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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

Read the full prologue!

Topics on the forum will contain spoilers for the Mistborn Trilogy

Mistborn Series © Brandon Sanderson
Allomantic Table, Symbols, and Cartography by Isaac Stewart
Luthadel Images: mking2008
Other Graphics: KChan at 17th Shard
Final Empire, Metallic Arts, and Style Guides by Chaos at 17th Shard
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Member Since 04 Jul 2015
Offline Last Active Yesterday, 06:12 PM

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In Topic: Taking the Reins

11 July 2018 - 02:52 AM

“I need Kyle saddled and ready to go in five for an appointment,” she told one of the stable hands on duty. The blond skaa teenager nodded shyly, catching her eyes to ensure she caught the confirmation, before he moved to complete the task. “Walk her out with Midnight after the client has arrived.”

Another day, another riding lesson.

But this lesson was with a brand new client. Eliza Fathwell had been the name neatly inked into the earliest time slot in her appointment book when she’d opened it this morning. The name alone was enough to conjure to mind hypothetical images of island Axelle had never seen, and to bring the taste of a fine vintage to her tongue. The sound of wheels on gravel alerted her to someone’s arrival, so she paused gently brushing her fingers down Midnight’s neck, his short ebony fur velvet to the touch. She’d already saddled her favorite horse.

“See you in a few,” she said with a gentle pat, before striding out the open double-doors of the stable.

Axelle had a small collection of riding habits like other women collected dresses. Today’s set was mostly black, with burgundy edging over the collar of the jacket, which matched the pair of burgundy lines that ran the side hems of her pants, partially hidden by her knee-high boots. Her hair was twisted up into a neat bun at the back of her head for a professional look, the severity of the style cut by the amused smile she wore, and the energy in her eyes despite the early hour.

Her client had also dressed the part, thankfully. Her outfit was clearly stylish, but also functional, especially the split skirts, the sight of which had her smiling wider on the inside. She likely won’t request a side saddle.

The D’Orsay ward closed the gap between her and the elegant client. She opted for a smooth bow, rather than a curtsey given her lack of skirts.

“Good morning, Lady Eliza, and welcome,” she gestured back toward the stable and the riding trails. “I am Lady Axelle, and it is my pleasure to serve as your riding instructor this morning.” She started burning tin, just to ensure she caught all of the more subtle cues that would be important to today’s lesson, hesitation, fear, uncertainty - on the part of both the horses and hr client.

A pair of stable hands led Midnight, a solid black stallion, and Kylie, a chestnut mare with a broad white blaze down her face. The stable hands paused, the horses remained steady, understanding that for now, all they needed to do was wait.

“And this,” Axelle said, taking a few steps back to where the horses were waiting. “Is Kylie,” she said, gently rubbing the horse’s neck. “She’s very gentle. Wonderful for riders of all experience levels. I think you’ll like her.”

She gestured back with her head, inviting the noblewoman to come closer.

“Would this be your first time?” she asked casually, without judgment, she just wanted to get a sense of Eliza’s experience so far.

In Topic: Wants & Wares

03 July 2018 - 03:32 AM

As Nathan had said, Nessa did in fact appreciate the food. She'd dug right in, and offered a kind of thanks with her eyes, as her mouth was full. It was probably the most honest expression of gratitude one could get where food was concerned. Kess gave a little nod of acknowledgement in return before going in for her second bite.

Her bite hadn't made it all the way through the wrap when the sound of her name being yelled cut through the sounds of the packed market. Her eyes momentarily widened at the unexpected cry, before her face resolved to the cool, detached mask she always wore.

So much for being inconspicuous.

She knew that voice. She hadn't heard it in so, so long but . . . it sounded like Ollie. Her closest friend in the tenement. The Tineye who had saved her from a beating that could've easily gone too far when she was just a tiny thing. Her fellow irregular. One of the kindest souls she'd ever met in this cruel world. He'd always gave of himself, to all the children left to grow up in their building without their parents. To her.

She'd left him behind to follow Mav . . . even after he'd expressed a deep attachment to her, after he'd tried to convince her not to go. She knew now that he'd been right. That she shouldn't have joined that thieving crew. Because if she hadn't . . . maybe Mav would still be alive.

But life hadn't unfolded that way, and she had learned just how weak she'd let emotion make her. So she had exiled herself to a solo existence, so she could hone her skills, and beat out the feelings that had led to catastrophe.

So she wouldn't put anyone else in danger. Including Ollie and Meb and the tenement.

She'd been afraid to see him again. Afraid that it would make her feel.

And she'd been right. She couldn't not feel anything when it came to him.

He'd be safer if he stayed away.

But he was here right now and even after how they'd left things . . . he'd called out to her. She wouldn't just ignore him. She just wouldn't stay in his company for very long. She had an errand to run, a new crew member to deliver back to the den . . .

And he'd be far better off without her.

The young girl he'd liked all those years ago died with Mav.

Kess turned to Nessa, took the girl's free hand, and placed her partially eaten wrap there. Once that was off her hands she pointed at Nessa, her eyes hard, "Don't move," she growled. "I'll be right back."

She stalked into the crowd, craning her neck and even stepping up onto her toes to better locate her old friend. She knew him as soon as she saw him, with the clear blue eyes and a kind face, with a bit of stubble. They'd been so young when they'd parted; he'd grown into a man during the intervening years. She noted the cloak, the way it draped over the arm he'd lost in a factory explosion; it wasn't unlike how she positioned her hair over her eyes. She waved a hand in his direction, as she wound her way through the crowd until she was standing before him.

She looked up into his eyes, her own face carefully composed to remain neutral despite the mix of feelings that looking at him brought up. She wasn't sure what to say. She'd never been good with words. And she had to be careful, she had to stay focused, she couldn't get swept off at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice calling her name.

"You look good, Ollie."

She meant it, too, even if the statement paled in comparison to all of the unanswered questions between them.

She raised a hand to that cloak, and took a fistful of it, leading him back to where Nessa stood off to the side by the wrap vendor. She inched a hand toward her crewmate's left hand but then stopped when she realized the wrap she'd handed off had been devoured in the few minutes she was away. She glanced from the empty hands back to the younger woman's face.

"This is Nessa, she said with a tilt of her head toward the other brunette. "Nessa - Ollie," she said gesturing back to the handsome skaa she'd brought over. "Old friend," she added in anticipation of a question that probably came to the Thug's mind.

In Topic: Arrival at Fellise

24 June 2018 - 12:36 AM

“Onward to Luthadel!” Aric exclaimed as they’d made their way out of the building to the carriage. Avril had only given him a tiny nod, the ghost of a smile, in response to his toothy grin. The twelve year-old’s enthusiasm wasn’t contagious, it seemed, even layering in the fact that he was too young to get anything out of the upcoming balls, and courtship was just ‘round the corner for her. Teenage girls were supposed to be excited about that sort of thing, even if the power to decide her fate rested with him.

She was quiet as they’d walked to the carriage and she’d remained so when she took a seat beside her brother on the bench across from him. But, Lord Ruler love him, Aric wasn’t having it.

“Did you get to play the piano?!” he asked, looking up into her fair face. His boy meant well with his question, but it tasted like acid on Jasper’s tongue.

“I did,” she responded, squeezing his smaller hand where it rested on the bench between them. “Just a tiny bit.” Her smile was subdued.

“I thought I told you to leave that room for Lord Elliott to discover on his own,” he said, staring at Avril, watching her turn her head to look straight in his eyes. No hint of fear on her pretty face.

“I was there. You were not. He brought his violin with him on the tour, and played an improvised piece in the Great Hall. He seems like he eats, sleeps, and breathes music. I thought it would be better if I brought him there, got to see his face when he took it all in. There was genuine joy on his face . . . and there may even be a stronger association with the Sorelle name as I was there for that moment, I took him to the door, and I opened it . . .” She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of how happy he’d looked. How he’d let his eyes roam over all the details.

“If you could’ve seen his face, you would know I made the right choice.” She looked at him, determined as ever, a quality to words that wasn’t pleading, but rather emphasis, underlining that she knew what she was talking about whether he wanted to believe her or not.

He believed her.

He was pissed.

But he believed her.

“If I wanted you to exercise your judgment, Avril, I wouldn’t have given you explicit instructions!” he raised his voice at her, a barking in her direction. She didn’t shrink. The straight line of her lips twitched the tiniest bit, like she was adding strength to it, like one would bar a door against potential intruders.

“Next time, I expect you to follow my directions to the letter.”

She huffed in response. She opened her mouth to say something-

“Do you like him?” Aric cut in, changing the subject, his words full of cheer. He looked her over with a playful smile that said he had his suspicions on the subject.

“He was kind . . . moreso than I expected,” Avril said with a nod, looking at her brother’s sweet face before her eyes drifted downward. Her cheeks looked just a touch pinker, and her lips had shifted into a softer expression. A happier one.

“Men will however kind they have to be,” Jasper cut into the brother-sister moment, angrier than before given where his mind was going, “to get into your skirts.”

“This wasn’t anything like that,” she spat, her eyes shifting back to him, a disgusted look on her face.

“You need to be on your guard in Luthadel, Avril. You need to be strong. You can’t be smitten with every young man who says a kind word in your direction.”

She swallowed, still appalled. “I merely said he was kind. I think he’s actually nice. It didn’t feel forced. And I didn’t say I was-”

“Your cheeks went pink,” he growled. “I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Musicians,” he grumbled. “Girls take to them easily. You’re not the first. You’re certainly not the last. You have the ride to Luthadel to get it out of your mind. We’ll be looking at heirs to Houses, Avril. Not second sons.”

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms, her lips gathered together in a pout. Like she didn’t like what she was hearing, or she didn’t want to hear it. What she liked didn’t matter. He was the House Lord. He knew best. She needed to take in what he was saying if she was to survive the season.

“If we’re lucky,” he added, as Avril stared out the window, purposely avoiding him. “He might say something nice about you to his Mistborn brother.”

In Topic: Arrival at Fellise

28 May 2018 - 06:23 PM

Upon inquiring at the door as to the whereabouts of his daughter, Veeras, Lord Elliott’s steward had offered to bring him and Aric to her. Even though Jasper was familiar with the layout of the house, as he oversaw the design and construction, he accepted the offer, as was proper. The finished work was now in the hands of the clients, which made him a guest - so he would be sure to behave accordingly. He no longer had free reign to roam as he might, to pick out opportunities to perfect where two pieces of molding joined in a corner, to move an armchair a little to the left, or to tell the cleaning crew they could up the shine on a stretch of flooring. Now instead of surveying his surroundings as the fruit of Sorelle craftsmen’s labors, he had to shift his mindset, to that of a noble visiting another Lord’s home. That shift never fully took, especially on the heels of a project’s completion.

As they came to the white door carved with music notes, he mentally grumbled that he should’ve known she’d defy his instructions to leave this room for Lord Elliott to discover on his own time. He’d never understand why obeying him seemed so damned difficult for Avril. All she had to do was avoid this room, and the bedrooms - the latter command based on propriety. He didn’t expect her to violate that specific instruction as she had respect for societal norms . . . even if she didn’t respect him the way he deserved. He’d deal with that later . . .

The door opened with only the slightest sound, as the brand new hinges had been freshly greased. In one of the far corners of the room, he spied that portion of her light golden strands that wasn’t tied back spilling over the ivory and blue of her day dress. For a moment she was in profile, her gaze cast down towards the piano. She looked so much like Ashley then, in that second, in a dress she’d worn for many afternoon teas with other fine ladies . . .

The second Faarskar son was similarly in profile, their faces angled toward each other, the keys stretched out just beyond them, the bench shared between them.

“I should’ve known I would’ve found you at the piano,” he said with a booming laugh, and a smile that set his blue eyes twinkling, highlighting the shallow lines of crows’ feet that surrounded them. He stood tall and straight, clad in a suit of navy blue, with a matching waistcoat, and a crisp white shirt underneath. The gold chain of a pocket watch peeked up from its designated pocket. His dirty blond hair was neat but loose, falling over the edges of his collar. Aric ran out from behind him, dressed in a similar fashion to his father, his own blond hair cut shorter. He had a toothy grin on his face as he looked at Avril, and Elliott, and back at Avril.

The father and son pair offered little bows to the representative of House Faarskar, as Avril slid off the bench to stand, already burning pewter. Unlike before, this was no mere pulse, but a steady burn.

“I hope my Avril didn’t give away all of the home’s surprises with her tour,” Jasper said, still the good-natured Lord, as he inclined his head toward his daughter.

Avril blushed, her eyes moving towards the floorboards beneath her feet before lifting her chin and answering him. “After Lord Elliott was kind enough to share his skill with the violin, I couldn’t help but show him the music room.” She glanced toward the young Lord. “Lord Elliott is also a master of the piano.”

Avril’s excuse wasn’t enough in itself. Disobedience was disobedience. He hadn’t asked for her opinion, for her read of the situation . . . But the Lordling’s opinion of the situation did matter, in the scheme of things. The fact that she was still in his company was likely a positive thing . . . pity he wasn’t the Mistborn heir of the House . . .

“I hope I’ll have the opportunity to hear you play sometime,” Lord Sorelle said, his twelve-year old heir nodding his agreement with more gusto. “For now, it’s on to Luthadel!”

“I’m sorry I lost track of time, father,” Avril apologized with a slight bow of her head before turning to Elliott for likely the last time in a while. “I do hope you enjoy your new residence.” She dipped into another curtsey, clutching the blue fabric of her skirt as she did so.

“Yes, Lord Elliott. I pray you like it here very much - if anything is in need of repair, please do reach out to me and I will see it fixed right away. Please send my regards to your family.”

Mostly your father and his heir.

The Lords of Sorelle offered their bows, before taking their leave. The youngest of them looked back with curiosity, before being herded away by his elders.

In Topic: Arrival at Fellise

27 May 2018 - 10:15 PM

Once her apologies had faded into quiet, like the final bars of their duet, Lord Elliott’s steward spoke up, with words of encouragement. Blush on her face, turned her head to behold him. She offered a slow nod of gratitude. “Thank you for your kindness, Veeras. You need never apologize for speaking to me,” she said with a small smile. “Offense is the opposite of what you’ve given.”

Veeras inquired about taking his leave, to seeing to the moving process that was currently underway, beyond the four walls around then. Lord Elliott granted it, but requested to keep his violin here, in the room meant to be a home for it.

Before the Terrisman could leave, Elliott expressed some gratitude and appreciation of his own. Avril was so glad to hear it, her heart felt different, fuller, but with a bit of pain. Her father was so harsh with Heved, he wouldn’t have reacted the same way if he had entered into a conversation he wasn’t a part of. There would have been a price to pay, instead of thanks given.

A few moments later they were alone . . . she’d never been alone with a young man around her age before.

She swallowed. She’d been so fortunate today, to be on the receiving end of benevolent words and deeds. But she knew her time was running out. Reality beckoned just beyond the tall, carved doors of the manor, with its cold claws. She didn’t want to go. But Aric was waiting for her, Aric who relied on her for guidance and protection and familial love.

The young nobleman turned his attentions back to her. He told her there was no reason for her apologies, that mistakes were normal, that her joy shone through it . . . and made it magical. Joy . . . Magic . . . those were not words ever associated with her. His cheeks reddened, and she wondered if the shade matched the color on her own face.

His smile faltered, and he averted his eyes but then brought them back to her, his lips softly curving upward. A quiet sort of sadness was reflected in his face, the true happiness he’d felt earlier upon discovering the music room had retreated.

He said he was sorry, that he shouldn’t have interrupted. She shook her head lightly. That wasn’t what he’d done at all. Forgiveness wasn’t warranted for there had been no sin. She’d silently hoped he’d join in on the song, and he had granted that wish without being sure it was there in the first place. He gave her an open invitation to return, and she hoped she’d be able to take him up on it, hoped her father would allow it. Perhaps if she’d said it would help keep them top of mind for a contract . . .

“I . . .” she started, her voice low. She managed to curl her lips into a small smile of her own. “I had hoped you’d join me in the duet, Lord Elliott. I’m grateful that you did. I’ve never had the pleasure of a duet before.”

Isolated as she was, there were many pleasures she hadn’t experienced.

“Perhaps one day I’ll be worthy of sharing a song with you.”

Her eyes drifted down to her hands again, like the answers were on her pale flesh somewhere.