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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
All original characters, places, and documentation are property of their creators. Do not reproduce or republish without permission.

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Topics I've Started

Reunion, Part 2

14 November 2017 - 10:33 PM

The mists swirled around them, and Nessa finally felt free. After they had made an agreement with Nate, she had gladly let Perrin pick her up, almost leaping into his arms herself in her excitement, and then they were off - off the ground that is, soaring up higher and higher. She didn't even care where they went at this point; he could have landed them directly on top of Kredik Shaw, and she would still be happy, just because they were finally together, [i]alone[/], and out in the mists where they belonged.

"I missed you," she said after a few minutes of silent flight. She wanted to say more, but that one phrase stuck in her throat, so it was all she could repeat for the moment. "I missed you so much."

New Rules and Guides Forum!

16 October 2017 - 04:16 PM

Are you tired of looking all over the forum to find all of our various rules and systems? Tired of hearing obscure rules mentioned you can't find in the rules topic? Tired of hearing various policies mentioned you've never even heard of?

Guess what? So are we!

MBI has undergone a lot of changes since it was founded back in 2008 (whoa, where did the time go!?). We've made changes to some of the rules and invented entirely new policies to keep things running smoothly - but unfortunately, our documentation of these changes didn't exactly keep pace with the rest of what we were doing.

That's why we have this new forum. Everything has been consolidated and, in some cases, completely rewritten from scratch to make sure it is consistent, legible, and most of all, easily accessible. From character creation rules to how to become a Great House, everything is now accessible in that one forum. I've also moved the World of Mistborn forum there for now, for ease of access and to try and save some space on the front page.

Also, we're not done yet! Expect a few tweaks and edits as we settle into the new system, and a few new coats of varnish - included the much-awaited updated FAQ and Story Thus Far threads!

As always, thanks for being here, and enjoy actually being able to find things!

The Reunion

19 August 2017 - 12:20 AM

Nessa left her talk with Nate feeling a little better, if more confused than ever. While at first she'd been struck by the sheer awe of a female crewleader, and a Thug at that, the talk had also reminded Nessa that Datura was, in fact, a crewleader - not some sort of personal idol for Nessa to follow around. She had her own feelings and goals and motivations which had nothing to do with Nessa. Nessa herself was an exception to the rule, brought in because of her Allomancy and placed among the members of the inner circle, but still excluded from the important parts because of how new she was.

Well, being on the outside of things wasn't exactly something Nessa was used to. She'd never really stayed long enough with one crew to be anywhere else, and most of them would never trust a child or a woman anyway. She'd always just floated from crew to crew, wearing out her welcome or usefulness and then moving on to the next.

But that would be changing now, wouldn't it? The Rebellion certainly wouldn't let an Allomancer just walk out, after all, and would she even want to? She had food, and a real bed... and him.

Do you love him?

What is love like?

Nessa mulled over these questions as she munched on her midday baywrap - the afternoon's Smoker had brought some - and let the backs of her heels thump softly against the sides of the crate she was sitting on.

What was happening between them? They had known each other for all of a week, maybe a couple days more, and hadn't seen each other in almost half of that, but she still couldn't stop thinking about him. And not just to worry, though reminding herself of the danger he had been in - might still be in - churned her stomach, and she actually had to put the baywrap down for a moment.

No, it wasn't just that. It was the way he smiled at her. The look in his eyes when he brushed her hair away from her face, or traced her cheek with his finger. The gentle strength when he held her, and the soft warmth when they'd kissed. The firm resolve in his voice when he promised to keep her safe, and even the hint of affection that crept in when he called her Sweets. She didn't think she'd ever miss that, but she did. For all she cared now, he could call her that for the rest of their lives and never use her real name again, so long as it meant that he was alive.

But, most importantly, it was the way he saw her. Not an Allomancer or a stray to be used and discarded, or a piece of meat to be enjoyed, or even as a child, the way her other new friends often seemed to see her. To him, she was just Nessa, just Sweets, just some girl he'd been ordered to train - and who he'd befriended instead. He'd teased her and let her tease him in return, comforted her when she was upset, and reassured her when she was frightened. He saw her, and he listened to her, and she had never felt safer than when she was near him.

She sighed, flopping back onto the crate and splaying her arms out, letting them hang off the edges. One of her hands still clung tightly to the baywrap, of course. Her head hung down the far side of the crate, her dark hair streaming down and almost brushing the floor. Blood rushed to her head as she looked around at the now-upside-down warehouse, but that was sort of fitting, wasn't it? Her whole world was upside-down now, and Perrin did sort of make her feel all woozy when she thought about that kiss too much - if there was such a thing.

Still, she couldn't help but think that if there was anyone she could figure out this whole love thing with, it was him. Maybe. If he wanted it too, anyway.

That thought was even more dizzying than draping herself backwards over the crate, so she pulled herself up and hopped down off of it. The warehouse spun for a moment as her blood rushed back where it was supposed to be, and she staggered a couple steps before remembering to flare her pewter slightly and catch herself.

As she blinked around at the warehouse, though, watching it come back into focus, when it hit her. What if her life wasn't upside down right now? What if it had been this whole time? That she'd been stifled, just like how it had been getting hard to breathe when she was leaning back over the crate, and everything had suddenly turned rightside up? She was staggering, struggling to catch her balance, but maybe, just maybe, things would begin to clear up. Maybe she would begin to be okay.

For her to really be okay, though, she needed to figure out a way to see Perrin. And Maks, who was also probably worried, unless someone had told him something. She was relatively unguarded right now, with only that one Smoker to babysit her, but sneaking out of a warehouse in the middle of the day would be highly suspicious, as would one lone skaa woman wandering the industrial district. She would need to wait until nightfall.

In the meantime, she should probably train like she was supposed to be doing. Not only would that be less suspicious, but even if she didn't get an opening to sneak away tonight, good behavior might convince Datura - or Nate, who probably ran the show more than anyone realized - to let her have some time off. And if it didn't, she could use the things she'd learned to get herself some free time the hard way.

Besides, she found herself realizing that she wanted to train. She was tired of being weak and not knowing anything and bloody running away all the time. She needed to get stronger. Braver. Better at taking care of herself. It was time to woman up and grow up.

And so Nessa shoved down the rest of her baywrap, forced herself to choke down as much of the pewter dust as she could, and got to work. She started slowly at first, working her way carefully through every movement Datura had shown her and only speeding up when she was able to stop thinking about it so much. It was surprising how much effort working slowly took; even with pewter, it wasn't long before sweat beaded on her face and dripped between her shoulders.

Things got really interesting after her midafternoon snack - apparently the crew now knew they could get her to do anything if they fed her enough, but food was food, and being a Thug was hungry work - when she really felt like she'd gotten her feet underneath her. Then she could speed up, chaining together the different techniques in new ways and taking up the entire space she'd been given as she jumped, slid, and dashed her way in and out of new sequences. She lost herself in the rhythm of it, stopping only to replenish her pewter. She'd never been able to practice undisturbed like this before, and it was intoxicating. She could finally focus on what she was practicing - the complexities of each movement, the subtle effect pewter had on every muscle and technique and reflex, the way her weight shifted when she threw a punch or how much it mattered that she kept her wrist straight.

Hours later, she finally let herself sink to the floor, downing the last of the water between heavy, exhausted breaths. Every fiber of every muscle screamed at her, but she felt alive. It was even different from the way she'd felt out in the mists that night. A sort of alive-ness that was only for her, because she'd captured it at some point during her training. What would it be like, she wondered, to fly through the mists with Perrin right now, invigorated as she was?


She looked up and out of the Warehouse's high windows, and sure enough, it was getting very dark very quickly. A few tendrils of mist began to curl and press against the glass, and Nessa knew it was time. The crew was probably working late tonight on some project or another, which would delay mess for a little longer, and she needed to be gone by then.

She couldn't leave through the front door, of course; one of her babysitters would still be there, probably bored to tears. But there had to be another way out, and Nessa would find it - and find it she did, after what felt like an eternity bumping into boxes in the rapidly darkening warehouse. She didn't dare take the lantern with her; its retreating light might warn her Smoker that she was running off. Better to leave it there as a decoy, propped safely on top of a crate in the middle of the room with nothing else remotely nearby, clearly visible to anyone who entered that space. She didn't want to burn down the warehouse, after all.

It was a small side door, probably used as another way to get workers in and out quickly. It squeaked when she pushed on it, and she cringed. Would that have alerted the Smoker? Would they have heard it from over here, or known what it was? She'd better move quickly, just in case.

If there was one good thing about going hungry constantly, it was that even with her height, Nessa had rarely found a nook or a crack she couldn't squeeze through. She barely needed to push the door open any further to slip through it, then quickly shoved it closed, wincing again at the noise. And then, just like that, she ran off into the darkening night, grinning widely as the mists curled around her streaming hair. She couldn't burn pewter out here by herself, so running was difficult to say the least, but she didn't care. She was free! And she was going to find Perrin!

Now, which way is the shop?

House Creation Guide

14 August 2017 - 08:21 PM

Welcome, one and all, to the MBI House Creation Guide! Here is where I, your guide to the madness, will explain to you how our system of player-run houses works and how you can participate in it. Interested? Keep reading for everything you need to know!

Damage Control

01 August 2017 - 03:24 AM

Nessa burst into the crewhouse, huffing and puffing from having sprinted the whole way back here - and without using pewter, since she'd left the Smoker behind. She'd go back and train like she was supposed to later, but for now, she needed to fix what she'd somehow managed to screw up. If Datura was supposed to be her teacher now, and Datura hated her, would she be shipped off somewhere else?

She didn't want that; for one thing, she knew they wouldn't ship her back to the shop, and for another, this place was actually pretty nice, other than the whole isolating-her-from-her-friends thing. She'd still have to figure out how to solve that particular problem, but while she did, she had it pretty good for right now, and she didn't want to ruin it.

She'd intended to ask some of the crew members where to find Nate, but there was no need: he was out and about, supervising the shop floor and making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing.

"Nate!" she called out, still gasping for breath as she approached him. "Nate, I need your help!"