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A stick cracked to my left, sounding like a deafening yell in the serene silence of the forest.
I stopped, holding absolutely still, and was rewarded with the heart-warming sight of a doe and her calf making their way through the woods.
Smiling, I continued on my way after they passed, heading more or less in the vague direction of Durrough.
I had ditched the wagon several miles and two nights back, after coming to the realization that if someone was hunting me, it probably wasn’t the best idea to travel out in the open, driving a conspicuous wagon. Now, I was on foot, going through some of the more difficult, less traveled paths through the eastern-most portion of the Wandering Woods. It would take longer to reach my destination, but it would also draw less attention to myself, thus making it worth the longer journey.
Squaring my shoulders, I forged onwards.
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The next morning,
I awoke to something sharp jabbing into my back from beneath my bedroll. Groaning, I rolled over, and extracted……a rock.
Muttering in disgust, I threw the rock aside, and groggily disentangled myself from my cloak, which had been serving as my blanket, climbing to my feet with an audible cracking of joints.
“Well,” I said to no-one in particular, “Time to start the day I guess.”
I had killed a small rabbit with my crossbow last night, and I cooked him up now, along with a few edible greens I found near my campsite.
After breakfast, I packed up my bedroll, checked to make sure I still had that sealed letter, gathered my things, and kicked out the fire.
Then, I headed off in the same direction as yesterday. I estimated I only had another day at most before I reached Durrough. Fortified by this, (as well as that rabbit), I set off for another day of hiking.
Little did I know today was not going to be like the days before it.
————————————
A few hours later, I stopped for a rest, and possibly lunch, if I could find some game large enough to make a meal out of.
Making sure my crossbow was loaded, I began to stealthily advance through the woods, keeping a sharp eye out for prey. I spotted a couple of squirrels, but neither one was large enough to warrant taking a shot at.
Watching the second one run off, I detected movement out of the corner of my eye. Moving slowly, so as not to scare whatever it was, I turned towards the spot I saw movement from.
Expecting to find a deer, or even better, a wild hog, I was shocked to discover it was a BEAR!
I froze. The bear was staring right at me, not moving either.
As the seconds dragged on in our stand-off, I realized this wasn’t just any bear, it was a grizzly bear!
And to make matters worse, it was a very hungry-looking grizzly bear.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the bear, I began to slowly back away, taking micro-steps so as not to startle it into action. After a few steps, the bear began to move forward, as I moved back.
That was definitely not what I wanted the bear to do, and I realized this was not going to end peacefully.
Just as I was coming to this conclusion, the bear charged.
Given less then a second to react, I dropped and rolled to the side, feeling a rush of air as the bear breezed by. Rolling to my feet, I saw the bear stop and start to turn around, for another go at me. Pre-empting this, I turned and ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, hearing the bear charging up behind me.
Now, I know that everyone says the stupidest thing you can do when facing a bear is run, but A; not everyone is me, and B; I wasn’t trying to outrun the bear, I just needed a few seconds to get my shot, pardon the pun.
As I ran, I checked hastily that my crossbow was still loaded, and, finding it was, judged that the bear was too caught up in chasing me to slow down or avoid this, whipped around, bringing the crossbow to my shoulder, sighted, and pulled the trigger.
The bolt flew seemingly in slow motion, as the bear charged at me, straight into the grizzly’s right eye, killing him instantly.
The bear’s momentum kept his body moving forward, even as it started to hit the ground, forcing me to quickly step to the side, to avoid getting pinned as the corpse slid to a stop where I had been standing moments before.
I staggered against a nearby tree, sliding to the ground with my back against the trunk, staring at the bear’s corpse, feeling the adrenaline from my near-death experience pumping through my veins, and my breath coming in ragged bursts.
It was then, sitting on forest floor, waiting for my body to clam down, that the sound of rushing water penetrated my senses. I got up, and, turning around, surveyed my surroundings, which I hadn’t even registered yet.
My jaw dropped.
Hardly believing my eyes, I stepped out of the tree line.
I was on the bank of a river, that forked around the spit of land I was standing on. Both ends of the river wound away through the trees.
Directly across from me was the source of this river;
A magnificent (although not very large) waterfall, pouring majestically down the side of sheer rock face. The sound of it filled the air, which was the sound I had noticed minutes ago.
The rock face the waterfall poured over continued beyond to the right, slowly curving outward.
A huge old oak tree grew near this face, on the opposite bank. Over on my side, a large pile of boulders sat jumbled to my right, a tree growing up from their midst.
The whole area was overflowing with bright colors and abundant flora and fauna.
Looking around, I felt at peace for the first time in several days.
Putting down my crossbow, I flopped in the grass with a grateful sigh, content just to lay there in the soft grass for awhile.
As I lay there, I tried to come up with a suitable name for this hidden gem of the forest. Nothing I tried sounded right, and it wasn’t until I sat up and took another look at the place that the perfect name popped into my head.
“Heaven’s Lagoon,” I said out loud, trying it out. It fit perfectly.
It was then, as I was sitting there, enjoying the feeling of having this beautiful place all to myself, plus the fact I had just named it, when I noticed something I had missed before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there before, because I never missed anything.
Almost directly across from me was a cave.
As I stared at it, trying to figure out why I hadn’t seen it the first time I looked over there, I began to feel a strange sensation. It felt like the cave was calling to me, inviting and drawing me in.
That should have been more than enough warning to not go in the cave, but I had never been able to resist something like this.
So, curiosity getting the better of me, I got up, picking up my crossbow on the way, and moved to the edge of the bank, looking for a way across.
Finding it, I went over to the boulder pile, climbed up on the largest one, and, balancing carefully, hopped to a rock in the middle of the river, then over to the far bank, right in front of the cave.
Having reached my goal, I stopped to examine the cave opening. It was a little over six feet high, irregularly shaped. Other than that, there was nothing to suggest it was anything other then a normal cave. Anything besides that the tugging feeling in my gut had gotten stronger.
Fashioning a makeshift torch from a tree branch and some spare cloth I kept in a pocket, I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Instantly I was hit with a prickling sensation, a magic ward being tripped.
Damn, I thought, and then the cave walls disappeared.
————————
I am standing in the middle of a glade, surrounded by ages-old oak trees. A gentle breeze blows through, swirling leaves around, and tousling my hair. The afternoon sun shines down through the leaves, casting a golden light over everything. It would be the perfect day, if it weren’t for what I knew was about to happen.
Across the glade from me, shock mixed with horror etched on his face, stands my best friend, Trevor Mortlen. He has a hunting spear in one hand, as do I. Mine has the blood of a deer on the tip.
“S-Skye,” the other says, “What-how?”
At first, I am not quite sure what he is trying to say, then it dawns on me: He saw what I did, how I drew the spear back to me from the deer, twelve feet away, clear across the glade.
“Trevor,” I say calmly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes, “There’s something I’ve never told you about myself. I think it’s time I rectified that.”
I see the the hurt and fear in his eyes.
“I’m sorry Skye, but it’s too late for that. You’re not who I thought you were.” The other says, and begins to back away.
Panic starts to take told of me. I know how this ends. I know because I have relived this moment in my mind so many times, always trying to find an ending different than the one I know is about to happen, never being successful.
“Trevor,” I hear myself say, “Please, you must listen to me. It’s not what you think. I can explain everything, if you just let me.”
My plea falls on deaf ears.
“I’m sorry Skye,” he says again. “I don’t trust you anymore. You’re not someone who should be free to cause harm.”
Each word is like a dagger to my heart. I can barely believe what I’m hearing. This couldn’t be my Trev, the very best friend I had in this world. The person who meant so much to me.
“Please, “ I begged, tears beginning to blur my vision, “Trev, don’t do this.”
He looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“I don’t want to. But I have to. I don’t know you anymore Skye.” And he turned away, heading out of the glade, bound for the sheriff’s office in our village.
I was torn apart in that moment, as Trevor turned his back on me. I knew if he reached the sheriff, my life, my parent’s life, maybe even my cousin’s lives, would be ruined, if not over completely.
There was only one way to stop this.
Only one way to ensure the safety of myself and my family.
Screaming my fury at the unfairness and helplessness of my situation, I throw the spear at my love’s back.
I could feel the scene beginning to change. Afraid of what I would be forced to relive next, I pushed against the memories, tearing myself free.
“NNNOOOOO!”
—————————
And then I was back in the real world, still standing in the same spot. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor.
Lifting my torch, I was able to clearly see now that the cave was man-made, probably by some old wizard with elemental powers, which would also explain the ward guarding the entrance.
Finding my mind starting to drift back to the memory that had been triggered, I forced myself to redirect, settling on the the fact that the tugging in my gut hadn’t lessened any, despite the ordeal I had just gone through.
Getting to my feet, crossbow in one hand, torch in the other, I cleared away my jumbled thoughts, and focused solely on the feeling.
It was definitely coming from deeper inside the cave, so despite my growing reservations, I allowed myself to be led into the bowels of the earth, winding downward, past branch tunnels and rooms, drawn ever deeper by the steadily increasing tugging, til' finally, I arrived at the end of the tunnel. Before me was an absolutely ancient oaken door, fastened into the rock via some very rusty iron hinges. The source of the tugging sensation was on the other side of that door, I was sure of it.
Studying the four rusty hinges, I set down my crossbow and torch, stretched out my hands, palms outward, and concentrated.
A second later, the hinges tore free of the rock and zoomed into my hands.
Smiling, I dropped the hinges on the ground, and, retrieving my torch and crossbow, kicked down the old door.
Beyond, the room inside was circular, about twelve feet in each direction, walls, floor, and roof all made of carved stone. Carved into the floor, all around the edge of the room, were strange runes, in a foreign language I didn’t understand. But that wasn’t what drew my attention the second I stepped into the room, nor was it the faded mural-like pattern scrawled across the back wall.
It was the perfectly symmetrical pedestal, placed in the exact center of the room, with a second ring of runes around it’s base.
Atop the pedestal sat………..a gleaming, perfectly polished nautilus shell.
I could instantly tell the tugging sensation was originating from the mysterious shell.
Why, I didn’t yet know.
I slowly approached the pedestal, as if in a trance, and reaching out, picked up the shell.
Instantly the tugging sensation disappeared. I turned the shell over in my hands, studying it. Other then being extra shiny, it didn’t appear any different than any other nautilus shell.
“So what caused the tugging feeling?” I asked into the silence, not really expecting an answer.
But I got one.
A faint sound became discernible in the room, and it seemed to be coming from the shell in my hand.
Lifting it to my ear cautiously, I was surprised to hear the sound of waves, mixed with the chirping of birds, (though I couldn’t tell what species they were from), along with other sounds I didn’t recognize. This close to my face, I noticed for the first time there was something different about this shell.
The stripes on the nautilus were translucent, and in the one closest to me, I could faintly see a beach, made of white sand.
I blinked, and the image was gone.
Shaking my head to clear it, thinking maybe I had imagined it, I turned away from the pedestal, placing the shell in a pocket on my belt.
It was then I realized, without the tugging feeling leading me, I had no idea where I was.
I was lost down here, in this maze of tunnels.
As this set in, my shadow flickered, and disappeared, as the room went dark.
My torch had just gone out.
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Previous Chronicle stories start here.
Volcan de Lemptégy : son exploitation n'a cessé qu'il y a peu d'années.
Visite d'un cité unique au monde, en petit train au cœur d'un volcan !
Extract from "The Evolution of Marble Extraction " On Google.
Ever since ancient times, marble has been extracted from the Apuan Alps. Carrara has been acknowledged for the exceptional quality of its white or blue-gray marble and supplied the Roman Empire for the construction of the most prestigious monuments that make the glory of Rome.
The Pantheon and the Trajan's Column in Rome are built of Carrara Marble. A famous saying of Augustus is: "I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble" ("Marmoream relinquo, quam latericiam accepi"). Many sculptures of the Renaissance (the David from Michelangelo, amongst many others) were also carved in marble blocks extracted from the Carrara’s quarry
Tarsem Singh Ji , Has His Own Farms Of SugarCane , Wheat and Rice in Hoshiarpur , Punjab but here he is making Jaggery("Gud" in Punjabi) for his family and Relatives in a Traditional way............:) It Takes a Long Process Of Around 2 - 3 Hours to produce Jaggery. From Raw Sugarcane, Pulp is extracted which is then boiled uptill it reaches a temperature of around 200 Degrees Celsius after which it starts getting thicker and finally it is laid down on the Huge Plate or a Flat Based Vessel seen right next to the vessel which is having the Yellow Syrup.
For More Info on Jaggery Check This Out : -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaggery
These are handy tools for removing small Philips over-tightened head screws that become "chewed out" during repairs.
Focus stack (76 images). Shot with two off-camera strobes (Godox AD200Pro/Godox XPro II L trigger). Flash A, bard bulb, mounted on overhead boom, bounced off 32 inch white umbrella. Flash B, round head, modified with grid, positioned above camera at 45 degree angle to subject to provide illumination on tip of tool.
Tool size approximately 110.5 mm (length). barrel dia 7.1 mm, top 16.8 mm
Shot Our Daily Challenge - theme macro tool
'During WWI the price of rubber rose dramatically. Thomas Edison, Henry Ford and Harvey Firestone were concerned with this national issue. Edison planned to discover a domestic source of rubber from a latex (a white milky sap) producing plant. The three friends formed the Edison Botanic Research Corporation in 1927 and the lab was built in 1928 to support rubber research and development.
17,000 specimens of nearly 2,200 species were planted at the Fort Myers estate. Extensive research proved goldenrod, a common weed, produced latex. Edison's 1,090th patent received was connected to his rubber research, for the process of extracting rubber from plants.
Today the Laboratory is filled with original apparatus and equipment that Edison used to conduct his rubber research, as well as the cot where Edison took "catnaps" while working in the Laboratory.'
A highly coloured finch with a bright red face and yellow wing patch. Sociable, often breeding in loose colonies, they have a delightful liquid twittering song and call. Their long fine beaks allow them to extract otherwise inaccessible seeds from thistles and teasels. Increasingly they are visiting birdtables and feeders. In winter many UK goldfinches migrate as far south as Spain.
"Require more vespene gas!"
Stay tuned on all the action by following the collaborative's group here!
Extracted from a website:
Shiroka Laka (population 850 inhabitants) is a village-museum, an architectural and ethnographic reserve, well known for its original Rhodope architectural style, musical traditions and history. The natural conditions, uncertainty prevailing in the centuries of the Ottoman rule, the national identity of the people and their economic prosperity were reflected in the architectural style of the houses that belong to the type of a "large Rhodope house". The arched bridges above Shirokolashka River and some of its tributaries add romanticism to the village. The settlement has existed since the 17th century. It is settled at the time of mass conversion to Mohammedanism of the Rhodopean population during the years of Ottoman Yoke. At first the land was inhabited by the tribe Urutzi, who later moved to the Aegean region. The hamlet of Zaevite was firstly inhabited, but later because of a landslide the population moved to the Valley of Lukovitza River, and then to the present place of Shiroka Laka. The name of the village comes from the wide delta of the river of the same name.
Way back. Late last fall, I thought I'd head west from Flanders Park north of McIntosh Lake. I headed toward the Agricultural Museum, off to the right in the distance of this shot but it's closed in the middle of the week, and winter. Is this December? These folks are not wandering out to look at sculpted shore ice like me but to finish off that extra clear weather day while it held and it was still time for exercise.
I popped over onto the low water shore where alkali deposits color the soil. I've put so much work into my other projects, I lost track of months, but then you are looking at December, a lot like January here. This scene looks pretty normal for MAC Lke. Autumn hit in a couple days after a freeze and winter awaits.
I had to ready my vehicle for the car air test to pass, tail pipe & tuneup for a couple of years. Bezos rocket passed without a check for spewing fossils into the atmosphere. Maybe if I had his money, No pay offs here. I got my ballot in the mails, filled in and delivered it to the pick up box where it was retrieved and counted like always. All without a lick of help from Texas, their absolutely incompetant governor and their multiple black holes to swallow people (women of the same DNA, immigrants) and non right-wing voters.
This is always a good spot for a walk and January was much the same as December, as was early February.
Mount Meeker, named after the old Longmont dog legged thumper, somewhat hides Long Peak itself in Rocky Mountain National Park and the Indian Peaks Divide, the stretch to the south.
Extracted from openvratsa.bg/en:
Built on the site of a small old church built in 1858, this spectacular temple, the church "St. Nicholas", is the result of a community effort. In 1865, the construction of the new church began, and the entire population of the city participated in its construction. With a lot of work and dedication, the temple was completed on July 21, 1867. An eight-sided bell tower was added to the church in 1908 and an arcade/portico was added to the north entrance in 1930. The chapel was also detached later. These additions and repairs have been made over the years, with the aim of beautifying the temple and making it more suitable for the congregation. The end result is an architectural masterpiece that exudes grandeur and beauty.
All four of my wisdom teeth were severely impacted, so all but one were bashed into tiny pieces upon extraction. Unfortunately, my anesthesia treatment was not of the full knock-me-out brand, and though I couldn't feel the pain until the last tooth, I can't eliminate the drilling noises and the furious yanking throughout the entire procedure. It was like shielding my eyes from a gory horror movie. "Is it over yet? Is it over?" Also, the anesthesia made me bawl for an entire half hour after the surgery. I don't know what menopause feels like, but I'm sure this comes close.
Nevertheless, I'm glad they're out, and I thank my friends Heather & B for being my girly movie partners for the afternoon. Currently accepting more volunteers to hand-deliver ice cream this way. Ha ha.
PS. Tylenol 3s are the best invention in the world, next to profiteroles, tiramisu, and boys who wear sweaters over button-up shirts. Just saying.
“Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.”
John Muir
texture thanks to texture time by Evelyn Flint.
Following a night raid in Chalang Valley, Stalker-23 extracting a TF-Hasta chalk (Falchion-3) and a DEVGRU element (Neptune-9) was hit by enemy anti-aircraft fire and crash landed. With multiple enemies converged at the crash site, the chalk commander immediately organized an all-around defence to repel enemies and stabilized the casualties.
Team-7 (callsign Osprey) on board of two Pave Hawks was returning to base when they heard that the helicopter was shot down by an enemy anti-aircraft technical. They immediately returned back to the AO to assist. The Pave Hawks inserted the team 7 a few kilometres from the crash site just outside anti-aircraft gun range. Senior Chief Mackenzie and his 6-man team (callsign Osprey-B) setup a support-by-fire to overwatch while the assault element (callsign Osprey-A) got ready to assault the enemy technical.
“Osprey-A, this is Osprey-B, we are set.”
“Osprey-B, this is Alpha. Solid copy. We are making our we to the technical now.”
To be continued...
Note: The story, all names, characters, and incidents are fictitious.
Spanish Marines Corps
"Diablo" Squad tasked with the capturing of VIP code name "Hector".
---
Location: Unknown Town located in East Morocca
Time: 11:38 PM
Date: 26th October
---
"//: "Kingpin this is 1-7. We are at "Cuba House" now and ready to breach. Repeat rules of engagement?"
///: "Shoot to kill permission granted on tangos but VIP code name "Hector" is secure and extract. You´ve got a 20 minute window to get to LZ in the outskirts of the city. OWGU will probably be patrolling the streets so go from house to house if needed"
//: "Acknowledged Kingpin. Phantom out"
---
1: "Allright listen up. Shoot to kill permission granted upon regular tangos but VIP code name "Hector" is to be secured and extracted. Allright. Breaching in 3..2..1"
*BANG*
2: "Go go go go!"
4: "Tango by the stairs"
3: "Kill confirmed!"
1: "Two guys coming out of the door"
4: "Tangos down"
2: "Room clear. No sign of "Hector""
1: " Proceed to through the building and out of the back door"
---
/1/: "Kingpin this is Phatom. We have raided "Cuba House" and there is no sign of "Hector". Proceeding to LZ. How copy?"
/K/: "Solid copy Phantom. Chopper´s on the way now. Kingpin out"
---
2: "These guys were not locals. They were too advanced"
3: "Yeah I noticed that. What the fuck could they be?"
4: "Oh fucking hell guys! This is not good!"
2: "What is it?"
4: "I just checked their tags. They are Algerian Ground Forces"
3: "Fuck!"
2: "This could lead to a war between Spain and Algeria. We better tell Cap"
1: "Guys we gotta go now. Chopper´s headed our way"
4: "You might wanna contact Kingpin again. I checked these guys tags and they were all Algerian Ground Forces. Plus it looked like they were stocking up for World War 3. This is not looking good"
1: "Shit! There is no time for radioing now. We´ve got to tell them while in the chopper. Now move it. We are Oscar Mike!"
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Spanish Marines have been deployed into Morocca to support the rebuild of their government and to eliminate the presence of OWGU.
______________
For MC
If you´re tagged then I would like your opinion. Thanks.
Oh and Aldin: You asked for a scene and I delivered :P
Document:
Extract from a police file documenting Rosa May Billinghurst’s complaints about police brutality on 18 November 1910. Catalogue ref: MEPO 3/203
Description: In this document, suffragette Rosa May Billinghurst complains about police brutality during the Black Friday protest on 18 November 1910, in which around 300 suffragettes marched to the Houses of Commons in protest at the failure of the Conciliation Bill. Many suffragettes and their supporters were assaulted by the police and this resulted in a massive suffragette window-smashing campaign.
Billinghurst was disabled and used crutches and a tricycle to move around. In this document, she describes how the police damaged her tricycle, bruised her arms, and moved her tricycle against her will in an attempt to stop her from protesting.
Note: This document contains language about violence that may be uncomfortable.
Learn more about the Suffragettes in our learning resources:
- www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/suffraget...
- www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/cats-and-...
- www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/students/spotlight-...
Read a transcript of this document: www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/suffraget...
MFZ - Wasteland Scrappers - Frame - Extractor
Easy to build from readily available parts, Extractors form the core of the Wasteland Scrappers. These slow, yet solid frames have proven quite capable in neutralizing threats as necessary to remove valuable parts from harms way in the heat of battle.
Mobile Frame Zero is "a tense, tactical game of giant robot squad battle!". It is a tabletop battle game, akin to Warhammer 40k or Malifaux. Players design and build their own companies of microfig-scale "Mobile Frames" and "Stations".
If you're interested, you can find its webpage here:
and a flickr group dedicated to MFZ builds here: