Beetle kind of suspicious. The fact he and Edgar, apparently, smoked virtually the same things seems a tad coincidental. It isn't based on very much, but... This is another vote for beetle. If he's spiked, we've identified another possible spiker and found the true Seeker, and if he isn't, spiked the coinshot should be able to fix our mistake tonight.

Thanks for the response. I'm doing this as a series of short stories, so here's the second in the series. Story Two: Kayla {Ongoing} Chapter One: The Chase “Stop! Thief!” Kayla turned at the shout. A merchant standing behind a stall of fish and loaves gestured wildly into the market. The guardwoman scanned the square, her eyes falling onto a ripple, a wave that was driven away from the outraged cries and was shoving the crowd aside. She tightened her belt, secured her sword, and began to run. She strained to keep an eye on the thief in the sea of people. Once the crowd began to realise what was going on they stopped milling around, half-heartedly opening a corridor between the thief and his pursuer. It shouldn’t have been too difficult; he was running against the flow of people, and dressed head to toe in the itchy, uncomfortable wool that the ruling council imported from the mountain tribes to clothe the poor. Kayla would recognise those clothes anywhere. Even so, she felt her feet dragging against the flagstones of the city, a hesitance deep in her gut... The thief turned to look over his shoulder, and she felt the tension ease away. It was a fleeting look, but it was enough. He was young. Scrawny. Fair-haired. And completely unrecognisable to her. Beneath the heavy mask, Kayla felt her lips curl, and quickened the pace. The thief turned his eyes back to his escape route, a second too late to avoid the woman who hadn’t gotten out of his way. He jostled her roughly, and she screamed with shock as she felt to the ground. The blonde thief lost his footing for a second and dropped a crust on the ground, but kept on running. As Kayla approached, she looked at the woman. She was being helped to her feet by a nearby man- a husband?- who rubbed her shoulders in reassurance. She began the mental balance, of whether to continue the pursuit or stop to help, then saw the colour drain out of the pair as they noticed her attention. She’s fine, she thought, stiffening slightly. She leapt over the prone couple, her armour flashing in the sun, and kept pursuit. By now, the chase was getting attention. Kayla heard the crowd around her murmuring, a few offering pointers as to where he had gone, and more than a few pointing in the opposite direction. Through the corners of the slits in her helmet, Kayla could see two other shapes converging through the crowd, and caught a glance of the high helmed plume of a sergeant. The thief must have seen something too, since the flow of traffic shifted away from Kayla’s re-enforcements and back towards her. “Stop,” she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the crowd that was beginning to press against her. The people of Tamith might not have liked the guards, but given the choice between being pressed against an officer and a recruit, they made their choices. Kayla forced a gauntleted arm through the press, and began to pry her way out. “Out of my way!” The helmet made Kaylas’ voice muffled and heavy, but the crowd didn’t so much as flinch. “You are obstructing an—“ She froze, feeling something brush past her. She spun, her cloak becoming tangled in in the mass and feeling the weight of her sword hit someone. She ignored both, instead focusing on the figure fleeing downhill; a figure, dressed in thick, grey wool. “Here,” she shouted again. She threw a hand in the air, gesturing the direction, but she didn’t look behind to see if her colleagues had spotted it. Instead, she forced her way forward, wading through the group as if it were a sea, and following her quarry down, down a street, past storefronts that she recognised well. She grimaced. He was headed down to the Tangles. It was what the locals called the neighbourhood that was pressed between the freshwaterdocks and the upper districts. The former was full of the sort of people whose professions and reputations kept them away from the more respectable areas of the city, the sort of people that the latter liked to make use of, particularly if they were young and drunk. As a result, the neighbourhood in between had become a wandering mess of back alleys and side streets, ways for the nobleborn to visit the warrens in secret. The Tangles ended up with the worst of both sides, a fractious den run by ever shifting gang loyalties. If the thief was heading there, he must have been confident that he was going to find help. Or he’s desperate. Kayla bit her lip. It was the last place she wanted to go back to. There weren’t any guards, at least not any that could be trusted, and she had no idea if her back up had seen her signing. I could just not go, she thought. I could have lost him in the press, or been wrong, or… She kept on running. Slowly, the buildings around her decayed. It was mid-afternoon, but she felt a chill in the air, the ramshackle houses rising crookedly into the sky to blot out the sun. She slowed down. There were no flagstones here, just bare foot churned muck, and the streets were empty. Of course they are, she thought bitterly. Most of the people who lived here would be working at one of the docks, if they didn’t work nights. She kept her eyes peeled to the road, looking for a trail, for fresher prints. For a moment, she almost wished she were a chiromancer; probably one of them could follow the thief through muck, and rain, and snow, and sh- She shook her head, flexing her fingers. She placed a hand on Stringers hilt. The sword had been used, and bent, and broken, and remade by dozens of guards before her. She couldn’t feel them through the gauntlet, of course, but knowing that that warmth of experience was beneath her grip made her feels better all the same. She was certain that Loren, the man who had trained her in its use, wouldn’t have been afraid to go into the Tangles, nor would his mentor, Kan, or his, Fulia, or hers… She recited the list back to herself as she walked. She couldn’t take off the gauntlet to feel them, but holding them in her mind was almost as good. And if they hadn’t been afraid, well, she couldn’t taint Stringers history with cowardice, could she? The tracks ran down the main thoroughfare. Kayla felt a brush of surprise; most people who ran down here would have gone down one of the side-streets or alleys long before now. She had been counting the terriroties unconciously as she passed them- Yoren, who renamed it Talon,- Sooyen- Tyla who broke it,- Buja- Marin who trained her- and he hadn’t gone down any of them. It probably didn’t mean anything, or that he was more afraid of being caught by a rival gang than by her, or… Or that he was sticking the main thoroughfare because he wasn’t affiliated with any of them. Kayla’s blood chilled. In the Tangles, that might be the one thing worse than being a guard. She quickened her step. All around her, she could see evidence of the Tangles history. There was a watery smell in the air, unlike what one would find down at the seadocks. Here, the shame was palpable, every street seeming to crouch as if to hide themselves, while the alleyway and gutters lunged outwards to invite you in. And still, it wasn’t an offer that the thief had ever taken. He had kept going straight downhill, ignoring the other ways that might lose her, one pair of footprints... And then there were more. A lot more. Kayla stopped, staring at the ground. Her eyes flit between the main street and the nearby gutter, then back again. The ground was tossed, with footprints and even a boot overlapping leading out of the cavernous entrance, then back inside, dragging a set of legs behind them. Kayla looked at the alleyway and, straining her ears, heard the sound of fists striking flesh. Despite herself, she shivered. That’s that, then, she told herself. That’s sad, but that’s it. I should go back. Instead, she put a foot forward. Then the other. Then the fist again. And then shouted “Stop right there!” The sound of the beating stopped. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. ]She took a place at the mouth of the alleyway, a hand resting on Stringers hilt, and her feet wide-apart. Her cloak hung a few fingers above the ground, and she tried to seem confident. When the burly men emerged from the shadows, rags tied around their heads, she was suddenly glad that her face was covered. People might have found the blank carved helmets of the guards frightening, but at least these gang members couldn’t see her blood chill. They stood, shoulder to muscled shoulder, in the alleyway. Behind them, just out of sight, she heard a whimpering sound. “You have something of mine,” Kayla said. The men looked between themselves. One of them, scars on his scalp breaking up his dark hair and wearing what looked like a noblemans hand me downs, stepped forward with a swager. “I think you have the wrong people, justice.” The reedy tone was familiar. Kayla frowned, trying to place it, staring into the grey eyes, and then grinning. “No, Baldren, I really don’t. I’m here to collect.” The man flinched at his name, and his cronies shuffled. Some began reaching for their pockets, and Kayla felt a brief moment of panic. “Have we met before, miss?” he said, his grin chilly and with a suspicious gleam. Kayla breathed heavily, and stepped forward. “Of course we have,” she said. She began to reach for her helmet. “You always said I had pretty eyes, remember?” The men flinched as if suspecting some trick, but Baldren held a hand to still them. Kayla reached for the clasp in the centre of the helmet, but hesitated. She hadn’t thought that everything she had been taught had been ingrained so deep, but she still felt a wrongness as she undid the lock. She composed herself, and formed a cocky grin. The seam ran down the middle of the mask, so she opened it on both sides. “Do I still have pretty eyes?” she asked, pulling the helmet off to expose her scalp. “My hair’s shorter, now, but…” She flashed that grin again, and cocked her hip. Baldren was the kind of man who had always been attracted to that sort of thing. But there was no attraction in his eyes now. There was barely even any recognition. Kayla made her smile stay in place as she searched him, hoping, waiting, thinking… Finally, something sparked. “Kayla?” he blurted. She nodded, but her heart skipped a beat. He didn’t sound pleased. He sounded angry. “What are you doing in that get up?” “I’m in it because it’s my job. Oh, don’t give me that look,” she added smoothly. “Plenty of people do it. It’s an easier way of earning a coin than back alley brawling.” “You turned on us?” “What? No.” Kayla blinked, made herself frown. Then, after a moment, she grinned. “Wait a minute, you thought this was…? You really are an idiot, Baldren.” She shook her head. “I’m on the take, you idiot. A small fee, for doing nothing? It’s the easiest money I’ve ever made.” The gangleader nodded absently, but his men didn’t relax. They didn’t remove their hands from their pockets, either. In the background, the thief continued whining. “Last thing I expected from you,” Baldren said slowly. “With the way you walked around, nose in the air.” “I was ten. Things change. Look,” she added. “Two weeks ago, you were in the drunk tank. And one of your friends there assaulted a guard. Why do you think you got off so easy?” “And collecting this freerunner?” Baldren gestured to his men, who dragged the thief forward. They threw him on the ground, where he fell with a wet splat. Kayla decided not to think what it was he had landed in. “Part of your cover, I suppose?” “If you’re dumb enough to steal in sight of a guard, you deserve to be caught,” she answered flippantly. “If he was coming this way, I thought he might have been one of yours… so he’s a freelancer?” “That’s right.” Baldren stepped on the small of the man’s back, and he whined. He twisted in pain, and Kayla could see his gloves were gone and two fingers were broken. “Thought he could evade the law down here. Unlucky for him huh?” Kayla forced a smile. “Very. Not too many guards grew up with the Tangle as a backyard.” Baldren nodded absently. “Right… well then.” He reached into a pocket and the next instant, a rusty knife was placed to the man’s throat. “Since we’re all criminals here, you won’t mind if we cut his throat, will we?” The thief looked at Kayla with pleading, swollen eyes. “Do what you want, but make it fast,” she suggested. “I wasn’t the only one chasing him. There should be a whole squad down here pretty soon, and I don’t think you want to be here for that.” Baldren nodded, eying her carefully. Kaya kept up the smile, trying not to crack. Finally, he said, “You get paid when you bring someone in, don’t you?” Relief. “That’s right.” He considered it a moment, then shoved the thief back in the dirt. “A present for old friends then,” he said, getting back to his feet. He gave a mock bow, and one of his crew doffed his hat. “And future business.” Kayla gave a crooked smile. “I look forward to business with old friends.” Baldren smiled, then knelt down by the thief again. “You breathe a word of this,” he hissed, “and what happened here? That’ll be kisses.” He got up, bowed once again to Kayla, then turned and vanished down the alley. Kayla waited until she was sure they were gone, then approached the prone man. “Get up,” she said, grabbing him under the arm. “I’m placing you under arrest for theft. You have the right to-“ She didn’t finish her sentence. He lunged towards her, and placed his broken hand against her bare face. Kayla staggered, dropping him. She placed a glove over her hand, trying to rub the Print away, but it was too late. That brief contact had been all he needed. She shouted at herself mentally for not putting on her helmet first. She kicked the muck of the ground, soiling her boots. Then she turned back to the thief. But instead of a thief, she saw a hungry man. One dressed in those horrible, humiliating clothes, that weren’t just there to cover his Prints. They were there to cover his bones. But she could see the sunken cheeks, the desperate eyes. She had seen them in the river growing up, and now, they were looking back at her, and, damnit, damnit, damnit! She wasn’t thinking clearly. She knew that. Even so, she placed her helmet back on her head, and sealed the mask. She looked around for something large and heavy, and found a broken piece of wood. “Here,” she growled, thrusting it into his hands. “Do it. Then run.” The thi- the man nodded slowly, leaning on the cudgel. He looked at her sheepishly for a moment, until she scowled. “Here.” She handed him a handful of coins; enough to buy something to eat, if he bartered for it. She could hear the footsteps of her backup in the distance, and bowed her head. “Just… do it in one, okay?” she asked. She closed her eyes. She heard the swish of wind, a crack on the back of her head- Then black. IMPORTANT EDIT: So, I've been thinking about this piece since yesterday. I liked it when I posted it (and I still do), but there is something about it that bugs me as being potentially problematic, if not offensive. It's possible that I'm just overreacting (I do that from time to time) and I was going to just leave this as is, since addressing it would be a spoiler for any continuations of Kayla that I had in mind, because I did have something in mind. So I'm addressing the point in a spoiler. If you thought there was nothing wrong or untoward here, then... great. Please let me know so I don't panic mindlessly in the future. If you did think there was a problem, then check out the spoiler. So, when/if I decide to continue her story, that's going to be a part of it, and I was hoping that would explain why I had her bluff that way rather than something else. But, since that interpretation basically depends on something I haven't written yet, I thought I ought to give a 'I'm totally not sexist, really" defence in the meantime. LESS IMPORTANT EDIT: By the way, what do you think of the name? I had been going to use Ryla, but it seemed too Cthullu, so it became Rayla, which autocorrect kept changing. I'm not against Kayla as a name, but whenever I say it, I keep hearing an annoying hero saying 'Kahlan' instead.

The tigers' tail. (The circle is now complete [/palpatine]

Considering how bad the block voting makes me look, I figure I need to take a second to speak in my defence. Whenever I posted, I was going with the 'no votes are suspicious' train of thought; I had hoped that so many people shifted or jumped to my way of thinking because it was well reasoned out. Instead, I'm guessing it was the spiked players taking advantage of a sudden upswing to off someone and throw suspicion about. (Paranoid? I'm not paranoid. Who told you that?) So, I agree with looking at some of the names in the Grayv block, even though that implicates myself.

I am so excited about the chance to finally be relevant in conversation! Anyway, no. I still haven't seen the film, and I can follow the game just fine. At first, I did find it a bit difficult to follow, just because of the present tense style, but I've gotten used to it. The first couple of sessions don't really dwell on the "Transformers suplex Godzilla" part of the Pacific Rim pitch, instead building up the world and characters. Whenever the more alien stuff starts to appear, it's in a pretty gradual and easy-to-follow manner. So, yeah, you don't need to watch anything, just follow the links.

Form a bond

Given that the majority of the first books POVs are characters reflecting Vorinism, I think it tends to be seen as the default. Your right, there are other cultures that don't share those views, but we haven't seen any of them for extended periods. It feels (at least to me) as if Brandon is setting up Vorinism as the 'normal' culture. Of course, I expect things to get shifted around and social, culture mores to change as the series goes on. But that's how it feels to me at the moment,

. Because of this,

When your response to a problem is WWKD? Then you smile.

Ring had decided The perils of quick replying, I suppose. And thanks for the advice, been meaning to start advertising in my signature, but wasn't sure how to.

Obnoxious spren named EDIT 2: How can you "spit a door with its tail"? You can misread spit for split, and be subsequently humiliated. My bad.

So, I love concepts. A good idea can be enough to get me to read something. The pitch of Mistborn, 'What if the Dark Lord won?' Was enough to make me want to read it, even if it had been terrible. Similarly, the concept for Throne of Glass- 'What if Cinderella was an assassin?' (You may be noticing a theme here.) Has anyone else had this experience, where the central idea was just so cool[/] that you had to read it?mor where, after finishing something, you sat down, set the book aside, and took a moment to readjust because you couldn't understand how such a great idea could go so horribly wrong?

With it's tail (Of topic, but can someone tell me how you make those links in your signature?)

Quotes like this are why I don't play here much But your right, practicality is an issue. Agreed. I've been agonising over how to properly phrase this, but... I find it interesting that in Vorinism, Brandon has placed literacy as a solely female purview. Particularly given the perception of fantasy and science fiction as a male audience. And I'm not trying to derail the topic by implying there are no female authors or readers. But I've heard plenty of stories about the disparity there is between the sexes (and races), so I think Brandon has done something interesting by placing literature as a feminine art. The same goes for how men who can read are treated. I don't know if it's a reaction to the above disparity, or subverting the 'wise old man' trope, or just intended as a cultural quirk, but I approve of it. That doesn't quite sum up my feelings right, but I suspect that if I try clarifying I'll say something inadvertently offensive. Speaking personally, I'm not particularly martially-minded; I like reading. The fact that, if I were Rosharan, I wouldn't be able to do what I enjoy is interesting. In a way. Kind of. It's complicated.

Why not Demoux? Seriously, I don't know. At the moment, it's a cameo on par with Hoid; a minor character popping up where he doesn't belong. We don't know the events that occurred between HoA and AoL. Given Harmony's mention of Adonalsium, my current theory is that he is, somehow, involved with however Demoux got involved with the 17th Shard. Besides that, I suppose Demoux was the surviving cast member not otherwise occupied. Spook was Lord Mistborn, Breeze was his advisor, and Ham had his family. Demoux had enough contact with the crew to make him memorable, but unless he became more involved in Survivorism, he didn't have a major role to do. Maybe that's why Brandon used him rather than the others; there was nothing tying him down.

However Jasnahs love life unravels (whether it's Kaladin, Amaram, Shallan or Unnamed Extra), I hope rape is not involved. It's an overused trope, and I can see how it might be used for her character- her reaction to the criminals in the alley, for instance- but I'd rather if it wasn't the answer. People can just be uninterested. It might be nice if Jasnah was just completely uninterested in romantic relationships.