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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
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Final Empire, Metallic Arts, and Style Guides by Chaos at 17th Shard
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Member Since 29 Jun 2009
Offline Last Active Jun 14 2017 11:30 PM

Topics I've Started

Over You

08 April 2017 - 12:01 AM

The candlelight glittered in the ballroom like a haze of golden stars, but Arisella Blanchart barely noticed the dreamlike beauty. It was hard enough to pay attention to the man seated directly across from her, despite his being her actual date to the Perrault ball. No, there was simply no room in her thoughts - or her heart, for that matter - tonight. Not since she had seen him across the ballroom. Had their eyes met? She wasn't sure; she'd looked away in such a hurry that it was impossible to know for sure. But whether they had or not didn't really matter. She had glimpsed the man who still carried her heart in his coat pocket, and it made the emptiness within her ache all over again.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds, wasn't it? And absence, and all that stuff? So why did it feel like she'd stabbed him in the back only yesterday? It wasn't fair; surely he would never so much as look at her again, and she certainly didn't deserve the chance to approach him and apologize. So, somehow, she was just going to have to put the past behind her. Accept the fact that she would never be whole again and, well, get over it. This was Luthadel, wasn't it? Plenty of people thrived here without so much as a sliver of a heart left.

Except the very thought of that stabbed through the emptiness like a hot knife. She couldn't do that... could she? Wasn't she already?

Either way, what she needed right now was to get her head on straight and remind herself what was real. Alistair was gone and he wasn't coming back, no matter how badly she wished for him to look at her again. Excusing herself from Cedric's table, she wove her way aimlessly through the crowd, hoping to lose herself in the unfamiliar faces while she talked - or in this case, sang some sense into herself.

"Over, I'm so over you
The way that you look
In a 3-piece suit
Over, I'm so over you
The way that you held me
Like nobody else would
Maybe if I tell myself enough
Maybe if I do
I'll get over you
Maybe if I tell myself enough
Maybe if I do
I'll get all over
You oh
Over you

The Island Tour

25 January 2017 - 04:11 AM

The wind whipped across the sea, making Eliza Fathvell feel alive and filling her with the vigor she very much needed to face the arrival of a certain ship. The knowledge that the white sails on the horizon were carrying her father ever closer pressed on her shoulders - and her heart - in a confusing jumble, but the fine ocean mist and the smell of salt in the air were soothing, comforting companions. As, of course, were her uncles Lysander and Nat, with whom she stood at the head of the welcoming party gathered on Tavira’s largest dock.

She had foregone both hat and shawl today, as she often did. There was no ashfall today, after all, and even if she’d bothered to wear them she’d have been spending all her time and attention keeping the bloody things from blowing away in this wind. It was far better to go without, despite the way the wind whipped at her hair and pulled little strands out of her pompadour to fly across her face and every which way. Her skirts flapped about wildly as well, tangling with the men’s long coats as they stood together in the wind.

“I hear Dastand is bringing a woman home with him this time,” Uncle Nat said. “Do you think it's true love?” He sighed, practically swooning at the very thought. Eliza just frowned at the thought, trying to focus on the salt and the sea.

[/b]“They're both widows,”[/b] Uncle Lysander said. “And she's making the stained glass windows for our keep in Luthadel. This is purely a business relationship Nat. Not everyone has to fall in love and live happily ever after.”

Thank you, Uncle Lysander, Eliza thought. She loved Uncle Nat’s optimism, but the very suggestion that Father might be replacing Mother was a little too much to bear right now. Especially since it seemed that ever since her most recent birthday, she’d been getting strange offers from young men around her age, wanting to take her to balls, of all things. How long was it until Father replaced Mother and sold Eliza off the way he had with her cousins? Was that why he was here? To peruse the offers while they designed the windows?

“I bet you twelve boxings that they end up engaged, dear brother. You know nothing of matters of the heart.”

Uncle Lysander just rolled his eyes. “I have been married longer than you to the love of my life, Nat.”

“Ahh... but when was the last time…” There was a pause, the sort that happened when Uncle Lysander was giving one of his looks. He was good at those. “Oh right there are little ears. Accept the bet.”

“If it will make you be quiet until the ship docks, fine.”

Eliza shifted uncomfortably, glad that the talk of engagements was over. A hand settled on her shoulder then, giving her a comforting squeeze. Eliza looked up at Uncle Lysander, who met her gaze with a reassuring nod. He knew, somehow, what had just flashed through her mind. He always did, and so did Uncle Nat. They just had different ways of showing it, ways that were just as different as the two brothers themselves, but they fit together perfectly somehow. It was one of the things she loved about her uncles. That, and how they let her squeeze into the middle of their unique little family.

At least, no matter what happened, they would always want her.

She smiled gratefully up at Uncle Lysander, reaching to give his hand a squeeze in return, but just after, he looked up, away from her and out over the horizon. Had he spotted something? Was it the boat? Pirates? She swore to the Lord Ruler, if it was those damn Ironmasts again--

It wasn’t the Ironmasts. It was a series of flashing lights, glinting from the crow’s nest. She squinted, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she tried to make it out. What in the world…?

Wait a minute.

Flash-flash-pause. Flash-flash-pause. Flash-flash-pause.

It was a simple repetition, easily recognizable and commonly used, but that was how they had learned it in the first place, wasn’t it? By watching the ships coming and going and signaling to each other. They then squirreled away any bits of shiny metal that they could find and signaled to each other when their pretend pirate crews “raided” the vineyards and took all the grapes for themselves. Or at least as much as their juice-stained fingers could hold. Which certainly felt like all of them at the time.

“Felix,” she whispered.

“Felix?” Uncle Lysander asked, seeming surprised. “But he just left. He’d have to have turned right around and come straight back.”

“It’s Felix,” she said more insistently. “I know it is.” A bright smile crept across her face as the reality set in. He really would have to have turned around and hopped on another ship to be back here so soon. And that was exactly what he had done.

Laughing, she reached out to either side to give her uncles a giant, simultaneous hug, then took off running down the dock as fast as she could. The wind tore at her skirts, whipping them up around her ankles, but she didn’t care. The dock workers shouted at her, but she ignored them too. She’d move before the ship got close enough to dock, but for now, this spot was hers. Hurriedly, she thrust her hand into her pocket and retrieved her compact - nothing more than a small, handheld mirror that closed - and opened it up. Let’s see, the sun was over here, which meant if she held it at this angle… yes, that should do it! Grinning widely, she raised her hand as high as she could and turned the mirror back and forth to signal back.

Flash-flash-pause. Flash-flash-pause. Flash-flash-pause.

Almost immediately, from the crow’s nest again, the signal repeated as if in reply, and Eliza beamed all the more. He was here. Felix had come back, and just like that, suddenly the approaching ship seemed much friendlier than before.

Join Us On Discord!

29 November 2016 - 03:10 AM

So, we have a Discord server now. You should join us and hang out sometime! Make sure you have the Discord app and an account, and then CLICK HERE to join!

See you around!

Playing the Part (and Other Such Things)

07 November 2016 - 05:15 AM

"Felix. Felix, wake up!"

Instead of obliging, he made an unhappy noise and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head.

"Feliiix!" Eliza sat down hard on the foot of his bed, jostling the mattress.

"Eliza? What time is it?"

"About ten, last I looked. Wake up; we're going on an adventure."

"Do you realize when I went to bed? I never see the world at this time of day. I think it might break my fragile sense of self."

Eliza pouted, even though he couldn't see it. "Fine, fine; I'll let you sleep. You can just do paperwork with Aunt Cora when you wake up, instead of coming with me. And I'll have all the fun making a deal with the theatre company all by myself."

Sudden darkness enveloped her as Felix threw the covers off - and onto her. "I'm up! I'm up!"

After Felix helped detangle her from the mess he'd made of his blankets, Eliza went back to her own room via the secret passage that connected their quarters. Apparently Father had had secret passages installed throughout the keep, and this one in particular was so Felix could get to her easier in the event of some sort of attack, but Eliza couldn't really help but think he hadn't thought this all the way through. Did he remember anything about what they'd been like as children? Of course that passage would be used primarily for hijinks and shenanigans. In proper Best Cousin fashion.

Then, once Felix was dressed, all he had to do was follow her and away they went. Cora, if she sent someone to wake Felix, would send them to his room - while Felix himself was a floor below, leaving with Eliza on a grand adventure. An adventure that would make their house - and Eliza herself - a valuable new contact. After all, Eliza needed to make sure her skills were as sharp as ever, and this theater - with its supposed "Southern Islands" themed show - was the perfect place to begin. If Eliza was correct in her suspicions, this was as good a place as any to start rebuilding her own professional network.

The carriage ride itself was quiet; Eliza was going over what she knew about the company while Felix slowly brought himself all the way to wakefulness. She'd saved him a pastry from her own breakfast, and let him enjoy it in peace and quiet as the carriage brought them to their destination.

Felix helped her down from the carriage, of course, and she stepped down into the midst of quite a crowd. She couldn't help but smile. Looks like they were right on time. She'd got wind of this reception yesterday; Lord Gaston Bouchard was entertaining potential investors into his theatre - trying to attract funding for this show of his. What a surprise for him, then, that a pair of Fathvells would show up.

Gaston Bouchard would be inside, most likely, bidding farewell to the last of his guests as they made ready to head out. So inside they went, Eliza on Felix's arm, and sure enough, there he was - in the grand foyer, beneath the great chandelier, his wife clinging to his arm. In true theatrical fashion, he couldn't have set a better stage. From here, they could merely wait by the doors. Interrupting here would be unnecessarily rude and make the coming task more difficult. Besides, with his attention on his departing investors, it was only a matter of time before he noticed his new guests.

Songs of Uncertainty

02 October 2016 - 02:47 AM

The cascading notes of Marveille's Seventh Concerto filled the empty sitting room. It was one of Celia's favorite pieces, and one of the few she had memorized for piano. But while it's familiar warmth brought reassurance and comfort, tonight the notes felt hollow.

Perhaps it was because her heart wasn't actually in playing, and that her mind was everywhere but the keys in front of her. She had actually meant to retire early tonight, after the awkward dinner with her cousins, but upon returning to her rooms she had realized there was no way she could sleep right now. So she'd changed out of her formal dinner gown into something more comfortable, found the nearest sitting room with a piano, and sat down to play. Usually, when she couldn't sleep, a few pieces’ worth of practice was enough to soothe her restlessness and help her relax. But tonight wasn't a usual night, and her anxiety wasn't the usual kind either.

Vivian was home. She was here, in the keep, alive. Just like Celia had always known she'd be. What she hadn't expected was what kind of homecoming this would be.

Yes, Vivian was home. But she was under guard, like some kind of criminal, barely allowed to so much as see her family, let alone speak to them. Her physical condition had been assessed by a doctor, but had anyone bothered to check her mental or emotional state? Or had they sent Lord Andrew to evaluate her likelihood of snapping and killing them all?

Meanwhile, Celia had her own frustrations to deal with. Not only had Daerra spent all dinner needling her even more than usual, but everyone in the keep was back to treating her like a small child. She had worked so hard to stand on her own two feet, and now as soon as something happened, she was back to being coddled? Ridiculous!

A discordant clang sounded angrily from the piano, snapping Celia back to reality. How worked up had she been, to go from playing one of her favorites to, well, this? The piano clanged again as she rested her elbows on the keys and buried her face in her hands. She tried to soothe herself with deep, measured breath, but it only did so much. She was too distracted by everything that had happened the last few days, and too off-balance to rein herself back in.

Maybe she should just go back to bed.