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With nearly 40 years of career and 12 recorded albums, the first in 1981, the composer, singer and guitarist Almir Sater, is one of the most complete Brazilian artists, thanks to his virtuosity, he continues to delight generations. The musician became one of the most respected by wielding his 10-string guitar.
The idea of a "shadow government," a clandestine network wielding real power behind the scenes, is a recurring theme in conspiracy theories. This concept suggests that elected officials are mere figureheads, while unelected individuals or groups secretly control policy and exert influence over government actions.
Recent history all over the world but especially in the USA makes me think they are not just "conspiracy theories".
Sevilla es un municipio y una ciudad de España, capital de la provincia homónima y de la comunidad autónoma de Andalucía. Cuenta con 689 434 habitantes en 2017,6 por lo que es la ciudad más poblada de Andalucía, la cuarta de España después de Madrid, Barcelona y Valencia y la 32.ª de la Unión Europea. El municipio tiene una extensión de 140,8 km². El área metropolitana de Sevilla está compuesta por 46 municipios, incluye a una población de 1 535 379 habitantes (INE, 2016), y ocupa una superficie de 4905,04 km².
Su casco antiguo es el más extenso de España y el sexto más grande de toda Europa tras los de Roma, Nápoles, Venecia, Florencia y Génova, con 3,94 kilómetros cuadrados, y su casco histórico uno de los más grandes de España (nótese la diferencia entre casco antiguo, que solo incluye la zona histórica anterior a la Revolución Industrial, y casco histórico, que abarca estadios posteriores). Su patrimonio histórico y monumental y sus diversos espacios escénicos y culturales la constituyen en ciudad receptora de turismo nacional e internacional, en efecto se trata de la tercera capital más visitada de España, tras Barcelona y Madrid.11 Entre sus monumentos más representativos se encuentran la catedral (que incluye la Giralda), el Alcázar, el Archivo de Indias y la Torre del Oro, de los que los tres primeros han sido declarados Patrimonio de la Humanidad por la Unesco de forma conjunta en 1987.
El puerto de Sevilla, situado a unos 70 km del océano Atlántico, es el único puerto marítimo de España en una ciudad de interior, pues el río Guadalquivir es navegable desde su desembocadura en Sanlúcar de Barrameda hasta la capital hispalense, aunque el tamaño de los barcos que acceden a la ciudad está limitado por una esclusa con un calado máximo de 8,5 m y el puente de circunvalación del Centenario que limita el calado aéreo a 42 m.
Sevilla dispone de una red desarrollada de transporte por carretera y ferrocarril, así como de un aeropuerto internacional. Es destacable la presencia histórica de la industria aeronáutica en la ciudad, así como de la industria militar.
Con la celebración de la Exposición Iberoamericana de 1929, la ciudad experimentó un gran desarrollo urbanístico marcado por la creación de parques y la construcción de edificios proyectados para dicho acontecimiento, como el parque de María Luisa o la plaza de España. La Exposición Universal de 1992 dejó como legado en la ciudad una importante mejora de la infraestructura, principalmente en las comunicaciones terrestres y aeronáuticas, entre las que destaca el acceso ferroviario del AVE a la estación de Santa Justa. Asimismo, el área de la Expo de 1992 se adaptó como sede del Parque Tecnológico Cartuja 93, sedes de la Universidad de Sevilla y el parque temático y de ocio Isla Mágica.
En 2014 se llevaron a cabo importantes proyectos en la ciudad, como la Torre Cajasol, el proyecto del Puerto Delicias o el Acuario Nuevo Mundo, algunos de ellos objeto de polémica debido a su posible impacto visual.
La Universidad de Sevilla, fundada en 1505, tiene más de 65 000 estudiantes. Asimismo, la Universidad Pablo de Olavide, cuenta más de 10 000 estudiantes. Son miles los estudiantes extranjeros que se matriculan en los programas Erasmus y cursos de español en la Universidad de Sevilla, que en 2006 fue una de las diez más visitadas de Europa junto con otras ocho universidades españolas.
Sevilla ha despertado desde antiguo, y especialmente durante la época del Romanticismo, la evocación de los artistas europeos, que ven en ella un lugar pintoresco y maravilloso. Tras los últimos estudios, se ha llegado a identificar un total de 150 óperas ambientadas en esta ciudad, como La fuerza del destino, Carmen, El barbero de Sevilla, Don Giovanni o Las bodas de Fígaro.
Seville (/səˈvɪl/; Spanish: Sevilla [seˈβiʎa]) is a Spanish city, the capital of the autonomous community of Andalusia and the province of Seville. It is situated on the lower reaches of the Guadalquivir River, in the southwest of the Iberian Peninsula. Seville has a municipal population of about 690,000 as of 2016, and a metropolitan population of about 1.5 million, making it the largest city in Andalusia, the fourth-largest city in Spain and the 30th most populous municipality in the European Union. Its Old Town, with an area of 4 square kilometres (2 sq mi), contains three UNESCO World Heritage Sites: the Alcázar palace complex, the Cathedral and the General Archive of the Indies. The Seville harbour, located about 80 kilometres (50 miles) from the Atlantic Ocean, is the only river port in Spain. Seville experiences high temperatures in the Summer, with daily maximums routinely above 35 °C (95 °F) in July and August.
Seville was founded as the Roman city of Hispalis. It became known as Ishbiliyya after the Muslim conquest in 712. During the Muslim rule in Spain, Seville came under the jurisdiction of the Caliphate of Córdoba before becoming the independent Taifa of Seville; later it was ruled by the Muslim Almoravids and the Almohads until finally being incorporated into the Christian Kingdom of Castile under Ferdinand III in 1248. After the discovery of the Americas, Seville became one of the economic centres of the Spanish Empire as its port monopolised the trans-oceanic trade and the Casa de Contratación (House of Trade) wielded its power, opening a Golden Age of arts and literature. In 1519, Ferdinand Magellan departed from Seville for the first circumnavigation of the Earth. Coinciding with the Baroque period of European history, the 17th century in Seville represented the most brilliant flowering of the city's culture; then began a gradual economic and demographic decline as silting in the Guadalquivir forced the trade monopoly to relocate to the nearby port of Cádiz.
The 20th century in Seville saw the tribulations of the Spanish Civil War, decisive cultural milestones such as the Ibero-American Exposition of 1929 and Expo '92, and the city's election as the capital of the Autonomous Community of Andalusia.
I sat on my back porch watching a humming bird contend with a yellow jacket. It occurred to me that this was like me being confronted with a timber wolf wielding a poisonous sword.
Some of the folks in that appear in the "Grand" family album. Check out the sistah with the baseball bat. Do not mess with her...she is wielding even bigger things in another picture.
So Val'more recently released a brand new coat that I just had to get my hands on. Was able to resist buying it just as much as I was when I saw the 1911 Operator's that SSOC had also released a bit ago! Thank you guys!
An evening excursion towards the Harrogate area wielded some reasonably interesting shots. Wrongly or rightly, I've gone for this as the project pic.
Was filming stormy sea when this crew started to bank towards me. Wielding 200-600mm lens I started trying to track with them and ended up with this imperfect shot which I really like even though technically it’s not good. I would have to have others thoughts on it.
The space,
fluid and dynamic,
where water and earth
conspire
to rearrange each other
intimately, lovingly?, cooperatively
in their separate powers
wielded like hand-holding adventures
and affairs.
One cradles.
One caresses.
Water crawls and scoops
Collecting
not only itself
but earth, too,
scattering what it devours
within its own
concealed body
of blood particles
while inscribing the jacket
of its co-authored text.
Land restrains.
It doesn’t tolerate
freedom
in form or function
giving arc to a narrative
told,
unfolded,
spun and scattered
by ebb and flow
inhale and exhale
of earth’s
praxis
not co-opted
by theories
of economy.
In the furthest recess of her mind, Violette knew that it was Dahlia’s hand that wielded the cleaver... Dahlia’s hand that spilled all that blood. She wanted Violette to be a mannequin like her... and Violette wanted to please Dahlia so much that she let it happen, without a scream, without a sound. Her obsession <3
~
Pullip Seila wearing DollyChan
Warrior Angels in their natural form resemble well-built men and woman dressed in the armor typical of ancient heroes, and wielding a spear and type of sword associated with an long-gone empire. They often wear helmets of similarly ancient design, and bear shields emblazoned with holy symbols. A Warrior Angel possesses a pair of great, eagle-like wings. The head of the Angel is constantly surrounded by a nimbus of golden light, which persists even if one wears a helmet. Warrior Angels will often assume human form, appearing as a noble Knight or Dame on a white horse.
Always loved Warrior Angels, their roles so various, their strength unmatched, and so very sexy. I want to be a Warrior Angel when I grow up! LOL
The NWS designating a marginal risk for severe activity across Northern Illinois wielded a temperature of 50 degrees, 30mph winds, and excessive rain. Standing out in it had me reflecting on my life choices to that point until I saw the headlight pop up on the horizon.
LPG04 with 3 boxcars ducks under the coaling tower at Nelson with UP 1454
In my day the only AI I knew was "Artificial Insemination"....for cows. Now it stands for bullshit stories.
Now, Strontian’s a quiet enough wee place, tucked between the mountains and the loch, where the mist rolls down like a sigh from the hills. But it wasn’t quiet the weekend Brad the Bull took the huff.
Brad was a grand beast — black as peat, broad as a boat, and with a temper that could curdle cream. He belonged to Maureen MacGuinness, crofter, knitter of questionable jumpers, and wielder of words that could melt the varnish off a church pew. For years, Brad had strutted about Maureen’s croft like he was king of Ardgour itself — and maybe he was, in his own hooved head.
But one spring morning, the livestock inspector came round with a clipboard and a smirk and said,
“Maureen, regulations are regulations. Brad’s not to sire any more calves this season. Something about... lineage management.”
Well, Maureen took it in stride — but Brad didn’t. His great shaggy head drooped, his horns glinted with indignation, and his bellow echoed off the braes like thunder looking for trouble. Before anyone could stop him, he’d turned tail and stomped off into the Ariundle oakwoods, breaking a fence or three just to make a point.
Maureen, standing by the river with her apron flapping in the wind, cupped her hands and shouted up the glen:
“Brad MacBovidae, you stubborn lump of muscle! If you don’t come home by seven o’clock tonight, I’ll turn you to granite and moss, so help me!”
Now, anyone else might’ve thought twice — Maureen was known to dabble in what she called “practical enchantment” (and what others called “odd things with peat ash and moonlight”). But Brad? He just snorted. He was a bull, after all. What did bulls care for witchy words and bedtime threats?
So he wandered deeper into the woods, grumbling to himself about injustice and cows and the general unfairness of human meddling. The oaks closed around him, whispering secrets older than crofting itself. Evening came, the sun bled gold over the loch, and Maureen’s words began to hum in the air like midges at dusk.
At exactly seven o’clock — give or take a moo — the forest went still. A wind rose, strange and low, and Brad froze mid-step, his eyes wide, his breath caught. His hooves rooted into the earth. His hide turned cold and hard. Moss crept over him, soft and green. By dawn, where once stood the proudest bull in Lochaber, there was only a shape of stone — proud, defiant, and staring forever toward the hills he’d never climb.
Locals still point him out on walks through Ariundle, half-hidden among the oaks, his horns like grey crescents in the lichen. Some say if you stand there at sunset, you can still hear him snort — a gust of wind through moss and myth.
And so, when the old wives tell their tales by the fire, they always end with a wink and a warning:
“Mind your manners and your Maureens, or you’ll end up like Brad the Bull — too proud to listen, and too stony to complain. Do you see him, covered in moss on the left?
Gradually I became aware that Ali was leaning forward, peering at me from her position on the other side of the sofa. Then her eyes flickered back to the television, so I followed her gaze. And if you’ve been working non stop for the last forty odd years and were wondering (Ok, you probably weren’t, but run with it) whether daytime TV had improved since Eamonn Holmes was a fresh faced tea boy in the staff canteen, well, erm no, things are no better in today’s balm of mediocrity on the screen in the corner of the living room. It seemed that the latest piece of breakfast attention deficit filler had caught Ali’s attention. A crack team of hungover students with no essays to hand in until next Tuesday had apparently used the latest artificial intelligence software to create a portrait of what they declared to be the archetypal love rat. Quite how they’d done this was of about as much interest to me as it was of use to anyone else in the world, but what did rather surprise me was that the picture on the screen could have been my twin brother. Ok, perhaps my twenty years younger twin brother, but the resemblance was quite striking.
Whether this bombshell was about to change Ali’s view on our relationship remained to be discovered, so I shrunk ever so slightly in my half of the sofa and went back to examining the 3D map of the south west coast of Ireland on Google Earth, looking for interesting sea stacks in remote places. Just as all love rats surely do - in their coffee stained pyjamas at eleven in the morning. Sometimes it’s more than enough work maintaining one significant other in your life. All of that deceit seems like an awful lot of effort to me. I’d fall at the first hurdle and get my burner phones mixed up. And frankly, when you get to an age of ahem cough, you’re lucky to have one person out there who still loves you. Well she says she does anyway. Even though she’s had a tracker fitted to my car now. I consoled myself in the knowledge that half the men in the country of my current demographic look very similar to me. Quite frankly I have neither the energy nor the guile to enter a life of duplicity, so I reassured her that there was no need for alarm. At least not until the day Louise Redknapp comes knocking on the front door asking whether anyone in the house can teach her about seascape photography, that is.
So in the full knowledge that my car was under hourly surveillance, I headed out in my other vehicle, a low slung rakish sports model with a soft top, I mean an elderly red mud spattered van, and set off for the woods. It was a perfect day for the woods. Not much chance of bumping into anyone there today - I’m really not helping myself here am I? - but with a soft misty rain filling the still grey sky, here was an opportunity to try the contents of the package that had landed on the doorstep while we were on holiday in Menorca. And if you’re still dwelling on the first paragraph, no it wasn’t a bucket of Lynx Africa, guaranteed to make angels fall from the sky. It was a new filter that I’d decided to add to the armoury to try on a grungy day in the forest. With a firm intention not to meet anyone at all - including unattached ladies - I arrived at an almost completely deserted Ladock Wood, a few miles on the other side of Truro, nodded to an elderly man who appeared to have forgotten what he was doing here, said hello to a couple walking back towards the car park in the company of a very nervous looking poodle, and disappeared into the canopy, where I saw not a single soul for more than two hours.
If any wandering female with amorous intentions had decided this was the place for an assignation with a tall dark and handsome stranger, she’d have been disappointed to discover the only person in the forest was a short, balding middle aged love rat-alike, wearing a pair of sludge covered wellies, looking confused and ferreting about his backpack only to produce a circular piece of smoked glass instead of a bunch of red roses and vouchers for an all you can eat breakfast at Smokey Joe’s. She might have been equally dismayed to discover that instead of angels falling, his “bouquet” was rather more likely to have them turning pale and passing out. I think it’s fair to surmise that this wasn’t really the place for funny business. Not unless you count standing in the rain taking pictures of trees as funny business that is.
So hopefully you’re now assured that despite looking like several male members of the cast of Eastenders, which last time I watched it appeared to be a love rat merry go round, I’m not really the type for furtive shenanigans in the forest. At least not unless Louise Redknapp suddenly makes an appearance wielding a bag full of camera equipment and demanding tuition, which I accept is quite unlikely. It was difficult enough trying to find the stand of Alder trees that had caught my eye three years ago. When I did eventually stumble across them, I discounted them almost immediately. But I did like this grouping. The black mist filter did too. I wonder if those boozy science students have ever tried to create an AI photofit of an oddball in the woods. I’d probably look like him too. Mind you, don’t all photo fits look a bit like the oddball in the woods rather than the ageing Lothario?
Thought I'd wield the macro lens for half an hour or so in the garden the other day and came across a butterfly trying to break into the greenhouse.
I played with the Sun-Halo shot previously... added an image of me wielding a toy.. hope u like it.
Halo is real (as shown previously), man image real ( PP-ed to make it look like a silhouette).
Think sword-wielding heroes engaged in exciting and violent adventures. Elements of romance, magic, and the supernatural are also often present. The focus is on personal battles rather than world-endangering matters. Almost all heroes in these stories have moral dilemmas and many have to break their own morals to save the day.
Stories can range from post apocalyptic, to medieval fantasy, to the age of dinosaurs, to a far off futuristic world. All elements include fantasy, magic, sword fighting, and epic heroes on a quest.
Guidelines....
1. Please enter your pictures based on the theme, SWORD AND SORCERY
2. You may submit up to 2 pictures
3. Pictures may be raw, edited or photoshopped
4. No nudity allowed (no private parts showing or sexual acts)
5. Please submit pictures by 11:59pm SL time on Saturday, March 4
6. Submit to the Flickr group link below (labeled "contest entry"):
www.flickr.com/groups/swordandsorcery/
**PLEASE REMEMBER TO LABEL PICTURE "CONTEST ENTRY"**
7. Winners will be chosen based on originality, creativity and staying within the theme of the contest
PRIZES FOR ....
1ST PLACE: 5000L
2ND PLACE 3000L
3RD PLACE 1000L
The winning pictures will be displayed at The Lost Unicorn Gallery.
Enjoy :)
It thrills me to conceptualize visually things that exist only in my perception. Inevitably this leads down some dark and lonely metaphorical roads. Literally, desolation is a key ingredient. I spend much of my creative time with the camera exploring very lonely places. It heightens situational awareness and makes me keenly aware of the nuance of the environment. There's an element of risk as times. I don't actively pursue it, but thrill to the sense of adventure that ensues when the adrenaline kicks in. Makes me feel very alive. Anyway I'm off on another tangent here. My point is conceptualization of imagination. And a springboard for that is the feeling of an unseen presence I often feel around crop fields. There's some sort of energy there to be sure. Not something that can be gauged on a scientific basis, but we're talking about my mind here, and anything goes. Since childhood I've fantasized about apparitions that exist on one plane that momentarily become visible in our realm. Wraithlike female forms is one of my favorite incarnations. I prefer my terror in beautiful forms that somehow coexist with nature. More subtle than a chainsaw wielding monster, but every bit as terrifying.
CPKC 2-411-28 wields 15k tons and 11,200 feet of train outta Moose Jaw after 6 hours of work in C yard. The crew is desperate to make their 10 hours into Swift Current with a little RTC help, but as they climb out of Chaplin, CP 7014 and the middle distributed KCM 4078 are struggling to pull 25 mph on an FTO-free crank into Notch 8.
The grade and size of train is well visualized here as they approach Ernfold East, with the last cut of tanks emerging into view, noticeably at a lower elevation than the head-end foreground.
On the Thames river, there is a flock of very lucky swans and ducks. All the children save their old bread for an excursion to the river. Feeding the swans has been a favorite Phoebe activity since she was born. In the past, I would do all the feeding. Now she's tossing the bread and I get to wield the camera. HFF all...
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Wealth is power. With wealth many things are possible.
George Clason
Power is not all bad, if wielded properly, you can change the world for the better. It gets a bad name from those who abuse it.
For those who may think power is bad, remember the power of Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Princess Diana, and others who sought to bring positive changes to the world.
Wielding a sword is one of Kirby’s copy abilities and is perhaps one of his most iconic powers. Sword Kirby wears a long green hat similar to Link from the Legend of Zelda series and wields a sword.
A year ago the Force awakened in Kirby when he swallowed a jedi. Now it is time to change his appearance again and I decided to go for Sword Kirby. This also gave me the opportunity to make some changes to Kirby’s design. The major change being that the round body is now tilted backwards. Why? Because of his (future) hats! The hat looks so much better when it appears to be firmly around his head instead of lying ‘flat’ on top. I also made his feet a bit smaller and they are more embedded with the body emphasizing the roundness of Kirby. I had a blast rebuilding the pink cute fellow.
I used to think that people just went for a walk in the woods. Bill Bryson went for a walk in the woods – he walked large chunks of the Appalachian Trail with his dissolute friend Stephen Katz, in the suitably entitled “A Walk in the Woods.” Bears, hypothermia, shotgun wielding hillbillies, and most frighteningly of all, people who wanted to talk about hiking gear weren’t enough to put him off - although they frightened me a bit. I myself have twice walked pretty much the entire length of the east bank of Loch Lomond, twenty miles or more along a heavily wooded section of the West Highland Way. The most brutal section of the entire long distance trail in my opinion - but also possibly the most rewarding. Despite the occasional break through open ground where the mountains filled the backdrop to the opposite bank, I definitely felt that I was having a walk in the woods. Miles from anyone, with the exception of a few other long distance hikers gradually making their way north.
But it seems that I was wrong. Now I’ve learned that what we’ve all been doing is having a bath of sorts. We’ve been forest bathing in fact. Amble along peaceably, stop and cuddle the odd oak here and there, feel the love and then be interviewed by an outdoorsy type of celebrity for a spot on Countryfile. “Outdoorsy” didn’t cause the spellchecker to go into overdrive by the way. Who knew? I’ve always been suspicious of passing fads – terrified that I might stroll through a forest and bump into Gwyneth Paltrow hugging a Horse Chestnut or Will Young baring his soul to a Beech. But what I do find rather soothing is the sound of endless birdsong and the gentle rustle of life somewhere up in the canopy. There’s nothing quite like it. It seems I’ve been in the bath too – it’s just that I never realised that’s what I was doing. I’d better not accidentally bump into Paltrow as it seems that can turn out to be a rather expensive thing to do based on recent events.
Like many of you, each year I produce a calendar using images from the adventures of the last twelve months, and rather than simply compiling twelve shots from the September adventures in Iceland, I prefer each month to be represented by an image taken at the appropriate time. It’s not something I’ll ever be bothered to try and do commercially though, so sorry I can’t take orders – besides which yours is probably far better anyway. Just a dozen or so for family and a few close friends. A few days ago we turned over from Madeira in March to April’s feature and remembered that it’s almost a year since Ali and I took the van to the New Forest to do some forest bathing of our own. I’d forgotten how much I liked this picture. It was one that I’d intended to share at the time but somehow never did. On a still sunny afternoon, one of those when you knew that spring had truly arrived, we took a long circuit through the Ashurst Forest towards the heath, stopping here to enjoy the silence and snaffle a ration or two. Neither Paltrow nor Young appeared to be present, and nor did anyone else for that matter, famous or otherwise.
Of course I’d taken the camera with me, and the long lens did exactly what I hoped it would, eliminating the sky and blurring the background as I focused on the nearest subject. I tried a few compositions, but having the space filled with brown trunks against the yellow floor and the leading subject somewhere around the left hand third seemed the most pleasing version to me. Woodland photography is so often a struggle, but here it seemed simple enough with the regular forms before me disappearing softly into the distance, and the odd spring of fresh green growth to gatecrash the colour scheme.
And what better place to take a dip than in one of the most famous baths in the nation? Room for plenty of people to find their inner wotsit as they search around in the deep end for the soap and the loofah. A space in which to switch off and drop out for a while. Not that we were exactly over exerting ourselves in the first place of course. We’re retired and enjoying the golden years after all. But then again, there’s always another slow lane in which to ease down a gear, put up our feet and watch the rest of the world race by.
Thor, the thunder god, wields the mighty hammer Mjölnir.
His strength shakes mountains and splits the sky with lightning.
Protector of gods and humans, he stands against giants and chaos.
Thunder follows his chariot as it races across the heavens.
In storm and battle, Thor is the embodiment of raw, unstoppable power.
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OCT 21th - NOV 11th
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Face Mask: HEIKE x Sabbath- ☆Occult Mask☆ -Hud to change color-
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Bloody mouth: Sacrilege x Sabbath- ☆Starved☆ -BOM-
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RFAMs CM3302 and CM3306 scream through Tahmoor on QUBE 3SM7 bound for Melbourne. QUBE recently stopped operating the SM7/MS7 cement trains and has now began intermodels out of Moorebank terminal, wielding similar consists to the former service.
20/12/22
I like this. I like the detail on the slab of earth up front. You can't tell, but I'm wielding a rounders bat.
I think it is obvious what I was trying to achieve :)
This by far was the hardest PS work i've ever done. I'm not the best at image editting and I struggle to make PS'd images look real.
It was hard to balance the tone on the fingers with my arm, as my arm seems to have a yellow tinge. Perhaps I should see a doctor about that :S
In the time before the Toa, before the Mask Makers had their falling out, Lothar protected the region of Earth from dark forces that threatened its inhabitants. Wielding a club composed of rock and iron melted together and possessing the ability to fire a beam of concentrated light out of his eye, nothing stood in his path for long. When Ekimu fell into his deep sleep, Lothar fell dormant as well. Centuries passed and now he is only a myth to the citizens of Okoto, but he is still deep underground in the caverns of Okoto, waiting for Ekimu's word to rise again.
Oh, this is also my entry to the November Flickr Contest.
Photo. Industrial tools to wield hot iron bars in a profile, here railway rails. Tens of rollers behind each other will together do the trick, each one giving more shape to the product.
Since Bunkyo Civic Centre was closed, a last minute decision to head to the i-link Town Observatory in Ichikawa turned out incredibly well with clear skies for the evening and the setting sun intersecting Tokyo Skytree from this viewpoint.
The vantage point from this observatory offers panoramic views of both Mt Fuji and different landmarks in Tokyo - you can see the silhouettes of Yoyogi Tower and the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building in this frame (along with a few other iconic buildings as well).
We reached the observation deck early and managed to secure a good corner spot to frame our shots before the evening crowd came in. As it was a clear day, we had many local photographers joining us as well, and they all seem to have planned for this shot too - many of them wielding dual camera setups to avoid missing a key moment.
Despite being an enclosed area, it was still cold and windy as the roof allowed wind from the outside to pass through, so keeping our setups stable especially with long lenses was problematic. It was still worth all the trouble though, for this angle that we didn't plan for!
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But... but there are...
Yes, I know - but they've got an axe. You don't say no to axe wielding vikings.
Toy Project Day 3521
Hey all!
Here is my entry for round 5 of The Tourney!
The category for this round is:
Mage battle:
Mages are well-known and oft mysterious wielders of magical might. Sometimes, however, these wise benefactors of knowledge don’t get along so well. Show an all-out battle between two users of the mystic arts. The landscaping is up to you, but the more crazy and mystical the overall build looks the better!
I decided to go for a battle between a fire mage and an ice mage, where the ice mage came too close to the house of the fire mage... And that doesnt go 'too well'.
I'm quite happy with how this turned out in a week time, but if I had some more hours, I still would change some stuff.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the build, and I wish you a good weekend!
Jaap
Comments are appreciated!
As the war raged on, the Protectorate sought to gain an upper hand on the advanced Cygnarian warjacks by producing new and improved heavy warjacks such as the crusader and castigator. Marching forth from secret depots, these new warjacks fought alongside the Protectorate's knights and flameguards to great effect, wielding powerful weapons with the devastating force bequeathed upon them by their warcasters.
High exemplar and "Crusader" heavy warjack.
Backstory and warjack general design are both from the warmachine universe. I took liberties with the design of the warjack. Thanks for looking!
Russia, Moscow, Ilyinsky Gate Square
A guy wielding a telescopic rod cleans a window on the third floor while on the ground.
Was intended to be wielded by CSC-3 Black Edition (he's black-gray now, not black-yellow as before; his W.I.P. lies in the background of the pic.) in one of his equipments loads (he's gonna have several ones), but I'm not sure about it yet. Maybe, I'll save this concept and make a wingy guy, that will have a possibility to merge his wings as shield, kinda (since this shield, basically, looks like folded wings).
I got my 'Ardsuit back from Kevin! :-D
I've only slightly changed it, I added an ammo chain to the shoulder cannon and added a wire to it too. I also gave him a minigun, which turned out waaaaay too big and heavy, but it looks so hilarious! :-P
Chapter: Beauty as a Prize or a Power?
Why, oh why, must beauty be a gilded cage, a prize to be possessed rather than a power to wield?
The allure hangs heavy, a siren song that draws countless moths to the flame. They yearn to own it, to claim it as theirs, but how many truly seek to understand the soul beneath the shimmering surface?
(Silence)
They keep asking the same question:
" You're beautiful, I wanna know what kind of man is worthy of your body and effort? "
What kind of man would she surrender to? A man who craves ownership? No. The question, a bitter echo, transforms: What kind of man would make her spirit soar? Whose presence would ignite a happiness that burns brighter than any fleeting admiration?
What purpose serves the relentless effort poured into eyes that hold no true appreciation?
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The question echoes:
" You're beautiful, I wanna know what kind of man is worthy of your body and effort? "
S: " If beauty truly holds power, a smart woman wouldn't be inclined to use it in dedicated service to others. Instead, she would use it to receive effort and devotion from them.
Beauty, when wielded wisely, becomes a force of empowerment rather than a trophy for possession... 💕"
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KOKOS - EARRING ROKITI - Gauged XL/S
KOKOS - HUD - EARRING ROKITI - Gauged XL Ears (EXTRA)
KOKOS
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/MoonLand/148/54/31 add extra hud
I sat on my back porch watching a humming bird contend with a yellow jacket. It occurred to me that this was like me being confronted with a timber wolf wielding a poisonous sword.
The monkey wields an incredibly heavy, special igneous rock, lifting it high above its head. 3 of 6 shots.
My grandson’s imagination has turned this stick into a hammer, which he was energetically using to pound something.
"I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!
Go back to the shadow!
You Shall not pass"
My entry for the MELO and the 12x12 category for the Summer Joust.
It's the scene Gandalf is fighting the balrog midair in Khazad-dûm.
The partly made Balrog is inspired by Jonas Kramm's Balrog.