I noticed out of the corner of my eye a girl who looked about my age. A wild look filled her deep green eyes as she slowly sharpened a short sword. She was staring hard at Mandrel, I fought to keep myself from laughing. Though I did wonder just how many women he had angry with him. I turned my head to look at her. Sitting next to her, was a boy who may have been just slightly younger. Both of them had the same flaming red hair that Waien had. Except the boy's hair was neat and tidy, the girls was wild, like Waien's. Her hair was adorned with several feathers. The boy whispered calmly to the girl, and she seemed to relax a little. As I continued to study them silently, I felt Mandrel tug me forward. For reasons unknown to me, I was apprehensive about going near the two. It might've had something to do with the large sword that was shouldered on the boy.
Villith's eyes fell on me and I was fairly certain that if looks could kill, I would have been six feet under.
The color of my cheeks matched my hair and the look of death lingered in Villith's eyes. She stood up, moving to Mandrel with grace unfitting to someone who looked so wild. I watched, inching away as she drew closer.
She stalked off leaving me dumbfounded and confused. What had I done to her to make her hate me so much. I looked to Mandrel questioningly, he simply shrugged.
"That's Villith for ye," he said as if it explained it all.
"It's a bad day today," Sylith commented. Mandrel nodded. There was something they weren't telling me, though I was curious, I didn't pry.
Lyssa looked to the wall clock and sighed at the late hour; Pania would be home any minute.
Xavier nodded, and stifled a yawn.
There was something suspicious about this man. Lyssa didn't know what it was it, perhaps the way he looked at her. His eyes seemed glazed over in awe, though intently focused on her like he was burning the image of the red-haired elf to his memory. In any case, Xavier Wallock made Lyssa feel uncomfortable in her own skin.
Pania returned home that night with a sack full of groceries. Lyssa was passed out on the couch, with an empty glass in her hand. Sighing softly, she covered the small elf and took the glass from her hand. As she quietly straightened up the sitting area, Pania noticed the small recorder. Her curiosity piqued, she rewound it and pressed play.
Pania put away groceries as she listened to the recorder. It was then that Pania made up her mind to retrieve the first part. She knew Lyssa would never write the story herself. Pania would do it for her. Pania stared at the recorder when she heard Lyssa's voice says Wallock's name. A frown forming on her lips.
The next day, we arrive at the festival. Mandrel helped me from the carriage and my eyes lit up with excitement. Bright tents were pitched all over the massive field. Flags and drapes decorated the stalls. Music filled the air from various stages, magicians and other entertainers worked the streets, pulling crowds around them to watch their act. There were hundreds of people milling about the stalls. Some contained pouches and bags made from the finest leather. Blankets, saddles, shoes, everything you could think of was there.
Towards the back was a grand palace. It was the sort of place that are only read about in children books. It had gold bricks and stained glass windows. Turrets reached towards the heavens caped with green slate.
"Waien are you going to be entering the brawler's tourney this year?" Sywyn asked quizzically.
My eyes widened as I stared at him.
"Mate, she's 'ere ta 'ave fun," Mandrel stated, coming to my defense.
"Oh ho! Do I smell a challenge?" Waien said laughing at my brazenness.
A pale woman approached us. She wore a hat that I had never seen before. Her black hair pulled back into a pony tail at the nape of her neck. Down her back flowed a long coat, and her clothes seemed out-of-place. The cut and style very different from what I was used to seeing. She wore a sturdy pair of trousers and a white cotton shirt that laced in the center. On her feet were the most curious looking boots. They had odd little bells on the heels that clanked when she walked.
While I stared at her odd appearance, Mandrel, Waien and Sywyn grinned. The woman walked right up to Sywyn and punched him in his left arm.
Sywyn laughed as he rubbed his other arm. I continued to stare incredulously at the women. Confused as to why she had hit Sywyn in the first place. He had seen my expression and chuckled more. The pale elf turned and eyed Waien and Mandrel who were biting their knuckles to hold back laughter.
"You want some too?" She growled at them. Both shook their heads but still kept up with their silent giggles.
"Lyssa, I'd like you to meet my sister, Shani," Sywyn started as her eyes fell to me.
Shani turned to look at me once more. I nodded in agreement to Mandrel story.
I giggled and nodded. Watching as she walked off with a short wave. After a moment I lost her in the crowd. Behind me Waien, Mandrel and Sywyn were laughing.
"She still hits like a girl, only a little harder now," Sywyn commented.
"I but I doubt you'd say that ta her face though," Waien chuckled.
Sywyn gave him a wry grin. The idle chatter continued as we walked into the festival. My stomach growled slightly as we passed by a food stall. The scent of salted meat and hot bread made my mouth water. As much as I wanted to gorge myself on food, I didn't want to risk spilling something on my dress. Waien seemed uneasy as we drew closer to a small glade on the eastern part of the grounds. Sywyn and Mandrel picked up on his mood and fell somber.
"Ye'll have to see 'im, mate," Mandrel said softly.
"See who?" I asked not wanting to be left out or confused.
Mandrel tapped me on my shoulder and shook his head. I closed my mouth and nodded somberly. I didn't know what fully went on between Waien and his father, but I knew that it was family matters and none of my business. Waien parted from us and went to the grove with his head hanging slightly. Mandrel and Sywyn ushered us over to a small grouping of tents not far from the grove of trees.
"You really should look your best at all times, Shani," a woman told her as she fussed with Shani's shirt. Tying the laces. "I really think this would lovely if you wore your vest and took that ridiculous hat off.
"Honestly, I don't see why you don't wear dresses anymore. You always looked so pretty in a dress." Shani's mother continued as if Shani's pleas fell upon deaf ears.
Sywyn laughed boisterously and went to greet his mother and sister. Kissing his mother on her cheek, catching her by surprise. The woman then made an excited noise and turned to hug her son. I looked around the small make-shift campsite. There were six large, nondescript tents and in the middle of the camp was a fire pit. A large pig roasted over a spit above the bright orange flames.
I followed quietly, my eyes going back to taking everything in. I watched two little girls, playing with a tea set. One little girl had the face of a cherub with white blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes. She wore a dress of the most delicate shade of blue. Around her neck was a small amulet of a full moon. She proved to be quite the chatter box as the other little girl said nothing.
"And that's the sort of man I want to grow up and marry." She said, her eyes looking towards Sywyn. The little girl next to her nodded, before her head turned towards Mandrel and I. As we approached the other little girl clapped her hands and stood up, flying to Mandrel who in turn scooped her up and spun her in a circle. I smiled at the interaction.
"Guess what?" Mandrel said to the small child.
I studied the little girl curiously. It was quite clear she was related to Mandrel. She had the same platinum white hair that he did, and very similar facial features. She wore a buckskin dress with intricate beading around the collar. There was also a fringe at the hem of her dress, and on her two small feet, she wore slippers made of buckskin. It was completely different from what I was used to seeing. However, I said nothing to the oddities in dress styles. For all I knew they could have been costumes.
The little girl signed to Mandrel, who laughed and pointed to me.
He held up his left hand to prove there was no ring on his finger. Once again the little girl signed something I didn't understand. When I moved closer, Mandrel set the child down.
"Lyssa this is my youngest sister, Pylia," he said.
"Hello Pylia," I said slowly. I assumed she needed to read my lips to understand what I was saying.
Pylia gave a silent giggle and waited for Mandrel to explain.
The small girl beamed happily and motioned to her friend in the blue dress.
"Mmm very temptin', but per'aps 'nother day?" Mandrel replied.
"Okay," she giggled. Pylia ran over to join her again for their tea party and once more she started babbling. Mandrel laughed as the girls began to play again.
I woke before the sun on the morning of the festival. Toeryn was passed out in his usual drunken slumber. Careful not to wake him, I slipped from my bed and dressed quickly. The coin purse I left sitting on the table the night before, remained in the same spot. Toeryn hadn't left me any coins to take with me. He probably didn't even know that I left money on the table. I clasped my hand around the full of the purse to prevent it from jingling and left. I wouldn't return for several days and felt no need to inform Toeryn of this.
The streets were quiet, with only a few sounds of the early risers leaking through shuttered windows. Excitement and apprehension filled my chest as I got closer to the main square. I looked up to the sky; the colors fading from black, to indigo, to cerulean. And it was cloudless. It seemed that it would be a perfect day to travel. How we were traveling, I did not know, though I had told myself if it was by horse, I would walk. When I finally reached the center of town, stalls and shops were beginning to open. My stomach gave a grumble informing me that I was not providing it with food and that I should soon. My nerves were set on edge that I had forgotten to take a piece of fruit. Opening my coin purse, I had planned that I was going to eat a decent meal and made my way to a tavern that had just opened.
It was one of the cleaner ones. The barman behind the counter took one look at me and smiled.
While he busied himself, I counted out three coins and set them on the counter. After he brought my food, out and placed the coins in his coin box, he attempted to make small talk. Commenting on anything from weather to if I had ever been to the festival. The food was very tasty and filling. The eggs were just right amount of cooked and the pork was a golden pink color. He also had given me potatoes and fried bread. I dipped the bread in the yolks of the eggs and cleaned the entire plate of food. It had been such a long time since I had anything so delicious. I thanked him for the meal, and left three more silver coins on the counter for him.
Once outside again, it was time for me to find Mandrel and pray that he waited long enough for me. I didn't have an exact time he wanted me to meet him. Or place for that matter. So I stood in front of the dress shop, which allowed me to see the square clearly. Many people were gone, having left for the festival days before. I didn't know how long it would take to get to the festival grounds, but many more people were leaving today.
It didn't take long for me to spot Mandrel. His lithe body moved smoothly down the stairs of the theater building. He was speaking animatedly to Waien, whose eyes scanned the crowd, probably looking for me. I watched impatiently, waiting to see if they would indeed head towards the stay house, or if they would leave without me. Waien started off towards the street to where Toeryn and I stayed. I took that as my signal to start running to the carriage that Mandrel had just stepped into.
Cutting through the square, taking care not to run into people, I ran to the carriage. It was rather plain looking on the outside. A simple brown wood box with wheels, a driver and two horses. On the back was a few trunks strapped tightly to the carriage. The top had several boxes and other crates that undoubtedly contained things for festival living.
The carriage slowed to a stop as Mandrel's face appeared in the window. He looked relieved for a brief second, then looked quite smug. Swiftly, he opened the door to allow me into the carriage. Judging my expression, he just smirked. I sat down across from him, panting heavily from my speedy catch-up. It was lush on in side. Soft cushions made of burgundy velvet. Curtains hung open against the door, tied back with gold cords. My eyes drank in everything about the carriage. I was much more comfortable in that then on a horses back.
"Yer late," he stated in a playful tone.
"I know," I laughed knowing full well how Waien was.
I gazed out the window, nodding slowly. The sound of more hooves reached my ears and I leaned a bit more to see who it was. A massive white horse came trotting along us, the rider was all too familiar. His black hair pulled neatly in the back. A white tunic hung loosely over his muscled torso and form fitting trousers along with riding boots on his lower half. At first, it was hard to recognize him, without all his armor on, he looked very different.
"Good day, Lyssa," Sywyn greeted me with a smile and a wave. His horse whinnied under him.
"Hello, Sywyn, off duty?" I replied in kind.
"An' booze, an' women!" Another voice rang out.
Mandrel chuckled as Waien caught up with the carriage. His hair flowed wildly behind him. He wore earthen shades of brown, and greens. He looked as if he had been raised in a saddle with the way he rode the chestnut brown horse. A faint green glow came from with in his flame-like hair. As I looked hard enough, there she was, a small fey sitting in the mess of tangles. She was holding on for dear life.
"Who're you foolin' Mandrel, she drinks like the rest of us." Waien teased.
"Have you never been to the Brockton Festival, Lyssa?" Sywyn asked me as we rode along.
"No, but I've always wanted to go." I replied looking down. I had realized how childish I sounded as I said that.
The laughter that flowed around us was warm. I truly felt like I had known them all my whole life. They never asked any questions about where I was from. It wasn't that they didn't care, they were just too kind to inflict that sort of pain upon me. As Mandrel pulled the curtain shut over the windows, Waien's laugh boomed, Sywyn's joining him a second later.
"Don't ya two do nothin' I wouldn't do!" Waien called out.
After a moment, the laughter died down and the extra hooves took off ahead of the carriage. Mandrel rolled his eyes while lifting part of the bench seat up. Inside was the small package that contained the blue dress he attempted to give me a few nights ago.
"'Ere," he said offering it to me. It explained why the curtains were drawn. Though, I blushed deeply at the thought of him being there while I changed into it. It was part of the unspoken agreement. I would wear the dress for him while I accompanied him to the Brockton Festival.
Carefully, I took the dress and put it on my lap, gently pulling back the layer of brown packaging. I was keenly aware of his eyes watching me and fought to keep my eyes down on the dress. It was more beautiful than I remembered. The fabric flowed over my fingers, making a soft rustle as I pulled it out of the package. I held it out in front of me, admiring its gold filigree trim. The dark blue satin balancing with the light blue. I allowed my eyes to flicker over to Mandrel momentarily, he sat with a simpering smirk on his lips.
"Thank you, but how do you expect me to change with you sitting here?" I asked him quietly.
He said nothing and placed his hands over his eyes while turning his head. I giggled softly and set the dress next to me. Quickly, I pulled the tunic over my head and dropped it on the seat next to me. I blinked a few times realizing that my body had blossomed and I didn't even know it. It had taken me by surprise to see that my body was becoming less gangly and more curvy. I ran my hands over my body, exploring the new curves. A shiver ran down my spine when my hands moved over my breasts. It wasn't a bad feeling, just one I didn't completely understand.
Difficult wouldn't come close to how hard it was to change into that dress. I kicked my boots off, and then finally pulled the dress over my head. It fit perfectly, albeit a bit tight around my newly discovered bosom. I reached under the dress and removed the trousers as well. And even though I was dressed, I still felt quite naked.
I stole a gaze at Mandrel to make sure his eyes were still covered. I blushed slightly, thinking I had seen his fingers move. His lips curved slightly into his signature smirk.
"Well?" I asked, trying to balance carefully in the moving carriage.
Mandrel looked at me with an appraising eye. After a moment, he fiddled with the laces loosening it a bit. I felt a relief against my chest like I could breath again.
My eyes fell on my own boots. Not that they would be seen, but they hardly fit with the dress I wore. I shook my head.
He pulled another box out of the compartment and handed it to me. Inside were a pair of soft shoes, made to match the light blue of the dress. When I slid my feet into them, it was like stepping on to a cloud. I had never felt a shoe like this. I looked at Mandrel with a bright smile.
Once everything settled down, and the curtains were opened again, Mandrel and I chatted idly about the festival. He told me elaborate stories about the on goings there. At times I felt as though I was there. Mandrel made the stories come to life and I listened raptly, eager to hear his voice continue on with more tales.
As the miles passed, we made stops to eat, or get something from the trunks. Sometimes Sywyn and Waien joined us in the carriage. Both of them commented on how the dress flattered me. It was an uneventful ride. When I asked how long it would take, I was told that we would arrive late the next day. I later discovered that the benches would fold out to become one bed. Mandrel laughed when I blushed again and assured me that he would do nothing to spoil my virtue. Not that I would have minded.
Once I started the bath, I found my favorite scent of bubbles; rose and poured some under the running water. While it filled, I went to the curtained window and peeked into the streets below. I watched for several moments, a set of Patrollers walked down the street. My eyes followed them a moment and then fell on to a shrouded figure standing under a street light. I felt his eyes on me and felt the smirk to go along with it. Giggling softly I waved to him and he began to lower his hood. Sure enough it was Mandrel. I opened the window and leaned out while he walked across the street.
Chuckling, Mandrel began to scale the drain pipe with ease. Within seconds he was sitting eye level with me in the window.
"What the keep doesn't know won't hurt," He said with a wink.
I moved away from the window to allow him to enter and turned off my bath water.
I stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook the cobwebs from my head.
"Mhmm," he said smiling as he pulled a small brown parcel from behind his back.
The lumpy parcel took me by surprise as I took it gingerly from his hands. Cautiously I opened it, seeing two tones of blue fabric, along with the gold trimmings. It fell from my hands as I gasped loudly,. Mandrel had bought me the dress I spotted in the window.
His hand covered my mouth quickly while he looked into my eyes.
I nodded silently, looking into his eyes, drinking them in. My heart raced faster, sending my mind reeling. Mandrel pulled away from me with an impish smirk on his lips and made his way to the window.
"Enjoy your bath," he said, looking me over. I felt my ears redden on the tips as his face disappeared below the window. Though when I went to the window, he was already gone. Smiling, I went back to the bath, turned the water off and slid into the bubbles.
The next morning I work and retrieved my clothes. They had been cleaned and made to fit my body better. Quietly, I crept down the stairs and returned the key, then made my way back to mine and Toeryn's room. He was awake, sitting at the table looking paler than normal. When he realized I was there, he stared at me for a moment, before looking back down at the glass of brown liquid.
My head snapped slightly to look at him.
I didn't say anything, I was still slightly dazed from the fact he said that I could go to the festival. He looked up at me again. I could tell it had been a while since his last bath, his hair was grimy and hung limply over his eyes. However, I could make out the sharpness of his crystalline blue eyes.
Nothing he said or threatened put a damper on my good mood. He was allowing me to go to the Brockton Festival. He didn't need to know all the details of who I was traveling with. So long as I returned and did his dirty work for him, he would simply let me alone. That was good enough for me.
Two years passed. We stayed in Stonebridge. Toeryn thought that it was big enough that we could just disappear in the crowd. He had warned me that he had eyes everywhere, and that if I got away, he would hunt me down. Keeping true to his promise, he often gave me reports of what I had done through the day, as proof that he was always watching. At night he locked our door, preventing me from getting away. This isn't to say I didn't try. Toeryn had forbidden me contact the knights, or anyone I knew. I felt scared, alone and desperate to escape my prison.
My chance for freedom came one late morning when I stood in the main square. I was careful to blend in with the crowd, not to be noticed as I nicked coin purses of the townsfolk. That's when I saw him. It was a smile I knew I would never forget. Mandrel. He was feet away from me, chatting with some people as he made his way down the stairs. My heart did flip-flops in my chest as I stared at him. Happy to see that he was safe and untouched by Toeryn's goons as far as I could tell. For a split second, he looked directly at me, I could have sworn he winked at me. Adverting my gaze, I stared at one of the tailor's displays. The most beautiful dress of blue and gold sat on a dummy. The deep blue satin shone in the sunlight. The light blue satin overcoat had a delicate gold filigree pattern. A gold border trim wove along edges of the light blue fabric and corset lacing on either side of the bosom. Never had I wanted something so badly, yet knew I would never be able to claim it for my own.
I was poor in all sense of the word. My clothes baggy, and hid my girlish figure. My hair constantly kept short to add to the boyish appearance I was portraying, was dirty and very tangled. My heart sank as I realized that I would never see myself in that dress.
"Why the long face?" A familiar voice said behind me.
I shrugged slightly, not wanting to turn towards the voice.
"I think it would look splendid on you," He told me.
Words caught in my throat, my voice cracking softly as I realized it was Mandrel standing behind me. My eyes darted around, knowing this would be reported to Toeryn.
"How did you know it was me?" I whispered, careful to not move my lips.
"Who else do I know with flaming red hair that stands out over a crowd of people?" Mandrel countered.
I snorted softly still not looking at him.
I nodded slowly. I could sense the wheels in his head turning.
"Look at me," he said. Slowly I turned to look to Mandrel. My heart beat against my chest threatening to break through.
As I looked at him, I kept my expression neutral. His eyes searched mine for the truth, but there was nothing to explain my situation other than I was scared.
"The festival is coming up. Do you think that you can go?" He asked with a smirk.
"Probably not," I replied softly.
"I'll talk to Toeryn," I said noncommittally. When he didn't pull away I became nervous. I heard a soft clink of coins in my pocket and frowned.
I watched him walk away with a flourish. Sighing heavily, I looked at my purse. It was easy to spot the coins Mandrel gave her. Three platinum coins gleamed up at her along with a small handful of gold. Without realizing he had done it, Mandrel made himself a future target. But perhaps this was his intention in the first place. I chuckled and shook my head as I wove my way through the crowd and back to the little hovel of a room Toeryn and I shared. My spirits were visibly lifted as I threw the coin pouch on the table, less the three platinum.
I smelled Toeryn before he walked through the door. As he clambered up the steps, I remained motionless on my bed. When I heard the giggle of a female with him, I rolled to my side and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long night. If I was lucky, I would get some sleep. This wasn't the first time he came home with a woman. Usually she was too drunk to care who was in the room. The door squealed when he opened it.
"'oo's that then?" The woman said. I rolled my eyes and forced myself to sit up.
As she stood there and took this in, I threw the coin pouch to Toeryn. His eyes widened with the weight of the coins and he grinned.
"I want to go to the Brockton Festival," I told him, while his companion wrapped her arm around his waist.
My insides turned as my dinner wanted to march it's way back up my throat. Swallowing it back, I forced a weak a smile on to my lips.
Inwardly I cheered. Excited that he said he would at least think about it.
He waved me off as the woman began to drown him in kisses, telling him how compassionate and kind he was to look after me. Not taking a second glance back, I bolted out of the stay house and into the darkening streets. With a rush walk, unable to hold back my excitement, I moved through the small crowds.
When I reached my destination, I peeked in the window of the pub. Mandrel, Waien and Sywyn sat at the table. Waien was drinking his preferred ale, Mandrel and Sywyn both drinking from wine goblets. Giggling slightly, I fought hard to contain my excitement. Quietly, I entered the pub, Mandrel looked at me for a second with a smirk on his lips. Waien was distracted with his mug and Sywyn had his back to me. I walked to the counter and ordered a bottle of rum. Setting the gold coin on the counter. Once I got my change and bottle, I sauntered over to their table and just plopped down in the fourth empty chair.
"Who the hell…" Waien's words froze on his tongue as he stared at me in disbelief.
"I was just telling them that I had seen you today lo-," Mandrel said.
"Where in the hell have you been?!" Waien screamed. The bar fell silent as his voice rose. I knew it was going to be a long night as I explained my disappearance.
Waien listened and asked questions, Mandrel sat and listened, a smirk on his lips every time my eyes met his. But the one who concerned me the most was Sywyn. His face was stony; cold and hard. He didn't ask many questions, and I danced around some to protect myself. All three of them knew that I was hiding things, but none of them pushed me into telling them.
"Do you need help to get away?" Waien asked.
"Not at the moment. He's told me that he'll think about allowing me to go to the festival." I replied, my eyes falling on Mandrel once again. He gave me an award-winning smile and a wink.
Everyone looked at the knight. It shocked us all that he would suggest something like this.
"Spoken like a true knight," Mandrel chortled.
"Unfortunately, Lyssa, I will have to exclude you from the discussion," Sywyn said pointedly.
The smirk that formed on Mandrel's face made me turn a deep shade crimson. All he could do was chuckle.
Mandrel gave Waien a playful shove, causing a small amount of ale to dribble on to his shirt.
"'ey! Watch it!" Waien said in response. Sywyn chuckled before taking a small sip of wine and then turned to me. I giggled softly, but it still felt a bit awkward, like I was standing outside looking in.
Several hours passed and the pub grew rowdier, then began to quiet down. I didn't pay attention the darkness filling the streets, rather I kept telling the three men exactly what Toeryn had me doing. I could see in Sywyn's eyes that he was becoming tense with each passing moment. I had my guard up the entire time ready to run at a moments notice should Sywyn be ready to clap my wrists in irons.
There was a few more minutes of bickering, but Sywyn seemed to take his old friends advice and relaxed a little.
As Waien spoke his pitiful defense, everyone laughed, including the barmaid who heard us talking.
"Aye! The dog does the same thin' to me," she commented playfully. Waien lifted his fist jokingly and shook it at her.
"Back in the kitchen wench and fetch me some meat!" He jested.
"I could give you a lift if you'd like," Sywyn offered.
I left them sitting there looking after me as I carried what was left of my rum bottle. The streets were practically devoid of life as I walked down them. There was the occasional cat call, or panhandler asking for any spare coin, but I kept going until I reach the stay house. Once there, I took the steps two at a time, I hit the door and turned the knob. Lock.
I beamed happily and jumped on to the counter giving him a kiss on the cheek.
I took the keep and flitted up the steps. I loved the special suite, it was an entire floor. The red velvet drapes blocked the sun from the window. The goose down mattress was covered with soft linens and every thing was spotless. My favorite feature of this room was the bath tub that was as large as a pool. I opened the door and found a warm cloth robe sitting on the bed. Immediately I stripped down, leaving my dirty clothing outside the door. Picking up the robe, I slid it on to my arms with ease and tied the belt.
Waien showed me everything there was to know about a bow. He was a strict, but good teacher. He would correct my form, posture, and positioning. Over the next few weeks, I would learn how to correctly shoot an arrow, how much to pull back, and how to keep my arms from getting archers burn.
I examined it for a few moments. It was soft, but still stiff. Three little knots of leather had been placed along the edge and three other strips were placed along the other edge to act as fastenings for the guard. Carefully, I wrapped it around my arm, Waien helped me to secure it to my arm.
Did you make this?" I asked, taking up the bow again. Once more he had adjusted my position.
Over the past several weeks, I've never once seen Waien lose his temper with me. There were times I had pushed his limits, but he just sighed heavily and grunted his displeasure. I didn't see much of Mandrel, since my night at the bar. Not that I didn't want to, but I was ashamed of myself for making a fool of myself. When I asked Waien about him, I usually got an annoyed look and told that I shouldn't bother with Mandrel, because it was pointless. Yet I couldn't put him from my mind.
My arrow flew away from the target when I felt the feathers of an arrow flick against my ear. My head moved slightly, away from the feathers, Waien chuckled.
Waien kept this up. Flicking my ear when I least expected, throwing my form and aim off completely. I would growl with frustration and take up the bow again. On the times he didn't flick my ears, I would hit my target perfectly. But when he did, my arrow would fly in random directions. Maglor would often chuckle as he watched the lessons from the shop. He even took some of the advice Waien had given to me.
Weeks past and I was getting better at not being distracted. I learned to keep my guard up around Waien. It was soon after that his feathers no longer bothered me. Having finished my work early one afternoon, I started practicing in the yard. I took aim of the bulls-eye, the wind was perfectly still.
"Both eyes open," I murmured to myself.
"Well, well, well," A voice mused from the wall. My arrow flew into a wall, the arrowhead breaking as it made contact.
I turned my gaze to look at who it was and nearly fell over. Toeryn.
"W-what are you doing it?" I asked while he hopped off the wall.
Toeryn stepped behind me, his breath smelled of cheap rot gut whiskey.
"Ow!" I cried out, trying to wrench my hair from his grip.
My whole body shook with fear, if I pulled away he yanked back; sending pain shooting through my scalp and down through my body. I heard the familiar sching of his dagger being pulled from its sheath and then felt the cold metal against my throat.
"Do I make myself clear, Anarar'ithil?" he asked darkly.
"Y-yes," I replied, afraid to move my head and almost too frightened to speak. I had no choice but to do as he said. If I didn't, he would surely kill me.
Toeryn pulled the blade away from my throat and against my hair. I felt my hair fall away in a swift movement and then heard the dull thump as it landed in the dirt.
We left Malgor's without a word of notice, Toeryn dragging me forcefully along by my arm. We moved down the streets quickly, I hadn't been in this far away from the main streets. Try as I might, I would struggle to break free, futile at best, but I had to try. If I could get away from Toeryn long enough to find Waien, or even Mandrel, I might have had a chance. But Toeryn's grip was strong. Silently I prayed someone I knew would recognize me and told Waien. Secretly I prayed he would save me.


Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz was popular with his subjects and kept a good relationship with the United States.
Abdullah bin Abdul Aziz, the sixth king of Saudi Arabia, has died at age 90, state television announced. A master politician, he gained a reputation as a reformer without changing his country's power structure and maintained good relations with the United States while striking an independent course in foreign policy.
He had been treated for pneumonia at a hospital in Riyadh in recent days.
Combining an avuncular style with a reputation for honesty and a shrewd understanding of the media, King Abdullah was popular with his subjects, who found him a refreshing corrective to his corrupt and autocratic predecessor, King Fahd.
King Abdullah pumped billions of dollars into modernization of the Saudi educational system, opened up the Saudi economy, ushered his country into the World Trade Organization, curbed the authority of the religious police, pardoned some victims of an unforgiving judiciary, met with then-Pope Benedict XVI and espoused interfaith tolerance, cracked down on extremism, reached out to women and offered a plan for Arab peace with Israel.
Yet the cumulative effect of his policies was to reinforce the House of Saud's absolute power over the country. His embrace of reform did not extend to politics. Dissenters who went too far were jailed or silenced, though he did reinstitute elections for municipal councils and announced that women could vote and run as candidates in the next round.
His predecessor, Fahd, suffered a debilitating stroke in 1995. The following January Abdullah, as crown prince, assumed most of the duties and responsibilities of the monarch, and in effect ran the country as regent until Fahd's death in 2005.
At the end of his reign, Saudi Arabia was a different country from the one in which he came to power — much more open to economic entrepreneurs, more receptive to public discussion of its many problems, and even courting tourists. But in another sense, the country was unchanged: All power ultimately lay with the royal family, supported by a compliant religious establishment, and ordinary citizens still were disenfranchised.
King Abdullah gained worldwide renown for his sponsorship of a new graduate-level university, named for him, in which classes and laboratory sessions are coeducational, a breach of taboo that heartened liberals across the country.
At the same time, he ordered the construction of an all-female university in Riyadh, perpetuating the gender segregation that has become perhaps the biggest obstacle to economic progress in Saudi Arabia. It was a typical move for a monarch who always sought to balance a new generation's desire for change with the conservative establishment's commitment to Saudi Arabia's traditional ways.
When human rights and social justice advocates sent King Abdullah a petition in the spring of 2003 seeking an elected parliament, term limits on princes holding government positions and public access to the trials of accused terrorists, most of the signers were jailed briefly, and the king granted none of their requests. After seven decades of al-Saud rule, it would have been astonishing if he had.
The country's Basic Law of Government, promulgated by Fahd in 1992, stipulates that the country is a monarchy and that it is the duty of citizens to obey their king. The government did not waver from that mandate during King Abdullah's years on the throne.
His reputation as a progressive and generally benign monarch lay in the creation of new institutions that appeared to empower the Saudi public, such as the forums of the National Dialogue and a government human rights commission that occasionally allowed people to sound off without actually challenging the king's power.
On the contrary, the steps King Abdullah took to limit the power of the Muslim religious establishment and to institutionalize the process of royal succession, combined with the government's relentless campaign against homegrown jihadists who began a campaign of domestic terrorism in 2003, left the House of Saud stronger than it was before he took the throne.
And inside the royal family, King Abdullah's adroit maneuvering largely neutralized the dissatisfaction and resentment of powerful half-brothers who had been his rivals for power. He opposed the decision by Fahd and Prince Sultan bin Abdul Aziz, the powerful defense minister, to invite U.S. troops into Saudi Arabia after the 1990 Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, for example, but avoided a public breach that could have weakened the family.
Before King Abdullah, the greatest threats to the al-Saud regime were domestic: a rising tide of religious extremism supported by al-Qaeda; and a restive citizenry energized by global information networks and unhappy with domestic corruption.
By the time of his death, the only real threat in the short- to medium-term was the increasing hostility of Iran, Saudi Arabia's rival for religious and strategic supremacy in the region.
King Abdullah could not resolve the fundamental paradox of Saudi foreign policy — that the regime is dependent for its security on its alliance with a country viewed with disfavor by much of the population. But he obscured the problem by boosting relations with China, Russia and other countries outside the American sphere of influence and by mending fences with Arab groups and regimes that are in disfavor with Washington, in particular Syria and the Palestinian hardline group Hamas.
Under King Abdullah, Saudi Arabia strengthened its security cooperation with the United States, as the two countries reached agreement on a long-term U.S. commitment to train a new armed force to guard vital Saudi oil installations.
Those issues include terrorism inspired by Islamic extremism, which Saudi Arabia nurtured for years for domestic and international reasons. After the onset of terrorist bombings inside the kingdom in 2003, Abdullah, then the crown prince, and other senior members of the royal family realized that the monster they had helped create had turned against them, and their response was swift and firm.
By the time President George W. Bush left office in January 2009, senior officials of his administration had concluded that the Saudi regime was no longer part of the problem but part of the solution to this global threat.
Inside the kingdom, the jihadist uprising inspired mostly revulsion at the pointless deaths that were inflicted, mostly on Muslims, and the Saudi regime received strong popular support for its mass arrests of suspected extremists, its shootouts with terrorist cells and its campaign, inspired by King Abdullah, to convince young men that al-Qaeda's vision of Islam was a deviation from Islam.
King Abdullah was perhaps best known to the world for his introduction of the so-called Abdullah Plan for Arab Peace With Israel, which he first floated in a 2002 conversation with New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman. That plan calls for a full peace between all Arab states and Israel if Israel returns to the borders that defined it before the 1967 war — that is, if Israel gives up the West Bank, the Golan Heights and East Jerusalem.
King Abdullah persuaded all countries of the Arab League to accept this formulation and then took the position that he had done all he could to advance the peace process, despite entreaties from Washington to do more. He rebuffed a request from President Obama to make further goodwill gestures toward Israel, such as permitting airline overflights, in an effort to get peace talks resumed.
King Abdullah, whose official title was Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, was also prime minister, as is customary in the Saudi system. Domestically, he pumped billions of dollars into new industries and the creation of new cities, but his most enduring legacy besides the coed university may turn out to be the institution known as the Allegiance Council, which he created to resolve uncertainties about the line of succession.
The council consists of 35 senior princes, all sons or grandsons of the first king, Abdul Aziz ibn Saud, who are to meet in secret each time a king dies or is incapacitated to choose the next in line, much as the cardinals of the Catholic Church elect a pope.
If the Allegiance Council had existed in earlier decades, it is doubtful that King Abdullah would have become king, because he was never fully in harmony with the powerful clique of princes known as the "Sudairi Seven," all sons of Abdul Aziz and his favorite wife, Hassa bint Ahmed al-Sudairi.
Fahd was one of the seven, as were the late Prince Sultan, a former minister of defense, and the late Prince Nayef, a former interior minister. King Abdullah had a different mother.
Little is known about King Abdullah's early life. He was born in Riyadh, then a mud-walled desert outpost, probably in 1924, the 13th of 45 known sons of Abdul Aziz. Unlike his half-brothers Saud and Faisal, who were sent to Europe as teenagers to prepare them for eventual rule, Prince Abdullah was not one of his father's favorites.
He had little formal education, although he became an avid reader in later life and an advocate of libraries. As a young man, he was mayor of Mecca.
In 1962, after a power struggle among the princes, he became commander of the National Guard, a Bedouin-based domestic peacekeeping army. The National Guard, trained and equipped by Americans after 1975, remained his power base for the rest of his life.
Faisal was assassinated in 1975, and his weak and ineffectual successor, King Khaled, appointed Prince Abdullah second deputy prime minister, behind Fahd, the crown prince and heir apparent. Prince Abdullah became crown prince when Fahd succeeded Khaled in 1982.
King Abdullah is believed to have had at least seven wives during his long life and has four surviving sons, including Miteb, who succeeded his father as commander of the National Guard. He is also said to have had 15 daughters.
Lippman is a former Washington Post foreign correspondent.


We have a huge selection of glass beads! Whether you need seed beads, bugle beads, pearls, leaves, or flowers, you'll find them here. We also have a selection of vintage glass beads, glass bead clusters, and more.


Upon arrival into Nairobi you will be met and transferred to the Aberdare National Park, a 125km journey that will take around 2.5 hrs.
Enjoy lunch at Aberdare Country Club, your base hotel. Later in the afternoon you will be transferred to The Ark Tree Lodge where you will spend your night viewing the wildlife from above, as the animals come to the waterhole. You'll then enjoy dinner and an overnight stay at the lodge.
After a cup of tea or coffee, you will check out of the tree lodge and board the transfer vehicle to The Aberdare Country Club for a full breakfast, after which our driver will assist you to collect the rest of your luggage. Drive to Lake Nakuru National Park, enjoying a game drive en-route. This 190km journey will take approximately 3 hrs. Later, arrive at Sarova Lion Hill Game Lodge for check-in and lunch. After relaxing, proceed on an afternoon game drive in the park, returning later for dinner and overnight.
After breakfast, check out and drive south west in our 4x4 safari vehicle to the Masai Mara National Game Reserve. This 340km journey will take approximately 5 hrs. Upon arrival, check in and enjoy lunch at Keekorok Lodge. After relaxing, proceed on to an afternoon game drive, returning later for dinner and overnight.
Enjoy a full day in the Masai Mara National Game Reserve with early morning, mid-morning and afternoon game drives in our 4x4 safari vehicle. All meals and an overnight stay take place at Keekorok Lodge.
After an early breakfast, check out and have an early morning game drive en route to the park gate. Drive back to Nairobi city in our 4x4 safari vehicle, a 350km journey which will take approximately 5 hrs. Continue on to Nairobi International Airport to board your onward flight to Mombasa. On arrival you will be met and transferred to Leopard Beach Resort & Spa, located on the stunning Indian Ocean Coastline.
Enjoy 6 full days at leisure on a half-board basis.
Alas your holiday has come to an end. Enjoy some last few hours on the beach before checking out at lunchtime and transferring to Mombasa airport for your short flight to Nairobi International Airport. Connect with your overnight flight back to the UK.
Please note: This safari departs on a Sunday from the UK (Monday locally), of each week.
Prices correct as at 6pm on 23 Apr 2019. Please call for final price. Prices are per person based on 2 adults sharing a room. Other durations available - call for quote. Monday departures . Different hotels of a similar standard may be used on certain departures. Supplements may apply on dates within certain dates during peak travel periods.


The Encultured Brain: Building Interdisciplinary Collaborations for the Future of Neuroanthropology.
UPDATE: We had a wonderful day yesterday. The keynotes by Harvey Whitehouse and Patricia Greenfield were excellent, the speed presentations came off very well, and we made a lot of connections. A great conference.
You can now access the conference statement The Encultured Brain: Why Neuroanthropology? Why Now?.
The conference starts at 9AM on Thursday October 8th. The first talk will be by Daniel Lende on "Neuroscience and the Real World." That will be followed by one set of speed presentations.
The first keynote "Mirror Neurons and the Ontogeny and Phylogeny of Cultural Processes" by Patricia Greenfield will start at 11AM.
The second keynote "Explaining Religion" by Harvey Whitehouse will begin at 3:00 PM.
There will be a methods roundtable at 1:45PM, and a second set of speed presentations at 4:35PM. Greg Downey will close the conference with his talk "A Brain-Shaped Culture" at 5:25PM.
Please click here for the FULL SCHEDULE, including the titles for all the speed presentations and more information on the keynotes.
This conference will promote neuroanthropology, which aims to integrate anthropology, social theory, and the brain sciences. As the first conference exclusively in this area, The Encultured Brain will provide a vision for the future of this line of integrative research, sparking conversations and establishing connections across disciplinary boundaries.
You can find the CONFERENCE SCHEDULE HERE and the abstracts for these keynotes and the opening and closing addresses here.
Conference supported by: the Lemelson/Society for Psychological Anthropology Conference Fund, made possible by a generous gift from The Robert Lemelson Foundation; and by the Institute for Scholarship in the Liberal Arts, the Office of Research, the Kellogg Institute, and the College of Arts and Letters at Notre Dame, and the Department of Anthropology, Macquarie University.
Click for the OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT AND MORE DETAILS ON SUBMISSONS AND REGISTRATION. You can also see our approach to speed presentations for the Encultured Brain conference.
Neuroanthropology.net was very happy to convene a panel, The Encultured Brain: Neuroanthropology and Interdisciplinary Engagement, at the 2008 Annual Meeting of the American Anthropology Association in San Francisco. The double session demonstrated that anthropology can creatively engage the neurosciences through biological mechanisms, synergistic ethnography, and critique.
We have a number of postings, including profiles of the participants, versions of some of the papers, and a host of other resources scattered throughout our weblog. This page brings those all together to provide a consolidated record of the meeting, which we expect will only be the first of many.
Daniel discussed the panel (and a lot of other things) in an interview with Scientific American. We posted on it, Daniel interviewed at Scientific American, or you can just go over to the original piece at SA, Getting Hooked on Sin.
In Peter Stromberg's new book(2009) "Caught in play", he looks at the role of boredom in play activities. And play, it turns out, does not look so very different from religious rituals. You might want to look at Peter's book if you have not already done so.
I will be happy to receive invitation to giving a paper on the social and cultural factors in social violence in contemporary " traditional societies ".
I am in treseted to have dialogues on my the recently posted lines/comments on Rituals and Genes! If possible pl do read my comments.
Are there any plans to offer a video stream of the conference for those of us who can't attend?
We probably won't be able to stream the whole thing, but we will be filming and posting at least the four talks and then finding ways for our other participants' work to also be shared, if they choose to do so. In addition, we're working toward an edited volume, so you'll have to be a little bit patient, but we plan to put out lots of good stuff to result from this. We very much want to share what we're up to, and to provide a platform for additional discussion and connections among other researchers.
Where do we submit our interest in the conference and its results as to be able to join in? I am unfortunately not able to be present.
I am a student of Anthropology at heart and this is profound and awesome work that your organization is doing. I definitely want to be a part in furthering these understandings between mental health and culture. My blog and research will be examining the culture of self-injury in the United States and looking at how that links to Victor Turner's perspectives on the liminal state that occurs in ritual.
I'm interested in the PhD in neuroanthropology, more in education distance (on line) format. My particular motivation is paleoneurology and cognitive component of hominization process.
I am looking for the Post Doctoral work in neuroanthropology or Medical Anthropology. Presently I am egar to learn about the Neuroanthropology: projects exploring the Neurons ,Ritualsand Genes! It seems that The trajectory from Rituals to Genes, which the end reuslts which we attribute in the Organic Body. But can we think how do these genes germinates? Obisoivously fro the extrenal stimulation of the Body neurons. Our Brains Cell get their their Shape from the Interation of the People which give the shape to the Growing mind-infants/child ect. These Culutral aspects: whose domain is very wide across the diffrent cultures nad Must be examined how do prevailing ritulas/ shape the neuronswhich inturns through the complex process make the Entire cultutres.
In short: Genes are the End Product being localised in the in the Body, but the precuresours are the "Ritual" sahping the Body.! Where do "Genes" go ? In the Air or they be the the Part of the Air or the enviornment.
I look forward to sahare the thoughts on these lines. Feel free to comments.


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Steve Brodner
Living & Dying in America: A Daily Chronicle 2020-2022
On sale date: June 14, 2022
Every day, late at night or early in the morning, from March 26, 2020 to January 1, 2022, the political cartoonist and illustrator Steve Brodner would get to work. In those midnight hours, he would review the day's reportage, sit down at his drawing board, and memorialize a singular person or event that played a role, willingly or unwillingly, in shaping that day.
Living & Dying in America includes many lovingly drawn portraits of those who died in the pandemic and of those who displayed extraordinary strength, decency, courage, and endurance. But Brodner does not ignore those who perpetuated the pandemic in word or deed: he also etches in acid caricature those public servants and private entrepreneurs who preyed upon the public, spread lies, and aided the virus' spread through their ignorance, incompetence, and malfeasance. Released via social media, the drawings range from quick, expertly realized sketches to elaborate paintings to carefully rendered mixed media, depending on how much time and stamina and inspiration he had left at the end of the day. Each spontaneously drawn or painted image is accompanied by a brief biography of those who died, or a short summary of the person's conduct or the event depicted.
Taken as a whole, Living & Dying in America is a chronicle of those who died and those who honorably served the living — as well as an indictment of those institutions and political figures who betrayed the public trust. It is a searing and essential moral document, written and drawn on a daily basis with feverish intensity by one of the great forces of American cartooning.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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Di., 28.05. (19h)
Anatoliy Babiychuk
,The Garages of Chervonograd'
ein Abend von Martin Vesely: in der Perspektive der Fotografie
The "garage area" is a phenomenon that can be found in almost every Soviet urban landscape. Built in the 1970s to 1990s, these areas have become a significant element in the cityscapes of the former Soviet Union. Despite a strict standardization stipulated by the building code they each have their individual design. From the moment the garages were built they were "misused". Both the architectural form and the functions of the garages were quickly reappropriated. In the early 1990s this functional transformation only increased. The garages have become a place of refuge from everyday life. They have become artists' studios, rehearsal rooms for musicians, places for love affairs, storage facilities, workshops, meeting places for friends, places for alcohol and drug production, trafficking and consumption. This trend can be seen as a search – mainly on the part of the male population – for a new and often last resort of private space away from the family or the state.
This photographic work documents the emergence and development of concepts of individual freedom in the Soviet system and their transformation under post-Soviet conditions.
,Die Garagen von Chervonograd', 2007-2012
Analoge Fotografie. 244 C-Prints, aufgenommen auf Farbnegativ-Film im Format 4×5 Inch
(eine Belichtungsserie aus der Dunkelkammer)
Born 1975 in Sosnivka, former USSR
Lives and works in Vienna and Chervonograd, Ukraine
2006-2013 Fine Art & Photography at Academy of Fine Arts Vienna
Professors: Matthias Herrmann and Martin Guttmann
2012 Fine Art Media (Exchange program) at Slade School of Fine Art, London
2005-2006 Artistic Photography at Friedl Kubelka School, Vienna
1998-2006 Auditing various courses at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna
1998-2007 Business Administration with an emphasis on Information Economy
Vienna University of Economics and Business Administration
1992-1998 Economics with an emphasis on Finance and Audit
University of Kyiv, Ukraine
2009 The mine of my father, Thomas K. Lang Gallery, Vienna
2013 Curators' Network 05, Kunsthalle Exnergasse, Vienna
Industry, Gallery Ostlicht, Vienna
2012 Special edition, IG Bildende Kunst, Vienna
Rundgang 2012, Atelierhaus at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna
2011 The photography in reference…, Fotohof Salzburg
2010 Triennial Linz – Contemporary Art in Austria, State Gallery Linz, Austria
Change of perspective – Austrian Photography Today, Westlicht, Vienna
2009 What kind of life? Between profession and vocation, Annual Exhibition at the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna


DICE has recently clarified what exactly the deal is with Battlefield 1943's inclusion in the PS3 version of Battlefield 3 as well as revealed some new information about ranks, private matches, and the day-one patch.
In a follow up to one of our previous articles looking into the fact that Battlefield 1943 may not be included in the PS3 version of Battlefield, DICE has officially announced that "The Limited Edition will not come with BF1943, but with the Back to Karkand expansion." It seems either DICE has taken back their original promise, or will include it at a later date for PS3 owners. Let us know what you think in the comment section below.
Daniel Matros also had a few interesting things to say this morning as well. First, according to him, "Private matches [are] not on launch for consoles." Exactly when they will be added has yet to be confirmed. PC fans have been asking whether the day-one patch that was announced earlier will be included in the preload or not. To this, Matros replied: "already integrated in preload." Matros also had something to say regarding the current state of Battlefield: Bad Company 2. He said, "stuck in between launching a new game, we are taking a look at those issues for BC2 as well." Many gamers are revisiting BFBC2 one last time before the release of BF3, and it would nice to see the game end on a strong note. Are you going to be playing Bad Company 2 up until the release of BF3?
Lastly, Fredrik Thylander has officially revealed the number of ranks available in Battlefield 3. "Highest rank is colonel 100 star (rank 145)". Remember, it takes more to rank up in the final build compared to the beta.
Also recently reported, make sure to also check out the brand new Server Browser Feature in the Console Versions of Battlefield 3!
Make sure to follow us on Twitter and Facebook for more Battlefield 3 news!


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Unconventional Yet Functional: Expanding the Legacy of Charles Moore's Faculty Club
John Ruble, FAIA
A few years ago, the University of California, Santa Barbara, tapped us to carry out the renovation, adaptive use, and expansion of its Faculty Club, which Charles Moore had designed with MLTW in the 1960s, one of the first exemplars of postmodernism's eclecticism. I believe we got the job because of our personal connection to Charles and to the unconventional spirit in which he designed the building. Staying true to that spirit was at the core of all our decisions—which meant our solutions weren't conventional either. To save the Faculty Club, we had to transform it.
The university moved to its present campus in 1954, taking over 408 acres on a shoreline mesa, previously part of a World War II Marine air base. For practical reasons, the institution repurposed many of the barracks and other structures left over from the military days—undistinguished boxes built to be nothing but pragmatic. But when the faculty club members decided to construct a dedicated building to host faculty and staff gatherings, they decided to commission a bold design from a major architect—something that would be appropriate for an international center of learning.
Led by its president, Steven Horvath, the club chose Charles Moore for his humanistic, free-spirited, highly creative architecture. Moore understood designing for coastal locations, after all, having gained fame for Sea Ranch, and he was an academic himself, then a professor at the University of California, Berkeley.
Moore's 10,000-square-foot facility opened in 1968. Perched on a sandy rise overlooking a lagoon, it drew attention for its sloping shed-roofed towers, dramatic high windows, daylight-flooded spaces, and pop-art interiors complete with stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls, strings of lights, and neon banners.
Reactions to the design varied. Some faculty members found it glorious and beautiful, a modern contrast to the drab structures on campus. Others reacted negatively. One history professor wrote that it evoked a feeling of "too much space and light." Some even interpreted it as a deliberate joke: a witty fountain in the courtyard was jackhammered out. Whatever else, it fulfilled the architect's intention to stir the senses, and became an icon for the campus and, eventually, for architects everywhere.
Although Moore's buildings were brilliantly designed, their complicated construction and experimental nature left them particularly vulnerable to the passage of time. The Faculty Club was no different, and deferred and piecemeal maintenance over the years compounded the problem. As the university grew, the demands on the building as the campus's "living room" grew as well, straining its capacity.
When we received the assignment to fully renovate it and double it in size, adding guest rooms and increasing dining and meeting space, we took Moore's sensibility and pushed it even further. We assembled a detailed digital model of the original structure, but we studied the design using a ¼-inch cardboard model, just as MLTW would have done.
For Moore's unconventional mind, the Faculty Club was an evolving idea right up until they hammered in the last nail—in fact, adding the mounted animal heads occurred to Charles late in construction, after he discovered them in an estate someone donated to the university. In terms of preservation, what we've done is as experimental as his original design: celebrate the original design but radically change the way the building functioned for contemporary use.
The main part of our brief was to add 30 guest rooms, turning the building into a small hotel. It made sense to place a new three-story wing of guest rooms on the west side, but that meant removing the patio, pool, and changing rooms. That was a big change, but if we'd kept it all, the guest rooms would have cast shadows on the pool, and the swimming pool was the aspect of the original design that was the least relevant to the university's current needs.
To attach the guest-room wing, we took out a small two-room tower and replaced it with a connecting stair tower. An open-air rotunda was removed and then rebuilt as enclosed space with a skylight. On the north side, we put in a new stairway, which breaks up what had been a large blank wall and provides a gracious entry into the dining room from the guest rooms. In doing so, we removed the original dining room stair—one of two significant revisions to the iconic image of the building.
The second was to enclose the open courtyard, a damp and moldy interval at the heart of the complex. We covered it with a roof and skylights to protect it from the elements, turning it into a multipurpose room. Two stories high, contemporary in style but retaining the spirit of the original building, it's now a place that can comfortably host wedding receptions, lectures, performances, meetings, and other gatherings and events.
Our work on the main dining room mostly involved restoration. But even here we felt transformation was called for, so we added color into the layered set of walls that frame the space, hidden from view as you look out from the center. The sun coming in through high windows lights up these color spaces, creating a glow that heightens the perception of the layered poche of structure surrounding the dining room. After all, the Faculty Club opened just as Charles Moore started putting color into his projects. If he'd kept the design going for another six months, we believe the Faculty Club would have had the same colorful presence as its successors.
As a firm, we've always tried to embody the sense of immediacy and spontaneity in Charles's work, even as we strive for a long and useful life for each project. For the Faculty Club, we wanted to do so in a way that wouldn't contradict the original spirit of the building. Like a perfect dancer, you aim to land on your feet in a beautiful way, after having done something crazy.
Our clients wanted to ease up on some of Charles' eclectic décor features—no moose heads—but the brilliance of the essential architecture shines through. That's one reason we wanted to do something unexpected, like adding color, recharging the space to fulfill the potential of the original. We weren't trying to channel the master, the way Taliesin tries to channel Frank Lloyd Wright—we wanted a conversation with Charles's original thoughts about the building, responding rather than mimicking. Our goal was to breathe new life into the Faculty Club in a way that was appropriate to Charles Moore's one-of-a-kind sensibility. We hope he would be pleased.


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Home > "Don't give up the ship"... much content on the War of 1812...
"Don't give up the ship"... much content on the War of 1812...
THE WEEKLY REGISTER, Baltimore, Maryland, Oct. 9, 1813 This newspaper published in the midst of much action during the War of 1812, and being not far from the nation's capital it had access to much news of the period.
Among the great wealth of war-related articles are: "Trial for Piracy" "Barbarities of the Enemy" which takes over 2 pages; "Events of the War" which has many items including a report headed: "Tremendous Battle on Lake Ontario" and a: "...letter from Commodore Chauncey to the Secretary of the Navy" aboard the U.S. General Pike at the Niagara River, which includes in part: "...a report here...that Capt. Perry has captured the whole of the enemy's fleet on Lake Erie. If this should prove true in all its details...he has immortalised himself & not disappointed the high expectations formed of his talents & bravery..." & more, signed by him in type: Isaac Chauncey (see). Another report with a small head: "The Battle on the Lake" notes: "...moment that Perry commenced the action he hoisted, at his fore-to-gallant masthead, a large flag, until then unseen by, and unknown to his officers, on which were these words legible to the whole fleet & to the enemy, 'DON'T GIVE UP THE SHIP.' This had a powerful effect..." & more.
This is complete in 16 pages, measuring 6 by 9 1/2 inches, with scattered foxing, otherwise in very nice condition.
Category: War of 1812
Captain James Lawrence: "Don't Give U...
Declaration of war...
Funeral of the famed Lawrence and Lud...


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Episode #327: Marc Roberge – How To Create Fans For Life (O.A.R.)
Marc Roberge is lead singer and rhythm guitar player for O.A.R. (Of A Revolution). He also is their primary songwriter and has been described by his band-mates as, "Our Leader." He formed the band with his best friend (and drummer) Chris Culos for an 8th grade talent show 23 years ago in Rockville, Maryland. I first saw him play at a college bar called "First Run" on the Miami University campus in Oxford, OH my freshman year (2000). Since then, O.A.R. has gone on to sell out Madison Square Garden. We recorded this episode in Austin, Texas next to the stage at Stubb's Waller Creek Amphitheater.
"A part of leadership is knowing when you're wrong and when the other idea is better and move on."
The importance of persistence and why
Our 20-year history – Watch them playing at First Run in Oxford, OH – The journey from small college bars to selling out Madison Square Garden
Chose Ohio State because they have the most bars in a small area – Earned the Buckeye National Scholarship
"Money was not part of the equation at the beginning. We just needed enough to keep the van gassed up."
The primary reason why you're so happy it goes well is so you get to keep doing it.
Two initial goals: Finish college and build the band. – The band started in 8th grade for a talent show.
"We wanted to get on the road, scrape our knee, and build to sustain. It was never about money; it was about gaining ground. Moving forward, progressing."
The first word to describe Marc from other members of the band: "Leader." – What it means to be a leader of creative people…
The stages of Marc's leadership: 1st Stage: Driven completely by the vision of wanting to make music out wandering the world. "I wanted to make these songs because they made me feel good. I wanted to be out with my friends and empower each other." 2nd Stage: "It becomes our vision." – "You may no longer provide the best leadership, so you need to empower people in your camp to lead. In order to be in the drier seat, you have to know what other people's superpowers are so each one can flourish. 3rd Stage: Chris (the drummer) – He nudged the group forward to a rebirth. Became motivated to get back in the driver seat and now he had amazing co-pilots who had their own creative genius. "Realize the powers of those around you and harness that. That was the afterburners for us. It's built out of mutual respect and admiration for each other." "Being a leader has to show that things aren't always going to go great. You must maintain, be composed, don't flail your arms around. Move forward."
Respectful disagreement: How to decide which song to open with at Madison Square Garden… How to make decisions through disagreement? "I know when I'm wrong, I know when I'm right too. Good ideas… It's a self-filtering system. You have to listen, be open to others. In that moment, it was perfect."
"When one of your heroes is standing next to you and says, "I really like this," that impacts you. "I was wrong and wasn't thinking of the big picture. It was selfish."
How to handle people who don't like your work? Story: Opening for Dave Matthews Band at The Gorge – The entire front row turned their back in protest of the opening act. "I get angry. My new goal was to get them to turn around. It's a lesson: You can either get hurt or say, "I get to play my songs at the Gorge. Eventually they will respect us."
Giving a TED Talk: Authenticity – Being real, true to yourself. "Everything I've created has stemmed from a few nostalgic pin-pointed childhood memories. I've tried to build my whole life to tell those stories of what we can do when we're together." Fans for Life: "We were living a life we've dreamt of."
The resistance of chasing approval of others – "That theme is rooted in unabashedly telling a story about where you come from. Sticking to the same morals we were instilled with since growing up." "I'm not seeking approval because we aren't adjusting music to fit in, we play what makes us feel good."
Chasing your curiosity and obsessions with great rigor – How to create a life to do that? "My dream is we've built something that allows us something time to create. Keep working on live shows to continue to play them. We love them. If you don't play 5 nights a week, it won't be there for you. You have to get the reps.
Sustained excellence: Commonalities: 1) Drive 2) Social – Able to work a room, communicate well with others. 3) Willingness to fail – "If you aren't willing to jump off that edge, you don't deserve to get it."
Song writing process: "Each song has a different method for me." "There are moments when I'm walking down the street in NYC and it comes to me. I'll run to the studio and quickly record it. There are so many different styles, but it all has to come from being inspired."
The creative process: Working with Greg Wattenberg to be a sounding board and offer honest feedback. "We've never changed what we're doing. We've only built upon it and have always focused on our story."
"People get so confused, they want everything, they want a boat, a house, so much. We just want to keep going."
Celebrating the 25th anniversary of the band. "We want to celebrate the fact of a few buddies being together for that time."
"Tell your story. Don't be afraid to tell your story."
How to not get complacent and conservative after success? For fear of failure? "We take risks every year. We book a year in advance and we book some locations that we know might not work. We maintain pressure at all times." "You have to take calculated risks and create things that may make you a little uncomfortable at first… To move the art form forward."
Gratitude – The importance of John Lampley being added to the band. "John Lampley is magic. He brought joy in the room. His life gratitude, how he looks at opportunity of everything: meals, being alive, we just exercised in the truck and he keeps talking about how good he feels." It's about being grateful for what you have and what you get to do on a daily basis.
Practicing all day long – Love the craft. Loving the process of working on it. "This is what we do, this is how we operate." The mindset of daily improvement. "We feel very lucky to be doing this. You better earn it and keep it." Don't pay attention to what others are doing, Focus on improving your craft.
"What they really like about your group is how it makes them feel?
General life advice: "Find something that you truly feel connected to… there's energy in this world that will tell you when you're in the right spot. And then work. A lot of people want to be famous, how you going to get there. And then grind." Bring joy to yourself and others is life.
"Be willing to play anywhere. Just keep going." – It's all about getting the reps. "What you love, go love it. You might be broke for a while, but you'll be fulfilled. It will fill you up."
"Everyone carries around a bucket. You can fill it up or empty it."
"Find what you love and chase it down."
Preshow ritual: "What is going through your mind the 90 seconds before you go on stage?" – "We have a group huddle." – "Remember when we were in the basement and we said, one day we're going to do this. Remember how happy we were. We're here. Go be a Rockstar."
The feedback received from fans/listeners – That's the juice that fuels you.
Use the "Get To Know You Document"
"Remember when we were in the basement and we said, one day we're going to do this. Remember how happy we were. We're here. Go be a Rockstar."
Follow Marc on Twitter: @marcroberge
Listen to his band – O.A.R.
By Ryan Hawk|2019-11-14T21:00:30-05:00September 8th, 2019|Podcast Episode|0 Comments


text:
Islam A-Z (C)
Allah - 99 Names (Nasheed: Duff)
calendar | Chador | Charity | Chess | Children | Circumcision | Civilization | Clothing | Compassionate | Conduct | Cordova | Cure |
The Islamic calendar dates years from the hejira (or hijra), when Mohammed left Mecca for Medina: AD622. But, because the Muslim year is lunar and the AD year solar, it is not enough merely to deduct 622 from the AD year.
There are 12 months in the Muslim lunar year. One is Ramadan, marked by fasting; the end of Ramadan is the feast of Eid al-Fitr. Dhu al-Hijjah is the month of the hajj to Mecca and, in this month, comes the feast of of Eid al-Adha, when sheep are killed in memory of the sacrifice of a ram by Abraham.
The first month of the year is Muharram; on 10th Muharram, Shi'ites mark the martyrdom of Hussein, the prophet's grandson.
In Iran, a woman's outer covering that also hides the face.
The compulsory or voluntary act of giving possessions or something of value to general or specific people for purposes or benefit which are not contrary to Islam.
Also referred to as: zakaah, sadaqah, lillah, fisabilillah, khayrat
Chess is a board game. In Islam the playing of Chess and Backgammon are covered by the same ruling; they are both Haraam.
The prophet May Allah send peace and blessings upon him said:
"He who plays Backgammon has disobeyed Allah Ta ′ala and His (Rasool)."
The playing of chess is Haraam according to most opinions. If the playing of chess is accompanied by gambling than its prohibition is unanimous. If it is played without gambling then there is a difference of opinion in its prohibition. Where Allah Ta�aala declared alcohol and gambling as forbidden, he explained the reason for this prohibition. Allah says in the Holy Quran that Shaytan desires to create an ill feeling amongst you. He desires to create hatred among you, and to direct your attention from Salaat and Allah Taa'la's remembrance. So wherever these conditions are present, the prohibition will come into force, and that practice will become Haraam. All are aware of the degree of absorption in these games.:
In Islam a child is born sinless and has rights and is deemed a blessing for its parents regardless of gender, creed, nationality or colour. In Islam a child is defined as either a boy or a girl who has not physically reached puberty and is less than the local default age of puberty (this local age is an approximation and varies by gender, origin and geographical factors). As soon as either of these conditions is fulfilled a young person ceases to be a child and is deemed an adult and now has a different set of rights and responsibilities. Parents and children (both male and femle) have certain rights and responsibilities in Islam to each other. Respect and honour of parents also extends to parents-in-law and teachers (anyone from whom knowledge is gained). The benefit of the good deeds of children accumulate for their parent's Hereafter as they had become a means for their coming into this world.
Also referred to as: boys, girls, child, infant, toddler, kid, youngster, children, schoolboy, schoolgirl, adolescent, teenager, youth, young man, young woman, minor, junior.
Circumcision is the removal of foreskin from the male generative organ. It is a Sunnah and forms an innate male characteristic. It also helps prevent the spread of diseases.
Also referred to as: khatna, Sunnet
Before Islam many civilisations existed that mistreated women and girls to the extent that baby girls would be buried upon birth on account of their gender. Women were not allowed to own possessions and even free women were deemed inheritance objects by their own family. Gambling, fornication, adultery, intoxication, selfishness and tyranny was the norm. This age of darkness and ignorance (Jahiliyyah) for theses civilisations was brought to an end by Islam which encouraged the freeing of slaves, respect of parents, teachers and protected the rights of male and female infants. It banned and abolished sinful behavior and brought down barriers and obstacles created by caste societies and irrational culture which had inhibited progress. It pro-actively exemplified racial equality in Islamic practices such as prayer, welfare and civil rights. Islamic civilisations had central and provincial governors who were responsible for the welfare of all citizens within their domian whether they were Muslim or Non-Muslim. Financial benefits were given to the needy. People were physically protected and arrangements were made for education. Places of worship were protected, i.e. Churches and Synagogues. Many communities realised the true religion and embraced it having witnessed the humble practice of islamic teachings. Others stubbornly rejected the faith and remained kaafir but over time their decendants saw the truth and came into the fold of Islam. Thus Islam spread first and foremost by its undeniable truth such as the immigrants leave to reside by Christian King Negus (Najashee) in Abbysinia even before his own acceptance of Islam upon reciept of the beautiful letter inviting him to Islam sent by Rasullulah May Allah send peace and blessings upon him himself. The laws of Islam do not just cover worship, they also cover cleanliness, personal and social matters, economics and eduaction. Islamic teachings encompass life in the best of ways and is the only set to do so hence civilisations practicing true Islam have proven to progress.
Our main functional objective of wearing clothes is covering our satr (Awra - private parts) so that their form is not apparent and so that there is protection of the body from adverse weather conditions (including sunburning). The satr has been defined as the parts of the person which is indecent to expose. For a man this is what consists between the navel and the knee. For a female it is the entire body except the palms which must not be exposed to men. Other than the functional objective mentioned above Islam has no fixed styles of dress as clothing is regulated by necessities according to geographical conditions of countries however certain types of clothing are recommended.
Also referred to as: Libaas, Clothes, Dress, Attire, Kurta, Apparel, Outfit.
soft-heartedness, lenience
As Muslims we must ensure that our social conduct and manners are correct. We must also emphasise the need to recognise and prevent inequality in society.
When the Umayyad dynasty in Damascus ended in 750, Spain (al-Andalus) continued to be ruled independently by Umayyad princes. In 929, Abd al-Rahman proclaimed himself caliph, ruling al-Andalus from Cordova. The Umayyad Caliphate of Cordova collapsed in 1016.
Throughout life Man suffers many tribulations. Man can be very weak at times. It is not only the physical side of being human from which he suffers, but the main weakness is based in the internal, which in fact is the heart! Man's inner strength to survive the tribulations of life and the snares of Shaytan (Satan) depend on his heart. There are many reasons why the heart is affected and these are due to the negative qualities of mankind, such as ignorance, impatience, pride, greed, disbelief and oppression. These negative qualities are the cause of the human heart becoming weak and ill, and in order to purify the heart, we need to find a cure. The Quran is a cure for that which is in the heart and for the one who has the sickness of worldly desires, for it leaves certain knowledge and understanding from which the heart sees things in accordance to their reality. We need to read and understand the Quran.


Scripture Truth Book Company is a Christian book, Bible and merchandise retail business that was established in 1956 by M.V. Brodsky in Roanoke, Virginia. Mr. Brodsky founded the company to provide fellow believers with Christian merchandise at discounted prices - a need that first became evident to him during his days at Moody Bible Institute in the late 1930s and early 1940s.
After returning from military service in World War II, he and his family eventually moved to Roanoke, Virginia. Mr. Brodsky supported his growing family with several jobs in Roanoke, even as he continued to sell books part time. In 1956, after much prayer, he decided to devote all of his time to selling Bibles and books. The business moved to its current home at 35 Huff Road in Fincastle, Virginia in 1960.
Initially the business occupied part of the basement of the family home. Most orders came through the annual catalog and a monthly product list that was mailed to subscribers. The business increased until it eventually required the entire basement, and later, with the family's children grown and a need for still more room, the main office was moved upstairs. When greater storage was needed, God graciously provided a warehouse in the town of Fincastle for Scripture Truth to buy. Two additions have been built to provide space for merchandise.
Three generations of the Brodsky family have been blessed to work together at Scripture Truth. In addition, we have had the privilege of working with many fine people over the years as the need for help has arisen.
It has been a joy to serve so many Christians for more than 5 decades. It is our prayer that our work has been a blessing to many, and that we have been in some small way, salt and light in this world. Some of our customers have become dear friends, many more have been an encouragement to us, and we are so thankful for each one.
M.V. Brodsky went to be with the Lord on January 23, 2007 at age 88. Our family continues to honor his original vision of providing believers with Christian materials at the lowest possible prices. We do our best to glorify God through the business Mr. Brodsky founded, and to select Christ-centered books that spread the gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ.