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David is from North Carolina and was visiting the UK to do some Tutoring at a local Art School in Stroud (Glos): rawumberstudios.com
David studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, the University of Pennsylvania and the Art Students’ League of NY. His work has been featured in publications internationally and he has exhibited his work and taught workshops throughout North America and Europe. He has produced a series of instructional videos showcasing his painting methods.
Please take time to check out the above link
We met as he was on a walkabout around Stroud, when I initially explained the ethos behind the Flickr "100 Strangers" Project. We had small talk about Covid-19 and the time I spent in the USA as a student. With hindsight I'd have liked to hear more about his upcoming work at the Art School.
David volunteered to remove the mask but I said no, it is what it is and reflects the time we are all living in.
Late-afternoon, overcast so camera set at f/4 and 1/250 sec. Auto ISO took it to 1600 so I knew I'd get a decent exposure from just the one shot, without looking at the LCD afterwards - big mistake! Downloading later, I found that, not David's fault, but he'd blinked at the wrong moment!. Made a mental note for future street portraits to always check the LCD afterwards.
Actually I quite like the anonymous feel to the photograph
David is part of my project to photograph 100 strangers (www.flickr.com/groups/100strangers)
💘 Cupid's Fault Fair 💘
February 1-20, 2022
❥ LM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS%202/123/122/2501
❥ CAM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS/220/129/2501
by ACCESS
#valentines #cupidsfault #secondlife #secondlifestyle #secondlifeavi #secondlifedecor #sl #slfashion #secondlifefashion #accessevent #access #accesssl
==Blackgate Prison==
After The Sandstorm
"Name?" the guard called out.
The inmate, a bearded, tattooed man in his mid to late 60s, looked up. "Gaige," he replied in a low whisper.
"And... Your first name?" the guard asked tiredly.
"Just Gaige," the inmate repeated firmly.
The guard shrugged. 'Fair enough.' He'd dealt with enough wack jobs in his time here, he wasn't planning on starting a fight with some pretentious pensioner. He checked his register, and finding Gaige's name, nodded. "Alright, Madonna, you're in C-Block. Gary here'll show you to your cell," he said disinterestedly, as a second guard walked Gaige off.
That night, sitting in his cell alone, the doctor ripped the left sleeve off of his jumpsuit, and wrapped the fabric around his forehead like a mask.
~-~
It wasn't long before his reputation gained him some unwelcome attention; the day he was released into general population, Gaige was sat in the cafeteria by himself, chewing on a mouthful of dry tuna. Midway through his pitiful meal, a pair of inmates approached him. The leader, a man in his mid forties with short brown hair and an eyepatch, nudged Gaige on the shoulder. Harlan Combs. The other, an Elvis lookalike, with tall, greasy black hair, stood behind him, sneering. Johnny LaMonica. Both were former flunkies for Danto Twag.
"Hey, little fish," Combs teased. "That's my seat."
Gaige sighed, resting his plastic fork on the table. "Listen, American Dad-"
"It's Firebug," Combs corrected him sternly.
Raising his mask above his eyes to get a better look at the pair, Gaige examined first Combs and then LaMonica, letting out a low sardonic chuckle. "No, it isn't. Now, back off, Fury, less you want to lose that other eye," Gaige warned, his tone shifting.
"Funny you mention that," Combs nodded sarcastically. "It was your bitch of a daughter who stabbed it out; never got the chance to thank her... But then- Then fate's delivered you into my lap..." he growled, as he gripped Gaige's shoulder even tighter. "Speaking of the little, ah, minx, there's a nasty rumour flying around here about Ra's and her. My boy Johnny was saying that the old ghoul fucked her cor-"
Without warning, Gaige shrugged off his hand, grabbed his fork and rammed it into Combs' remaining eye. He let out a pained shriek, stumbling backwards into LaMonica's arms, blood gushing down his face. LaMonica, looked back at Gaige, his face pale.
"Warned you," Gaige said, bloodied fork in hand. "Whitewashed little pricks," he muttered, as he dipped the utensil back into his pot of tuna.
"Hey," LaMonica shuddered, putting his hands in the air. "I got no beef with you, ese."
"Oho, I'll have what he's having," another inmate, a young man with dirty blonde hair, joked, as he watched LaMonica drag Combs away. "Kidding. Kidding," he added.
"It's you isn't it, The Demon Slayer?" he asked Gaige, an awed smile across his face.
He didn't respond.
"Hah, boy, yeah. 'Thought I recognised that jawline," the man continued unperturbed, as he slid in beside Gaige.
"Go away," he replied, as he gripped the still bloody fork.
The inmate shook his head disarmingly. "Woah, buddy, no need to be hostile- I mean you no harm. Honestly? I just wanted to congratulate you. I mean, Ra's Al Ghul? Wow! And with a poisoned harpoon? Gnarly stuff man, real gnarly. Heck, just the other day, Ramsay here told me that they found him with a smashed up rib cage and a sword in his chest. Fuckin' metal, man, honestly. Fair play, mate, you deserve a fucking medal." he clapped. Ramsay, the dark skinned man on the inmate's right, curled his lip.
Gaige glowered at the inmate's entourage, then rose to his feet.
"Hey, did I do something wrong or something?" The inmate asked him, a note of hurt in his voice.
"Everything," Gaige snarled definitively. "No one likes a kiss-ass."
~-~
A few days later, as Gaige entered his cell, he sniffed the air suspiciously. A familiar scent of rot and decay wafted up his nostrils, and he looked up to the source- a black clad figure sat in the rafters: A Talon.
Descending from the ceiling, it hurled a throwing star at Gaige, grazing his forehead. Distracted by his wound, the Talon grabbed his right arm from behind, pinning it around his back, the bones cracking slightly.
Incensed, Gaige used his free arm to grab the Talon by its collar, and with ferocious strength, he slung it over his shoulders into the farthest brick wall. Disoriented, the Talon dropped to its knees, unable to defend itself from Gaige's next attack. He dragged it over to the toilet, and smashed its head with the seat repeatedly. It was weaker than the ones at the manor had been, and healed slower. No doubt, Gaige deduced, a result of the recent Dionesium shortage Walker had engineered at Nanda Parbat. Which was lucky for him, as if it were at full strength, it would have decapitated him as soon as he'd entered the cell. Gaige pulled the seat back up, then pinned the Talon up against the wall.
"Demon Slayer, The Court of Owls has sentenced you to-," it started to gag.
"Yeah, I know. I fuckin' know," Gaige hissed, cutting it off, as he unsheathed its sai and ran it through its throat. The Talon gurgled as greyish blood trickled down its armour, then its arms fell down to its side, its body twitching slightly as what little life was left in it faded. "If you're still in there, be sure to tell your masters to try harder," Gaige whispered in its ear triumphant.
Nonetheless, aware that it could spring back into life at any moment, Gaige took his bedsheets, bound the Talon's limbs together and hung its body from the ceiling. 'Even if it were to resurrect itself, there'd be little it could do whilst hanging by its neck,' he reasoned. Gaige let out a heavy breath, as he slid against the wall of his cell, exhausted.
~-~
The following day, upon returning to his cell after lunch, he paused. Waiting in his newly renovated cell, was a fully stocked fish tank. Gaige raised a confused eyebrow, then tilted his head back to the entrance. Standing in the doorway, was that same blond inmate from before.
"Heard you had a visitor last night," he called out. "Pity. Still, you seemed to handle yourself pretty well. Tiger Shark." The inmate raised his arm out to Gaige, offering him a handshake. "We didn't really get to know each other earlier. My name's David," he smiled.
"I know who are, Franco," Gaige responded. "Roman Sionis' errand boy."
The boyish facade lifted, as a vicious scowl broke across Franco's face. "Not if it's Sionis who told you, you don't," he spat. "Sionis, is a moody man child who'll execute anyone that tells him no, and torture anyone that says maybe. So, fuck Roman, and anything he told you."
And then, as though nothing had happened, Franco grinned back at Gaige. "So, what do I call you? Like, what's your real name?"
"The Physician's fine," Gaige stated insistently.
"Cool... Very cool. Mysterious! So, you like it?" Franco asked, gesturing to the fishtank.
"These are saltwater fish," Gaige murmured irritably. "They're not going to last the night in this tank. "Don't try and bribe me," he advised. "I don't like suck-ups."
"Look, I know Sionis screwed you over too, buddy." Franco called after him. "He killed your assistant way back when- I know- I was the guy who cleaned that mess up. He made you work against your family- your family. Shit's not right, man.
I was the one running his drug racket whilst he was thrown in Arkham City, but what thanks did I get? Thrown off a roof by the Bat and condemned to Blackgate. Did he come to bail me out, did he, shit! And that? That's why we need each other. The mob never used to be like this, we used to communicate, work together. It was never supposed to be one sadistic dickhead calling the shots. We need to level that playing field. What do you say?"
"Meh. Incognito was a traitor," Gaige said disinterestedly, and he sauntered off.
~-~
Weeks passed, and the situation remained the same. Every few days, Franco would ask for Gaige's help, and every time, the doctor would turn him down.
Until one day, while lifting weights in the yard, Gaige looked up from the bench press as two bald men entered the rec center, recognising both immediately. "I'm just saying, it's his own damn fault; wasn't he just in rehab?" the first complained, dressed in a white onesie covered in bright dots.
"I don't care about his recreational activities, Abner, he's an integral part of my partners' plan," the second, dressed in a white cape and red robes responded tiredly.
"What's he gonna do, hop menacingly?" the Polka Dot Man asked, chuckling at the surreal image he'd conjured up in his head, as he stopped by a nearby table. "You got any of those pudding cups?" he asked the closest inmate. Then, without waiting for an answer, he snatched the plastic cup and scooped the contents into his mouth.
"It's acting up again, isn't it? Hypoglycaemia, wasn't it?" the Calendar Man inquired.
"Yeah," Krill nodded feverishly. "Gotta keep that blood sugar steady, doc says... Though, plays havoc on my spots, of course... And skurvey's a growing concern," he said, rubbing his cheeks.
"Hmph. Remind me to send you a fruit basket," Day smiled snarkily.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer cash," Krill grinned back.
"Then perhaps, you shouldn't have delayed," Day said aerily, checking his watch.
"Hey, not my fault, now is it? I've got other clients y'know," Krill was complaining. "Take that Carson guy for instance, real pain in the neck, has me camped out in a dingy apartment on Ward Avenue. And I'll tell you what's really rich- he's dying to meet you. So, yeah, sue me, I wanna know who're these big bads you're bending over to."
"Carson?" Gaige muttered under his breath, as he observed the duo, scowling at the namedrop. Ted Carson, was meant to be trapped in a demonic hellscape last he'd heard. And the world had been better for it.
"Brave heart, Abner," Day advised his counterpart. "You'll meet my partners when I deem it appropriate. And if that moron is still out there, keeping Drury occupied, we can continue unimpeded."
"Yeah, alright," Krill sniffed. "I just don't know how much more of Jumbo's homemade chilli I can take. I swear, he uses Mountain Dew or some shit, I kid you not." Trailing off mid rant, Krill glared over at Gaige. "What're you staring at, Pop-Eye?" he sneered.
"Nothing," Gaige muttered.
"Good," Krill nodded. "Good," he repeated as he followed after Day.
~-~
That afternoon, Gaige stormed over to Franco's table, a look of newfound determination upon his freshly shaven face. "I want in," he said sternly.
"Great!" Franco said, as he leapt up from the bench.
"But we do it my way."
"Sure," he shrugged, as he sat back down, trying his hardest to hide a very relieved smile. "What do you propose?"
~-~
A month later, Franco and Gaige stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, the cold autumn breeze whipping in their faces. It hadn't been hard to arrange their release from Blackgate, not once Sionis had recieved a series of DNA tests confirming what he had already assumed- Franco, was his bastard half brother.
Even so, it had taken immense pressure from his aides for Sionis to finally agree to a meeting with the pair- here, in the heart of the Penguin's criminal empire. Cobblepot's role, was arbiter, and his position as Mayor provided an air of legitimacy to proceedings.
Gaige, had reluctantly removed his mask- his past with Sionis would have otherwise stood in their way. He had instead applied heavy prosthetics to his face- few people had actually seen his full face of course, but it wasn't a risk they were willing to take.
As they approached the entrance, Franco stuck his hand out to Gaige. "This," he announced, winking back at his partner, "Is the Physician."
The closest henchman nodded to them both, then ushered them aside. "Mr Sionis does not like to be kept waiting," he said.
"Christ. They brought Ferris back?" Gaige muttered unenthusiastically, staring at the infamous, iron-masked figure sat at the table. "He is getting desperate."
"We did that man," Franco whispered assuredly. "We did that."
==Arkham Asylum. Present Day==
Batman examined a fallen piece of fabric on the ground- a striped yellow and black piece of tattered cloth not unlike the kind seen in a sports jacket.
"This way, sir."
Bruce nodded, picking it up, and placing the rolled up curiosity into a pouch on his belt. He rose to his feet, and followed the guard across a narrow walkway, stopping once the duo reached a tall metal door. The guard nodded to his two colleagues, stood at either side of it, and saw them off, as they gratefully retreated back to their posts.
The remaining guard turned his key in the lock, and the door opened with a low moan. Batman cautiously entered the room alone- the lone guard simply lingered in the doorway, anxiously. Sat in the corner of his cell, his hair unkept, his fingers bloodied, was-
"Crane."
The figure remained silent; the only noise he made was the tapping of his bony fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair. Undeterred, Batman continued, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to get a rise from him, a confession, he hoped. "You should know I spoke to Fries last week. He told me all about your missing shipment of Fearless. The one he stole from you."
Crane didn't reply.
Bruce put his hand to his chin, the cogs turning in his head, as he read Crane's body language. Every twitch, every breath told a story.
'Now,' Bruce thought, 'You and I both know your formula is useless without Dionesium. So, unless you have unearthed more Talons, that single shipment is all the Joker has. Not enough for the city wide plague you and Dent had envisioned, so it'd have to be somewhere concentrated... He'd have to have specific targets in mind; The Misfits, that's obvious, yes, but I imagine that, like me, he can't find them either... So, he doesn't know where they are now, but he does know where they're going to be, doesn't he? Or at least, where he can draw them to... But, it's not that simple though, is it? It never is. Not with you, not with Day, not with Joker. So, what's his second target? If I can only find the link between them and the Misfits, I can shut this all down.'
Crane, stared back at him defiantly, his silence unflinching.
"I wouldn't bother with him," the guard advised, glancing back at the inmate tensely. "He doesn't move, he barely eats. Hell, I'm not even sure if he sleeps, sir. He just... sits there."
Batman tilted his head back. "Any visitors?"
The guard shook his head. "None. If there were, I'd be the first to know, sir. I can give you his patient records if you want; they're signed by Doctor Arkham himself."
"No, that's not necessary," Batman replied. He looked around the cell, as though he felt he were being watched, like an invisible force was in the room with them, breathing on the back of his neck. 'No,' he repeated to himself, as he shook off the feeling and walked off down the hallway.
Crane waited until Bruce's footsteps had grown fainter and fainter and then he spoke, "He's gone," he said, seemingly to thin air. And then the guards froze in place, like a computer program had just been paused, before they vanished altogether; the sterile white walls gave way to reveal purple and green paint on every surface, and blood drenched across the floor; the cell door faded away, as did Crane's prison jumpsuit, revealing his signature Scarecrow mask and hat in its' place. And beside him, Zoom materialised. The rhythmic tapping of Billings' plastic leg against the concrete floor grew louder as finally, he entered the room dressed in his bright orange Spellbinder attire. "You think he bought it?" he said anxiously, taking a hearty gulp from a suspicious looking flask.
"Youbetter hoooooope soooooooo, Mr Billings," Zoom's voice crackled, as he snatched the flask out of his hands, a look that could almost be attributed to disgust upon his blurred face. "Oryouwill pay. Deaaaaaaaarly. Fooooooor theeeeee lessooooon tosucceed, wemustoperatein complete secrecy. Wemust ensure thaaaaaaat the Baaaaaaaatmaaaaaan cannotinterfere.
"Billings, is not the one with a case of Stockholm Syndrome towards the Batman. Joker is," Crane murmured.
Zoom's head swivelled in Crane's direction. "And yoooouuuuuuuu Scarecrow? Whatassurancedo we haaaaaaave thatyouwont betraaaaay usssssss?"
"Because," Crane said firmly, "Above all else, Mr Zolomon, I am a scientist. And I intend to see this little experiment of yours through to the end."
~-~
Batman entered the Batmobile, and put his finger against his temple. "Oracle, what are the current whereabouts of Delbert Billings?"
"Spellbinder? Alright, give me a moment" Barbara's voice replied, as she began typing into her keypad. "Ok, so, it says here that, about a month ago, he was en-route to Blackgate in the wake of another relapse. And from the sounds of things, he was barely in there 24 hours before he vanished."
"Hn," Batman grimaced, glancing back at the Asylum. "That's what I was worried about."
Frankfurt am Main, way above
Weekend challenge: Something seems not to quite
fit in here, can you find the detail?
This was all my own fault !
The first running of 4S92, 1905 Tees Dock - Mossend Intermodal, was on the evening of the 15th October 2018. So keeping an eye on its movement north I decided to head to Drem to catch a photograph of it. I was too busy keeping an eye on it on Railcam that when I had set up on the platform at Drem I had forgotten all about the last North Berwick service. Too late to move and 4S92 running early this is the result as the North Berwick service had arrived early and is sitting waiting on its booked departure time of 2337 !
380113 sits in Drem station with 2Y12, 2313 Edinburgh Waverley - North Berwick ScotRail service as 66057 speeds through Drem with 4S92 at 2336.
The only good thing about this is that all the containers where on the rear
The steep south face of the The Campsie Fells above Lennoxtown produced by the Campsie Fault Line produces some fine views and aerial shots.
Facebook Page - Getty images - 500px.com - 1x.com - Pixopolitan
Bonjour à tous, je me suis essayé l'automne dernier lors d'un séjour à Center Park à quelques photos proxy pour découvrir cette pratique. Je suis en quête du maximum de critiques possibles afin de progresser lorsque je pourrais me mettre plus sérieusement à cette pratique. Je vois déjà pas mal de défaut de mon côté mais j'aimerais avoir des avis extérieurs :) J'ai visiblement un problème de focus que je n'ai pas pu corriger à la prise de vue à main levée...
Hello everyone, I tried last autumn during a stay at Center Park few proxy photos to discover this practice. I'm looking for the maximum possible critical to progress when I could put myself more seriously to the practice. I see quite some fault on my side but I would like outside advice :) I obviously have a focus problem that I have not been able to correct at the freehand shooting ...
New Class 720 emus, for C2C, nos. 720602/720604 pass Barby Nortoft working a WCML trial run, 5Q91 Wembley-Rugby, on 1 June 2022. The same units had been on this run the previous day as well, so perhaps a fault had been identified and the units needed a further proving run?
A winding road cuts through the forest like a drawn boundary, separating two distinct worlds of light and shadow. Seen from above, the landscape becomes an abstract composition where geometry and nature collide.
Eine kurvenreiche Strasse durchschneidet den Wald wie eine gezogene Grenze und trennt zwei unterschiedliche Welten aus Licht und Schatten. Aus der Vogelperspektive verwandelt sich die Landschaft in eine abstrakte Komposition, in der Geometrie und Natur aufeinandertreffen.
💘 Cupid's Fault Fair 💘
February 1-20, 2022
❥ LM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS%202/123/122/2501
❥ CAM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS/220/129/2501
by ACCESS
This the evolution of the Leica Minilux with most of the faults iron out. About 15.000 were produced, so no great interest was generated with this model. The size is similar to the Nikon 35 Ti, but opposite to the Minilux, the design is more serious, and to my eyes, more Leica. All the info was transferred to the back door, making the design more pure. Unlike the Minilux, there is full viewfinder info, shutter, aperture, manual focusing aids, ouff! The bad news is that the viewfinder is barely different, small and tunnel like.
The other difference is the all important Made in Germany, something that I seriously doubt.
Another familiar face is the Summarit 2,4/40 that people praise a lot.
I am not a great fan of Leica, but for the price of a entry level zoom compact digicam, I did not resist.
...rock shelf at low tide, Shellharbour.
Chamonix 045F1, Wollensak Velostigmat W.A. Ser. III f/9.5 6-1/4inch, Fomapan 100, Xtol(1.3)+RO9(1.160)
Joshua Tree National Park. Spent the weekend chasing the four year old off the awesome rock formations and wishing I had bought her the helmet she had asked for last week.
As I was working on the post processing of this photo a newsflash came over the wires of a 6.4 magnitude earthquake (July 4, 2019 at 10:33 AM). In the comments of the previous post I had revealed that a pinnacle formed on the bottom of an inland sea over 10,000 years ago was indeed a monument dedicated to Poseidon, king of the sea gods, god of flood, drought and earthquakes. And that Monument to Poseidon is located at Trona Pinnacles, the epicenter of the quake! It appears that Poseidon is annoyed that I have revealed his presence, so this earthquake is entirely my fault (pun intended).
This photo was taken by an Asahi Pentax 6 X 7 medium format film camera and Super-Multi-Coated TAKUMAR/6X7 1:4/300mm lens with a Pentax 67 82ø Y48(Y2) SMC filter using Rollei RPX 100 film, the negative scanned by an Epson Perfection V600 and digitally rendered with Photoshop.
Another editorial shot from the current issue of the London magazine Fault.
Photography: Henrik Adamsen / www.henrikadamsen.com
Styling: Sarah Paaschburg
Makeup: Monika Grensteen @ Uniquelook
Model: Anna T @ 2pm
The "Fault Whisper" installation in San Diego's East Village. www.sandiego.gov/arts-culture/publicart/civicart/faultwhi...
I got attacked by the black creature yesterday evening.....
Partly my own fault as I wasn't watching her eyes. If I had been I'd have seen that she was about to get nasty.
There are two other puncture marks on the right hand side, but I couldn't get them all in trying to take a photo with only my left hand.
Maybe not better viewed large, it depends on how brave you are, but thank you for your favourites. :O)
the junction or the european and american tectonic plates in iceland. Also known as the" bridge of the americas"
Not really, this is a fence along the trail that I took this morning on our walk. But before our walk I was sitting at the computer and felt my chair bumping around. Sure enough, a 4.5 earthquake, epicenter 78 miles from here and felt throughout southern California. Los Angeles, Riverside, San Diego counties and our own Orange County got shaken up for only seconds this morning.
It was just a typical event occurring deep in the San Andreas Fault, always creating little quakes but today's was bigger. Luckily no damage reported anywhere. We don't mind our quakes unless they do damage. :D
Okay, so this is actually from a year ago. At the time, it suffered from being part of the same shoot as "Iris." Now I'm feeling pretty guilty for having ignored it, and I kinda can't wait for summer when I can afford to have it printed on a big piece of metal by these guys: www.imagewizards.net/
Oh. That's right, some of you may not already know of my obsession and won't know what this is. It's a macro of a section of surface ice from Lake Charlevoix, turned upright and backlit by the setting sun. Cool, right? There are whole galaxies in there. I think it's time for a Hubble Microscope.
I sit in my bedroom, staring into my hands. In my palms, rests a picture frame of Kaldur, Jackson, Arthur Jr, and myself. Two of them gone. One taken by a maniac. It is my fault. They did not deserve this fate. As I stand up to place the picture onto the dresser, the door is knocked on. I step over and crack it open.
Garth - AM… I know this isn't a good time but. I think something's wrong.
Arthur - What do you mean something's wrong?
Garth - Well, Topo has been doing sonar scans of the sea, and noticed something pretty big. An underwater facility.
Arthur - The surface uses those. They are for gathering oil Garth.
Garth - No, this isn't an oil rig. It's like, the size of the Pentagon.
Arthur - What?
Garth - Yeah…it was scanned in the Indian ocean, I just thought I'd let you know about it.
Arthur - Manta. It has to be him. Come let us go. It's time we take him out.
I go to my armor stand and pull out my trident. I look to Garth and exit my room. We begin walking through the halls, and are stopped by my brother on the way.
Orm - Where are you going brother?
Arthur - To get Jackson.
Orm - What? You've found Manta?
Garth - Yeah, well we think it's him anyways.
Orm - I'll ready the army. We storm his base of operations…
Arthur - No. Me and Garth will take care of this. We don't need to leave Atlantis unguarded.
Orm - Understandable, good luck on your…
An explosion occurs outside. We all run out to see people in panic. I stop one of the guards who is helping someone.
Arthur - What happened!
Guard - Someone just blew a hole in the armory.
I look at Garth and Orm then begin to swim towards the armory and barracks. I see Murk inside, fighting what looks to be a robot. I run in and impale it with my trident.
Arthur - What happened Murk?
Murk - I don't know. I was in the barracks checking on the recruits when the explosion happened. I ran in to see a bunch of these robots taking out gear. I tried to stop them but they overwhelmed me.
Arthur - They must be from the facility.
I watch as Garth kneels down next to one of them.
Garth - No. No these aren't from the facility. These are Manhunters.
Orm - They are what?
Murk - Manhunters. They are robot guards Oa, the home of the Green Lanterns. It's in the archives.
Orm - So what are they doing here?
Arthur - I do not know. But I do know Earth is the home of a Green Lantern. Maybe he will know.
Steens Mountain is the largest block fault mountain in the Great Basin.
The fault is on the eastern side where the drop from the block's peak to the floor of the Alvord Desert is over a mile from 9,700 feet to 4,000 feet. This is a photograph of the east side viewed from the East Steens Road along the Alvord Desert.
This view to the pinnacles is probably up Little Alvord Creek canyon a few miles north of Pike Creek canyon.
The Harshaw Creek fault zone has about 5 miles of left-lateral offset that probably occurred with the Jurassic island arc building. Superimposed on this is right-lateral strike-slip deformation that occurred in the Laramide arc building event. This exposure in the Harshaw Creek road is only a small part ot the deformation zone. Strike-slip faults have a distinct anastomosing-braided form in section and plan view as illustrated here.