Long Game 30: Journey Before Destination

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Just now, Alvron said:

Ooh, a bet.  What is the wager and can I get in on this?

Sure you can get in on it.

The wager... Bragging rights and maybe an upvote? Unless you can think of something better...

[Alvron he/him]

I mostly deal in body parts.....

[Darkness Ascendant he/him]

7 minutes ago, Alvron said:

I mostly deal in body parts.....

I can spare you an ear.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

*warning* bad puns detected in the vicinity

Spoiler

2 minutes ago, Darkness Ascendant said:

I can spare you an ear.

Can you lend me your ear? I want someone to listen to me

 

[Darkness Ascendant he/him]

1 hour ago, Drake Marshall said:

*warning* bad puns detected in the vicinity

  Reveal hidden contents

Can you lend me your ear? I want someone to listen to me

 

Well it was ear one moment...

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

21 minutes ago, Darkness Ascendant said:

Well it was ear one moment...

Yeah well I don't have eyes on it anymore...

G'night all, anyways.

[DeTess she/her]

Kehen was enraged. His boys and him had been fighting the Voidbringers, pushing them back steadily. Then suddenly this Storming initiate had snuck in behind the monsters and cut them down one by one. Those would have been their kills, their honor and glory. No, Kehen wouldn’t stand for that, and neither would his men.

The initiate had settled into a defensive stance, wary eyes going over their group. One of Kehen’s men rushed forward, and the initiate sidestepped his attack easily, then punched him in the gut, doubling him over. Another strike to his head knocked him sprawling. “Storming initiate. Think you can come here, steal our glory and hurt my men? Charge!” Kehen and his men rushed forward.

Kehen hadn’t seen where the other initiate had come from, but suddenly he was among them, using a spear like a quarterstaff and knocking his men over. Between the two initiates, the remainder of Kehen’s squad was quickly incapacitated. Kehen himself took a blow of the spear’s haft to his head and went down, dazed.

“…some sense into Hithon.” The words pounded through Kehen’s smarting skull. ‘Why was the bastard talking so loud?’ He noticed a patch on the new initiate's jacket. A Stormwarden. Why hadn’t that idiot warned them about the storm that was now raging around them? That was their only job!

Kehen jumped up again and charged at the idiot. Before he’d closed the distance the butt of the man’s spear was slammed into his gut. Another blow struck the side of his helmet, knocking him down again.

When he returned to consciousness, the two Initiates had disappeared.

So, obviously, this RP is not from Ranatar's perspective. I wanted to take a shot at writing some people overcome by the thrill, and since that wouldn't happen to Ranatar, this had to do.

For those wondering how I got away from the big voidbringer chasing me, I suspect whatever ecth is up to has her attention now.

 

Edited March 8, 2017 by randuir

[Doc12 he/him]

8 hours ago, Drake Marshall said:

*warning* bad puns detected in the vicinity

  Hide contents

Can you lend me your ear? I want someone to listen to me

 

Drake  You should be ashamed of yourself. Hands down, your puns are the worst so far. But who nose? Maybe someone who has an even lamer sense of humor might come along. *shudders. Wouldn't that just be the worst? 

I'm sorry. I will fully understand if you give me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. 

I...better quit while I'm a head, yeah? 

*legs off

Also, did I miss Drake voting for Darkness? I only see Drake's vote on Alv. Did he switch it?

---

Over and over, his blades sang. 

The Thrill was a pounding chorus dominating him. It sharpened his focus, his senses. Every single sound he heard in perfect clarity, every strike he made accompanied with a dark glee. Uther was tiring, yet he put up a strong fight. He was a worthy opponent, and he was glad of that. It would be glorious indeed to end this man, who had both saved his life and now sought to kill him.

At the back of his mind, he struggled, even as his blades traced intricate patterns in the air, even as the Thrill thundered in joy at an almost-slip which brought his dagger an inch away from Teresh's face. He had never fought so well, even when he still had his eyes. In its own way, the Thrill was helping him. He laughed as Uther unleashed a master counterattack. He laughed when he felt the blade trembling. 

It was wrong, so wrong. Somewhere inside him he realized that Uther had done nothing but save his life, over and over. IHe would have felt nauseous. Horrified. A part of his was so grateful that it was Uther fighting him, and not him effortlessly cutting down a battalion of soldiers. He imagined the guilt might have killed him even if the Thrill released him. He was laughing. He was weeping. Inside his head, he heard the laughter of the darkness and the relentless singing. 

Why. WHY did this Thrill keep tormenting him? What could he do? Where was... Why did she - His foot slid off the ground.

For a single infinite moment, he was weightless. He felt the swish of a sword just pass inches above his face. 

Then he crashed to the ground, gasping. 

His body hurt.  It hurt so much, and he wasn't healing. Every cut and bruise he had accumulated since the battle ached, and he wasn't healing. 

Why wasn't he healing

"Hithon, please!"

Before he could spring to his feet, a scorching blast of heat washed the area directly in front of him, causing him to step back in shock. "We are not your enemies!!"

Where are you?

Hithon paused for a moment. A voice, his own? It was saying something.

"Help me"

And then he was surging forwards again.

This time, Uther would fall. 

@Drake Marshall

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

12 hours ago, Doc12 said:

Drake  You should be ashamed of yourself. Hands down, your puns are the worst so far. But who nose? Maybe someone who has an even lamer sense of humor might come along. *shudders. Wouldn't that just be the worst? 

I'm sorry. I will fully understand if you give me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. 

I...better quit while I'm a head, yeah? 

*legs off

Also, did I miss Drake voting for Darkness? I only see Drake's vote on Alv. Did he switch it?

---

Over and over, his blades sang. 

The Thrill was a pounding chorus dominating him. It sharpened his focus, his senses. Every single sound he heard in perfect clarity, every strike he made accompanied with a dark glee. Uther was tiring, yet he put up a strong fight. He was a worthy opponent, and he was glad of that. It would be glorious indeed to end this man, who had both saved his life and now sought to kill him.

At the back of his mind, he struggled, even as his blades traced intricate patterns in the air, even as the Thrill thundered in joy at an almost-slip which brought his dagger an inch away from Teresh's face. He had never fought so well, even when he still had his eyes. In its own way, the Thrill was helping him. He laughed as Uther unleashed a master counterattack. He laughed when he felt the blade trembling. 

It was wrong, so wrong. Somewhere inside him he realized that Uther had done nothing but save his life, over and over. IHe would have felt nauseous. Horrified. A part of his was so grateful that it was Uther fighting him, and not him effortlessly cutting down a battalion of soldiers. He imagined the guilt might have killed him even if the Thrill released him. He was laughing. He was weeping. Inside his head, he heard the laughter of the darkness and the relentless singing. 

Why. WHY did this Thrill keep tormenting him? What could he do? Where was... Why did she - His foot slid off the ground.

For a single infinite moment, he was weightless. He felt the swish of a sword just pass inches above his face. 

Then he crashed to the ground, gasping. 

His body hurt.  It hurt so much, and he wasn't healing. Every cut and bruise he had accumulated since the battle ached, and he wasn't healing. 

Why wasn't he healing

"Hithon, please!"

Before he could spring to his feet, a scorching blast of heat washed the area directly in front of him, causing him to step back in shock. "We are not your enemies!!"

Where are you?

Hithon paused for a moment. A voice, his own? It was saying something.

"Help me"

And then he was surging forwards again.

This time, Uther would fall. 

@Drake Marshall

First of all, yes I'm still voting on Alv next cycle. And I support voting on Ecth C11. I'm just saying I believe y'alls should vote DA on C12, pending any major developments.

Also... I don't think I can face myself after telling such bad puns.

But I have this eary feeling that even worse puns are a foot.

Arm yourselves against such a danger.

 

Uther and Hithon exchanged blows. Both had learned extensively in the art of killing. Both moved with unnatural agility. I'm getting a lot of sparring practice, for a dream.

Uther continued blocking the blows raining down on him with Ranatar's broken sword, seeking to slip by Hithons defense and disarm the man.

A dagger arced towards Uther's face. Reflexively, he shifted his balance and slicked his feet, just barely managing to dodge the swing with the trick. That was storming close... I don't want to kill him, but it doesn't look like he's returning the favor.

While Hithon re-balanced from the swing, Uther pressed forward, trying to score a hit on the blind initiate. Locked in combat, the pair ignored the battle surrounding them.

With a sudden inspiration, Uther swept his foot across the stone floor, slicking it. Then, suddenly, he retreated. Hithon, in the grips of the thrill, surged forwards... And crashed to the ground. Uther hadn't anticipated the way Hithon would slip, and the blind initiate nearly impaled himself on the broken sword Uther still held out. Oops.

 

Uther stood over Hithon. The initiate struggled on the ground, trying to get to his feet. Maybe I can make him listen.

"Hithon, please!"

The blind initiate seemed deaf to the words. With a snarl, Hithon tried to spring up on his feet. No.

Quickly, Uther held out his hand, willing stormlight out of it. Releasing fire and forming it into a ball around his fist. He held it between himself and Hithon wardingly.

The blind initiate stayed down, held at bay by the flames, glowering like a trapped whitespine. Slowly, he stopped struggling, and a pained expression crossed Hithon's face. Maybe I can still get him to snap out of it...

"Hithon, please!" Remember...

Hithon turned towards Uther's voice. Uther seemed to be getting through to the blind man. Finally. Hithon looked confused, perhaps afraid.

Hithon spoke with a strained voice. "Help me..."

Good. He's recovering! Uther dismissed the fire wrapped around his fingers, leaning forward to inspect Hithon. The blind man lay crumpled on the ground with a calm expression on his face.

Suddenly the initiate sprang forward, redoubling his attack. Uther cursed, struggling to counter and dodge the onslaught from two daggers with the broken sword. I should have seen it coming... I should have kicked away his weapons while he was down... I should have done something.

My subconscious must be trying to teach me a lesson, he thought. An ironic grin crossed his face and then was replaced by a grimace of concentration.

 

The pair exchanged more blows. Neither could gain the upper hand. They were too closely matched. Again.

Keph soared around the pair, apparently fascinated by the duel.

Uther fell back a few steps, using the breathing room to scan his surroundings. The giant voidbringer was still distracted, apparently. I need to get this situation under control.

And yet... How could either of them defeat each other? They were fighting from the same deadly training. Even their many improvisations were predictable to the other. They understood each other, and understood each other's approach to killing. And neither seemed to be tiring. The fight would run its course, eventually, but looking around, Uther didn't think he had time for that.

"You can't beat him like this." Keph said.

"Well thanks for that. Real helpful." Uther replied as he sidestepped another dagger.

"I didn't say you can't beat him."

"Huh?"

"You're fighting like a Ghostblood. Hithon may be blind, but you can't beat him at that game. He knows your fighting patterns better than you do."

"What are you suggesting?" Uther ducked back, evading another cut.

"You are the first of the Order of Releasers. Fight like one."

Right. "Well it sounds like a great plan and all, but how the hell do I do that?"

"The first step to winning is knowing what you can lose."

[Doc12 he/him]

 

Arm yourselves? Hah! Your puns are 'armless stings against me!!!

 

And now, a piece of Rp i have been waiting to post a long, long time.

 

---

Again and again, Hithon's daggers met steel. Again and again, Teresh managed to hold him off- just barely. The man was a Ghostblood through and through, and Hithon recognized the patterns of the fight just as well as Teresh would know this. He might have cared, might have thought to change his style. An advantage of having merely trained with the Ghostbloods instead of becoming one of them was that he had a great deal of opportunity to develop his own patterns. But that part was ignored - or kept hidden, from the Thrill. Hithon did not need to give it any more advantages.

 

Gah, the bloodlust within him. He needed to kill Teresh, or he felt his heart would burst. Teresh needed to die die DIE

 

And then, an opening.

 

No.

 

Uther missed a beat in the rhythm of the fight, and suddenly he was wide open, his defenses would be coming too late.

 

Please don’t

 

A surge of fierce, triumphant joy. His daggers surged past Uther’s defenses, heading straight for the man’s heart.

 

Anor, PLEASE

 

With all his strength, he jerked, and the daggers changed course. Instead of sinking deep into Teresh's heart, his knife glanced off a rib and kissed a deep cut into the Initiates’ side. Teresh screamed, a loud, horrible screech of pure agony. He smelt the blood hissing at the poison.

He was frozen. Time stopped for a single, unending moment as he remained locked in the position, his horror and his pain finally surging forth to overwhelm the spell that Thrill had cast on him. He couldn’t move.

 

What had he done

 

He hadn’t killed him. Not yet. Instead of killing him outright, he had given Uther a chance to recover. Stormlight could heal blackbane. He hoped.

 

Please...please. Have enough Stormlight.

 

Please

“Hithon!”

A voice from behind. Calling him. Suddenly distracted, Hithon felt the deep anger rise in him again. Couldn’t they see he was busy? Whoever it was deserved to die for the interruption. A deep sense of revulsion forced its way through, at being weak, unable to move, frozen because of a man he had rightfully killed.

A hand on his shoulder.

Hithon snarled, and twisted, a dagger poised to bury itself in the body of the intruder, but then he heard her shriek, and he froze yet again.

He knew that voice. Heard the rustle of a havah. Felt both her hands on his arm.

She was unarmed. Just that fact was enough to give him pause.

And with that pause, the realizations flooded in. Of course she was unarmed. As always. Every time they had went out on their missions, she would borrow one of his knives if she pulled Initiate-killing duty. She never did learn to bring any weapons of her own. And the dress. Only she would wear a dress to the battlefield. “Dressed to kill”, she would always tease.

He knew her.

She was speaking, but he heard no words, only the worry, the concern, the fear in her voice. And he felt his heart shatter into pieces.

He couldn’t go on like this.

And then he felt her arms around his neck, hesitant, yet unflinching. She trusted him. And he could hold back the sobs no longer, as he pulled Lyna into a tight, crushing embrace, kissing her forehead.

I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.

"NOT THE TIME" A voice screamed from overhead. Hithon muttered a dark curse. Fifth. Briefly, he considered hurling a dagger at his brother, just for that.

But...With a sigh, he had to admit that Fifth was right. Firming himself, he extricated himself from Lyna’s tight embrace, and passed her one of his daggers. He stood, and looked inwards, saw the monster thrashing in revulsion, gnashing and struggling to break free once again.

“Unmade.” He whispered. “I don’t know why you torment me. I don’t know why I saw you when my eyes were robbed from me. For years, you have tortured me. For years, you have made me unable to trust, unable to love.” His hand found Lyna’s, and he held on tight.

"No more."

The Unmade within him screamed at him, calling him blind, broken, nothing. Your spren left you!!  Your own father blinded you!!!  You are but a toy tossed to the side, a blind, scarred thing unable to ever be accepted.

“You are wrong. I believed you. For years. But you lie. My brothers are around me. They accept me. Our family of justice. They know what I have done, and they accept me. I have found family. Lyna… I have found love. And broken, you call me? That is another lie, for Anorien, she is with me. She has healed me. They have all healed me, and made me whole. Understand this, Unmade.”

I am no longer broken.

I am no longer yours.

"I RENOUNCE YOU. AND BY NALE, YOU HAVE NO HOLD ON ME ANY LONGER!!!”

The Unmade within him gave one final shriek of pure hate that brought him to his knees, but in the next instant, it was gone. Gone.

He was free.

Almighty, he was free.

“H...Hithon?” Lyna’s voice.

He turned, and gave her a small smile. “How’s Teresh doing?”

“He’s alive, and staring at you with eyes that look like they may drop out of his skull any minute. Mmh, that’s a bad metaphor.”

Hithon nodded, and twirled his twin daggers. He would have to explain later. Now?

Now, he stared the giant Voidbringer, Lyna by his side. Fifth was floating above him, somehow. Teresh should have gotten up by now, and he heard Jonly's dismissive snort nearby. Rannatar was already beginning to outline yet another battle plan. He had no idea where Naihar was, but the man would probably show up when they least expected him, as always. And. Anorien. Somehow, wherever she was...he felt her forgiveness, felt the pain between them soothed. She forgave him. As he stood there, his family around him, he had never felt better in his life.

It was time to finish off the other Unmade.

---

Firstly, Drake, your rp is excellent. Was the reason I pushed for your release in the first place, and I'm very glad you kept your rp up to these standards  It's been excellent playing with you, and I highly enjoyed playing this game with you.

I'm sorry we ended up on opposite sides, you were a worthy opponent.  

Darkness Ascendant

---

Also, another awesome pun that I have been saving for this reveal, but have no idea where to put it... 

"Justice is blind"

*runs off laughing

Edited March 9, 2017 by Doc12

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Well. Isn't that an interesting turn.

 

Guess I bet on one too many things. I hadn't figured that trusting you would be my mistake, but I can't say I'm terribly surprised that there was a mistake.

The odds were not good, after Jon threw me in jail...

Well fought.

 

I'm assuming you're going to kill Randuir now.

And LA was the last unjust? Ahaha I would not have guessed that in time. Too many inactives...

 

Until we meet again. I've already made plans for Uther's return, when I see a game that would be a good fit for it.

[Amanuensis he/him]

2 minutes ago, Drake Marshall said:

Until we meet again. I've already made plans for Uther's return, when I see a game that would be a good fit for it.

Well, there will be a direct sequel to this game. I figured Uther would participate in that

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Also, Doc, eye guess that means you're being an honorable was just lip service... You've pulled off quite a feet, making everyone trust you... If I were a dustbringer, I would solve this problem with tongues of fire, toe I'm not anymore.

I conclude this game by leaving you up to your eyeballs in bad puns.

Goodnight.

 

6 minutes ago, Amanuensis said:

Well, there will be a direct sequel to this game. I figured Uther would participate in that

Really? Oh, I now I remember you saying something about that. Well then. Until next time, I guess.

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Uther lay on the ground, defeated. The anesthetics in the poison left him feeling absolutely nothing, but he felt the dizziness of near death, saw the familiar deathspren eagerly surrounding him. No, I don't think this is a dream...

And I've been here before.

This is the same as last time.

Another poisoned dagger, another lost cause...

 

And I'm going to live through it. Again.

I don't know who's up there, orchestrating this, but it sure as braize isn't an accident.

I'm going to be in this place again... But next time, I'll be ready.

Keph, I swear it to you, I will learn what it means to be a Releaser...

Darkness overtook Uther.

[DeTess she/her]

Teresh collapsed at Ranatar’s feet. Hithon’s poison was overpowering him, and his stormlight was fading quickly. Ranatar quickly knelt next to him, after having confirmed that Hithon wouldn’t try stabbing him in the back anytime soon. “Bast, ‘m going to need a hand here.”

The plateau he’d been up on changed into a sea of beads. Ranatar quickly reached out to a bead representing a rock, and used it to keep himself up onto the surface. Beside him, the off-white shape of Alabaster had appeared. “What are you trying to do?” He asked.

“Blood is one of the ten essences, right? So if I can find the poison in Teresh’s veins, I can save him.” Ranatar had already started looking around for the beads that would represent Teresh and the poison inside of him.

“Well, yes. It isn’t as simple as that though.” Bast responded.

“Then explain it to me. I don’t have much time, and I need Teresh functional for my plan.”

“Very well.” The Inkspren said. “I still don’t understand what makes him different from the others you’ve been… opposing, but I’m happy to help save a life for once.”

“I was saving lives before. Just doing it the hard way.” Ranatar muttered under his breath as he set to work, following Bast’s instructions.

***

Ranatar returned back to the physical world. Only a few seconds seemed to have passed here. Teresh seemed to have returned to consciousness. “You’re welcome, Teresh.” Ranatar said as he pulled the initiate back onto his feet. He turned around to address the others, then added one last thing over his shoulder. “We’ll talk after this is over. There are many ways in which justice is served, and executing you would be a waste of.”

Then Ranatar raised his voice so all the initiates could hear. “I’ve got a plan.”

So, the rest of the plan will be shown (and executed) during the write-up. 

Also, Darkness ascendant.

 

[Amanuensis he/him]

Chapter Nine is now over, and with it the game. Due to me attempting to write an especially epic conclusion to Part One of The Most Important Words (the saga of Roshar games I will be running) - as well as a conflict in my work schedule - it will take longer than usual for me to post the next Chapter. I'm not sure how big the delay will be exactly, but I hope I'll need no longer than an extra day to take care of what's left. Thanks for playing, everyone. I look forward to seeing the survivors return in Part Two, along with a new, equally wonderful batch of characters.

[Amanuensis he/him]

 

Nergaoul was in control.

Eshonai roared as the Unmade took over her body from within, a wave of hatred and darkness bursting from the middle of her chest. Tendrils of malicious energy smoked from her body as she grew so large that her Plate began to tear apart at its seams. She had never felt so hot in her life. Every nerve in her body screamed with pain as her bones melted and her flesh bubbled. No matter how hard she tried to close her eyes, It forced them open so she could watch her monstrous transformation.

I AM SORRY, LITTLE ONE. THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO TO EASE YOUR SUFFERING.

The Rider. He had not spoken to Eshonai since the angerspren corrupted her soul. Why acknowledge her now, moments before one of her ancient gods possessed her completely?

Buried inside her, the listener’s muffled voice howled into the shadows that endeavored to consume her. Nergaoul answered her with an earth shattering laugh, her body quaking with masochistic delight as it broke through her Plate and cast its molten shards across the plateau, a few of the sharper bits raining down on Alethi and listeners alike, piercing hearts and severing a few limbs.

WHY ARE YOU CRYING? ISN’T THIS FUN?

Eshonai shuddered at the sound of the infernal voice, tears leaking from her eyes and turning to steam before they finished rolling down her cheeks. All around her, the tiny humans began attacking each other, overwhelmed by the enmity that radiated from her body like some kind of odious aura. As for the listeners, the dark god’s presence empowered them, the echoes of his voice resonating with the angerspren roiling inside them.

STOP  FIGHTING. IT ONLY HURTS MORE IF YOU FIGHT.

Was she fighting? Eshonai didn’t feel like she was. Besides terror and torment, she couldn’t feel much else. There was sorrow, too, when the rain stopped pouring onto the battlefield to wash the once beautiful, but now bloodstained, stone. Unbidden, a memory of her exploring the Shattered Plains as a youth surfaced in her mind. She could recall with divine clarity the day she discovered the Alethi and met their king for the very first time.

YES! YES! REMEMBER THE KING! THE ONE WHO BROUGHT US BACK! THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS ALL!

Gavilar.

This was his fault. His, and his followers. The listeners never wanted to awaken their old gods, nor did they wish to start a war. But King Gavilar forced them into a corner and left them with very few options. The old Council of Five made a choice to sacrifice their lives to stop him. The King died, but his plans did not, and now look what came of them.

The Alethi brought the Last Desolation upon themselves. Upon the listeners. Upon the world.

Eshonai would punish them for their indiscretions. Would bring the real monsters here to justice, even if it cost her honor and her soul.

Like a sudden flood over a raging inferno, relief surged through her. In the place of the pain, Eshonai felt peace. Pleasure.

FINALLY! I AM FREE AT LAST!

Nergaoul was in control.

 

 

‘A vicious cyclone enclosed the plateau, warding off the brunt of the Everstorm.’

Was the cyclone really vicious? Lyna glanced at the shield of wind once more, then crossed the word out. The cyclone was powerful, that much was obvious, but vicious implied violent intent, which contradicted its very nature to protect the people within it.

‘Beyond the rocky precipice, two winds danced. One of Honor, the other Unmade.’

Ooo, Lyna cooed to herself. She liked that. Only problem was, where could she go from there? Glancing up at the crimson eye in the sky and the shining man floating below it, Lyna had a surge of inspiration.

‘Kaladin was no longer human, Syl no longer a spren. Together, they had became something more: a living storm.’

Were they really a living storm? Lyna supposed not, but she knew no other way to put it. The honorspren danced around her Windrunner so fast that her body was starting to blur, grey stormclouds flocking to her and turning white, purified by her light.

Pleased by her stream of thoughts, Lyna continued to write. Funny how it took her surviving two unnatural storms and an army of hideous monsters attacking her friends to demolish the writer’s block that had suffocated her for so long. Convenient, too, that Stormblessed’s power was keeping the rain from falling on the plateau, and thus consequently, from soaking her paper. It was as if the Stormfather Himself was urging her to finish her work.

“Lyna!” a familiar voice called her name, but she paid it no mind. The woman was too overcome by her creative trance to look away from the looseleaf notebook clenched tightly in her gloved safehand. It felt weird not having a sleeve covering her entire left arm, but the uniform of the Initiates wasn’t very accommodating for females, so she had to make do with what she was given.

“Lyna!” the voice yelled again, this time closer and loud enough to rouse her.

“Give me a minute!” she responded, freehand scribbling relentlessly into the pages of her journal. In the last few minutes, she had managed to fill nearly three pages with simplified glyphs. She would have to translate them into women’s script later, when she had more time.

Something crashed and threw Lyna to her knees, her journal and quill flying from her hands into a shallow puddle. Without her to hold on to them, the cyclone began to pull them towards the ledge.

“Lyna! Forget them! Hithon is in trouble!”

Hithon?

Lyna froze, gulping loudly as she watched her quill roll off the plateau into the storm. A moment later, the journal followed it into the spinning wind, pages fluttering open and ripping from its spine before vanishing completely.

She wanted to cry, to wail, but suddenly Ranatar was at her side, helping her to her feet and pulling her towards the massive Voidbringer and the two men fighting at its feet. As soon as she saw the enraged Hithon, her pen and paper vanished from her mind.

 

 

Nergaoul was alive again at last. After all this time, It finally had a body of Its own. Just as Odium had promised.

From above the battlefield, It watched Its body flex its muscles, crimson electricity sparking along the length of Its left arm, gathering into Its palm and condensing into an immense blade of jagged lightning. Human scum fought off Its children with rabid desperation, though a few had turned on one another, enticed by Odium’s power and influence. Even a Defier had succumbed to the darkness, which drew the Unmade’s eye.

Nergaoul recognized the taint on him. ONE OF DAI-GONARTHIS’ PLAY THINGS? It thought. Would the Black Fisher be mad if Nergaoul broke Its toy? PROBABLY, It laughed. Dai-gonarthis was a Sliver of Hatred, too, and prone to violent outbursts, especially when slighted. Not that either of them cared. The Black Fisher would embrace the rage, and Nergaoul would accept the consequences with a smile upon Its face.

Raising Its weapon above Its head, Nergaoul aimed for the Defiers at Its feet. Those with enough sense to watch It rather than get distracted by their allies sudden betrayal were able to react by splitting off in several directions, making it harder for Nergaoul to kill them all with a single blow. Fortunately, they had not yelled a warning to the others, allowing the Unmade to focus on the Defiers locked in battle.

Nergaoul’s movements, however, were sluggish. By the time Its strike hit the earth, all but one of the Defiers had gotten out of the way. At least the attack had killed one, except…

The human had deflected Its blow. But how? Nergaoul bent Its head to look closer, and found one of the humans clutching a bleeding arm, a claymore lying nearby, bent halfway down its blade. Unarmed and wounded, the Defier would be helpless if It struck again. Smiling, Nergaoul lifted Its weapon and plummeted it at him again. This time, It would kill him.

But no. Souls drifted into the Cognitive, but not the Defier’s. This time when Nergaoul’s blow landed, it was met with even more resistance. Eyes burning with fury, the Unmade looked again, and found a fragmented shield in the Defier’s hands, held together by Stormlight. The light in the shield was flickering, however. There’s no way it could survive another blow.

Raising Its weapon a third time, but only half way, Nergaoul threw all its weight forward and managed to find purchase in the earth. It didn’t need to crane Its head to see the Defier roll out of the way, grab his bent claymore and back into the stone monolith. Realizing he could run no further, the human’s face twisted with fear.

Instead of swinging again, Nergaoul pointed the tip of Its sword at the Defier and brought Its hand to Its face. Grinning, It lunged at the shield clutched before him. An explosion burst from the impact, strong enough to force the Unmade to step back and scatter chunks of silver all over the battlefield. Nergaoul roared, infuriated by the human’s tenaciousness.

It would kill him. Now, or never. Holding the weapon horizontally, the Unmade dragged it across his body, then swung. With ease, the weapon cleaved through giant rock, the blade sparking as it slid straight for the human. A moment too late, Nergaoul noticed a spren whispering in the Defier’s ear as he rose to his feet, then crouched low.

NO! NO!

The human jumped.

No. Flew.

A Windrunner, like Stormblessed? But that wasn’t an honorspren sitting on his shoulder.

A Skybreaker, then. Odium had said they might be involved. But why was he fighting with the Defiers? Weren’t they supposed to be on the side of hatred? Odium had said as much.

Apparently Odium was wrong.

The Skybreaker brought his second hand to the hilt of his claymore and rested its bent blade against his shoulder as he aimed for Its eyes.

Nergaoul turned, letting go of Its weapon and allowing the concentrated lightning to dissipate, the stone leaning sideways with nothing between its crack to hold it up.

Seething, the Unmade watched as the Skybreaker flew past his face, the bent edge of his claymore scraping against Its brow. Without chitin to protect Its face, the weapon gouged Its flesh. Orange blood leaked into Its left eye, but all It could see was red.

Above the battlefield, Its massive eye shut, two folds as black as the night closing over Its iris, then Its pupil. Along the thin slit where the two folds met, a bloody light shone through, brightening with every passing second until it colored the entire plateau scarlet.

Nergaoul opened Its eye and released Its gathered power. Ninety-nine bolts of abhorrence and indignation erupted forth, showering upon the plateau, killing both humans and listeners alike. The charred remains of their bodies launched into the air and rained back down onto the cowering survivors, drenching them with a mixture of gore and blood.

Regaining control of Its body, the Unmade summoned another blade of lightning and turned around to face the Defiers. How kind they were to gather in one place once more.

 

 

“I’ve got a plan,” Ranatar told the others. It was difficult keeping track of both the situation with Hithon and the possessed Voidbringer, but with Lyna and Fifth’s help, he was given enough time to ponder their next move. Pausing long enough so that the rest of the Initiates could gather closer, presumably to make him easier to hear over the constant whirring of the cyclone and sounds of battle in the distance, Ranatar observed the giant monstress with interest.

It was difficult to tell while she wore her Plate, but it was clear now that the Voidbringer was a woman. In the past, Ranatar might have scoffed at the idea of a female Shardbearer, but after dealing with female Radiants, he quickly realized the fault in his culture’s assumptions regarding the genders.

You’re getting distracted, Ranatar told himself. Focus on the problem at hand. Contemplate the faults of society later.

The monstress no longer wielded a sword of lightning, but the crimson energy still coursed along the ridges of her body until they converged at the tips of her fingers. A thick drop of orange blood fell from her chin and landed on the ground between her feet moments before she pressed her hand against her forehead, a loud hissing sound filling the air as soon as it made contact.

Cauterizing a wound, eh? Ranatar didn’t have to see the Voidbringer’s face to guess what happened to her. Besides Kaladin, Fifth was the only fighter here who could strike that high, discounting Shinon, of course, but the archer was nowhere to be seen. Speaking of, where was he? Ranatar had lost track of both him and the Squires after the Stormwarden severed Kintas’ living rope with an Elsecalled dagger.

Ah well. It would have been nice to have their help, but Ranatar would have to make due without them. Him and his fellow Acolytes had come this far on their own. Gained the strength of not one order, but four. If anyone could win this battle, it would be them.

As for the Initiates, they’d have to make an excellent distraction.

“Teresh. I see you have your powers, still. Think you can blind the Voidbringer by hurling balls of flame at its head?”

Teresh stared at Ranatar, frowning deeply. Instead of nodding, the man clenched his jaw, contemplating his options. Teresh had trusted not one, but two of the “Unjust.” Ranatar suspected Teresh blamed himself for the deaths of his fellow Initiates, and was eager to avenge them. Ranatar didn’t need to be a mind reader to hear his thoughts.

“Don’t even consider it. I could teleport my allies and I to safety before your flames reached us, and for some reason I doubt your control is very fine. As close as we all are now, you could easily kill Araon, or Rea. If you didn’t, I’m sure the Voidbringer would finish the job,” Ranatar said while pointing towards the giant, who was now staring at the sky.

“You’re wrong,” said a voice. Not Teresh, but Araon. Ranatar did not bother to look at the man, choosing instead to follow the Voidbringer’s gaze up to the eye in the sky. Slowly, a void closed around it from two sides. Was the horror retreating? Had Kaladin won? Araon continued talking, despite not being addressed.

“My spren tells me that I’m immune to the powers of other Releasers.”

Ranatar jolted at the admission. When he looked at Araon, he found a firespren that resembled a young child, its gender uncertain, sulking as it floated above the warrior’s head. Unlike Keph, the spren looked young and frail. Tiny globs of lava dripped from its fingers and toes, as if it were melting.

Now that he did not expect. Ranatar had always been good at math, but predicting Bonds was very different than predicting Highstorms. It was very possible he made a mistake somewhere along the line. But if he was wrong about Araon, was it possible he was wrong about someone else?

Rather than reply, he looked to the child. Rea.

“Don’t suppose you’re a Windrunner?”

The boy - no, girl, Ranatar had to remind himself of the information they found during Rea’s investigation - shook her head and shrugged. The girl had the potential, but for some reason had yet to speak the words.

Oh well. She might not be very helpful now, but it made his future plans a little safer.

There was a noticeable dimming as the giant eye finished shutting, then a sudden, violent brightening that painted the entire plateau red. Each of the Initiates and Acolytes looked to the sky at once and stared at the line of scarlet light crackling along its center, dividing the void in half.

Ranatar had no idea what was happening, but he could make an educated guess. “Brace yourselves!” he screamed, and to the others credit, they didn’t hesitate to obey. It seemed that, with these circumstances, the Initiates would accept a temporary alliance.

Folding inward to make himself smaller and wrapping his arms around his head to cover his ears, Ranatar waited for an explosion.

Instead, his hair stirred and his ears filled with the sound of whistling air. Curious, he raised his head and peeked over his forearm. A dome of wind had started to circle the Initiates. Was Fifth doing this? Ranatar glanced sideways at the Skybreaker, though judging by the furrow of his brow, Fifth was equally confused.

It was hard to see beyond the dome, but Ranatar could make out a few vague shapes. Four figures obscured by white light stood around it, one standing in each cardinal direction, based on the looming shadow of the monstress just ahead. The Stormwarden fit the pieces together.

Kaladin’s Squires had returned, and like their Captain, they learned how to create shields from the winds.

It was at that unfortunate moment that the sky erupted and he watched one of them die.

Even through the nebulous dome of wind, Ranatar could see the bolts of lightning with clarity. Subconsciously he tried to count them, but they were much too fast, and the havoc caused by their descent overwhelmed his attention quickly.

He watched, with wide eyes, as one of the bolts plunged straight for him and reflected off the dome into one of the Squires. A splash of blood hit the whirlwind, dying it a vivid red, seconds before it slowed and stopped completely, the remaining three Squires unable to hold it together on their own, or perhaps unwilling.

Teft, Leyten and Drehy ran to the smoldering crater where their friend once stood, not too long ago. Teft was the first to look in. As soon as he did, he straightened and looked away. Drehy slid to his knees and began to clutch his chest, while Leyten stepped beside him, bent his head and closed his eyes, before reciting a silent prayer.

Ranatar heard someone vomit behind him, but chose to ignore it. Skar’s death was horrifying, but if the giant Voidbringer wasn’t defeated soon, he suspected there would be more like it. Stepping towards the smoking crater, Ranatar prepared to interrupt the Squire’s warning, only for a loud shout to come from above.

Kaladin had felt his Squire die, and judging by his response, he wasn’t happy. The windshield that surrounded him slowly became less round as Syl’s body turned into energy. From this angle, it seemed the winds were shaping themselves into a spearhead. The honorspren appeared to be fusing with it, manifesting into a silvery mist with cerulean accents.

Whatever that eye belonged to, it looked like the Windrunner intended to blind it, or worse.

That gave Ranatar an idea.

“Listen up!” the Stormwarden yelled, his words punctuated by a loud crash as the giant Voidbringer started lumbering in a circle to face the Initiates. “If we don’t end this fast, more good men are going to die! It looks like our beloved Captain is aiming to finish his battle! I think it’s about time we do the same!

“Teresh! And Araon too, I suppose. Can you two blind the Voidbringer with flame or not?”

Keph spun around her Dustbringer’s hand, forming a glove of flame. “I don’t believe I can shoot that high. Keph says my range is limited to 15 meters.”

“And I’m kind of new to this,” Araon continued, “so I doubt I could fire even half that distance.”

Ranatar would have sighed if not for his backup plan. “Can either of you tell me the melting temperature of rock?”

Araon frowned at him. “Is this really time for a school lesson?”

“1200 degrees,” Teresh replied before Ranatar could answer. The look on his face suggested that he knew that Ranatar was going to say next. “Keph says that with Araon, we can manage it. But it’s going to take some time.”

“That’s fine. While you’re creating a lava pit, Fifth can-”

“-Ceol,” Fifth interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“My name is Ceol.”

Ranatar couldn’t stop himself from sighing this time.

“Fine. Ceol. Can you fly around the Voidbringer’s head without putting yourself at risk? What I’m planning is going to take a while to set up and it won’t be very effective if the monster sees it coming. I don’t need you hurting the Voidbringer, just pestering it. Keep its eyes away from the ground for as long as possible.”

“Got it.”

Ranatar turned to look at who’s next. “Jonly… I’m not actually sure what you’re capable of.”

The man laughed, though it came out more like a bark. “Anything you are, and more.”

“In that case, do you see those spines protruding from the Voidbringer’s back?” Together, everyone looked at the giant, who moved slow enough that she had only yet to turn halfway. Jonly nodded. “I want you and the Squires to try scaling them. If you’re strong enough, you should be able to throw yourself from one to the other, almost like climbing the rungs of a really big ladder. The monster might not be wearing Plate any more, but it’s got chitin covering everything but its face. If we’re going to do any meaningful damage, it’s going to be done there. Think you can manage it?”

Jonly grunted.

“What about you three? Teft. Leyten. Drehy! You shook up too much to fight?”

“Of course not!” replied Drehy.

Before Ranatar could ask, Teft answered his next question. “We heard you, and it sounds solid. Not sure what else we could do without being able to fly.”

At that, Leyten looked at Ceol with jealousy.

“While this is happening, what are you going to do?” asked Teresh.

“Rea and I, we’re the safest to traverse the battlefield. He’s a small target and I can teleport out of the way of danger. I don’t know where Naihar is, but with his powers, he’s the best chance we have at tripping the monster, unless anyone else has a ton of firepower they’ve been keeping from the rest of us.”

That last statement was met with an equal number of head-shakes and incredulous stares.

In the background, Ranatar noticed the Voidbringer was almost facing them completely. He would have to make this last part quick.

“Lyna. Stay with Hithon. It doesn’t look like the Stormlight is healing as fast as the rest of us, and it's not like he can see, so we need you to look out for anything that we might not expect. If you need to get anyone’s attention, just scream.”

Rather than speak, his fellow Acolyte nodded.

“What about us?”

Oh. Right. Ranatar had forgotten about Hess and Tintallë. The man was a natural recluse, and the woman always seemed to be drifting off into her own little world. Of course, Ranatar knew the reasons why from his research, but he also knew these two wouldn’t be able to do much good.

“See if you two can find any of the Radiants. Make sure they’re okay, provide any support you can. And if they’re fine, send them to help. I’m sure we could make use of their powers.”

As an afterthought, Ranatar added: “Oh, and Hess. Make sure nobody touches Tintallë, no matter what. It won’t end well. Trust me.”

The man’s reluctant nod would have to be enough. The Voidbringer was staring at them now, her swordarm gradually raising the lightning blade above her head.

“Everyone!” Ranatar yelled. “You know what to do! Now scatter!”

 

 

“So,” Shallan said, breaking the awkward silence. “You going to tell me what just came over you?”

Adolin had already been sitting on the ground, slouched over, his head resting against the groove left in the cavern wall from where his Blade pierced it before being dismissed. And yet when Shallan addressed him, the prince somehow managed to deflate even more. She had avoided getting too close to him, partly because she was worried he might attack her too, not to mention the fact that her betrothed was covered in thick, orange blood. She cared little about stains, but she couldn’t help but be intimidated, seeing him like that. Shallan hadn’t felt this afraid of a man since… well. Since her father.

She swallowed hard at the realization.

“I wish I knew,” Adolin said, then sighed. He looked as if he was about to cry but refusing to let the tears run free. There was a pang of regret in his voice, too. One that seemed more repressed than the guilt you’d have from killing dozens of monsters to save the world, or turning on a man who could arguably be his best friend.

“This wasn’t the first time you lost control, was it?” Shallan asked, not meaning for it to sound like an accusation.

The burst of outrage Adolin demonstrated made it seem like an accusation anyway.

He grabbed her wrist so fast and hard that Shallan nearly leapt out of her skin. “He told you!” Adolin shouted, then pulled. The look on his face was almost rabid.

Shallan shook her head. “No one told me anything, Adolin!” she said with a yelp, resisting the urge to summon Pattern, but unable to escape the feeling in her gut that told her she should. She did not like being defenseless.

Fortunately she didn’t have to say another word, the pain on her face enough to snap Adolin back to his senses. “I’m sorry…” he mumbled as he let go and shied further into the corner of the cave. “I don’t know why this is happening to me…”

Shallan didn’t know either. All the same, she decided to take a leap of faith. Grabbing the prince’s wrist and dragging it over her shoulders, she settled herself into the crook of his arm, then rested her head on his chest.

For minutes they sat like that in silence. Neither was oblivious to the sounds of the approaching storm, nor the bright flash of light, or the quiet rumbling that gradually became a violent quake. And yet neither made an effort to move, as if they were to content to die like this, pressed to each other in a cold, dark cave, sheathed in blood and sweat.

When the quake stopped, Adolin finally spoke.

“I killed Sadeas.”

How was Shallan supposed to respond to that? Adolin was broken, that much was clear, and in his current state, the wrong words could set him off again, drive him to violence.

Instead of replying or flinching away, Shallan nestled closer.

“Since it happened, I’ve come up with a hundred justifications. The man was a monster. His betrayal at the Tower had killed thousands of good men, ruined the lives of their families. All so that he could remove my father and seize this kingdom. When that failed, he continued to plot. Did everything he could to undermine us. There was no other way to stop him. Someone had to do it.

“But the truth is, there was only one reason I killed him, Shallan. In that moment it was because I wanted to. I couldn’t make him suffer the same way he made my family all these years. He was heirless and there was no way I could bring myself to harm his wife, even if she is just as conniving as him. I wanted to hurt him. To kill him. And so I did. As simple as that.

“Does that make me a bad person?”

Again, Shallan was clueless. This matter was too grave for her wit, and she had been sharpening her tongue for so long, she doubted there was anything she could say anything that would actually help him.

So instead she grabbed his chin with her freehand, tilted her head towards his and kissed him.

At first the contact was soft, like a gentle breeze. Then her hand slid to the back of his neck and pulled him into her hard. His lips tasted like salt and iron, but she didn’t mind.

A minute passed. Perhaps two. Three. By the time they were finished, Shallan had lost count. She smiled, uncaring, and Adolin smiled back.

The prince was still hurting, but the anger was gone. Whatever Shallan had done, it grounded Adolin. Brought him back.

“Thank you,” he said, then groaned as he shifted positions. Apparently the way he had been lying before wasn’t very comfortable.

Shallan sniffed loudly, then pinched her nose. “That smell… no! You didn’t!” she said, trying not to laugh.

Suddenly nervous, Adolin perked up and began wiggling in his Plate. “I! What? No!” he stuttered, then sagged with relief. Giggling, Shallan let go of her nose and leaned in for another kiss, which Adolin quickly swat away. “Nope. No more kisses for you. You ruined the moment.”

“Can you really blame me?” she replied with a smile.

Rather than answer, Adolin closed his eyes and leaned his head back. If not for his haphazard breathing, Shallan would have guessed he was falling asleep.

“The Herald of Justice approached me, the night of the gala,” Adolin began. This time it was Shallan who perked up. Unsure of the cause, that information made her nervous. “He said he just wanted to talk. I’m not sure if I believe that was always his intention. The conversation, it felt like he was trying to get a read on me. If I said the wrong thing, I think he might have killed me.

“He didn’t, though. Obviously. He actually approved of me bringing Sadeas to ‘Justice.’ Told me I reminded him of himself, in his youth, and that he’d be watching to see what I did next. Before he left, he implied he’d come see me again, but when he did, we’d either be friends or enemies. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to be careful. No sane man wants a Herald as a foe, and with what’s coming, I think we need him as an ally. But for whatever reason, my gut told me that something was wrong with him. It was almost like… like he had no soul. His voice, his laughter. It was all just too cold and empty.

“If I remind him of himself, does that mean that someday, I’ll be empty too?”

For once, Shallan knew what to say.

“So long as you have me, no. Never.”

It was a lie on two fronts, but it seemed to do the trick.

Adolin leaned his head against Shallan’s and kissed her hair before truly falling asleep.

Shallan was left alone and awake, listening to a song of war and storms with a lot of things to ponder. Trying not to stir so much that she woke the prince, Shallan fiddled with the chain Adolin had given her. The one that belonged to his mother.

Adolin didn’t awaken when a mighty roar shook the earth, nor when a flash of light filled the cave as a bolt of lightning impacted the stone just beyond the entrance she carved. She imagined the prince had spent quite a few nights lying in bed, desperately searching for answers and finding none. A lack of sleep, coupled with the mess he just fought through to get here…

How much time had passed since she rescued Kaladin? It was no longer raining, but she could still hear claps of thunder, rushing wind, and the screams of men, and Voidbringers, being cut down by their enemies. Kaladin had said he would take care of things from here, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty for just lying here, in the darkness, safe from whatever happened outside.

And what about Pattern? After she finished cutting her way into the cave to free Kaladin, the Cryptic had disappeared, buzzing about something horrible. Something undone, she thought she heard, but she couldn’t remember that well. She had been a bit distracted, running into a crazed Adolin and a wounded Kaladin.

Curious, she reached out for the spren and found him cowering on the ceiling, drawn in so tight that he was barely the size of a sphere. What on Roshar could have gotten the Cryptic so scared?

Before she could ask, she was interrupted by the entire world lurching forward, throwing Adolin and her onto their faces.

“What the?” Adolin yelled in surprise. Shallan didn’t see what happened next, but in the corner of her eye, she recognized the movement. A tiny pebble landed on her head, followed by a shower of stones, and next thing she knew, Adolin was grunting, throwing himself on top of her.

Isn’t Plate supposed to be light? She thought, gasping for breath as the prince shifted to make her more comfortable. There was a moment of relief, followed by a loud smash, the sound of glass breaking, and the sensation of hot wax dripping onto her back. In the process, the weight on her back had doubled, then nearly doubled again. Pinned down and barely able to breathe, the dreadful realization had finally settled within Shalan.

The rock had finally collapsed on top of them.

Idiot, she thought, chastising herself. I’m a storming idiot.

 

 

Although Dalinar was sure his face was as hard and emotionless as a statue, he could not but feel pride as he watched the Initiates fight from across the plateau.

In a moment like this, he wished the Stormfather wasn’t so stubborn. If the Sliver had not refused to become a Blade or teach him the secret of forging Plate, Dalinar would be out there right now, fighting alongside them. Earlier he had managed to do some good, keeping Balthazar alive, but the reckless Initiate was nowhere to be seen, which gave Dalinar a creeping suspicion that his efforts had been for all for naught. The man must have died sometime after the Bondsmith lost track of him, and for some reason he thought Balthazar wasn’t the only one.

How many deaths have there been already? How many more would die before this day was done?

What could Dalinar do to help?

At least the Voidbringer was distracted. One of the Initiates had learned to fly and used that power to strike the Voidbringer’s face, who he now recognized. What was her name again? Dalinar couldn’t remember. He could have sworn he heard it once - maybe during one of their battles, or perhaps a longer time ago in passing - but like the name and face of his wife, it was hard to grasp it. Trying only made it harder to recall, though it wasn’t like water seeping through fingers. It felt more like a wall, and whenever he attempted to pry it down, he only felt sick.

Did it have something to do with the Voidbringer’s transformation?

Either way, the woman was distracted. Lightning gathered at her fingers and she pressed it to her forehead to seal the wound shut before wiping a thick coat of orange blood from her left eye. Blinking to clear the last of the blood from her vision, the Voidbringer looked up, straight at the huge eye in the sky just as it began to shut.

“We need to run!” yelled Renarin. “Forty feet, north north-west. Hurry!”

Renarin’s urgent tone suggested there was no time delay. With the cyclone surrounding the plateau and the void where the sky used to be, Dalinar could not look towards the sun to figure out which direction was which. The Bondsmith hesitated to remember where his shadow pointed when they had arrived, but fortunately he didn’t need to think hard as his son quickly broke off from the group, presumably to lead them to safety.

By the time they reached the spot Renarin identified, his son fell to the ground, gasping. The boy was never very fit, and today he didn’t have the added stamina granted by his Plate. Earlier, Adolin had requested that Renarin lend the armor to one of his lieutenants, believing an extra set would be more useful in the frontal assault. As smart of a decision as it was, Dalinar wasn’t pleased with how vulnerable that made his son.

When the Honor Guard finished catching up, a shadow had fallen over the plateau, followed by a ray of scarlet light that quickly brightened until it bathed the entire world red. Curious, Dalinar nearly looked up towards the source, but then Renarin slumped over and began to convulse. No matter how much the Bondsmith wanted to be aware of what was happening, there was no way he could turn away from his own child in their time of need. Fearing the worst, he held down the boy and pried his mouth open to make sure he didn’t choke on his tongue.

Countless thunderclaps roared at once, accompanied by a blood curdling static. Behind them, something crashed into the plateau, casting earth into the air. A shower of hot stones fell upon Dalinar’s back, but fortunately none landed on Renarin. Beside him, one of his Honor Guard began to dance and scream, while another quickly ran to him and helped unclasp his breastplate to free one of the smoldering rocks from where it fell between the armor and his shoulder blade.

“Woah,” another one of his men - the most talkative of them, Peet - had said. “Just barely got of the way there, didn’t we?”

A white froth leaked out of Renarin’s mouth, but otherwise he was still and gaining lucidity. Assured that his son was okay, Dalinar spared a glance behind him and found a massive, smoldering crater a few steps behind him. It was hard to see through the smoke, but the crater reached all the way to where they had been standing just a few seconds ago, and seemed to go on well beyond there.

“Father,” Renarin choked, then spit out the last of the viscous liquid in his mouth. “We’ve got to end this.”

Dalinar returned his gaze to his son and frowned. He wanted desperately to speak, but only one word came to mind.

How?

As if Renarin could hear his thoughts, he answered. “The Stormfather.”

If not for the gravity of the situation, Dalinar would have laughed. Since forming their bond, the Stormfather had done little else but goad him. In some ways the Sliver was like Elhokar. Too stubborn, or prideful, to listen to reason. At least with the King, however, Dalinar could coerce him with violence. Unfortunately the Bondsmith had no such leverage over the Shadow of the Almighty.

Again, Renarin spoke as if Dalinar’s mind was a open book. “He is not a force to be commanded, but guided.”

In what kind of world would man guide god?

This time Renarin didn’t answer, just looked to the sky. Sighing, Dalinar raised himself onto his haunches and followed his son’s gaze.

“Stormfather,” he began, then paused to think of the words to say. Would saying another oath help? Probably. But realizing that didn’t help him find the right words, anyway. He was much too new to this. Clueless, he defaulted to an old argument, despite knowing he’d receive the same response as always. “Now would be a perfect time for you to become my Blade.”

I TOLD YOU. I WILL NOT COME AS YOU CALL. THIS WAR IS YOURS TO LOSE. IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END THIS WAY.

“For a god, you’re awfully pessimistic. Have you no faith?”

NONE.  MY FAITH DIED WHEN MAN LOST HONOR.

“Honor? Who are you to speak of honor? You who has the power to save the world, but instead watches as evils like these rip it to shreds?”

“Father…” Renarin grabbed Dalinar’s wrist, trying to soothe his anger.

Finally realizing his irritation and exhaustion, Dalinar bowed his head and closed his eyes. Renarin was right. Anger was not the solution to this dilemma. If anything, it was the cause.

For a long moment, the Bondsmith remained just like that. Motionless as the earth quaked to the immense Voidbringer’s every step. Even without looking at the monster and the Initiates who gathered at her feet, Dalinar could sense the tension in the air. It was a burden so heavy that gravity felt like it had been turned up three times its regular strength.

There was something else, though. A sensation the Bondsmith had never really felt before. Opening his eyes, he turned to face the scene just as it unfolded. Ranatar, accompanied by his fellow Initiates and three of Kaladin’s Squires, were squared off against the monstress, ready for a fight. Dalinar closed his eyes and could still see the warriors, each of them silhouette by a bright, white light. Standing together as they did, their auras blended into one great luminescence. In their presence, the darkness stood no chance.

Without meaning to, Dalinar took a deep breath, then stoked their light with his own power until it shined as bright as the sun. When he opened his eyes once last time, he noticed each of the Initiates were standing a little bit taller. Their stances had become more relaxed, yet their muscles seemed more rigid.

It as then that the true battle began. What he saw… Dalinar could not help but stare in awe.

The Nameless Initiate shot into the air, swiping his bent claymore at the Voidbringer’s eyes. Anticipating the move, the Voidbringer staggered back, opening a gap between its legs for Jonly and the Squires to run between. Despite her chitinous shell, the Voidbringer must have felt the four men leap onto the spines of her lower back, for as soon as the first one landed, she thrust her hips outward, attempting to shake him free.

Meanwhile, Ranatar and Rea split off in separate directions, leaving Araon and Teresh facing one another, their bodies radiating not with smoking light, but shimmering heat. Arms thrust before them, flame started to literally fire from their palms, though instead of the monster they aimed for the ground. Slowly, the rock melted into lava, a pit forming and growing steadily until the two men were forced to start moving backwards. Each step deliberate with a long pause between them to ensure they didn’t lose their balance when the earth shook in the wake of the Voidbringer’s hasty movements.

Without relent, Fifth continued to harry the Voidbringer’s face, keeping her from looking anywhere but eye level. Another quick shake revealed Jonly and the Squires jumping between the third and fourth spines of her back. Unlike the Squires, Jonly was struggling to hold on, but they used their Lashings to keep him bound to the stone until he gathered the strength to leap again.

Out of nowhere, Naihar and Ranatar appeared, a flourishing vine of incredible width and length pulled taut between them. Fearless, they ran circles around the Voidbringer’s legs, attempting to tangle her feet to limit her movements. It wasn’t perfect, but a combination of that and a swath of light left in the wake of Naihar’s bare footsteps caused the Voidbringer to start losing her balance.

By then, her face had been marred by several bleeding wounds, and the three Squires plus Jonly had perched themselves upon her shoulders, two on each and winding their arms back. The pit of lava had grown significantly large for what only seemed like a few minutes at most, but Dalinar knew that it had been at least a half an hour since the fight began. For an observer, battles of this scale just felt like they went by in a flash. For the fighters, it might have felt like a century.

Ranatar yelled a command, grabbed Naihar, and then summoned a circle of light that quickly vanished them away. Using the streams of flame to propel their bodies, Araon and Teresh rocketed to safety just in time for Ceol to grab a wounded Hithon and distraught Lyna and fly them away. At once, Jonly and the Squires swung at the back of the Voidbringer’s head with all their might, sending the monstress plummeting towards the lava pit face-first. The sheer force of their blow simultaneously threw them backwards. Dalinar couldn’t tell for sure, but judging by the direction, they should have landed on top of the stone monolith at the plateau’s center.

Unable to control the direction in which she fell, the Voidbringer collided with the superhot trench. Her wail was immediate, a desperate cry as she struggled to claw herself free, although the lava made quick work of her chitinous armor and was already eating away at the muscle beneath. Writhing in pain, she let out one last scream before her body gave up completely, either due to the blood loss or utter shock. With her body melted halfway into the plateau, the Voidbringer resembled a massive skeleton, frozen in time as it tried to crawl out of its molten grave.

Allowing a moment for the chaos to settle, Dalinar finally looked up to the sky. “You say man lost honor.” he muttered under his breath as he watched Kaladin and his spren, Sylphrena, fuse to become a spear of radiant light. “If that were true, then what do you call this?”

The Stormfather had no words. Instead, the sky rumbled as Kaladin launched himself into the heavens and pierced the malicious crimson eye of Nergaoul the Unmade.

A moment later a Highstorm came to wash away the bloody tears It shed.

 

Edited April 1, 2017 by Amanuensis

[Amanuensis he/him]

CHAPTER TEN

 

Well guys. I'm really sorry for taking so long for this. Been a pretty hectic month for me, and I'll admit I got really slack with myself since I no longer had designated turnovers to apply pressure on me. I didn't even manage to write everything I wanted to, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get it done soon, so I've decided to split things up. This, at least, will lead to the "aftermath" of the battle. You guys can even roleplay the victory if you want. The final scene I planned on having for this game is going to be a memorial for all of the characters who died in the Battle of Rysharock (so that I can highlight their crimes) as well as a dramatic face off between the remaining Initiates and the Acolytes. When I've finished that, I'll post it as an "Interlude" chapter. I'm also planning another Interlude chapter to bridge this game with it's sequel, but that's very far away so I won't talk too much about that.

 

I'm pretty confident I've mentioned a lot of my issues with how things had unfolded this game in other threads or the various docs associated with it, but ultimately it boils down to inactivity. Especially in a game like this where team balance directly correlates with activity, it just can't be a factor. I know that a part of distribution is to make sure games are not unbalanced, but I do really like the idea of having power correlate with effort. There are definitely some mechanics that I had for this game that I wouldn't do in a sequel, such as imprisonment, or the eliminators being able to control an inactive teammate, but those are mostly small things I didn't plan on doing again, or really don't need me getting into.

 

Anyway, I hope ya'll had fun. As always, my master spreadsheet isn't particularly interesting for this game (since I hand write most of my notes), but I'll go ahead and include a link for it in case anyone cares to take a gander at it. The dead doc was, well, mostly dead, but that's pretty typical since we began using Discord for most of our out-of-game discussion. The elim doc, on the other hand, was pretty fun. It might even be one of the largest ones, although there's probably some parts where the Unjust cheated in making it longer than it should be.

 

OH! AND IN CASE IT WASN'T CLEAR! THE UNJUST WON!!!

 

 

INITIATES

 

1. Assassin in Burgundy as Araon Darkblade the Honorable Dustbringer

2. TheSilverDragon as Rea the Honorable Initiate

3. JUQ as Hess the Honorable Initiate

4. Elbereth as Tintallë Iurnu the Honorable Initiate

 

ACOLYTES

 

1. randuir as Ranatar the Unjust Elsecaller

2. Ecthelion III as Fifth Nameless the Unjust Acolyte (Ex-Truthwatcher)

3. Doc12 as Hithon the Unjust Acolyte (Ex-Lightweaver)

4. The lazy anarchist as Lyna Telavalet the Unjust Acolyte

5. Alvron as Naihar the Unjust Edgedancer

 

PRISONERS

1. Veriq the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Cowardice and Being an Accomplice to Murder
2. Shinon the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Aggravated Assault, Negligent Discharge, and Theft
3. Leif the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Multiple Accounts of Desertion
4. The Phantom Stranger the Honorable Initiate, Guilty of Murder, Hemalurgy, and Multiple Counts of Being Strange
5. Teresh the Honorable Initiate (Ex-Dustbringer), Guilty of Murder, Murder, and More Murder

 

CASUALTIES

1. Lomot the Honorable Initiate
2. Ashetvl the Honorable Initiate
3. Ralaanar the Honorable Lightweaver
4. Sareth-son-Erneth the Honorable Initiate
5. Balthazar the Honorable Initiate
6. Arionium the Honorable Initiate (Ex-Edgedancer)
7. Petrik the Honorable Stoneward
8. Kintas the Honorable Willshaper
9. Jonly the Honorable Truthwatcher

Edited April 1, 2017 by Amanuensis

[DeTess she/her]

That write-up was certainly worth the wait, and I'm looking forward to seeing the interludes appear at some point in the future.

This has been a great first game of SE, and I'm sure many more will follow (in fact, I've played in two more already, and am now playing in LG32). I think starting out in the elim team was definitely a help, as it meant I had a group of players I could trust and talk with from the start. 

Anyway, there's a couple of shout-outs I'd like to make.

@TheMightyLopen, you managed to make the same deductions regarding who had what bond at around the same time the elim team did, and you didn't have access to a doc with four trusted people, including a truthwatcher, so that's impressive in and of itself. You also managed to become suspicious of almost the entire active part of the elim team at one point or another, so that's doubly impressive. 

@Drake Marshall, I'd like to refer you to page 73 to 75 of the elim doc, and thank you for the great RP you've been putting up throughout the game. This doesn't just go for Drake of course, as just about all actives have been putting up fantastic pieces of RP.

@TheEntireElimTeam, I'd like to thank you guys for making this a great first game!

@Amanuensis, I'm pretty sure I've said this before, but if I could give your write-ups more than one upvote, I would. They really are fantastic.

[Hemalurgic Headshot he/him]

I clap for you, Aman. Another round of applause.

This was a magnificent game of SE, one of the best I've ever played (even though I've only played four), and I very much look forward to the continuation of the storyline. I already have plans for my next character. Good work!

The Truth will live on.

[Darkness Ascendant he/him]

 

Phantom slumped down against the ornate wall behind him.

It’s hopeless….

He would never get out of this place. He curled up on the floor, hugging himself tighter as every
pang of despair and failure rushed through him.

<Assimilation loaded>

<Transmitting Feed>

Congratulations...you survived.
Phantom snapped out of his revery and jumped to his feet, instantly on gaurd.

At ease, hrm, these blasted Interdrives…
A blue mask flickered in front of Phantom’s vision. Smooth and blank save for a strange symbol that took up the middle of the mask, sides moving down the sides of the mask. Ω

Ah, theere we goo.

“Who the hell are you?” Phantom growled, moving his head around, wondering at how the construct managed to stay with his vision.

Who am I? The real question that must be asked is.... who are you…? The head emitted a slow raspy chuckle. Who are you indeed Subject#921…

“Subject? What do you mean?” Phantom attempted to swipe his hand through the construct to no avail, his hand merely went blue for a moment, disrupting the image’s vectors.

It laughed once more A-a-ah, All good things come to those who wait.

Phantom felt a little pinprick of pain go through his mind. A strange book flashed through his mind and was gone the next instant.

“What was that?” he snapped, wincing at the feeling.

Just a little taste of the good things that are sure to come should you wait.

“STOP SPEAKING IN RIDDLES!” Phantom cried, the mask laughed at this.

Tut, tut, no need to lose your temper Subject. Have a little taste of what will happen should you choose not to wait.

A giant surge of pain overcame Stranger, taking over his entire body, overwhelming his senses and nearly knocking him unconscious, he writhed and emitted a strangled choke, his system was taken so unaware, that his body continued spasming in pain long after the initial assault had ceased. The mask was silent, staring down at the writhing mass that was Phantom. A moment passed like this, then Phantom reasserted control, shoulders heaving, breath heavy.

“W-W-What are y-you?”

Phantom could feel the being behind the mask smile.

We are OMEGA

<Instance Complete>
<Stabilising Matrix>

<OMEGA thanks you for your service>

Wow. That was one heck of a game @Amanuensis Thanks a tonne for running it Can't wait for Chapter 2.
Thanks and congratulations to the Elim team for doing a marvellous job

If I could give you more than one upvote for that writeup Aman...;) I guess a little 

Will do it for you  

I sincerely wish I had been more active this game *sigh

Thanks again and good night!

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

I've been looking forward to this write up for some time. It does not disappoint I think.

I'm typing this up on my phone right now so I'll keep the comments to a minimum... I have a lot I could say though. This was an interesting game. I'll maybe do a more detailed post later.

It seems my streak of losing SE games remains unbroken from the first one I played. But, hell, these games are fun in great part for the RP. If I just wanted to play and win a mafia game I'd play town of Salem.

I'm going to go read the elim doc now... Well played, elim team.

I look forward to future games.

[Darkness Ascendant he/him]

118 pages of elim doc later...

[Arrae]

That writeup was amazing. All of the writeups this game have been amazing.

[Droughtbringer]

That was beautiful, and fun, and amazing...just thank you for the game Aman.

What I want...doesn't make sense in this setting...but the way this game was structured made want to not be dead. I was sitting there, looking at my character, Petrik, who was significantly more developed in my head than here, and I wanted more. I wanted him to learn, and grow, and become a better person. I wanted him to interact with more people, to truly see him grow into more. And then I died. It was sad. And he no more grew. The End.

Twas a great game, and a sequel game would be much appreciated. (Or any game where Aman does similar Write-ups)