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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 6, 2015 21:00:26 GMT
(( Lylyss: Yes, an Edgedancer. 'Twas sparked by the whichver-number ideal about remembering those who've been forgotten. That is a concern . . . my concern with something about Kaladin's time is that there's not a lot of Radiants, but since they are reemerging, that could be doable.))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 7, 2015 4:46:39 GMT
(( Lylyss : I had a character idea a few days ago while listening to music . . . lost it, though, except I know said character was going to be an Edgedancer. I'll have to try to find it again.)) ((I think Dmitri had mentioned a while ago that a Stormlight plot taking place during the prior age of Radiants might be interesting.)) ((Edgedancers are so cool. I can imagine some pretty neat tricks that you could do in battle--gonna have to keep my eye on your character. ;P Ooh. That would be interesting. We could definitely do that, but the books still haven't revealed very much about the Knights Radiant. We'd have to guess about their protocols, structure, etc. It might be simpler to do something closer to the time period that Stormlight Archives covers. Maybe a few years before Kaladin comes onto the scene. Any thoughts, guys?)) (( Lylyss : Yes, an Edgedancer. 'Twas sparked by the whichver-number ideal about remembering those who've been forgotten. That is a concern . . . my concern with something about Kaladin's time is that there's not a lot of Radiants, but since they are reemerging, that could be doable.)) ((I had the same concern as Leilani about Kaladin's time, but I guess we're not really writing canonical material—and with the depth of Sanderson's worldbuilding, it's unlikely that we'll have everything the same as him. I think a few years prior to Kaladin would work pretty well.)) ((No. :S Neither would I. I wrote that scene as a glimpse into Warden's current activities. A vigilante Mistborn governor collecting Hemalurgic spikes. Uh-oh.)) "I slept surprisingly well." Chazan followed her to the window and folded his hands behind his back as he stared out into the ash-covered city of Luthadel. "Without Jove snoring on the other side of the barge's passenger cabin, I found the night almost peaceful." He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "I'm storing my Feruchemical attributes even as we speak. I anticipate a head-on battle as soon as Abokai arrives on the scene. We're talking multiple Inquisitors here, very likely a few squads of hazekillers as well. Thankfully—" A tiny smile cracked his face. "Zalwen left a coded message at a postbox I reserved. I can tell the Steel Ministry tried to decode it since Zalwen doesn't leave his papers in the state I found it in, but I doubt they made any sense of it. They don't have the context. But it said, basically, we're going to have help."
"Recent years, probably between 460 and 490," said Zalwen. "The noble houses in particular. Houses Lonthier, Ranoux, and Fosca." ((I'm imagining the current year as the 499th year of the Lord Ruler's reign.))
Gali perked up as she heard the approaching footsteps. The Inquisitors!Her first thought was to run. She hardly heard Romnau's order. But if Kell was really the head of the Canton of Inquisition in Urteau as Bandar had claimed— She darted forward, swinging a high strike with her candlestick while stabbing at Romnau's chest with the other. If she could take him quickly, she might be able to exchange his life for a ten-minute head start. Or something like that. Inquisitors were notoriously good bargainers.
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 7, 2015 7:55:58 GMT
(( Lylyss : Yes, an Edgedancer. 'Twas sparked by the whichver-number ideal about remembering those who've been forgotten. That is a concern . . . my concern with something about Kaladin's time is that there's not a lot of Radiants, but since they are reemerging, that could be doable.)) ((Yeah, I agree. If we choose to Roleplay in that era, we'll have to avoid the main timeline. No dinner with Dalinar, kidnapping Kaladin, murdering Shallan's parents, or swooping down from the sky to rescue Tien. Although that would actually be a hilarious fanfic. :P)) ((No. :S Neither would I. I wrote that scene as a glimpse into Warden's current activities. A vigilante Mistborn governor collecting Hemalurgic spikes. Uh-oh.)) "I slept surprisingly well." Chazan followed her to the window and folded his hands behind his back as he stared out into the ash-covered city of Luthadel. "Without Jove snoring on the other side of the barge's passenger cabin, I found the night almost peaceful." He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "I'm storing my Feruchemical attributes even as we speak. I anticipate a head-on battle as soon as Abokai arrives on the scene. We're talking multiple Inquisitors here, very likely a few squads of hazekillers as well. Thankfully—" A tiny smile cracked his face. "Zalwen left a coded message at a postbox I reserved. I can tell the Steel Ministry tried to decode it since Zalwen doesn't leave his papers in the state I found it in, but I doubt they made any sense of it. They don't have the context. But it said, basically, we're going to have help."
"Recent years, probably between 460 and 490," said Zalwen. "The noble houses in particular. Houses Lonthier, Ranoux, and Fosca." ((I'm imagining the current year as the 499th year of the Lord Ruler's reign.))
Gali perked up as she heard the approaching footsteps. The Inquisitors!Her first thought was to run. She hardly heard Romnau's order. But if Kell was really the head of the Canton of Inquisition in Urteau as Bandar had claimed— She darted forward, swinging a high strike with her candlestick while stabbing at Romnau's chest with the other. If she could take him quickly, she might be able to exchange his life for a ten-minute head start. Or something like that. Inquisitors were notoriously good bargainers. "Lonthier, Ranoux, Fosca." The librarian set off for the genealogical department. "460. 490. 460. 490. 460." She floated between isles like a ghost, running her fingers across the spines of a thousand yellowing tomes. "Farrier, Flenders, Forman, Foster, Fosca... Aha. There you are." The librarian snatched a book from the shelf. _______ "You should have heard him as a baby... snore, snore, snore. Like a little piglet." Ollin shook her head, lips pinched against a smile. "But I digress. The Inquisitors. It worries me that they Steel Ministry saw Zalwen's message, even if the code is as cryptic as you claim. How do you know that they weren't watching the drop zone? As for the letter... how exactly does Zalwen mean to help?" _______ Kell yelped, ducking the candlestick, sidestepping the stab, then swinging at Gali's middle with his torch. The footsteps were getting closer.
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 7, 2015 13:27:02 GMT
((Aw, but I was looking forward to that last one . . . JK. xD Is it weird, though, that I don't actually want to murder Shallan's parents? I actually feel a bit sorry for them . . . or for her dad, at least.))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 7, 2015 19:51:39 GMT
Chazan heaved a sigh. "From what I've heard, the Steel Ministry rarely leaves messages unopened. Still, I rented the postal box under Governor Fosca's name. The man is neck-deep in politics. I doubt one coded message will raise much suspicion. As for being encrypted…" He touched his thumbs together and splayed his fingers in the likeness of a bird with wings extended. "I used the Phoenix alphabet. Zalwen taught it to me. The slightest angle of the beak and feathers gives each pictogram a numerical value which is then translated into a Khlenni letter based on a code which only you, I, and Zalwen possess." He shrugged. "As for how Zalwen intends to help, I believe he has hired a skaa crew to shadow and protect him. Allomancers. I believe you know at least one of them."
Gali burned pewter, enhancing her strength, and parried Kell's blow with her own candlestick. The metal rang like thunder. She jerked forward and stabbed at his shoulder this time while attempting to keep his torch away with her candlestick.
Lanthard Dalmeaux followed her, as they'd agreed. Zalwen fell into step behind the noble like any good steward should. He glanced over his shoulder. Nathin tagged along behind, wide-eyed, trying to stare in all directions at once. Zalwen turned his attention back to the librarian. She evidently knew her library well, very well. Almost Terrislike. He extended a hand for the book. "Thank you."
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 12, 2015 6:47:37 GMT
((Aw, but I was looking forward to that last one . . . JK. xD Is it weird, though, that I don't actually want to murder Shallan's parents? I actually feel a bit sorry for them . . . or for her dad, at least.)) ((Lol. I know. But then Kaladin would be more peaceable than a hippy, and half the book is fueled by his angst. xD Her parents are definitely tragic characters. :( *sigh* Can't believe Shallan had to kill them both... after everything her dad did to cover for her. So are we decided on a time period? Should we start making characters? :D )) Chazan heaved a sigh. "From what I've heard, the Steel Ministry rarely leaves messages unopened. Still, I rented the postal box under Governor Fosca's name. The man is neck-deep in politics. I doubt one coded message will raise much suspicion. As for being encrypted…" He touched his thumbs together and splayed his fingers in the likeness of a bird with wings extended. "I used the Phoenix alphabet. Zalwen taught it to me. The slightest angle of the beak and feathers gives each pictogram a numerical value which is then translated into a Khlenni letter based on a code which only you, I, and Zalwen possess." He shrugged. "As for how Zalwen intends to help, I believe he has hired a skaa crew to shadow and protect him. Allomancers. I believe you know at least one of them."
Gali burned pewter, enhancing her strength, and parried Kell's blow with her own candlestick. The metal rang like thunder. She jerked forward and stabbed at his shoulder this time while attempting to keep his torch away with her candlestick.
Lanthard Dalmeaux followed her, as they'd agreed. Zalwen fell into step behind the noble like any good steward should. He glanced over his shoulder. Nathin tagged along behind, wide-eyed, trying to stare in all directions at once. Zalwen turned his attention back to the librarian. She evidently knew her library well, very well. Almost Terrislike. He extended a hand for the book. "Thank you." The librarian nodded to Zalwen, passed him the book, then slipped back into the maze of shelves. She reappeared a few minutes later, resting her chin on top of unsteady stack of books. "Found a few more on Lonthier and Ranoux." Thunk. The librarian dropped them on a nearby table, sending up a cloud of dust. "Anything else I can do...?" ((I'll try and get Gamey to make an appearance. He probably won't tonight, though, since we're watching a movie.)) _________ Ollin nodded. Probably just being paranoid. But paranoia had served her well in the past, and pessimism braced for even the most dire of situations. "Mmm. I know a lot of Allomancers. Did he leave a name?" _________ Kell buckled beneath the blow--just a pair of spike-eyed Inquisitors emerged from the hall. They paused for a moment. Then, by unspoken agreement, strode toward Gali and Pushed on the candlestick, trying to drive it through her. ((Assuming the candlestick is metal. Most are. :P))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 12, 2015 7:31:25 GMT
((Can't promise I'll be on much tonight. I'm at 99K on The Teller's Apprentice. )) "Thank you for your aid." Zalwen inclined his body in a half bow, proper before a lower-class noble. "I believe my lord will be able to handle it from here."
Chazan smiled. "Daub."
The iron candlestick twitched in Gali's hand, then smacked into her face. She teetered, vision spinning. Then lunged for Kell. Knife to his neck, the other hand against his shoulders to prevent him from jerking away from her obsidian blade. As her sight cleared, she stared into the eyes of death. "I am not a spy." Blood dripped down her face from the wound the candlestick had inflicted on her forehead. "Let me explain or I'll kill Romnau."
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 12, 2015 12:55:50 GMT
((Mmm . . . stopping Tien's death wouldn't utterly stop the course of the book. Kaladin still has a grudge, and I'm pretty sure that there were honorspren taking note of him even then. It's just that the book would've gone differently . . . and, admittedly, probably been less of a book.)) ((And yes, we probably can start making characters now.))
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Post by gamemastergrimwarden on Dec 13, 2015 3:59:55 GMT
A shaky voice came behind Zalwen,
"M-master terrisman?"
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 13, 2015 19:53:44 GMT
Zalwen stiffened as he realised the voice's Author was the same as Abokai's Author. He tapped all his metalminds in an instant and pounced upon the voice, using his Feruchemical speed to get his hands round the person's neck and throttle the life out of him.
((No, not really. Heheh.))
Zalwen turned, preparing to tap his metalminds if need be. Luthadel was a dangerous place for Keepers of the Synod.
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Post by gamemastergrimwarden on Dec 14, 2015 6:43:53 GMT
The man was small, a head shorter than the terrisman. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body trembled as he spoke,
"I-i-if you have any w-weapons on you, you should… you should d-drop them…"
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 14, 2015 20:11:49 GMT
Zalwen's eyebrows raised. He tapped tin, searching the library with his amplified hearing, and prepared to tap other metalminds if necessary.
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Post by GAMEYIZ2LAZY2LOGIN on Dec 15, 2015 5:53:57 GMT
"You should drop those too, s-si-sir…" the man gestured to Zalwen's metal minds, eyes wide in fear.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 15, 2015 6:21:46 GMT
Zalwen turned in a circle, scanning the library with amplified sight for threats. He directed his comment to the small, scared man. "Who sent you?"
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 19, 2015 7:10:24 GMT
((Can't promise I'll be on much tonight. I'm at 99K on The Teller's Apprentice. :D )) "Thank you for your aid." Zalwen inclined his body in a half bow, proper before a lower-class noble. "I believe my lord will be able to handle it from here."
Chazan smiled. "Daub."
The iron candlestick twitched in Gali's hand, then smacked into her face. She teetered, vision spinning. Then lunged for Kell. Knife to his neck, the other hand against his shoulders to prevent him from jerking away from her obsidian blade. As her sight cleared, she stared into the eyes of death. "I am not a spy." Blood dripped down her face from the wound the candlestick had inflicted on her forehead. "Let me explain or I'll kill Romnau." "Daub? My Daub?" Ollin wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, it was a relief to have another capable Misting on their side... but now both of her sons were entangled in this ill-fated mission. "Jove will want to see him." And so will I.
______________ Kell yelped in fear, but knew better than to struggle. Instead, he snuck a hand into his pocket, fist closing around a hidden glass dagger. "Explain..." The Inquisitors hissed, like a knife sliding from its scabbard. ((Mmm . . . stopping Tien's death wouldn't utterly stop the course of the book. Kaladin still has a grudge, and I'm pretty sure that there were honorspren taking note of him even then. It's just that the book would've gone differently . . . and, admittedly, probably been less of a book.)) ((And yes, we probably can start making characters now.)) ((True. :) I bet Syl would have had a much easier time with Kaladin. And Renarin would have been great friends with Tier. xP Great! I'll have a character up in a bit. :) WookieeElf, would you be interested in joining as well, perhaps when you finish Words of Radiance?))
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Post by WookieeElf on Dec 19, 2015 15:02:53 GMT
(( Lylyss: Oh, uh, sure. But that might be after Christmas. I just dropped a few hints on what I want from Santa, hehe))
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Post by gamemastergrimwarden on Dec 20, 2015 4:01:20 GMT
The man glanced about as well, a drop of sweat slipping down his face. He leaned forward, speaking to Zalwen in a hiss, "Inquisitors! Here!"
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Post by NightBlade on Dec 20, 2015 4:56:59 GMT
(*looks in to see what has stolen away all my CaC2 people*)
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 20, 2015 20:29:59 GMT
((Name: Brune Kathir Pronunciation: BROON KAH-theer Gender: Male Age: 22 Position: Lighteyed merchant, tenth dahn. Description: Slender as a birch tree, with floppy red curls and dark blue eyes--so dark his position as a lighteyes is debatable. Thick brows, snub nose, weak chin. Wears a dusty jacket with patches on the elbows. Personality: Straightforward, uncomplicated, likes to keep things simple. Refuses to argue or gossip--if Brune doesn't like you, he'll walk away without a word. Values honesty above all else, but also believes in an honorable work ethic. Often labors into the night at his shop. Doesn't have the time or trust for friends. Tries to buffer himself from the world, but cannot deny the loneliness welling up inside. The conflict between these two desires has given him some strange habits, such as doing chores in a specific sequence, singing in a baritone when nobody's around, and feeling disconnected from his emotions. "This drop in my heart must be sadness. Huh. I'm sad. That's strange." History: Born in a backwater Alethi Princedom, where his sycophantic father leeched off the local nobility, and Brune witnessed the destructive nature of deception. Ran away from the court as a teenager. Has since traveled to across Alethkar as a merchant. Strengths: Clever and honest. A hard worker. Knows his way around a sword, as well as a bow and arrow. Armor and Weapons: Stout sword, concealed knife in his boot, hunts with a longbow and quiver. Wears a leather jerkin beneath his jacket. Weaknesses: Perfectionism. Loneliness. Avoids all forms of conflict. Other: In the process of bonding with an Honorspren named Taph.
:D Where do we wanna start?))
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 20, 2015 20:57:55 GMT
((I was going to ask that question myself . . .))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 20, 2015 22:52:15 GMT
The iron candlestick twitched in Gali's hand, then smacked into her face. She teetered, vision spinning. Then lunged for Kell. Knife to his neck, the other hand against his shoulders to prevent him from jerking away from her obsidian blade. As her sight cleared, she stared into the eyes of death. "I am not a spy." Blood dripped down her face from the wound the candlestick had inflicted on her forehead. "Let me explain or I'll kill Romnau." "Daub? My Daub?" Ollin wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, it was a relief to have another capable Misting on their side... but now both of her sons were entangled in this ill-fated mission. "Jove will want to see him." And so will I.
______________ Kell yelped in fear, but knew better than to struggle. Instead, he snuck a hand into his pocket, fist closing around a hidden glass dagger. "Explain..." The Inquisitors hissed, like a knife sliding from its scabbard. Chazan nodded, still smiling. "I'm sure that can be arranged. And I'm sure it's not only Jove who wants to see him." He rubbed his hands together. "So. Can you trust Pierre to keep his head during a fight? It's unusual to see Terrismen who aren't serving a noble outside the Terris Dominance, and I'm wondering if he'd accompany us in our quest for Zalwen. Not necessarily as a knowing accomplice, but a useful cover."
"I am an employee of the Steel Ministry," Gali said swiftly before the Inquisitors changed their minds. "I have official documents to prove it. I am under orders from August Breighton, currently serving in the Terris Dominance, to uncover information about one Gali Dalmeaux and her employers. Romnau tried to bribe me, which is why he's now trying to turn me over to you." The man glanced about as well, a drop of sweat slipping down his face. He leaned forward, speaking to Zalwen in a hiss, "Inquisitors! Here!" "Lovely," Zalwen said briskly. He backed off to where Lord Lanthard Dalmeaux and Nathin stood, his apprentice bearing a pile of books they'd collected since the librarian's help. "My lord, it would appear we may be hindered in our studies." Lanthard caught Zalwen's meaningful glance and pressed his lips together. "Leave it to me. I'll deal with them." A slow smile formed on his features. "Libraries, after all, are meant to be quiet." Zalwen scanned the library. "I hope Daub is still around."
((Cool character, Lylyss! I look forward to interacting with Brune. Here's my character for the Roshar subplot: Name: Daradin Seles Pronunciation: DAH-ra-din SEE-lees Age: 21 Gender: Male Position: Lighteyed Conscript Race/Nationality: Veden Appearance: A Veden of Jah Keved, Daradin has the typical reddish hair and pale skin of that nation. He is a lighteyes with violet eyes, but is of a low dahn among the Veden nobility. Daradin is average height and strongly built and has a perpetual grin on his face. He commonly wears feathers in his helmet. Weapons: A simple sword. Personality: Daradin is irrepressible and melodramatic, decisive, talkative, unruly, intentionally counter-cultural. Unlike most men in Alethkar, Daradin can read and write both glyphs and the Rosharan alphabet. He often disregards authority for the sake of doing so and claims his intelligence and singularity are stifled when he must be told what to do. Abilities: A capable swordsman. Weaknesses: Daradin’s defiance easily makes him enemies, often his superiors. He has occasionally been threatened with execution. History: Though born in Jah Keved, Daradin currently lives in Alethkar, where he serves as a conscript in the Alethi border conflicts. Other: Daradin likes bright things and has a collection. The other soldiers often tease him about this.)) ((I have also updated the Archives of Copper site with a summary and the Roshar characters: http://archivesofcopper.blogspot.com))
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 21, 2015 7:25:17 GMT
((I was going to ask that question myself . . .)) "Daub? My Daub?" Ollin wasn't sure how to feel. On one hand, it was a relief to have another capable Misting on their side... but now both of her sons were entangled in this ill-fated mission. "Jove will want to see him." And so will I.
______________ Kell yelped in fear, but knew better than to struggle. Instead, he snuck a hand into his pocket, fist closing around a hidden glass dagger. "Explain..." The Inquisitors hissed, like a knife sliding from its scabbard. Chazan nodded, still smiling. "I'm sure that can be arranged. And I'm sure it's not only Jove who wants to see him." He rubbed his hands together. "So. Can you trust Pierre to keep his head during a fight? It's unusual to see Terrismen who aren't serving a noble outside the Terris Dominance, and I'm wondering if he'd accompany us in our quest for Zalwen. Not necessarily as a knowing accomplice, but a useful cover."
"I am an employee of the Steel Ministry," Gali said swiftly before the Inquisitors changed their minds. "I have official documents to prove it. I am under orders from August Breighton, currently serving in the Terris Dominance, to uncover information about one Gali Dalmeaux and her employers. Romnau tried to bribe me, which is why he's now trying to turn me over to you." The man glanced about as well, a drop of sweat slipping down his face. He leaned forward, speaking to Zalwen in a hiss, "Inquisitors! Here!" "Lovely," Zalwen said briskly. He backed off to where Lord Lanthard Dalmeaux and Nathin stood, his apprentice bearing a pile of books they'd collected since the librarian's help. "My lord, it would appear we may be hindered in our studies." Lanthard caught Zalwen's meaningful glance and pressed his lips together. "Leave it to me. I'll deal with them." A slow smile formed on his features. "Libraries, after all, are meant to be quiet." Zalwen scanned the library. "I hope Daub is still around."
((Cool character, Lylyss! I look forward to interacting with Brune. Here's my character for the Roshar subplot: Name: Daradin Seles Pronunciation: DAH-ra-din SEE-lees Age: 21 Gender: Male Position: Lighteyed Conscript Race/Nationality: Veden Appearance: A Veden of Jah Keved, Daradin has the typical reddish hair and pale skin of that nation. He is a lighteyes with violet eyes, but is of a low dahn among the Veden nobility. Daradin is average height and strongly built and has a perpetual grin on his face. He commonly wears feathers in his helmet. Weapons: A simple sword. Personality: Daradin is irrepressible and melodramatic, decisive, talkative, unruly, intentionally counter-cultural. Unlike most men in Alethkar, Daradin can read and write both glyphs and the Rosharan alphabet. He often disregards authority for the sake of doing so and claims his intelligence and singularity are stifled when he must be told what to do. Abilities: A capable swordsman. Weaknesses: Daradin’s defiance easily makes him enemies, often his superiors. He has occasionally been threatened with execution. History: Though born in Jah Keved, Daradin currently lives in Alethkar, where he serves as a conscript in the Alethi border conflicts. Other: Daradin likes bright things and has a collection. The other soldiers often tease him about this.)) ((I have also updated the Archives of Copper site with a summary and the Roshar characters: http://archivesofcopper.blogspot.com)) ((Hmm. Well, since Dmitri's character is a conscript, it makes sense to begin on Shattered Plains or some sort of battlefield. Ideas? Thoughts?)) _______ ((Likewise, Dmitri! :) Daradin's gonna be fun to battle with.)) Ollin scowled, but didn't deny it. She was looking forward to seeing Daub. "You might be able to persuade Pierre to act as a cover, if you say it's research for his book, or agree to be interviewed afterward. As for keeping his head... well... I'm not sure. I've never seen him in a stressful situation." Sigh. "If worst comes to worst, we could always use Jove instead. Dress him up as a nobleman." _______ "Not true!" Kell yelped. "Most certainly not--" "Silence!" hissed the lead Inquisitor. He exchanged a glance with his partner, and something seemed to pass between them. Breighton. August Breighton was an ugly name in their memory. After what he did in Luthadel... The Inquisitors stepped forward. Gali and Kell were marked for death.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 21, 2015 7:47:35 GMT
((Shattered Plains is an option, as are the oft-referenced Alethi border wars in which Kaladin killed the Shardbearer. I imagined Daradin in the border conflicts, but Shattered Plains is fine also. Maybe we could start in Alethkar's border conflicts and sooner or later move to the Shattered Plains?))
Chazan stifled a smile at Ollin's reaction. "Jove is not the average skaa. Most of your people have all the laughter beaten out of them." He shrugged. "Let's try Pierre. His robes should fit Jove if he proves unreliable."
Gali's breath caught in her throat. They didn't believe me. Fast as a dark lightning strike, she reared back and threw the obsidian knife directly at the foremost Inquisitor's neck. Then she turned and ran, toppling candlesticks as she went so the Inquisitors couldn't Pull themselves down the corridors.
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 21, 2015 8:13:09 GMT
((I like the idea of starting with border conflicts. Makes life much simpler. :) ))
"Heh. Well. He's a sweet boy. And it helps, being raised away from Luthadel." Ollin scowled out the window. "Very well then--let's go find Pierre." ___________
Kell yelped and stumbled after Gali. Meanwhile, just a few yards behind, the first Inquisitor dodged the knife. They seemed to move with supernatural speed--Pewter, undoubtably--rapidly gaining upon the fleeing pair. "Turn right!" Kell screamed as they came to a fork in the road. "There's a door! An emergency exit." Just then, both Inquisitors released a flurry of metal-tipped glass shards.
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 21, 2015 8:34:20 GMT
((Rrright! Alethi border conflicts. I saw a shop mentioned in Brune's profile, so I'm going with that. Leilani Sunblade , are you going to bring in a character soon?)) A short timeskip later, Chazan knocked on the extravagantly carved door of Pierre's chambers. Being so early in the morning, he wouldn't have guessed the noble would be up already. "Lord Deidoa?"
Burning pewter, Gali dodged right, grasping Kell's shoulder in the process and jerking him after her. She paused for a moment. He wasn't an ally, let alone a friend. Why had she done that? But it was done, and the Inquisitors were nearly upon them. Gali twiddled with the lock—years of lock-picking coming in handy—and burst out of the door onto the streets of Urteau. Where to run? Inquisitors rarely gave up. Definitely in the streetslots, the long-dry canals—she could blend in as a skaa down there. She seized Kell by the back of his collar and dragged him after her, heading for the closest streetslot with pewter-enhanced speed. Once the chase with the Inquisitors ended, she could deal with him. Have justice done.
"Seles!" The guard lieutenant's voice echoed in the barracks. Daradin winced as he pulled himself to his feet and saluted. Painspren swarmed around his feet, sinewy orange fingers reaching for the long wound in his leg. "Captain? I'm under orders to rest and recuperate." The lieutenant's mustache bristled. "I'm countermanding those orders at the captain's direction. We've got reports of a division trying to pierce the Brazen Hills. Possibly a few Shardbearers among them." Daradin closed his eyes. "And you think I'm going to be any help in a battle?" "It ain't a battle I'm thinking of," the lighteyed lieutenant snapped. "There are a few small villages in the Brazen Hills. Hamlets and suchlike which haven't been warned of their impending doom." He grinned, not quite friendly. "Get your horse, Seles. Report to Second Lieutenant Dejev Sarkasi. He's in command of the scouting detachment you're now in." With that, the lieutenant turned and left. Daradin sighed as he scanned the empty barracks. He'd found no one to entertain recently, not since the last battle where he'd been wounded. He touched the cloth bindings around his leg and winced. The officers didn't take kindly to entertainment either. Was there no one who appreciated his bardship? He sighed and limped out of the barracks and headed in the direction he'd left his horse. Whether it would still be there was debatable. Some soldiers just took the closest horse and rode off. The sooner this storming conscription ended, the better.
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Post by Lylyss on Dec 21, 2015 10:08:41 GMT
((Rrright! Alethi border conflicts. I saw a shop mentioned in Brune's profile, so I'm going with that. Leilani Sunblade , are you going to bring in a character soon?)) A short timeskip later, Chazan knocked on the extravagantly carved door of Pierre's chambers. Being so early in the morning, he wouldn't have guessed the noble would be up already. "Lord Deidoa?"
Burning pewter, Gali dodged right, grasping Kell's shoulder in the process and jerking him after her. She paused for a moment. He wasn't an ally, let alone a friend. Why had she done that? But it was done, and the Inquisitors were nearly upon them. Gali twiddled with the lock—years of lock-picking coming in handy—and burst out of the door onto the streets of Urteau. Where to run? Inquisitors rarely gave up. Definitely in the streetslots, the long-dry canals—she could blend in as a skaa down there. She seized Kell by the back of his collar and dragged him after her, heading for the closest streetslot with pewter-enhanced speed. Once the chase with the Inquisitors ended, she could deal with him. Have justice done.
"Seles!" The guard lieutenant's voice echoed in the barracks. Daradin winced as he pulled himself to his feet and saluted. Painspren swarmed around his feet, sinewy orange fingers reaching for the long wound in his leg. "Captain? I'm under orders to rest and recuperate." The lieutenant's mustache bristled. "I'm countermanding those orders at the captain's direction. We've got reports of a division trying to pierce the Brazen Hills. Possibly a few Shardbearers among them." Daradin closed his eyes. "And you think I'm going to be any help in a battle?" "It ain't a battle I'm thinking of," the lighteyed lieutenant snapped. "There are a few small villages in the Brazen Hills. Hamlets and suchlike which haven't been warned of their impending doom." He grinned, not quite friendly. "Get your horse, Seles. Report to Second Lieutenant Dejev Sarkasi. He's in command of the scouting detachment you're now in." With that, the lieutenant turned and left. Daradin sighed as he scanned the empty barracks. He'd found no one to entertain recently, not since the last battle where he'd been wounded. He touched the cloth bindings around his leg and winced. The officers didn't take kindly to entertainment either. Was there no one who appreciated his bardship? He sighed and limped out of the barracks and headed in the direction he'd left his horse. Whether it would still be there was debatable. Some soldiers just took the closest horse and rode off. The sooner this storming conscription ended, the better. ((Sounds great! :) )) Kathir Kettlery was starving for business. Brune had swept the shop twelve times that morning, and the spent several hours adjusting his cast-iron skillet display. Angle to the left. Angle to to right. Neither seemed attractive to the customers outside. He huffed, staring out the window. "This is outrageous." "What does outrageous mean?" asked a small voice at his shoulder. "Disgusting." "What does disgusting mean?" "Intolerable." "What does intolerable mean?" "It means I'm going out of business, despite superior craftsmanship, reasonable prices and excellent merchandise." "Oh." "I must have missed something." Brune crossed to the shopkeeper's desk. "Must've overestimated supply and demand... or the supply of demand... or the demand I can supply." He rifled through the ledger. So much red ink. To his surprise, a single tear rolled off his nose, blotting the scarlet numbers. "I'm sorry, Brune." He glanced to the right. A windspren, taking the form of a little girl, flickered mournfully at his shoulder. "I'm sorry the shop is outrageous." "It's alright. I'll start over. I've done it before." Twelve times before. Kathir Kettlery has been proceeded by Kathir Klothing, Kathir Kutlery, and Kathir Kannery. Maybe the cheesy double-K was what drove customers away. Brune snapped the ledger shut, sighed through his teeth, and went for the door. Perhaps the neighbors would be interested in purchasing the property. _______________ "Run! Faster!" Kell allowed Gali to tow him along, knowing that he could never move this quickly on his own. "Faster faster faster!" Behind, the Inquisitors had popped through the door. Both were clutching candlesticks--presumably snatched on their way out--and sent them whistling after the fugitives with a mighty Push. Kell shrieked again. Those candlesticks looked uncannily close to spikes. ________________ Ollin waited beside Chazan, tapping her foot impatiently. ((I'll prompt Gamey. ;) ))
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 21, 2015 14:13:28 GMT
((Bring in a character for the Roshar plot? I am indeed, especially now that I know where we're starting. Just have to figure out some details, then I'll drop her in.))
((Edit: And my character is done! Name: Kisma Laskamon Pronunciation: Age: 21 Gender: Female Position: Darkeyed, 3rd nahn. Assistant to the town's surgeon. Race/Nationality: Alethi. Appearance: Dark hair, usually worn in a bun unless she doesn't have time to bother with it, in which case she'll just ponytail/braid it. Dark grey eyes. Dark olive skin. Generally dresses in neutral colors and very practical clothes, including the expected glove over her safehand. Weapons: Carries a knife hidden in/under her skirt, just in case. Knows how to use it. Personality: As one might expect from her appearance, Kisma is focused and practical, though not entirely lacking a sense of humor. She has little patience for laziness, dramatics, or pretensions, and is prone to making snap judgements of people. However, she's also quick to jump in and help others- particularly those who are ignored by most people. Abilities: Medical knowlege from her position as surgeon's assistant. Keeps her head well in a crisis. Weaknesses: Snap judgements. Impulsive. History: Kisma's exact parentage is unknown by most. Her mother is dead; she doesn't speak of her father. She appeared alone in town when she was fifteen. The town's surgeon took her in temporarily, mostly out of pity. After she proved she could be useful, he officially took her on as an assistant in his practice. Other: Proto-Edgedancer (aware of spren, developing bond, hasn't yet spoken the first Ideal). Spren's name is Zahi.))
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 21, 2015 21:56:24 GMT
Kathir Kettlery was starving for business. Brune had swept the shop twelve times that morning, and then spent several hours adjusting his cast-iron skillet display. Angle to the left. Angle to to right. Neither seemed attractive to the customers outside. He huffed, staring out the window. "This is outrageous." "What does outrageous mean?" asked a small voice at his shoulder. "Disgusting." "What does disgusting mean?" "Intolerable." "What does intolerable mean?" "It means I'm going out of business, despite superior craftsmanship, reasonable prices and excellent merchandise." "Oh." "I must have missed something." Brune crossed to the shopkeeper's desk. "Must've overestimated supply and demand... or the supply of demand... or the demand I can supply." He rifled through the ledger. So much red ink. To his surprise, a single tear rolled off his nose, blotting the scarlet numbers. "I'm sorry, Brune." He glanced to the right. A windspren, taking the form of a little girl, flickered mournfully at his shoulder. "I'm sorry the shop is outrageous." "It's alright. I'll start over. I've done it before." Twelve times before. Kathir Kettlery has been proceeded by Kathir Klothing, Kathir Kutlery, and Kathir Kannery. Maybe the cheesy double-K was what drove customers away. Brune snapped the ledger shut, sighed through his teeth, and went for the door. Perhaps the neighbors would be interested in purchasing the property. _______________ "Run! Faster!" Kell allowed Gali to tow him along, knowing that he could never move this quickly on his own. "Faster faster faster!" Behind, the Inquisitors had popped through the door. Both were clutching candlesticks--presumably snatched on their way out--and sent them whistling after the fugitives with a mighty Push. Kell shrieked again. Those candlesticks looked uncannily close to spikes. The sound of whistling metal warned her. The streetslot loomed just ahead, a gaping chasm cut into the ground. Gali flared pewter and redoubled her speed. Nearly, nearly there— She leapt from the edge, dropping four metres to a shelf cut into the stone as the candlesticks whizzed overhead. Pewter took the impact. Briefly she wondered if Kell would survive the fall unharmed. No time to think, only to run. She glanced both ways and chose the descending slope.
Daradin threw his arms wide. “Behold the foppish fowl lord! Astride his gallant mare!” He patted his horse’s neck and frowned. “But you’re a stallion, aren’t you, Windrunner? Sorry. I need it to rhyme.” He scratched the back of his head. Getting rusty… He hadn’t had a good audience in days, and his bardship was suffering for it, mostly the humorous pieces. And with his leg throbbing, the mood was stubbornly avoiding him. “Behold the foppish fowl lord…I know, I'm not in costume. Any thoughts, Windrunner?” Windrunner snorted. Daradin sighed and slouched in the saddle. “Come on. I’m not that bad.” The horse whinned and sidestepped. “Fine. You're right. The rhyme's stupid. I get it.” Daradin slouched further. “But that doesn’t mean you can laugh at me.” He closed his mouth and kept it shut—almost—for the next half an hour. Up and down hills scarred with copper mines. Grass hid at the sound of Windrunner's hooves on the stone. Windspren flew by, laughing, but made no move to torture him. Finally a small village came into sight, nestled between two prominent hills. Daradin dug his heels into Windrunner's sides and flicked the reins. "Onwards, my gallant stallion! Ride to victory!" Windrunner galloped into the village, scattering darkeyes. Daradin reigned him up in the market square and made his voice carry, one of the skills he'd taught himself over the years of bardship. "Hear ye, hear ye, goodmen and goodwomen of the village—" He paused and cleared his throat. Couldn't remember the hamlet's name. "Of the village! Brightlord Javavoh's forces approach your humble hamlet even now! For the sake of your lives, your children's lives, you must flee!" ((Great character, Leilani! I believe I detect a hint of Kaladin in Kisma's position. Looking forward to battling with her!)) ((Do either of you two find it amusing that Brune, Daradin and Kisma are all 21–22?))
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Post by Leilani Sunblade on Dec 24, 2015 15:31:18 GMT
(( Dmitri Pendragon : Danke! And yes . . . I was mostly trying to come up with a position that a girl could fill that would give her useful skills and possibly put her close to the action, and that was the thing I came up with that fit best with her character . . . and then after I posted the form I realized that she could easily come off as being similar to Kaladin in more than one way. But yeah.)) The soldier's initial call had drawn Kisma- along with most of the village folk- out into the streets to see what the commotion was about. Noting the feathers in the man's helmet, she rolled her eyes. Fop. Small wonder the army didn't take him along to the battle. Still. That didn't necessarily discount his warning. Not when the army had been encamped within a morning's ride of the town for . . . she didn't know how long. Not when they'd had similar warnings more than a few times already since that army had arrived. However, while his warning might be real, it might not be as urgent as he made out. She nearly rolled her eyes again, recalling how many of those previous warnings had been false alarms. Deftly navigating to the front of the crowd, she called out, "How far away is this approaching army?"
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Post by Dmitri Pendragon on Dec 26, 2015 0:30:17 GMT
Someone questioned him? Oh great. Daradin could feel it as strong as the throbbing wound in his leg—this village was going to be another one of those stubborn stone-headed ones that criticised him, his army, his liege lord, and finally ran him out of town. Then they'd end up dead because they wouldn't heed his warning.
He swung his leg over the horse's back and dropped to the ground, masking his wince of pain. No painspren appeared, for now. Good. Wouldn't do to let the village see he was wounded. He swept off his hat, approached the young woman who had questioned him, and knelt before her. Reaching for her hand, he gazed up into her dark eyes. "Fear not, my lady! The forces of the evil Javavoh approach, but time remains for you, your friends, your family—" He paused for effect. "To flee!"
"To answer your question," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "I'm just carrying the report. But we've had reports of Shardbearers." He raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes, and waited for the inevitable girlish squeals and screams that always accompanied the mention of Shards.
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