Fire emblem three houses strategy guide
Fire Emblem Three Houses
2018.06.12 18:10 Fluxx27 Fire Emblem Three Houses
All things related to Fire Emblem: Three Houses & Fire Emblem Three Hopes! Join along as we discuss these titles for Fire Emblem on the Nintendo Switch!
2011.10.21 07:10 gigamechawolf Fire Emblem Fans Engage!
A subreddit to discuss the Fire Emblem series of games, and associated media. Fire Emblem is a fantasy tactical role-playing video game franchise developed by Intelligent Systems and published by Nintendo. The Fire Emblem series is well known for its innovation and for being one of the first Eastern style tactical role-playing games, with a strong emphasis on Western forms of medieval folklore. The series currently spans 17 mainline titles, as well as several crossover games such as TMS ♯FE.
2019.09.06 04:00 WinterWolf18 🅱️LUTGANG, RISE UP
A place to talk about Marianne, from the Nintendo Game Fire Emblem: Three Houses!
2023.06.06 15:46 Banana_Havok [US-TX] [H] TOTK Hip Pack, Fire emblem engage extras, animal crossing DLC, xenoblades 1, 2, 3 and more [W] PayPal
Prices do not include shipping unless specified, but for smaller items are generally around $5.
Only accepting PayPal FF, please see my previous posts for even more feedback on /boardgameexchange
Target preorder bonus for TOTK - Hip/Fanny Pack - $43 shipped
————- Fire emblem extras: box, steelbook, poster, hardcover art book, art cards. Game and steel book NOT included
Excellent condition. $70
Steelbook alone - $25 All extras minus steelbook - $50
Fire emblem engage tarot cards (gamestop preorder bonus) - $30 shipped
————- Fire Emblem Divine Edition - complete, new, Sealed - $110+shipping
Excellent condition as well.
Animal crossing DLC code: Happy Home Paradise. $15
Xenoblades 1 EU version - $30
Xenoblades Torna EU version - $40
Xenoblades 3 EU version - $32 shipped. Has a small tear along spine of game case and cover art.
Other Nintendo collectors items/games:
Gameboy color game: Sewing Machine. Cartridge only, clean sticker. Somewhat rare, actual sewing machine is not included. $125
GBA: Mega Man Battle Network 5: Team Colonel. SEALED. $250.
GBA: Mega Man Battle Network Chip Challenge. SEALED. $500 https://imgur.com/a/KtUtg2B
GBA: Warioland 4. SEALED. $750.
GBA: Classic NES Series Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. CIB, MINT condition. $175.
1998 Nintendo Power Magazine. Pokémon Official Players Guide (Red/Blue). Near mint condition with all stickers untouched. I have yet to find a listing on eBay with a copy as pristine as this one. $175
Slight corner wear: https://imgur.com/a/OhdQaTc
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2023.06.06 15:45 AutoNewspaperAdmin [UK] - Man admits killing three generations of family in Northern Ireland house fire Guardian
2023.06.06 15:36 Bot-alex Man admits killing three generations of family in Northern Ireland house fire
2023.06.06 15:34 dbernard456 Trying to find the name of a game
I remember playing, long ago,, a top-down rpg with puzzle dungeons, I keep thinking of the name "Fire Emblem" but when I look at it "Fire Emblem" is a strategy game. The game I played might have been on another nintendo platform but I am trying to find it on Switch. Any guesses?
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2023.06.06 15:26 AutoNewsAdmin [UK] - Man admits killing three generations of family in Northern Ireland house fire
2023.06.06 15:24 snappytech How to Care for a Chameleon in a Colder Dryer Environment? The Ultimate Guide
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How to Care for a Chameleon in a Colder Dryer Environment
When it comes to caring for a chameleon, providing the right environment is crucial for its health and well-being. While chameleons are known for their ability to adapt to various climates, they require specific conditions to thrive in colder and dryer environments. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the essential aspects of how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment, ensuring that your scaly friend remains healthy and happy.
How to Care for a Chameleon in a Colder Dryer Environment
How Does Cold and Dry Climate Affect Chameleons?
Chameleons are native to warm and tropical regions, so exposure to colder and dryer climates can pose challenges to their health. The cold temperatures can cause their metabolism to slow down, leading to reduced activity and potential health issues. Additionally, the dry environment can result in dehydration, which can be detrimental to their overall well-being. Let's learn more about how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment.
#1-Creating the Ideal Habitat Providing Adequate Heating
In colder environments, it is crucial to provide supplemental heat to maintain the chameleon's body temperature. This can be achieved through the use of heat lamps or ceramic heat emitters. Position the heat source on one side of the enclosure to create a temperature gradient, allowing the chameleon to choose its preferred temperature. Monitoring Temperature and Humidity
Regularly monitoring the temperature and humidity levels in the chameleon's enclosure is essential. Use a reliable thermometer and hygrometer to ensure that the temperature remains within the appropriate range of 75-85°F (24-29°C) during the day and slightly cooler at night. The humidity should be maintained at around 50-70%. Utilizing Heat Retention Materials
To prevent heat loss, consider incorporating heat retention materials in the chameleon's enclosure. These can include insulating panels or foam sheets placed on the sides and back of the habitat. This will help maintain a stable temperature and create a cozy environment for your chameleon.
#2-Lighting and UVB Requirements Providing UVB Lighting
According to this how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment article, UVB lighting is crucial for chameleons as it aids in the synthesis of vitamin D3, which is essential for proper calcium absorption. In a colder, dryer environment, it is even more important to provide adequate UVB lighting to compensate for the limited natural sunlight. Ensure that the UVB bulbs are replaced regularly to maintain their effectiveness. Creating a Light Cycle
Establishing a consistent light cycle is vital for your chameleon's well-being. Mimic natural day and night cycles by providing 12-14 hours of light and 10-12 hours of darkness. This will help regulate their internal clock and promote healthy behavior.
#3-Humidity and Hydration Maintaining Proper Humidity Levels
In a colder, dryer environment, it can be challenging to maintain adequate humidity levels. To ensure the well-being of your chameleon, employ strategies to increase humidity within their enclosure. Mist the habitat with water at least twice a day, focusing on the leaves and branches. Consider using a reptile fogger or a humidifier to maintain the desired humidity levels consistently. Providing a Water Source
Chameleons require a clean and accessible water source for hydration. Use a shallow dish or a dripper system to provide water for your chameleon. Ensure that the water is fresh and changed daily to prevent the growth of harmful bacteria.
#4-Diet and Nutrition Offering a Varied Diet
According to this how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment article, Chameleons are insectivores, and a balanced diet is essential for their overall health. In colder, dryer environments, it is crucial to provide a varied diet to compensate for potential nutrient deficiencies. Offer a mix of gut-loaded insects such as crickets, roaches, and silkworms, along with occasional treats like waxworms or hornworms. Calcium and Vitamin Supplementation
To ensure proper bone development and prevent metabolic bone disease, dust the chameleon's food with calcium and vitamin supplements. In colder, dryer environments, the chameleon's ability to absorb calcium may be compromised, so supplementation becomes even more important. Maintaining Optimal Gut Health
Gut health is crucial for chameleons' overall well-being. Consider adding probiotics to their diet to promote a healthy digestive system. These can be sprinkled on their food or administered orally, following the manufacturer's guidelines.
#5-Handling and Socialization Minimizing Stress
According to this how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment article, Chameleons are sensitive creatures and can easily become stressed. Minimize handling and limit interactions to essential activities, such as routine maintenance and health checks. Excessive handling can lead to stress-related health issues and should be avoided, especially in colder, dryer environments where the chameleon's immune system may be compromised. Observing Behavioral Cues
Understanding your chameleon's body language is crucial for their well-being. Pay attention to their coloration, body posture, and overall behavior. These cues can indicate their comfort level and help you identify any signs of stress or illness.
FAQs on how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment FAQ 1: Can chameleons tolerate colder temperatures?
Yes, chameleons have some tolerance for colder temperatures, but it is important to provide supplemental heat in colder environments to maintain their body temperature within the appropriate range. FAQ 2: How do I prevent dehydration in a dryer environment?
To prevent dehydration, regularly mist the chameleon's enclosure and provide a clean water source. Using a reptile fogger or a humidifier can also help maintain optimal humidity levels. FAQ 3: Is UVB lighting necessary for chameleons in colder environments?
Yes, UVB lighting is crucial for chameleons regardless of the environment. It aids in the synthesis of vitamin D3 and supports proper calcium absorption. FAQ 4: Can I use a space heater to warm the chameleon's enclosure?
Using a space heater can be risky as it may overheat the enclosure and create temperature extremes. It is recommended to use specialized reptile heat lamps or ceramic heat emitters for heating. FAQ 5: How often should I dust the chameleon's food with calcium and vitamin supplements?
Dust the chameleon's food with calcium and vitamin supplements at least two to three times a week to ensure they receive adequate nutrition. FAQ 6: Can I let my chameleon roam freely in a colder, dryer environment?
It is not recommended to let your chameleon roam freely in a colder, dryer environment. It is essential to provide them with a properly regulated enclosure that meets their specific needs.
Final thoughts on how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment
Caring for a chameleon in a colder, dryer environment requires attention to detail and proactive measures to ensure their well-being. By providing adequate heating, maintaining optimal humidity levels, and offering a balanced diet, you can create a suitable habitat for your chameleon. Remember to monitor their behavior closely and make adjustments as necessary. With proper care and attention, your chameleon will thrive even in a colder, dryer environment.
So, this concludes our topic on how to care for a chameleon in colder dryer enviorment. Hope you like it.
2023.06.06 15:18 Acceptable_Egg5560 The Nature of a Giant 
Many praises to u/SpacePaladin15
for this universe.
Credit again to u/TheManwithaNoPlan
for helping edit! [First]
-[Next] Memory transcript: Rolem, High Magister of Dawn Creek. Date: [Standardized human time] October 3rd, 2136
When Vulen first sent his proposal to the Magister of Land and Housing, it had almost immediately been sent on to me for full consideration. It was very intriguing. Enough so that I set up an actual meeting with him to discuss. He had some legal issues he wished to deal with through this proposal. All the more reason for me to talk in person.
Which resulted in both him and Tarlim’s lawyer sitting across from me in my office. Venric’s wool had been freshly groomed, apparent by the clean lines running across his body. Vulen…less so. It’s clear that the stresses of dealing with his former partners has taken a toll on him, but yet I could still see a determination in him. I doubted even the pressure of Venlil Prime’s core could break it. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, High Magister Rolem.”
I bowed to him respectfully. “The pleasure is mine, Vulen. I presume the ‘legal troubles’ you spoke of in our correspondence is why Venric is accompanying you today?”
Vulen looked like he wanted to spit. “My previous… ‘partners’ were much too used to my abilities of controlling and filing paperwork.”
“Your name was still on Tarlim’s employment contract,” Venric stated. “Thus you are still legally responsible for the illegal firing.”
“Yes,” the landlord bared his teeth, “and realizing that, my ‘partners’ decided to do the business equivalent of dragging my name through the mud before I got all the contracts fully broken. I left internal maintenance services and employment in the paws of Darula when we drafted our contract. You can see how that’s coming back to bite me now.”
I flicked my ears in polite sympathy. “Still, may you two explain Venric’s presence?”
The landlord glares at the lawyer. “Part of my proposal includes a… settlement to get me off the lawsuit.”
“And my client has given me a minimum settlement,” Venric adds, “with open field for me to agree to a settlement that exceeds on their behalf.” He bowed to me. “They felt it prudent to avoid coming here in person after the last… incident here.”
Ah yes, that was truly a regrettable circumstance, especially with the hindsight I had acquired since. I flicked my ears in the affirmative. “That is completely understandable. So long as all the correct forms are filed, that shouldn’t be an issue. Now, shall we discuss your proposal?”
Vulen’s mood visibly brightened when I said that. I would certainly be looking through the entirety of this document.
“Certainly. We can begin with Section 1, paragraph 1.” With that, I started reading through the proposal. What I found ranged from reasonable to absurd, and I would certainly be making my thoughts on the latter clear to Vulen in due time. Once I had made it through in a little under a quarter claw, I cleared my throat to speak.
“Okay, let’s be clear first,” I pulled up a copy of his proposal on my data pad. “You say that you have 350 empty units that you are willing to set aside as housing for Gojid refugees.”
“Yes, and please note the specifics,” he responded. “That comes out to 150 single bedrooms, 75 double bedrooms, 75 triple bedrooms, and 50 flats. With two occupants per bedroom, that’s 1,450 Gojid that can be accommodated. And if you stretch it to three per bedroom, that’s 2,175 Gojid refugees who would then have roofs over their heads.”
“Indeed. A good range,” I tapped on my pad, “and in exchange for this, you would have this district pay you one-and-a-half rotations rent for all the units up front.”
I heard Venric whistle as they did the math in their head. It appeared that Vulen’s greed hadn’t abated even a bit since we last met. And going by the lawyers wagging tail, neither had theirs. Considering the settlement he got in Glowhallow with the human, even I would have thought his lust for credits would have been satisfied for the moment.
I leaned forward on my desk. “Can you please tell me how you can justify such a payment?”
“Well, your honor,” Vulen bowed, “for one thing, our economy has been in a rather sharp downturn. For the government themselves to purchase that number of houses, it would give a baseline for rent to stabilize around. A cap on the leak, if you will. As well as allowing me to use the influx of credits to construct and maintain even more houses and apartments.”
“Really?” I give my ears a skeptical flick. “You will actually use the money to build more?”
“It’s in section four of the proposal.” He stated, “as part of the five-rotation plan.”
That was correct. Which means he actually wrote much of this out himself instead of just tossing it to his own lawyer. Perhaps I was too harsh on his character.
“Indeed it is. You must understand, though, that the sum you’re asking for is no small amount.”
“Oh, I’m fully aware, High Magister,” Vulen said, “But if I remember correctly, the Exterminators Office recently underwent some severe budget cuts, did it not?”
Venric seemed equally as enthused about the prospect of a payout, as per stated in Section 5, the settlement to get Vulen’s name off of the lawsuit would be going almost exclusively to him and his client. “I’ve run the numbers, your honor, and the costs should be zero-sum in the matter of as little as three Herds of Paws.”
The lawyer stood from his seat, standing to the side of the table. “It will be an investment, certainly, but if I may speak as a salesman for a moment, the PR potential for this is nothing less than monumental. Dawn Creek, as an industrial district, has little in the way of tourism aside from the A-Grav Arcade. With this, you could kickstart an entire sub-community, complete with the economic prosperity that is sure to follow!”
It was an impressive sales pitch, I had to admit. Of course, I wasn’t about to be distracted by the absurd parts. “Yes, an impressive sales pitch, Venric. However,” I turned to look at Vulen, “I can’t help but question the logic behind your decision on what the refugees will have to pay at the conclusion of the contract.”
Vulen, seemingly prepared for this, simply flicked his ears. “And what of it? Are you referring to the 50% increase over standard rent prices? Because there is
an explanation for that.”
That was one
of the absurdities to be explained, but I was interested to see how he rephrased that he wants money. “By all means, explain away.”
Vulen cleared his throat before proceeding. “We’ve already discussed that Tarlim’s wrongful termination was an attempt to drag my name through the mud, but that isn’t all that the other two have done. As mentioned, employment of the internal maintenance force was left to Darula, in one of my more questionable decisions. I figured that would be one of the first things to go after I severed the contract, so I already got around to hiring a third party to replace the jobs I knew I’d be losing. Sure enough, once the contract was severed, all of the maintenance workers stopped servicing my building. It was lucky that I had the foresight to plan ahead, but it left me at a substantial financial loss. The price hike is to pay for the more-expensive, but still necessary, external maintenance services once the sum granted by this deal has dried up.”
A good justification. Well thought out, well reasoned, almost seemed to be reasonable.
Too bad for him I saw the flaw. “And if this charge is to cover the new maintenance people, how are they being paid during
Vulen couldn’t hide the grimace. It was subtle. A slight fall of his ears, a lip curl, a tail sag, just realizing I had caught him. “Well,” he began to try and justify again, “they are being… I am…” he fell silent under my stare. It was a telling stare. Reminding him that I already had read and would reread every word of the contract. He met my eye with one of his own for a few seconds before he signed acquiescence. “Fine. It’s to increase my profit margin.” He gestured exasperatedly. “This is still a massive risk for me. People could move because of the refugees! Brahk, I guarantee there will be people who will
move because of them! “Tainted this, Humans that,” I know you’ve seen the consequences of that firstpaw. Despite the credit influx, I will still have to take loans for the new buildings, and they’ll take time to build! I need proof of future income to look good for what creditors I have left.”
“Really?” I asked, “then is that future profit the reason for the proviso that these refugees would not be able to live elsewhere for the duration of the contract plus a half rotation afterwards?”
He gave a huff before composing himself back to a professional position. “Only for the half rotation. I will be honest, the main reason for the proviso is to hedge against people like him.” He very obviously gestured to Venric.
The lawyer, on the other paw, seemed rather amused by the act. “Really? May I ask, out of curiosity?”
“I am entering into a contract with the Magistratta,” Vulen stated, “I am not about to have lawyers claiming I’m not holding up my end because some Gojid decides to abandon the housing I’m offering because of…because of Tarlim and his human friend.” He massaged his snout for a moment before continuing. “If I am to offer my rooms to refugees and
humans, this upfront cost is all but necessary. You can’t expect me to take on such an undertaking without a safety net to fall back on. It’s just bad business. And besides, I’m already paying a portion of that back up front to
the upfront payment in the form of my settlement. That has to count for something, right?”
I stare at him, unimpressed by his attempt to use my feelings around Tarlim to his benefit. “Your dealings with him have no relation to dealings with the Magistratta, Vulen. As for your safety net, you are correct. I cannot expect you to take such a risk without one.” I watched as his ears raised in confidence. “But a safety net, this is not.” His ears satisfyingly fall again. “The numbers you have given me would result in likely twice the profit you made as your own share in the last rotation just from the simple fact you would be filling every unit you owned. That is not a ‘safety net’ to fall back on. That is exploitation of disadvantaged peoples for your own gain, and you know it.
The landlord huffed in frustration. “Fine. I can drop the half rotation binding for after the contract is done.” I squint at him. “Don’t look at me like that! I have guaranteed in that contract that every unit could be filled! I will not
be accused of breaching a contract because one of the residents decided to leave early, mark my words!”
I heard Venric whistle in amusement. “The possible payout would certainly be tempting.”
Of course he would say that. I suddenly get the feeling Vulen brought Venric here for more than just the settlement.
I shake my head to focus. “That would be acceptable, however,” I swipe my pad so it showed the rent hike, “this is also to be completely dropped. If the refugees decide to continue living in your units, it shall be considered a continuation of living rather than a new contract. Therefore, any rent increase would be done at the legally mandated rate of maximum 5% already set by the Magister of Land and Housing. There will be no negotiation on this account.” I recognize the need for changing rent. At least this way the refugees should be able to afford it after the contract is up.
“Of course, you will continue to have control of the rent on the new buildings when those are built. So even without that rent hike, you will still be making a profit into the future.”
Vulen looked to be about to protest, but Vernic quickly pulled him aside and started whispering in his ear. I could hear some soft exclamations from Vulen every now and again until the two finally separated from their convenience. Vulen, with a defeated look in his eyes, addressed me. “That modification is…acceptable. On One Condition.”
I leaned back in my seat and raised my ears in interest. “You’re not really in the position to be drafting terms, but I suppose I’ll humor you. What is your condition?”
“You, and the Magistratta at large, must sign a separate, legally binding contract promising compensation for the construction of the new buildings. That was already part of my proposal, but I want a separate contract for that now, unbound by any of the terms of this current agreement.” He flicked his ears uncomfortably. I could tell that he still wasn’t happy about his profit margins being skimmed down. “If I agree to your amendment, you agree to mine. Fairs fair. Do we have a deal?”
I hold firm with my gaze. “I will have to actually read this amendment to agree. But for now, state your terms.”
“I will want to be funded 50% of total estimated building costs as gauged by a neutral third party, with another half of estimated maintenance costs for the first rotation of operations, also gauged by a neutral third party.”
I quickly thought over his proposal. “Add in a clause that you will have to pay for material overages, and in return we will allow a clause that we will pay for time overages. If that’s acceptable, we will have an agreement.”
Vulen’s face showed hopefulness once again as he bowed respectfully. “That is acceptable. You have a deal!”
I give him a professional bow as I delete and edit the appropriate sections on my copy of the contract. I then sent a quick request to the magister of Land and Housing to draw up the second contract. “Then let us reread our agreement to be sure there are no more disputes.”
Vulen sighed, seemingly annoyed that we were going through the contract once more. But it was for the best. By the end, the terms were found to be either mutually beneficial, or mutually neutral.
“Very good, Vulen,” I state, “the Magistratta approves of your proposal. Venric, if you would please also sign as a witness.”
With our paw signatures all set to the screens, the deal is done. Even though a couple thousand Gojid is only a fraction of the people rescued from the Cradle, that is still a couple thousand people who have a home once more. If other districts, or if Solgalick blesses it, other species see what we have done, perhaps they too shall follow suit.
Venric placed his pad in his lap and aimed an eye towards Vulen. “Now that that is done, there is the matter of your settlement.”
The landlord huffed as they began typing on their pad. I felt a slight amount of pity for him. It was due to the actions of his previous partners that caused him to be in this situation. But the results came for the best.
With a swipe of my paw, I saved the contract and sent off a copy for our Governor to review. The UN would work with her to find the appropriate amount of refugees to send, and we would get a message on when to receive them. I pray to Solgalick that all goes well.
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2023.06.06 15:05 sandymyc Rate/Judge my collection!
2023.06.06 15:02 influxinfotechagra How to Experience the Best of India’s Golden Triangle
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India is a land of diversity, culture and history. One of the most popular ways to explore this fascinating country is by taking a Golden Triangle tour package
that covers the three iconic cities of Delhi
. These cities form a virtual triangle on the map of India and offer a glimpse into the rich heritage, architecture and lifestyle of India. Delhi: The Capital City
Delhi is the starting point of most Golden Triangle tours. It is a city that blends the ancient and the modern, the chaotic and the serene. Delhi has something for everyone, whether you are interested in history, religion, art or cuisine. https://preview.redd.it/nrbnjksbbe4b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=81d08cef21333cd4d57b2647e31378e4a416be92
Some of the must-see attractions in Delhi are:
· Qutub Minar
: A UNESCO World Heritage Site and the tallest brick minaret in the world. It was built in the 12th century by the first Muslim rulers of India and showcases the Islamic architecture and art.
· Lotus Temple
: A stunning white marble structure shaped like a lotus flower. It is a Baháʼí House of Worship that welcomes people of all faiths and backgrounds to meditate and pray in its tranquil halls.
· India Gate
: A majestic archway that commemorates the Indian soldiers who died in World War I and other wars. It is surrounded by lush gardens and fountains and is a popular spot for picnics and leisure.
· Parliament House
: The seat of the Indian democracy and one of the largest parliamentary buildings in the world. It is a circular building with a domed roof and a colonnaded facade that reflects the British colonial influence.
· Rashtrapati Bhavan
: The official residence of the President of India and one of the most impressive buildings in Delhi. It was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and has 340 rooms, 37 fountains, 227 columns and a vast Mughal garden. Agra: The City of Love
Agra is the next stop on the Golden Triangle tour package. It is home to one of the most famous monuments in the world: the Taj Mahal
. This white marble mausoleum was built by Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal and is a symbol of eternal love. https://preview.redd.it/cs0rb3rmbe4b1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b658501f7bbd9953e20ace792dc3e552a42edfef
The Taj Mahal is not the only attraction in Agra. You can also visit:
· Agra Fort
: A UNESCO World Heritage Site and a massive red sandstone fort that was once the residence of the Mughal emperors. It has several palaces, mosques, gardens and halls that showcase the Mughal architecture and art.
: A beautiful tomb that is also known as the Baby Taj because of its resemblance to the Taj Mahal. It was built by Nur Jahan, the wife of Emperor Jahangir, for her father Mirza Ghiyas Beg. It is one of the first examples of using pietra dura (inlay work) on white marble.
· Fatehpur Sikri
: A UNESCO World Heritage Site and a deserted city that was once the capital of Emperor Akbar. It is a masterpiece of Indo-Islamic architecture and has several monuments such as Buland Darwaza (the highest gateway in India), Jama Masjid (one of the largest mosques in India) and Panch Mahal (a five-storey palace). Jaipur: The Pink City
Jaipur is the final destination on the Golden Triangle tour package. It is the capital of Rajasthan, a state known for its royal history, colorful culture and desert landscape. Jaipur is called the Pink City because of its pink-colored buildings that were painted to welcome Prince Albert in 1876. https://preview.redd.it/y8bxr3pnbe4b1.jpg?width=4032&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=3f66f3c25fcd42d0acf10efe05ec3a0d21f18270
Some of the highlights of Jaipur are:
· Amber Fort
: A magnificent hilltop fort that overlooks the Maota Lake. It was built by Raja Man Singh I in 1592 and has several courtyards, palaces, temples and gardens that reflect the Rajput and Mughal styles.
· Hawa Mahal
: A stunning palace that is also known as the Palace of Winds because of its 953 windows that allow air circulation. It was built by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh in 1799 for his royal ladies to watch the street activities without being seen.
· City Palace
: A sprawling complex that was the seat of the Maharaja of Jaipur. It has several buildings, courtyards, museums and gardens that display the royal artifacts, costumes, weapons and paintings.
· Jantar Mantar
: A UNESCO World Heritage Site and an astronomical observatory that was built by Maharaja Jai Singh II in 1734. It has 19 instruments that measure time, sun, moon and planets with remarkable accuracy. How to Book a Golden Triangle Tour Package
A Golden Triangle tour package is a great way to experience the best of India in a short time. You can book a tour package online or through a travel agent. You can choose from different options such as:
· The duration of the tour (usually 3 to 6 days)
· The type of accommodation (from budget to luxury)
· The mode of transport (from car to train to flight)
· The inclusion of meals and guides
· The addition of other destinations (such as Varanasi, Ranthambore, Udaipur, etc.)
A Golden Triangle tour package is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the wonders of India. Don’t miss it!
2023.06.06 14:59 Recent-Development10 [A Terran Space Story: Lieutenant Saga] - Chapter 119
Only ten chapters to go. If their intel is correct a trap is going to be laid. But is it accurate? Does it work? I hope you enjoy!
The next chapter will be out on Saturday. Terran Space Story: The Lieutenant Saga Academy Days First Previous
Chapter 119: Contact with the Enemy 3 Days later. March 18th, 2267. 02:44 Slip Space – CNS Waukesha Executive Conference Room
John walked into the conference room with a minute to spare. He looked rushed and harried to his senior staff and those that could view him through the video link. That wasn’t entirely untrue, he had just received a wealth of information in a debrief from the command team of this operation.
“Apologies for running it entirely too close. I just got off a call with Admiral Gallo of Second Fleet,” John said as he took his seat, “Our attack on the Paximus system drove the pirates into a frenzy. Mission accomplished at that end. Thirty-six attacks have occurred through our own and Mercantilist space. Overtures to the Alliance have not yielded much in the way of intelligence yet but our diplomats are still trying.”
Vanessa Davis, the captain of the CNS Pasto, jumped in as John took a drink, “Can you summarize the results of those attacks?”
“The pirates targeted lightly guarded facilities. In our space. We lost two stations on the frontier. Each pirate fleet lost between ten and forty percent of its attack fleet. We gave far better than we took,” John paused and looked at the room, “The pirates are badly bloodied. They are regrouping for a new push. It seems their divide-and-conquer plan won’t work for much longer. Especially now that our forces have dug into position more.”
“What’s the loss of life so far?” Oscar asked from on screen, “About four hundred Naval personnel and roughly four times that for civilian losses in our territories. Losses in Alliance and Mercantilist territories are rumored to be much higher.”
“Caught with their pants down?” Tessa said sarcastically.
“And flat-footed. Again, that is if our intelligence is accurate. Even Naval Intelligence isn’t confident of the reports that are coming out of Alliance territory. The disruptions in the channels used to funnel information to us are being felt now as many of those channels seem like they’ve been shut down violently,” John said.
“What’s the good news? You seem almost giddy,” Brady Cohen, the captain of the CNS Lagos asked.
“The Icarus was part of an attack that was repulsed in the Luyten system. Their attack only resulted in the loss of four smaller pirate vessels,” John paused for dramatic effect, “That fleet is heading here to the Tau Ceti system to get some revenge.”
Walter grinned, “Funny how that is our destination. What of additional reinforcements from the Navy?”
John grinned, “Weird, right? Twenty to thirty hours behind us. This means we are going to have to play a delaying fight to make time for those reinforcements. Also, the Tau Ceti’s solar militia will be temporarily conscripted by the Navy. They will be following my orders, not their planetary governor’s.”
“What’s the target there?” Vanessa asked.
“The shipyards in orbit around Tau Ceti Prime’s moon,” John said.
“How do you see things playing out?” Brady asked.
“Their fleet is made up of the Icarus and about twenty other ‘capital’ ships. I use the term loosely since their capital ships are old-ass cruisers. They have a single carrier in play too. The vast majority of their ships are corvettes and shuttles.”
John pressed a few buttons on the screen which displayed the contents of both the presumed pirate fleet along with the system’s militia. A moment later the militia’s ships were reorganized. Each was headed by one of the frigate captains in the task force.
“I’m creating four squadrons of ships as you can see here. Commanded by each of our four-frigate captains,” John paused, “Oscar, I haven’t ignored you but your role in this is to observe, utilize electronic warfare, and provide target priority for us.”
“Understood,” Oscar said as he nodded his head.
“Our cruisers are going to push into their capital ships at point-blank range and eliminate them,” John said, “The smaller ships will eliminate their chaff and provide an additional layer of missile defenses for the cruisers.”
“Woah, that’s a ballsy strategy. That gets us dangerously close to their guns,” Tessa said.
“It is, but if those larger ships are destroyed or put out of commission that will crush their morale,” John said as he leaned back in his chair, “If their morale is crushed then this alliance of theirs won’t last long. And the Icarus isn’t likely to be shooting at you if you’re dogfighting with their cruisers.”
“What happens if they have reinforcements that we aren’t aware of?” Brady asked, “Or if they have a reserve fleet that’s been unidentified or kept hidden?”
“Fighting retreat to the asteroid belt,” John said, “Then we commence gorilla-like warfare to delay the pirates and keep them focused on us in the system.”
The senior leaders of all ships spent the next hour and a half discussing the battle plan. The major addition was the fleshing out of any fighting retreat. John was guilty of a great many things, but losing battles wasn’t something he spent a ton of time thinking about. Cheating his way into winning a battle, on the other hand, was something he spent a lot of time thinking about.
The updated plan came together quite nicely. The small fleet would arrive in the Tau Ceti system within the next day and a half. About twelve hours ahead of the pirate fleet. If things went to plan then John felt comfortable, if not entirely confident, about decimating the fleet.
The question of them ultimately was could they kill the Icarus? That was unknown as of yet. He feared he still didn’t have enough firepower to put that ship down. But he was confident that he had enraged that crew once more.
2 Days later. March 20th, 2267. 04:12 Tau Ceti Prime – L2 Lagrange Point
Four squadrons of ships, each with a Confederate Frigate leading the charge, were converging on the shipyards above the moon. The Tau Ceti militia was very well equipped, all things considered. Multiple frigates were included in their fleets that were one or two generations old. Modern corvettes were a staple ship found in the fleets.
John and the other cruisers, including five from the militia fleet, had just fired their engines. Like the frigate squadrons, they were burning toward the shipyards. Their prey just arrived in the system.
“They have more ships than expected,” Willy said.
“Order all ships to launch drones. Hold about ten percent back for added point defenses,” John said, “Walter, your recommendation?”
“I’d recommend all ships launch two to three waves of homing-multi-missiles. Get them on their back foot using up their defensive weapons,” Walter said.
“Barbara, all ahead flank. Tessa, contact the fleet. Each ship is to fire three waves of two multi-missiles. Coordinate targets within each squadron. Big ships are to open fire with long-range weapons the moment they have range. The focus is on the Icarus’ escort ships.”
“Letting them know, sir,” Tessa said from the communications terminal.
“Got any ideas on how to get rid of that carrier?” Ingrid asked, “That’s the ship that’s got me worried.”
“Tessa, contact the Basilone, I want them to focus all their electronic attacks on the Icarus. With any luck, we’re going to stunt her ability to participate in the initial part of the battle.”
“The fleet has responded in the affirmative. They stand ready for your order to fire,” Tessa said.
“Fire the first wave. Forty-five-second delay for the second and third waves,” John said, “Barbara, adjust course to two-two-five, down ten degrees.”
“Ahh, that ol’ nugget,” Walter said from the rear of the bridge, “Training the forward railguns on the carrier.”
“Fire at will my man,” John said calmly, “If you have a firing solution for the Icarus with the other guns fire them at her. But make sure you have two torpedoes loaded for that fat sonofabitch.”
The first wave of missiles screamed through the void at the pirates. The third wave was fired roughly at the time the first wave reached the appropriate distance from the pirate ships to launch their payloads. Three hundred smaller missiles were fired out in all directions from each missile.
The mother missile had programmed targets into each one. It, like its offspring, continued to scream through the void at its targets. A hellacious, and impressive, amount of anti-missile fire was given off by the pirate fleet. Their defensive weapon systems eliminated an impressive number of missiles.
But they didn’t eliminate all of them, even with the Icarus’ upgrades dozens of missiles impacted against the kinetic shielding. The smaller ships held their own, but those diminutive missiles were successful in impacting numerous pirate ships. Thankfully, from the pirate’s perspective, those small missiles could only kill smaller ships if a fair amount of luck were involved with where it struck its target. It was a rare occurrence for only one of these missiles to not only strike their target but kill it.
Five pirate vessels succumbed to the first wave of missiles, with each requiring multiple impacts to end them. None were larger than a shuttle that suffered battle-ending damage. That changed after the second wave of missiles found their targets. Nothing larger than a corvette was destroyed, but more and more ships had given up their ghost. The third wave ripped through the fleet, virtually every ship was now bearing recent scars. Two dozen more ships died in the cold expanse of space.
Railgun rounds and lance fire were now being unleashed upon the pirates. Their fleet had been slapped and was being pushed back. That it was happening as quickly as it did surprise John. Something didn’t feel right.
“Taking evasive actions,” Barbara said, “That is a hell of a lot of return fire.”
“Thirty-two enemy ships are now dead,” Willy said, “That first wave of rail fire was punishing. But they outnumber us four-to-one still.”
John pressed a button on his seat’s armrest, “Commander Buckley, launch the first wave of fighter bombers. Have them burn to the station for rearmament.”
The speakers then turned on briefly, “Launcher first wave, we’ll have the second wave queue up for you.”
“Targeting the Icarus so soon?” Ingrid asked.
“Distance to that carrier?” John asked.
“Twenty-five thousand kilometers and closing fast,” Willy said.
“Railgun fire is wearing down their forward defenses,” Walter said, “Suggest we have load four multi-missiles with scatter rockets.”
John instantly knew what Walter wanted to do and nodded, “Do it.”
“Dare I ask what they are going to do?” Ingrid asked quietly.
“With any luck, they will confuse the carrier’s anti-missile systems, or make them preoccupied and they ignore the pair of torpedoes we are going to deliver to them at danger close range.”
“Ahh, yes, that would make great tactical sense,” Ingrid said.
“Ugley reports a glancing blow from the Icarus’s main guns,” Tessa said, “They can still fight though.”
John nodded. He couldn’t know for sure how many friendly ships were going to be lost. The Icarus was no slouch of an opponent. They were going to lose friends that day. But who would it be?
The Waukesha continued to close the distance to the enemy carrier. As Walter said, the forward defensive systems were failing due to the withering amount of railgun fire. Their rounds were already impacting their armor plates. Though none had been compromised yet since the kinetic shields were still holding on enough to arrest the momentum from incoming rounds.
The next volley changed all of that. Dozens of kinetic and electromagnetic shielding arrays blew out at the same time. The four forward rail turrets continued to volley fire and punish the enemy carrier. Armor plates were being brutalized across the front face of the enemy ship. Some rail rounds found their way into the hangar that partially faced them.
“Frigate squadrons are annihilating the enemy,” Willy said, “Forty percent of their support ships are out of commission.”
“Have we suffered any losses?” John inquired.
“The militia has, but none of the…”
The Waukesha was then rocked by a pair of heavy and loud impacts. Time stood still for the briefest of moments. John stared intently at the screen ahead of them. Their primary drive cone was struck, which was very worrying. The other round was a cruise missile that detonated right at the corner of the starboard hangar.
“Everything’s a-ok captain,” Marty said from engineering, “Just some scoring. The drive cone damage is going to affect our maneuverability a bit. If we take any more damage to it then I’m jettisoning it though.”
John’s brow raised as questioned his engineer, “Not to be that guy chief, but…”
“Secondary drive cones become our main output. It’s the six smaller cones around the big one. They aren’t as good, but as long as you don’t bleed off too much momentum, we should be good.”
“Easier said than done,” Barbara said as she looked back and John.
“Enhance our evasive maneuvers,” John said to his chief helmsmen, “I’d prefer to avoid being killed today. ETA to fun time on the carrier?”
The Waukesha continued to scream toward her target. Railguns continued to volley fire. More and more armor plates across the bow of the old, yet very large, carrier were compromised. Dozens of volleys were also fired at the Icarus. Walter, and his targeting VI, had done an excellent job of multitasking.
While no overt damage had been dealt to the Icarus. Her kinetic shields were already degraded. Pot shots were being taken at her from every angle by dozens of Confederate ships. Her shields held, but they weren’t infallible. Those shields would yield some time, though it was a fair question to ask when precisely that would happen. None knew.
Moments before the Waukesha reached point-blank torpedo range, two cruisers that flanked the Icarus exploded suddenly. Ironically, the two ships were named Hammer and Anvil. They had been close allies to the Icarus and flew with the large pirate battleship on numerous sorties over the years. Both were atomized in bright blue balls of plasma.
“In range now,” Willy said from the rear of the bridge.
“Fire, Barbara, pull up as hard as you can. All weapons on the Icarus, blast her ass with everything we’ve got!” John shouted excitedly.
Two torpedoes were launched from their forward launchers. A dozen cruise missiles and multi-missiles were also fired from her other launchers. The ship’s maneuvering thrusters were fired and pushed well beyond their safety limits. This radical course adjustment was thought to be necessary if the torpedoes caused a fusion explosion in their target.
Unfortunately, the radical evasive maneuver was unneeded. Both torpedoes struck and penetrated deep within the mammoth ship. But neither struck the core or set off a lucky, or crazy, secondary explosion that led to a massive fusion reaction. Instead, the power simply shut off after two large explosions were registered internally to the carrier.
Two giant bulges in the exterior armor plates could be seen. Ironic in a way that this old ship resisted such a large internal explosion. Unfortunately, for such rare craftsmanship, the blast had to go somewhere, and as the hull plating prevented the explosion from radiating out into the void, the explosion tore through the interior of the ship.
What safety measures that were engaged, such as closing bulkheads, were insufficient for the magnitude of the blast? The hull survived, as a matter of speaking, but nothing internally did. Everything inside the ship was pulverized and beaten to a pulp. The emergency shutdown procedures successfully shut off the core before bad things could happen to it. If the raging fires didn’t consume the crew or the blast’s shockwaves didn’t get the crew, the complete destruction of all breathable atmospheres would end what remained of the crew.
“SHIP KILL!” Walter shouted.
“Focus on our target,” John shouted over his excited weapons officer, “All guns on their turrets, we need to take that ring out!”
One more pirate cruiser took a brutal rail round that sheared off every armor plate on her port side. She was leaking atmosphere and it looked like her spine had been bent towards the port side. While the round fired from the Ugley would get credit for the kill, the pirate's attempt at firing their railgun ultimately caused a cascade of explosions that ended its life.
“Tessa, contact all of the cruisers, we need a full salvo of micro missiles at the Icarus,” John said.
Just then the Waukesha once again shuddered mightily. Thanks to a combination of angle and speed her kinetic shields were able to deflect the rail round fired by the Icarus. Their port side’s shielding arrays were noticeably weaker. The next shot would likely penetrate them.”
“Barb, we need…”
“I see it and already adjusted our course. Giving her our starboard side once I roll over.”
The Waukesha deftly rolled over gently in space and adjusted course to circle its current most hated enemy. Laser batteries, lances, and railguns all fired at the Icarus. Some rounds were impacted on its heavy armor, doing nothing but superficial damage at this point.
But given enough time, the papercuts they were giving their large adversary would add up. While not as impressive as a knockout punch, bleeding to death an opponent also resulted in a win. Though that would come at a cost as the fight would last considerably longer.
Barbara adjusted course once again causing the Waukesha to fly farther away from the Icarus. The timing was impeccable. Just as the Waukesha began to grow distance between the two ships the missiles came in. Thousands of rockets and guided mini munitions slammed across the starboard side. Electromagnet and Kinetic shields flared out of life. It would be hours before they could be restored to full use.
“Walter, all rails on that ring.”
The old veteran of the weapons console was a step ahead of John. As Barbara rolled the Waukesha back into position to close the gap, Walter was able to get six turrets firing. All lances were firing at the enemy turrets.
One was slowly rotating to point at the Waukesha. One lance shot scored a hole-in-one of sorts and impacted several meters above the breach. In doing so it mangled the magnetic coils in the large barrel. A moment later the Icarus fired. Thanks to their shot being guided by the hand of God the round struck the obstruction and caused an enormous explosion within the barrel.
The whole turret sheared off from its mount. A small amount of atmosphere leaked before being sealed off. The Waukesha was the first to draw blood. But that wasn’t all.
Multiple cruise missiles were fired by not only the Waukesha but the other cruisers too. One massive explosion after another ripped across the Icarus’ hull. Deep crater marks could be seen in a dozen armor plates. Her armor was compromised. The fleet had turned the impossible into a possibility.
Better yet, the Waukesha’s lightning focus on her enemy’s turret ring worked. They had shattered it in three locations. The enemy’s primary guns powered down. The biggest threat from the big ship was no more. But that didn’t stop John and his allies from targeting the turrets and destroying each and every last one.
The battle had turned to favor the Confederates. But it was not over, not yet. The Icarus still drew breath. So long as she did, she was a threat. It was a threat that they were desperate to end, once and for all.
“Open a line to all ships,” John said, “Press the attack, all ships fire their heaviest ordinance at the Icarus!”
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2023.06.06 14:50 AutoModerator [Download Course] Aleric Heck – Alpha-AI Youtube Ads Course (Genkicourses.site)
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2023.06.06 14:47 Bluenymph82 Games With Decent Story and Action
I'm currently looking for games that have a good amount of story and action without the story overstaying its welcome.
Games I've liked include:
- Darksiders games, but most of all 2 and Genesis
- Ori 1 and 2, though 1 felt better
- Dragon's Dogma (loved it but hit it way too hard)
- Minecraft Dungeons was cute but a little short
- Dark Souls (including those on PC)
- Monster Hunter Stories 2 (other MH titles didn't feel as fun for me)
- Kirby Forgotten Land (also have RTDL I need to finish)
- Red Dead 2
Games I'm not interested in:
- BOTW or TOTK
- Hades or any other roguelike
- Luigi's Mansion 3
- Most of the mario games (they just aren't clicking for me)
- Fire Emblem Three Houses (tried it, didn't care for it)
- Rune Factory (need something with a little more action and less life sim)
- Ni No Kuni (have it and it just feels way too slow)
- Ace Attorney
I keep thinking of trying Xenoblade 3 but it looks like the story might be too long and I might get bored before finishing it.
I'm almost done going through the Diablo 3 Campaign but the gameplay loop of just continuing after the story to collect more geaget more powerful doesn't appeal to me.
Thanks in advance.
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2023.06.06 14:45 Delphinastella37 1st trimester sickness
This is my 1st pregnancy and just for context, I am 40 yo - fairly active beforehand exercising 3-5 times a week and currently at the start of week 9 in my pregnancy. The last 3 weeks have been about surviving with barely eating anything on week 6, followed with extreme fatigue on week 7 (plus the nausea), then overseas travel on week 8 (that I had to go and had no choice).
I have a decent job and I am the breadwinner with every single payment (house, car, etc etc) on me so can’t really afford any sick leave or else I am afraid my company is going to fire me. They are making people redundant every 3 months or so since an acquisition took place at the beginning of last year.
My strategy is to start the day early, eat as much as I can stomach up until around 3pm when I would no longer be able to function at all because that’s when the sickness starts to kick in and I have zero energy left to do work or anything else. Any sight of food (even on TV) or in the kitchen would send me straight to the toilet.
I’ve read through some of the posts in this subreddit but thought I’d give it a go to ask for advice in mitigating the sickness or if anyone found themselves in similar position, to offer some advice?
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2023.06.06 14:43 glasgowriter Flowers for Algernon: What happens to Celtic now Ange Postecoglu has left?
Daniel Keyes’ 1966 sci-fi novel tells the story of Charlie Gordon. Charlie is 32, has an IQ of 68, works a menial job in a bakery, gets teased by his co-workers. In a stroke of luck, Charlie is approached by two scientists, undergoes an experiment–already successfully performed on a mouse named Algernon–that slowly takes his IQ from 68 to a whopping 185.
During this period of enlightenment, Charlie experiences the highs of intellectual curiosity. But, just as everything is going well, Algernon gets ill and–spoiler alert–dies.
This foreshadows Charlie’s regression back to his original state. And, just before he loses his enlightenment for good, Charlie asks someone to put flowers on Algernon’s grave.
It’s a great novel, but a sad story. And it’s a story that has parallels with the goings-on at Celtic of late.
Seatbelts on? Then let’s cast our minds back to 2020…
The Botching of the Ten 2020/21 was going to be the year of years. That was when we’d secure ten league title wins on the trot, and gain bragging rights in perpetuity.
The only stumbling block, it seemed, was the raging worldwide pandemic. Coronavirus had cut short the previous season, and in order to keep the games going, clubs were forced into an eerie closed-doors environment - football a capella, without the cheers and jeers of crowds.
Some teams reacted well to the new normal. Some teams didn’t. In the year of years, Celtic looked sluggish on the pitch, and quickly fell behind Rangers in the most important of title races. Why so bad? Rumours of the board reneging on gentlemen’s agreements swirled; the virus created a growing injury list; the compounding effect of poor results drained confidence.
As the weeks went by– and the tenth title slipped further and further away– a defiant manager doubled down on his position. If the results kept going poorly, the manager would resign. He said so himself. The results kept going down. The manager didn’t resign.
Instead, he was ‘bitterly disappointed’ in post-match interview after post-match interview after dropping more points. His refrain echoed that of a doomed predecessor: Tony Mowbray–after a run of bad defeats of his own–said we would all just have to ‘take it on the chin’. But, as Tony found out, there are only so many punches you can take before your chin collapses. Things weren’t looking good.
Purses in fridges CSC In the middle of all the chaos on the pitch, the board stayed mostly silent off it. When it did speak, it was only to back a beleaguered boss. Angry crowds gathered outside Celtic Park in ugly scenes. The gap between board and fans widened. The chasm hadn’t been this big since the ousting of the Kellys almost thirty years prior.
It got worse. While watching the ten melt away in real time, the manager was putting all our purses in the fridge and telling us we’d stuck them there ourselves. ‘The ten isn’t that important,’ he said. ‘You guys are too entitled.’ What?
Lennon resigns Eventually, things reached a singularity. Lennon resigned, but it was way too late. We wouldn’t have eternal bragging rights after all. We’d have a summer to chew on the what-ifs, a couple of months to figure out how we were going to climb out of a right mess.
While we were still reeling from a triple-whammy of Dubaigate, Lennogate, Ten-was-never-that-important-anyway-gate, we’d convinced ourselves Eddie Howe was the right man for the job.
Fan speculation fed media conjecture which strengthened fan speculation, and the whole thing gathered a tail-eating momentum that sustained itself for an entire summer, without any confirmation from the club.
We’d also convinced ourselves we’d be getting a shiny new director of football, too, something we all nodded and agreed was a necessity; a safeguard against the sort of shitshow we’d just endured and were still slithering out of.
Fergal Harkin, a City Group guy, was floated as a potential candidate. Then it was somebody else. Actually, it could be this young Man City up-and-comer. At any rate, negotiations with Eddie were going pretty well behind the scenes. There was just the small quibble over his backroom staff, all of whom Eddie would be taking up the road. No bother Edward, you bring your mum if it helps; we need you now more than ever.
Howe no? As the summer dragged on, however, Eddie (nor his mum) were anywhere to be seen. He certainly wasn’t draped in a green-n-white scarf on the steps at Celtic Park, giving a motivational maiden speech à la Martin or Brendan.
On 28 May 2021, the club released this statement:
‘Following very positive and detailed discussions with Eddie Howe, with the belief that he would be an excellent candidate for the position of Celtic Manager, we allowed time for the process, given he’d previously made it clear he was not looking to return to management until this summer at the earliest.
We can now confirm that Eddie will not be joining the Club, for reasons outwith both his and Celtic’s control. We wish Eddie success for the future.’
Instead, we learned, the board would be appointing *checks notes* Ange Postecoglu as manager.
This appointment–coupled with the failed acquisition of Eddie Howe–seemed on-brand. Were the club custodians actually saboteurs? As fans, what other conclusion could we draw?
The Experiment begins In the wake of the managerial announcement, fans fired up their internet machines and looked to Japan for the first time since Naka left. Just who was this Ange fellow? Apparently he had managed a number of Australian clubs, guided the national team to the 2014 World Cup, and won the Japanese league with Yokohama F. Marinos.
FollowFollow and Rangers Twitter rubbed its hands with glee. Get ready for 56, they gloated.
They had a point. We needed a marquee signing to help us get over a disastrous season, and the board have cheaped out with some random Aussie.
Soon after his arrival, Ange’s compatriots flooded fan forums to pour water on the flames of indignation. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, they said, but you’ve caught a winner in Ange. Honestly, they said. Give him a while to settle in, and you’ll see, you’ll all see.
They promised even more riches in season two. That’s when Ange really gets going, they said.
Year two? It’s only day fucking two, lads. We’ve got a bunch of players who want to leave, and nobody has any faith this board can tie their shoelaces, never mind appoint a good coach. Cheers for the words of encouragement, but let’s suspend judgement.
The Enlightenment The Ange experiment didn’t start well. We lost the first three league games, still had those wantaway players at the club, and were looking at the prospect of another long season ahead.
Footage of Ange directing training sessions appeared online. He told the players ‘we never stop’. It sounded like faux-motivational twaddle.
But then. Wantaway players got their moves. A Japanese contingent arrived to take their place, and it turned out they were all class at football. Games destined for draws became last-gasp wins.
The Aussies were right. Things were changing for the better. We never stop wasn’t just empty rhetoric. It was a philosophy stamped into a team playing their hearts out for a man whose system had transformed our fortunes in a short space of time.
In a blink, we’d won the league cup and regained a title. We never stop appeared on hoardings, on Twitter, on t-shirts. If the Aussies were right about Ange, then his second season in charge would be even better. All this seemed scarcely believable, just one year out from the worst season in living memory.
Today Not even a week on from recording a world-record 8 domestic trebles, Ange’s second season in charge was better than the first. However, instead of enjoying unalloyed celebrations, we're mourning the loss of our manager.
The Regression? Now Ange has left, thoughts will immediately turn to his successor. Who will we get? The longer it takes to announce his replacement, the more time there’ll be for the type of speculation that fans and media generated around Eddie Howe in the vacuum of concrete knowledge.
For me, the most pressing question is whether or not the board got lucky with Ange. Did they know he was a success story just waiting to happen? Or was he a third-choice gamble that paid off without their involvement?
Who knows. But if the board hasn’t learned from the disastrous 2020/21 campaign, then we’ll be in the same situation now as we were back then. The only difference is we'll be starting from a position of strength heading into the unknown.
In a way that’s much scarier than the 2020/21 season. That’s because 2020/21 was an outlier, albeit a painful one. It was a sliver of doom bookended by great success.
More than a club In any event, now Ange has left we’ll do what we always do when heroes leave the club: we’ll continue supporting it. When Larsson left, it seemed like we’d never recover. When the 1967 European Cup-winning team dissolved gradually over time, it was heartbreak for the fans who watched it happen.
And now, as another hero leaves, it’s a sore one. But remember, no matter how much a player or coach professes to love Celtic–with a couple of rare exceptions–they’ll never love Celtic as much as I do or you do.
When you keep that in mind, it’s easy not to get swept away in the idea of everlasting players or managers.
Let’s just hope, no matter what happens, we don’t regress.
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2023.06.06 14:42 Johnny_Boy398 Africa Rework Proposal: Bêafrîka, Katanga, and the Mercenary Kingdoms of Africa
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(This is part of a continuing series, links to which will be provided in the comments below) Bêafrîka State: Bob Denard, Jean-Bédel Bokassa and the mercenary state.
The term “warlord” has been abused by many as a catch all term for any armed african group. It brings to mind images of a barbaric, violent oaf seeking to enrich themselves with trinkets and money off the back of their military extortion: an example of the primitive and bloodthirsty nature of the african. This is certainly the purpose of the term for the Germans, who seek to paint all native armed resistance in this light in order to justify their own return to the continent. But despite this abuse of the term, and its unjust application, it is not made up out of whole cloth: bandits, criminal gangs and short sighted thugs do exist among the africans as they do in all people, and the chaos of the German collapse has given these characters the opportunity of a lifetime. In the former RK Zentralafrika this is seen most clearly in the “mercenary state” of Bêafrîka. Borders of a successful Bêafrîka. Many post-colonial African nations are accused of being artificial: random lines drawn on a map for the convenience of foreigners, and thus doomed to be either failures or exploitive facades. The truth of this statement is debatable: what makes a nation “organic”, is it truly critical that one be so? Are the struggles of new African nations so easily encapsulated? The argument goes on but all will agree on this: Bêafrîka is an utterly artificial and extractive state which can only begrudgingly be called a nation at all.
The north-west of Zentralafrika has always been something of a hodgepodge. The initial conquest of the area from the Free French meant the roll back of any “nation building” expenditures in favor of reverting back to the old company rule. Corvee slavery, plantations and almost non-existent infrastructure was the rule even under the French, and as such the transition to German ownership was almost seamless. If the average native african noticed a difference at all it was in the flags and helmets of the whites who terrorized them: their managers and guards stayed essentially the same. As such the region was seen by independence agitators as ripe for their own movements to grow in. Though such resistance was kept on a tight leash by the Germans it finally burst forth in the northern incursion of 1954. Supported by Nigeria and with the German forces drawn thin by the ongoing Wester Russian War, socialist militants made a lightning strike southward in the hopes of toppling Zentralafrika. For a moment it seemed as if they would do it: the road to Leopoldville was only lightly guarded and the rebel numbers were, in theory, vast. But it was not to be: poor command structures and infighting slowed the rebel advance for long enough that Kommissar Krogmann and Seigfreid Muller were able to reorganize and counterattack with the aid of a new breed of soldier: the Mercenary.
Though having been present in the role of corporate security for years this war was the instance when the Congo Mercenaries truly became a force to be reckoned with. Restrictions on who could hold a gun were dropped and the ranks of mercs swollen with Europeans, Asians and Africans. Though typically small groups and far more independent than Krogmann would have liked, they were all well acquainted with their trade and often brought along their own equipment. They could move fast, hit hard, and there was no reason to suspect their siding with the revolutionaries. With the aid of mercenaries and the cash of selling off vast tracts of land to private holders the revolutionaries were pushed back, and the long guerilla war began. Some areas of Zentralafrika were essentially passive, or had other security solutions. But in the north it was the mercenaries and the garrison which enforced the German order. Names of these men would soon become minor celebrities to the military minded, and their benefactor Seigfreid Muller got a promotion. But for our story only three names matter: the French “mercenary king” Bob Denard, “black Napoleon” Jean-Bédel Bokassa, and “the tiger” Alexandre Banza. Though it is the armed men who hold real power in their hands, the counter-revolutionary forces are not all German and French soldiers of fortune. The APL’s anti-clerical excesses and radical nativism also alienated the thin class of native collaborators and most of all the catholic church. Barthelemy Boganda was one such native conservative, being a native priest who has tried to act through the church to both reform and aid his flock. After the death of his mentor Marcel Grandin Boganda has become a leading figure of pro-native reform without resorting to violence or leftist radicalism.
With the alliance of French and German landowners paying for their protection the mercenaries, though still technically led by Europeans, became the foremost armed presence in the north. Battling against resistance internal and external by 1962 they have become a hated and envied force, and one which Krogmann is eager to bring into line. But the South Africa War will get in the way of any reforms, with mercenaries once again being called on to shoulder the burden of warfare and internal suppression. By the end of the conflict, no matter how it ends, the mercenaries will have become an even more entrenched force in Zentralafrika. Of course when Huttig takes over this will no longer be tolerated. Having already been humiliated by Muller before, Huttig will take great pleasure in dismissing and rounding up the mercenaries, forcing them to join his forces as regular conscripts without any special privileges. Or rather he would, if he had been fast enough to catch them. When news came of Krogmann’s death and Huttig’s assumption of control the mercenaries did not wait for the order to come: they fled if they were able, and if not they seamlessly transitioned from paid agents of the state to new warlords out for their own survival and enrichment. And more than anyone they congregated around the new king of the mercenaries: Bob Denard.
For the year Huttig’s reign lasts the gangs of former mercenaries will be yet another thorn in his side: raiding, bribing and leading his forces on goose chases. And thanks to Huttig’s destruction of any boats or airplanes he could not gain control over these same former mercenaries had nothing else they could do, unless they cared to gamble trekking all the way to Free France. But Huttig’s flailing attempts to bring them to heel was only one of many threats: in this same area socialist militants and petty warlords also sprung up, and sought to destroy the hated mercenaries themselves. When Huttig dies and the German forces retreat to Leopoldville all pretense will be dropped: the Pan-africans, Fang Gabonese and Cameroonian revolutionaries will all attempt to proclaim new states and to expel the gangsters of German capitalism for good. But with their attention divided and the mercenaries still possessing skill, fire power, and all the money the old landowners could scrap together the attempt will only be half successful. Right between the three of them the new Bêafrîka State will be proclaimed. Born in 1929 Bob Denard first got the taste for battle during the French State’s failed expeditions against De Gaulle in the late 40s. Deciding that there was better pay and better leadership to be had in Zentralafrika he was one of the first mercenaries brought in through the “King of the Mercs” Siegfried Müller. Though he has little patience for the Reich’s racial code he is a brave commander and an ardent anti-communist. After Müller’s disappearance upon Hüttig’s ascension the stranded mercenaries looked to those bold and skilled enough to lead them, and found it in Denard.
Under the nominal presidency of Boganda, who was practically kidnaped to take the role, the new state is in perhaps the most precarious position of all post-independence states.Their domestic support rests on a incredibly thin strata of white landlords, a handful of native conservatives and a mercenary army which is already looking for a way out the back door. And opposing them is a very dedicated coalition of native nationalists and revolutionaries. It would be the most natural thing in the world for this ramshackle “state” to disintegrate. But there is one thing which can unite them, and can make them all take the risk of fighting it out: Money. Specifically diamonds, gold, and other precious metals which can be sold high on the global market. The mercenaries, native or foreign, have struck for fame in Bêafrîka with the process of becoming more than the lap dogs of the wealthy, but instead to be the wealthy themselves. Baganda hates this of course, but no one asked: the guns call the shots here. And besides, the APL has already branded him a traitor to the people: in the mercenaries' eyes he should be thankful that he still has his head. And so it is decided, the mercenaries would make their own little heaven, and all they had to do to keep it was win the war for it.
Against them stands the APL, their long-time adversary. When the war begins these Pan-africanists, supported by Cameroon and Nigeria, will take the fight to Bêafrîka. This would probably be a death sentence if it were not for the fact the APL is fighting a two front war with the Nationalists to their east. If the mercenary state should still fail it will be dismantled, with the surrounding states taking over its former territory. But if it should win this first war the gamble will have, for now, paid off. Bob, Bokassa and the rest will be able to begin bringing in the money as they use outright criminal methods to both extract and then sell the bounty of the land. The people, of course, hate this as does the nominal “president”. And within the mercenary ranks new fissures will soon begin to show. When faced with a united enemy these men were willing to work together, but now that the threat of death no longer hands quite so close the question of dividing the spoils has quickly turned into a feeding frenzy: it seems to be every mercenary clique for itself trying to carve out its own privileged fiefdom. And it is here that the reformists, such as they are, spy an opportunity. Alexandre Banza, born 1932 to the Gbaya people, is one of the very few high ranking officers who have a ethnic connection to the land they now rule. His story is much the same as the rest of the black mercenaries: born to a poor family he saw mercenary service as a path to excitement, respect and advancement he would never get on his own. Intelligent, ambitious, and unscrupulous he would rise to become a commander of his own group before the Huttig takeover, and should he take power will rename his state the Bêafrîka Republic, embarking on a cynical campaign of “reform”.
The continued presence of white mercenaries is especially resented by the people, and none more so than commander of the presidential guard and de facto leader of the Bêafrîka State Bob Denard. As such soon after the emergency of war has passed Denard will be dismissed from his position and the two most prominent native warlords Alexandre Banza and Jean-Bédel Bokassa will be invited in to take command. Denard of course has no interest in leaving, and will arrest the president in his own residence, but not before word of the new decree leaked to the streets and the other mercenaries. So it is that the fate of Bêafrîka will be decided the only way a state built on mercenaries could be: with a shootout for control of the president. On one side is Denard: he has already made overtures to Free France and the OFN, as well as criminal contacts in Europe. By leveraging these contacts, and with the aid of the remaining white mercenaries who see his removal as the precursor to their own, he may be able to fight his way out and rise to power over the bodies of his rival warlords.
If Bob Denard and his presidential guard emerges victorious president Boganda’s days will be numbered. Unceremoniously removing and replacing him with a more compliant puppet who I will not even bother you with the name of, any promised elections will be delayed, and then delayed indefinitely. In the end even the facade of democracy will be left behind as the government instead relies on various emergency decrees and under the table deals, as well as outright coercion to cement its power. This is the true mercenary state, in which the armed and powerful take what they want from the weak and destitute: the state will see its revenues come from precious minerals and eventually oil, but just as much from the underground world of smuggling, arms trading, mercenary contracts on behalf of any who will pay, and even (if rumors are to be believed) human trafficking. Denard himself is not so unsophisticated as many of his henchmen: he portrays himself and his state as anti-communist crusaders who are willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect the people from the bolshevik menace. But it makes no difference to the people and to his neighborhood: unless those friendly to him such as the Free French and the Belgian regionalists are victorious both Denard and his state will find themselves facing external invasion sooner or later. When that happens, surrounded by disciplined enemies and facing ever increasing internal revolts, Denard will do what mercenaries do best: he will gather what valuables and guns he can before fleeing. But if this should not happen: if the Congo should remain shattered, and Nigerian ambitions fail, who knows how long the dream may last? Living as they do in a half criminal status all mercenaries are well acquainted with the underworld. Under Bob however the state itself will come to resemble a crime syndicate, with Bob acting as the Mafia boss. More than any other single resource diamonds are the breadwinner for the “White King of Bêafrîka”, but taking a page out of Manchuria’s playbook drug production and trafficking are increasingly filling the ledger as well. The diplomatic denouncements are nothing: there are always back doors which money can open.
But all this is only if Bob and his people should win the battle for President Boganda. For the first time having the full backing of the streets and with a larger manpower pool to draw from it is likely that the native warlords Alexandre Banza and Jean-Bédel Bokassa will become the victors, chasing out the (competition) colonizers in favor of their own rule. They shall of course be rewarded by the eternally thankful president for their good deeds: Bokassa will take over as the new head of the presidential guard, while Banza will become minister of finance and foreign minister. But just as inevitably there is no throne on earth big enough for two people and so the former allies will soon look for a way to oust the other. The hope of the civilians lay in the victory of the Alexandre Banza clique. If he should succeed in arresting and disappearing his rivals Banza will seek to somewhat moderate the state. Rather than rely on naked coercion he will enforce the most basic of social contracts: in return for the country's obedience he will provide protection. Though the basic facts of the Bêafrîka State shall remain: a thriving underground, an economy based on raw export, and a army of criminals, the worst aspects of this rule will be softened and the “civilianization” of government give cosmetic reform to the regime, and finally permit the nominal president a level of dignity, even being allowed to push some of his catholic inspired social reforms. Though not much more than swapping a military uniform for a business suit this will go some way to providing a sense of normalcy, and allow the state to take a non-aligned stance rather than become the plaything of some foreign power.
On the other hand is the favorite of the soldiers Jean-Bédel Bokassa. You know him as the “mad” emperor of the C.A.R. otl, but there was always a method to his madness: one cannot remain in power for over a decade by being stupid. Where Banza seeks to normalize his regime and to be seen as a developmental junta rather than a warlord, Bokassa will lean into his reputation as a warlord, adding esoteric elements to bolster his rule over strangers. Under Bokassa the new system will be entirely personal: he will take the already weak state apparatus and effectively dismantle it, instead relying on personalized dependents to govern the capital city, and leaving the remainder of the country to its own devices so long as it bent the knee when ordered. No longer able to convincingly portray himself as a benign figure to a people who are mostly foreigners to him, he will instead tap into local superstitions to appear as the master of the occult, ruling as a man to be feared even beyond the grave and allegedly indulging in cannibalism. Perhaps even more importantly however he will make a hard switch from western backing to eastern, seeking the protection and the money of Japan. In this at least he will be fairly competent: negotiating the relationship with Japan through a mixture of bribery, utility, and threatened confiscations to wring out as much foreign aid and diplomatic backing as he can. Beyond this his rule will be one of chaos and decline with the people seeing their standard of living decrease yet further to a near subsistence level. But it will be a chaos which Bokassa alone is the ruler of. Jean-Bédel Bokassa has been fighting longer than most: volunteering for the Free French during WW2, he was captured and ultimately released during the German conquest of Gabon. From there he drifted as a menial laborer until the northern insurrection forced the Reichskommissar to bend, and Bokassa was called up by an old french commander. From there he rose to be the de-facto head of his own suit by 1962, and now the undisputed leader of his own fiefdom. The extreme personalism and close relation with Japan will eventually result in his coronation as the sovereign of the Central African Empire.
Whether it be cynical pragmatism or esoteric terror the Bêafrîka State will remain a pariah among their fellow african nations. Cameroon and Gabon will consistently attempt to undermine and take over their territory for themselves, while even the Germans will see any government as traitors and rebels. Though its military may find a backer and its people may become cowed, the incredibly fragile state will come to an end sooner than later, unless they get very lucky. Any Nigerian victory will be a disaster, but a successful unifyer to the south and east would be a great threat as well. They were already founded in the war against one of those potential unifiers and all contenders for power recognize that a united Congo is a dangerous Congo. So, either through direct aid in the case of Denard or cheering from the sidelines Bêafrîka must hope for the victory of the regionalists and Jean Schramme. Katanga, the Regional Alliance, and “The Belgian”.
For the Pan-Africans, the Republicans, the Nationalists and even the Germans survival is not enough: they wish to reunite the old Belgian colony under their vision of the future, and perhaps even seek expansion beyond that. But not all “congolese” feel this way: in particular the province of Katanga sees no reason why it should not be free to plot its own course. Wealthy in its own right with economic ties to the south the elite of the mining provence see no reason why they should be chained to a central government, and are at least partially supported in this by the people. Just what future this “independence” takes is is still up for grabs, but in the chaotic aftermath of Huttings death Moïse Tshombe, Albert Kalonji and Jean Schramme will form a triumvirate to lead the Regional Alliance. Élisabethville slum. Katanga is the richest province in the Congo, as well as the one with the highest concentration of Belgians, and as such has seen the beginning of a modern city develop in its capital. It has also been the prime region for victims of the Congo Dam to migrate into, on account of its relative stability and high labor demand. This has all combined to put a great deal of pressure on those populating the land south of the lake and the development of modern slums alongside the growing city.
Katanga is, in 1962, the last remnant of Belgian colonial rule left after the German takeover. Not formally of course, that had been swept away along with Belgum itself in the 50s. But just beneath the German surface the old colonial trinity of church, company and stick still held true, and mostly under Belgian control. In the aftermath of WW2 and the establishment of Burgundy many Belgians had chosen to migrate into their old colonial territory, either for political or economic reasons. Their numbers would soon fill out the officer ranks of the Force Publique, the managerial posts of various new mines and plantations, and the pews of the catholic church. But it would not be the end of their difficulties: the old trinity clashed with Krogmann’s designs for the colony and after formally absorbing it in 1955 the contest began. Where the catholic church once held near total control over healthcare and education, not to mention religious life, Krogmann favored secularism for the european and promoted dechristianization for the native. His hopes for dissolving the FP and for removing french and dutch from the lexicon would be similarly resisted. By 1962 this contest of wills has continued to grind on, with the steady advance of germanization being constantly interrupted by economic and political expediency. The Belgian Katangaians find themselves stuck uncomfortably between German pressure from above and Native pressure from below.
This native pressure is on one hand from the educated evoles, always looking to improve the lot of themselves and sometime of their kin. But it also increasingly comes from the restless masses who have come under pressure from the fallout of the Congo Dam. As the Belgian congo moderately prospered the cities began to grow as well, with the colonial authorities making tentative attempts to accommodate the influx. But after the Congo dam and the German takeover both of these trends changed. Millions of refugees fled the great flood into the wealthiest regions they could go: Leopoldville and Katanga. The population of the cities exploded, and the subsistence agriculture still practiced by most Congolese came under incredible pressure as migrants and squatters proliferated. The Belgian authorities meanwhile were left without the resources needed to truly accommodate this change, and were left with only the Force Publique to try and keep the “indigenes” separate from the new “foreigners”. It was in this context that regionalist associations with the goal of protecting specific people, such as the Lula or Lunda, came to dominate the native political scene, such as it was. Both of these movements discovered that they had similar enemies: both resented German power and feared the “national” native resistance. But this did not yet mean they became allies. Moïse Tshombe, the nominal head of Katanga. Born to a noble lineage and always wealthy, his desire to be liked and his lack of spin have made him into an ideal puppet for other interests. His current sponsor is the remnants of the old Belgian Union Minière, which comprise much of Katanga’s economy. Though not hated by any “his” government is in reality more beholden to his lieutenants such as Godefroid Munongo.
Katanga had lived in an atmosphere of tension even before the rise of Huttig and the advent of the “Afrikareich” did nothing to alleviate this tension. As part of Huttig’s program to fully disarm the natives and bring all armed forces under SS command he attempted to disarm the Force Publique and Belgian mercenaries, rolling them into its own armed forces. Prominent civilian Belgians were arrested and replaced with SS men, leaving both the Belgians and the natives angered. Under this new pressure some decided to give it up: the new regime could not be bargained with as the prior one was, and any resistance clearly meant death. But enterprising elements were not willing to take death laying down: most prominently this included Godefroid Munongo and Jean Schramme. Using their own wealthy connections and estates as payment they would form small resistance groups, and would be the first formal alliance between the Belgians and the regionalists. To cut a long story short when Huttig dies and the Germans retreat to Leopoldville, those SS governors who do not flee will find their lifespans much shorter than expected, and those brave or desperate enough to resist Huttig will return to power. In the face of nationalist calls to reunite the congo however, the regionalists will move first. With the lavish bribery of local mining conglomerates and the justification of “popular will”, the Belgian community led by Schramme and localist leaders will form the first concret result of their ad-hoc alliance: The State of Katanga.
In its first years Katanga is a divided and unsettled place, forced into unity by the common fear of external subjugation but beholden to competing political camps. The state itself is at least nominally led by Moïse Tshombe, descendant of the kings of the Lunda people and scion to one of the last wealthy native families. He is the figurehead of a poorly organized class of native elites and collaborators, most often independently wealthy and committed just as much to their own economic privileges as they are to the cause of regionalism itself. But despite this Tshombe heads the closest thing to a “popular movement” in the new state: the "Confédération des associations tribales du Katanga" (CONAKAT). Formed in the interest of protecting the livelihoods of the Lunda against the encroaching migrants it is through this party that the people are mobilized for war. Relying on traditional authority and elite connections in the name of a tribalism has been effective in at least countering the partisans of the republicans and nationalists which contest the provence. Just as in the other contenders the war is as much a mater of internal division as it is defeating external challenges. But in order to meet those external enemies the party has been obliged to do so with the aid of their “ally”, the Belgians. Jean Schramme, despite his official profession, is less of a mercenary and more of a Belgian “contractor” who has a reputation for getting things done and resisting German encroachment. Coming to Africa soon after the end of WW2 he is part of a new breed of Belgians who consider Zentralafrika, or more accurately Katanga, as their true home and embrace the ideal of a paternal ruler of their “primitive” neighbors. Being a successful entrepreneur as well as part time leader of the “Leopard Battalion” Jean has become a prominent part of the Belgian expat community. But though he no longer wishes to return to Europe do not think he has forgotten what the Nazi’s did: the old motherland is dead by German hands, and he has not forgiven them.
Just as on the native side the Belgians are divided internally: German policy was frustrating and insulting, but it was also relatively stable and offered a protection against the natives surrounding them. To forgo this protection and risk battle with the world's superpowers in the name of an uncertain independence requires a boldness uncommon in men. But since when did the meek make history? Returning from his armed exile Schremme will find the FP and Belgian police in disarray, and take it upon himself to topple the last of the SS governors. In his mind there is no question: in order for the Belgians to be free and prosperous they must take the risk of rebellion against Germany and carve out their own state in the chaos. But despite his personal exploits he is unable to do this on his own, and so despite his personal distaste for allying with the native regionalists his own backers in the belgian mining and administrative class have forced him to make common cause with “their” evolese. Regardless Schremme has become the critical belgian commander in this rebelion, bringing the remainder of the belgian community with him whether they like it or not. He leads in a mercenary style, never far from the front lines and with a greater emphasis on personal bravery than more mundane things like logistics.
Though Katanga is the heart of the Regionalist Alliance it is still only one part of that alliance: to the eastern flank is Sud-Kasaï, led by Albert Kalonji as the vanguard state of the Luba secessionist movement. Both Kalonji and Tshombe claim to be protecting their people (Luba and Lunda respectively) from becoming minorities within their own land and from becoming the playthings of another foreign power, whether that be Germania, Washington or any other place. They are also both from prominent and wealthy local families, who have cooperated with the belgian colonizers for generations and have every personal incentive to resist foreign acquisition. As such their support is not primarily from the people, but from the oligarchs and the army. These are two significant advantages however: While other factions are scrambling to put together a military, a state, and to pay for it all, Katanga and her allies are able to fall back on the old colonial power structures, expanding the FP and leveraging oligarchical ties to slap together an army faster than their rivals. With the mix of audacious leadership, money and the Schramme loyalist mercenaries/formed FP officers the alliance may be able to snatch its independence despite the lack of international backing. Map of regionalist victory, Azandeland acts as a placeholder for local authority (or lack thereof), Sud-Kasai is the Luba Empire. The immediate issue facing the regionalists will be export access: the states survival depends on the revenue from its extensive mining operations, and if that material cannot be exported it is worthless. For this Katanga must either negotiate a trade deal with the German remnants, or seek a detente with the self proclaimed frontline of liberation Zambia. Neither is eager to do this, but the world calls for what Katanga can provide, most of all Uranium. Eventually the market will win out, and one side will decide it is better to compromise principle than give the other an opportunity to gain access to the Katanga bounty.
IF VICTORIOUS the Regionalist Alliance will comprise an expanded State of Katanga, the Luba Empire, and a number of minor eastern powers propped up by Katanga. For the Luba and the Eastern chiefs the question of post war politics is an easy one: tribal traditionalism shall prevail as Albert Kalonji names himself king and the local chiefs are either bribed or threatened into compliance with the new order. While some may make efforts to modernize and advance their domains it will only be done under the watchful and occasionally helpful eye of Katanga. The only question remaining is who will be in control of Katanga itself. Jean Schramme is not a reasonable man, or at least not a moderate one: if he feels that he and the Belgians are not granted their proper place he may well try to overthrow Moïse Tshombe and install himself as the leader of the new state. The natives are less than satisfied as well: though free of foreign control it is clear to them that the old order is no longer acceptable: the people who fought and won the war for independence demand that their sacrifice be rewarded in some meaningful way. And most of all the question of race can no longer be papered over: The Belgians and Europeans remain on top, the migrants have been savaged, and the land and jobs available are not enough to satisfy them all.
To reconcile these internal difficulties a conference shall be held between the Belgian leadership of the army and company's one on hand, and the native oligarchs and officers on the other to see if a viable solution can be worked out. On the Belgian side the question is that of security and property: they wish to maintain the full roster of legal rights granted to them by belgian law, to keep their property and company concessions, and for a Belgian “veto” in the national government to ensure that Belgian rights are not trampled by some future populist government. On the CONAKAT side is a desire to renegotiate the terms of the “social contract”: to ensure a majority native voice in government which cannot be overruled by Belgian privilege, greater native ownership of property and the full abolition of any legal barriers to their advancement. However both sides are united in seeking stability and in their distrust of the congolese “masses”. Those masses are not without a voice themselves: through labor unions, dissident political parties and new officer associations the experience of warfare has made the people politically aware. If the result of the conference does not give some bones to the people it may find that its support is far too narrow to be stable. Union Minière, once the undisputed master of the Katanga economy, has declined somewhat under German overlordship. With a majority of its shares owned by the Belgian state and its former leadership fleeing to America after the end of the war its foundations were shaky. When Krogmann began the great sell off and rescinded the Belgian Congo’s autonomy the company found itself in yet more hot water. Transitioning to a locally owned company within Zentralafrika itself the Union has been forced to cut back on its paternalistic spending to make ends meet. Beyond the typical demands for labor rights and wage increases the Kantaga people also wish for a return to the housing, education and social protection once afforded by the leviathan. With its place in Katanga once again secure this may just be possible.
A successful conference will be one of compromise. For the people a number of social protections and laws will be promised: greater state funding to education, hospitals, and housing will be promised, along with a hike in wages. In order to afford this the belgians will need to accept their privileged economic position comes with a responsibility to fund the state which protects it: though direct taxes may be a bridge too far a system of expected “gifts” and an expansion of the old paternalism into state guided policy may work out. In return for their material contributions the Belgians will receive legal autonomy, organizing their own political parties and keeping their land. The native oligarchs meanwhile would take the national stage, being granted privileged places within the Katanga economy as well as using CONAKAT as their vehicle for political dominance. Concessions and compromises such as these require that all parties trust the other to keep up their end of the bargain, and not simply alter the deal when they feel they are able. And in the aftermath of a brutal civil war and a political culture of corruption such trust is very hard to come by. But if these difficulties are overcome, and Jean Schramme is kept mollified, the new State of Katanga will be ruled as a collaborative oligarchy, keeping real representation out of the hands of the people and wealth in the hands of a few, but also a relatively stable and moderate government which is willing to compromise when need be. Unless it is a question of distrusted ethnic groups attempting to secede from the state or restart Congolese unification, in which case the Katanga Gendarmerie will be the only answer given.
But what if this conference does not succeed? What if the protests outside become too large, or the sides are too inflexible, or if Jean Schramme believes the rights of Belgians are being sold too cheaply? Then the Rule of Fire will come back and those with the force to crush their opposition will prevail. And in Katanga that can only mean one thing: Schramme and his allies will stage a coup, placing themselves in charge once again as an emergency government. Those unwilling to ally with him will be dismissed, replaced with those who are. The new mission of the state is the protection of “Belgian civilization” in Katanga, with Schramme attempting to revive the old trinity of Church, State and Company under his guiding hand. He never truly wanted to be in this position: he would much rather simply go back to his plantation and be master of his own little world. But he belives that his new homeland calls out for leadership and guts it seems only he can provide, and so he will seek to lead it into the future he envisions. One where the Congo natives are grateful and subservient to their betters, where all the structures of the trinity are led by Europeans to the benefit of all. Of course most of the natives have very different ideas about what the future should look like, and so Schremma’s Katanga will immediately be thrown into a bush war as the old civil war factions reform as guerrilla movements seeking to topple his dictatorship. The profits of Katanga are vast, especially if one is willing to sell uranium to anyone willing to buy, but how long will money and determination be able to hold against the will of the people? At a stretch the white population of Katanga is 100,000, while the total african population is somewhere north of 1.5 million. This is before one considers the increasing populations of the Luba Empire and the eternal frontier of the Eastern Congo. And then there is the highly likely presence of hostile regimes on the borders: all the money in the world cannot win Schramme this Bush War, and he will either need to swallow his pride and accept democratization for the natives or accept the return of the Reich as suzerain. And even that may not be enough to avoid the rage of a people betrayed.
2023.06.06 14:42 doctorgecko Respect Yukari Yakumo (Touhou)
"Would you like to have a near-death experience? By crossing the boundary between life and death." Themes:
Yukari Yakumo is a legendary youkai with the ability to manipulate boundaries. She is one of the sages who created Gensokyo in the first place, and a good contender for its most powerful resident. Despite this she is also exceptionally lazy, spending most of her time sleeping and foisting most of the problems off on Reimu or Ran. Still, her incredible intelligence and completely inhuman nature means one can never tell quite what she's thinking, and making her angry is a very
- Source Index
- Perfect Memento in Strict Sense and Symposium of Post Mysticism is an in universe book written by Hidea no Akyuu. She has a tendency to exaggerate and speculate, so her claims should be taken with a grain of salt.
- Yukari herself is noted to lie quite a lot, so her own claims should also be taken with a grain of salt.
- In 15.5 Yukari makes use of the urban legend Teke Teke, but her attacks while using this urban legend are fairly in line with her normal capabilities. As it's unclear what effect the Urban legend is having, these feats will be included in this section but marked with Occult
- Yukari scales to a large number of characters, so here is every Touhou respect thread for the games
Defining Some Terms Spell Card System: The Spell Card Rules were put in place by Reimu Hakurei in order to make duels between everyone fair, formalized, and safe. It is also the method nearly all Touhou characters will use in-character. Spell card battles have very clearly defined rules and attacks that are agreed upon before a duel with the purpose being that the most beautiful attacks win. In general Spell Cards are characters going easy on the foe, with ZUN outright stating they're not something the characters would ever use if they were serious.
Danmaku: Danmaku are the "bullets" fired in a bullet hell, take many different forms, and are able to be fired by most Gensokyo citizens. They're an essential part of duels in Gensokyo, being used to control an opponent's movement and overwhelm them. They can either be fired in intricate patterns, or just fired rapidly from a single point.
Youkai: Supernatural beings typically born from humanity's fear of the unknown, and the primary residents of Gensokyo. Youkai can be highly varied, but tend to be highly resistant to physical attacks while far more weak to spiritual attacks, such as names and traditions.
Gensokyo: Genoskyo is the region Touhou takes place in, and is a small landlocked region of Japan. It is fully enclosed by the Great Hakurei Barrier (more information bellow). The clearest picture of it shows it containing a few mountains, with it also being noted Gensokyo is small enough to see almost all of it from the Hakurei shrine
Urban Legend Incident: Due to the occult balls various Urban Legends begin to manifest in Gensokyo, and some characters are capable of controlling an urban legend in battle that matches their tempermant. It's worth noting that the effects are present even after the occult balls are removed from Gensokyo though Reisen notes it will soon settle down.
- The Sages of Genoskyo (of which Yukari is a member) are the beings responsible for the creation and maintenance of Gensokyo
Boundary Manipulation General Description: Summarized, Yukari's power allows her to manipulate the boundary between any two things.This can apply both to physical boundaries (such as between Gensokyo and the outside world), or even the boundary of concepts (such as human and youkai or night and day).
Direct Combat Usage
Gaps and Warping
- Spell Cards
- Last Word
- [Occult] Lend Me Those Beautiful Legs!: Locks her foe in place with boundary lines and then uses a gap to split them in two before putting them back together
Great Hakurei Barrier
- Spell Cards
Gensokyo's Boundary of Reality and Illusion
- The Barrier Itself
- Living Things
- Large Scale
- Boundary of Reality and Illusion - Moon
- Lunar Capital
- Misc Conceptual
Other Abilities Note that a number of feats here potentially involve boundary manipulation, but it's less explicit
Shikigami: Shikigami are spirits that have been turned into tools via a patter, that have software installed to control them
- Spell Cards
- Standard Danmaku Pattern
- Combo Attack with Others
- Last Word
- Spell Cards
- Summoning Rand and or Chen to attack enemies
- Spell Cards
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2023.06.06 14:25 SepticSauces Blue Roses: Non-Sapient Predatory Introduction! 
A special thanks to u/SpacePaladin15
for the fantastical universe.
Have a really long chapter!
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ Memory transcription subject: Jaxton, son of a humble sheep farmer Date [standardized human time]: October 11th, 2136
If someone asked me years ago how many people would travel the globe just to see me. My answer would have been three; my father, my mother, and Dex Mason. My mother and father would have been simply obligated to do so, as I was their son, and I would have done the same thing. Dex was my best friend when I went to middle school in America, and he stayed my best friend when I went back to Wales, going back to Atlanta for many vacations.
What can I say? He had a nice collection of guns, and his general cheerful attitude made many people optimistic, so a day on the range with him led to the both of us being happier.
Then you add in Dex’s older and younger brothers, our mutual friend John Dillinger, and then you have a recipe for a fun time; guns, video games, hiking, and the occasional sheep herding if they ever come to my home: It’s a blast!
An alien porcupine though… I honestly never expected that I would ever in my honest-to-God lifetime, have such an impact on someone before. We barely knew each other for even a few minutes, yet she to my knowledge was merely some sad Gojid that was struggling with depression and loss. All I did was walk in and comfort her, or well, that’s how I saw it.
I still feel like an absolute idiot for forgetting about what I told her. It wasn’t a promise, but based on the implication of how I said it. It may as well have been a declaration to see the girl a few hours later, or however long it took her to get ready.
Now, speaking of Barlim, it’s been a few minutes since she arrived at my doorway at the most unexpected of times. I had her sitting in our living room on our couch. The Gojid, or Gojya
, that I had to have explained to me, had her arms wrapped around one of our decorative pillows. She was giving squeezes every few seconds depending on how she felt, and if she was really giving it a firm squeeze, I’d reach over and stroke the top of her head. Barlim seemed to relax every time I did this.
“You holding up better?” Barlim appeared to be holding up better: No longer sobbing out tears from her eyes, or having mucus running from her nostrils.
She merely sniffed weakly for a second, nuzzling into my hand. If I had to admit, I had no idea if I was performing some massive social taboo by patting her like an animal, but if she wasn’t going to complain, neither was I. I mean, I already poked myself twice more! “I’m feeling much better. Sorry for intruding…”
“Don’t be,” I said while holding back a small laugh. “Are you feeling better enough to talk now?” Barlim’s ears flicked in response, and then she nodded in response upon realizing I didn’t know what those ear flicks meant. “Good.”
“Hey, I would just like to apologize for how I acted,” my mother started before I had the chance to speak. “It’s just that I’ve seen on the news and read of murderous xenophobic aliens…-”
“It’s fine,” Barlim let out the most adorable-sounding chittering noise I have ever heard. It sounded as if a porcupine was, well, laughing! “I would not have reacted much differently… Three days ago?” At least she could make fun of herself for how she acted. Her ears gave a few flicks, gesturing towards amusement or self-depreciation if I had to guess. They burned bright blue.
My father took a minute to stand up and walk over to Barlim. She only fidgeted a little bit, but not much when he reached out to her with one hand. “Jameson, again, it’s been pleasant to meet you so far.” The man’s hand hung in the air for several seconds. Barlim eyeing it up with what had to be a quizzical expression. “You’re supposed to grab it and firmly shake it,” my father eventually grunted.
“Oh!” That seemed to snap Barlim out of her stupor. She reached forward in kind with one paw, clasping her surprisingly big paw around my father’s hand, which he shook. The Gojid seemed to have a fair understanding of the action after a few seconds, at which point the handshake ended and my father returned to his seat.
A brief, quiet pause occupied the four of us before there was more knocking at the front door. “Oh, uh, that may be the rest of my friends. I sort of forgot about them when I realized we were so close.” The tips of Barlim’s ears turned a delicate shade of blue. She started to get up, but with a firm palm on the top of her head, I held her down, gently.
“You traveled a long way. Let me get the door,” I state and get up from the couch. My knees and back stretch, giving a satisfactory series of pops before I work my way to the front door. I decide against grabbing the mask, assuming that Barlim’s friends have gotten quite used to the infamous human binocular stare. When I open it, I see a rather eclectic group of individuals, some familiar and some not.
“Arwen, Trivi, Tova, and I take it Barlim’s friends.” Arwen and Trivi issue some friendly waves. Tova has her forearms clasped around Arwen’s neck from behind, jaw resting on the redhead’s shoulders. Her eyes are puffy and orange. It was pretty easy to assume what she had been going through. Meanwhile, the other three flick their ears and tails in a way that was most likely a greeting, but that was just me making an inference based on this being our first interaction, and them not giving waves in greeting. I really need to learn Gojid and Venlil body language.
“Just delivering the rest of that one Gojid’s friends.” Arwen’s tone was the general cheerful tone it always was. She briefly stepped back from the door and swung an arm to the side, pointing to the three aliens behind her, doing so while under the weight of Tova.
“Barlim,” one of the Gojid said to Arwen. “My name is Pragh,” she then pointed over to another Gojid, “That’s Tack, and,” she indicated to the final Gojid, “That is Telg.” Again, the other two Gojid gave very similar flicks of the ears when they glanced at me with one of their eyes. “I take it you’re Jaxton?”
I couldn’t resist the urge to curl my lips upwards in a smile. The three Gojid didn’t flinch when I exposed my teeth, for which I was grateful. I really didn’t feel like bowing to more people than I needed to at the moment, having not gotten a particularly great amount of sleep last night was not a wise idea. “You’d be correct. It seems I’m the popular man of the hour. What can I do for you all?”
“Well, Tack and I were simply following Barlim, so we were going to stay with her until the UN or whoever really controls the whole Gojid refugee camp situation comes looking for us-”
I cut off Pragh with an amused tone. “So let me get this straight. You wanna come and mooch off my family for a bit because you have nowhere to stay at the moment?” I hold my tongue for just the slightest second, letting Gojid raise up her paws defensively. Even Arwen’s eyes widen briefly at what I just said.
“That’s not-” Pragh doesn’t speak for long before I dismissively wave my hand.
“I’m joking, yes, I’m sure my parents will allow you to stay for a bit, but you’ll have to clean up after yourselves, and all that stuff.” I lean up against the doorframe. “Ok though, jokes aside, what do you all want?”
Pragh rubbed her paws over her blue ears. “Yes, well, you did sort of hit one of them. I will admit, there was very little planning other than we’re going to Wales
on our part. You don’t have to worry about Telg though.”
“I scored myself a date! Hah!~ So, I will be going back to Georgia in about an hour or two.” The Gojid paused, popped open one of the pockets on his hoodie, and took a peek inside at a slip of paper he pulled out. “Two hours, yeah, I have about an hour to spend here. So you and Tack are going to stay here?”
Pragh nodded to Telg’s words. “Yep, someone has to make sure Barlim continues to be a responsible Gojid. Also, I still have more research to do over the internet-”
“Ah yes, research,
Pragh, research, am I right?~
“No! Not that! I’m not going to be looking up that!
The two male Gojid couldn’t help but hold back giggles and chitters, making me feel as if I was missing some sort of- Oh.
The second it clicked for me, I just let out a long, slow sigh. “Please, let me just say that humanity is probably not whatever you found. Factory farms are a thing of the past.” Apparently, I was wrong, for the other two Gojid started laughing more uproariously, “Ok, I’m wrong it seems…” The gears proceeds to click a second time after realizing it was something a lot more bawdy
than damning. I opened my mouth to say something but quickly realized that I wouldn’t have anything to follow up on if one of them decided to make any sort of accusation, so I quickly shut my plan to speak about that down. “How about you all just come inside now? Your friend Barlim already came by, and I’m pretty sure you all would like a break from your adventure.”
“Actually, Trvi and I were going to take Tova to my home. Might take her to the hospital if Quilix has calmed down. God, I wished they transported him to Ysbyty Gwynedd, but no. He had a freakout and had to be moved to London.”
“It’s all my fault…” The dark venlil whined.
Arwen’s hand managed to work its way between Tova’s ears, giving a few scritches. Scritches that Tova nuzzled into. “Come on you big, big
venlil. I know you’re upset. Just, hang in there for a little while longer. I’m sure Quilix will come around. Let’s take you home, see ya Jaxton!” Arwen waved and carried the venlil toward the parked taxi in front of my house. Well, carried was a generous term for half-carry/half-assisted in guiding toward the car.
Trivi followed seconds later, giving his own bye and wave. “Tell your mother and father I said hi, see you tomorrow!” And with that, the blonde venlil scampered off, following after his human lover.
This left me with the three other hedgehog-looking aliens standing awkwardly in front of my door. They looked amongst themselves, thinking about saying something. Wait, someone’s missing…
The three Gojid who looked like they were about to say something all jumped about a foot in the air when Lacey came bounding through them, running straight past me into my home. “Oh, Lacey! Welcome ho- Oh, and ignored.” I shake my head upon hearing the following oof
that comes from my father. Lacey must’ve claimed my father’s lap as her seat. “Well, if you want to come inside and meet the rest of my family. Come right on in.”
The next few minutes are filled with more pleasantries being exchanged. The Gojid all take their place on the couch, somehow managing to fit four of them on a couch meant for three. I end up choosing to stand by my father, who gently strokes Lacey across her back. The border collie panting jovially, looking back and forth between us and our alien guest, giving the occasional bark to beg for more attention.
The Gojid guests seem calm for the most part, sitting on that couch, but it is quite clear that the dog makes them uncomfortable since they flinch every time Lacey either makes a noise or stares at them with those heterochromatic eyes. “Not a fan of dogs, are you?” My father breaks the silence once it starts up again.
“I didn’t like…” Pragh started but stopped seconds later. “Listen, I believe you know why most Federation species don’t like humans, right?” Pragh’s words earned an affirmative grunt from my father. My mother and I nodded too. “Well, you’re all sapient and in control of your hunting instincts…” I raised my eyebrow at that but chose to say nothing. “That dog though-”
My father raised a hand, telling Praph to stop speaking for a moment. “I am going to have to stop you right there. Firstly, humans don’t, or we believe don’t have hunting instincts, and secondly, Lacey is a good girl that has harmed no person before, human or alien. I can assure you, as well as Quilix, Trivi, and Tova, that Lacey wouldn’t harm any of you, your pups, or anything else you will be worried about.”
Those few calmly spoken, but sternly voiced words are enough to calm the four Gojid down a fair amount. While I can’t see their muscles under their fur all that well, I can safely assume that their muscles grew lax at such information. Maybe we can do more to ease them around the dog while they’re here?
With an idea springing to mind, I take a few steps over to our old wooden hall tree. It is adorned with a few coats and hats, but what I am interested in is blue colored, six feet long rope of dog leash. The second it makes the lightest noise, Lacey is bolting toward me. “Eistedd!” The dog swiftly responds to the command: Hind quarters hitting the ground the second the word leaves my lips. I reach down and stroke the top of the dog’s head with one hand, getting a jovial arf out of her. “Merch dda, merch dda.~” I give the dog’s head a little bit more tender love with my palm and fingers before attaching the leash.
“Cefn.” I keep my voice low, coaxing Lacey into walking toward the couch.
The four Gojid, three of which have probably spent some time outside with the dog, all had a similar reaction when the dog came over: Paws came up off the ground, retracting safely onto the cushions above. It wasn’t really out of the border collie’s reach, but it was clearly instinctual-driven or propaganda-driven fear. “No need to be afraid, she won’t bite you - eistedd.” True to my words, Lacey gets close, sniffing along the edge of the sofa, but not jumping up onto the furniture.
“I see you’ve been practicing, Jaxton. You showing off for the guest?” My dad jokes.
“Hey, I don’t really get a good chance to speak Welsh. Dam- Darn it, really should’ve paid more attention in school. Might go get some lessons so I’m not part of the ten percent that can’t speak it. All I can do is shepherd a dog around, ask for the bathroom, a beer, where am I, and a few other things.” It’s hard not to let out a disappointed sigh. “I need to get off my backside and stop being so lazy.” I pause for one small moment. “And that probably translated for all of them to their native tongue. Doesn’t matter if I say it in English, Welsh, or honestly, Mandarin.”
My old man grins and laughs, leaning his back into the old rocking chair he claimed. My attention returns back to the dog, the fearful porcupine, and three scared hedgehogs.
The first one to reach out if I recall his name is Tack. The Gojid’s claws lightly brush the top of Lacey’s head in a tepid fashion. The dog stares back up at the curious paw; not growling, barking, yipping, biting, or making any sort of fuss that could freak out the apprehensive Gojid. Slowly, Lacey’s tail beings to wag as the curious touching continues for a few seconds. “Is that normal?”
“Mhm… Yes, dogs’ tails wag when they are happy. If she was really happy, she’d jump on you and start licking your face.”
The four Gojid recoiled with what looked like disgust: The thought of a predator’s
maw all over their face, tasting
them as if they were her next meal was probably what was coursing through their minds. “I think… That’s something I wouldn’t like from a non-sapient creature.” Telg adds in. He says he doesn’t want it from a non-sapient, but what about a sapient? Oh, what wonderful thoughts this one has.
I internally joked.
Both my father and mother let out an audible cough at Telg’s… Well, it could’ve been an indecent statement, or maybe licking was a sign of greeting? There was no way for me to know with my lack of knowledge of Gojid customs. God damn; Gojid customs, language, body language, and Welsh! That was leaving out Venlil ear and tail signals as well! Too much to learn.
With a gentle nudge, I guide Lacey down the bottom of the couch, letting each Gojid get about a minute or two of bonding
time with the goodest of girls. It’s only been a few minutes, but the four could be easily seen relaxing: Tack and Telg are both confident enough to let their paws touch the floor again. From fearful of anything that ate meat their entire life to sort of fearfully allowing a dog to sniff them, or them to touch a dog, must be leaps and bounds beyond possibility months ago.
“So, you all more comfortable around dogs?”
I get a non-varied amount of reactions: All of them positive to a minor degree, but none are negative or super positive. “Good.”
With such a positive, or well, lacking in a negative reaction from our alien guests. I reach down and unhook the canine’s restraint. No one flinches and Lacey continues to sit for about another few seconds before lazily pacing around the front of the couch, sniffing at paws for some more time before retreating back beside my father’s feet.
“So… What’s the history between humans and dogs?” Pragh was the one that shot this question. One is no doubt born from the fact that we probably allowed a non-sapient predator into our home. Well, if I was using their logic, of course: I wouldn’t be surprised if it came from ‘Wouldn’t predators eliminate the competition?’ if I had to guess.
“The history involving our canine companions is long and complex.” I reach behind my head to adust my blonde ponytail, tightening up the black band to keep my hair from falling in front of my face. “Most domesticated dogs you’ll see; German shepherds, border collies, Australian shepherds, golden retrievers, and on and on the list goes. I believe there are hundreds of breeds, but that is another tangent we can go on another date. What you’re more interested in is the history, as you have asked.”
I took a few steps around toward the front of the couch, using this new position to project my voice onto my alien audience. My parents had already heard this story a few times when they spoke with one of our dog breeders.
“It all started roughly
speaking, thirty-thousand years ago.” I paused, totally for dramatic effect, but to also allow the Gojid to digest this fair-sized crumb of information. “Our competitor, an antagonizing species of persistent pack predators with a strong social bond, the wolf, would often invade human territories, and vice versa. You see, humans and wolves aren’t too dissimilar. We’re both highly social species, pursuit pack predators
as I have heard, emotionally intelligent, highly adaptive, strong parental connections, and good communication skills. I can go into specific details another time, but those are some of the big traits we share. I’d say that the large preference for having a social structure coupled with good communication skills on both sides were the two assets that helped the most. Emotional intelligence and actual intelligence would probably be third and fourth. Dogs and wolves can be pretty smart.”
I take a moment again, allowing my audience to follow along with what I am saying, waiting to see if any of them have a question. “So due to these similarities, humans and these wolves
cross species’ barriers?” The bipedal porcupine opined.
I nod to Barlim’s question. “Very close, but not quite.” I take a moment to swing a pointing finger down to Lacey. “I mean, as much as I love Lacey. I don’t see a dog diplomat coming through any time soon to argue for their sapience let alone an alliance.” I then straighten my posture back up, holding back a small laugh by letting a grin stretch across my lips. “It was more along the lines of wolves were desperate for food, and they’d feed off the scraps we humans left behind. This would go on for some time with the braver or more docile canines being allowed to slowly integrate with human society.”
“But they’re eating your scraps and food, but what do they do for you? Other than herd sheep? It just seems like your competition is swooping your food from under your nose, but… You’re not complaining at all.” Pragh was the one to ask that question. Called it!
“These proto-dogs had many purposes! Just look at Lacey and you can probably see what she has that is superior to a human. Tell me what traits you can see.”
I give the four Gojid some time to look over the dog. They eventually look like they all have something to say, so I slide down the line of them; Pragh, Telg, Tack, and then finally Barlim.
“A better sense of smell to hunt for prey you can’t see?” Pragh opined.“Better hearing for locating threats?” Telg questioned.
“Sharp teeth and claws for fighting off other humans.” Tack would state rather confidently.
“To form an emotional connection with and to not feel lonely?” Barlim tilted her head to the side, giving the dog another look.
I let them stew over their answers for about thirty seconds to discuss amongst themselves. Needless to say, I was kind of shocked, but also not by Barlim’s answer. Maybe my time spent with her gave me some subconscious understanding of her mentality? The other Gojid all looked at her, so I assume her different answer probably made something click amongst all of them.
“Well, to answer your questions; yes, yes, yes, and yes. You’re all correct. Some may say that the first three are probably the priority.” This statement earns a chitter from the four Gojid occupying the couch. “But I like to have hope for that last one: When you’re by yourself. The world is a scary place after all. It’s best not to be alone. I believe you all have herds?
Well, we humans have families, tribes, or nations, depending on how deep you wish to look into it, and yes
, dogs can be a part of a human family. Family cares not from where the blood comes.”
“Quick question and not to side-track the conversation too far, but I was told by my date that humans dislike being called predators. Is that true here too, or was that a dialect or cultural thing?” Telg was the one throwing this question.
“It is that way here too. When humans refer to other humans as predators, it is because that other human is a gross pervert that does horrific, deviant, and sexual things toward other people, animals, or in this case now that aliens exist, aliens, so I would refrain from calling humans predators unless you personally know the individual and they are ok with it. That being said, humans define predator as more of a relationship adjective when between animals. A deer is a predator to plants as a wolf is a predator to a deer. It is the relationship of consumption rather than dietary traits.” I finish off my statement with a nod.
“Well… If you don’t mind me referring you to as a predator for one statement…” Telg droned on.
I take a brief glance over toward my parents. My dad gives me a nonchalant shrug. My gaze returns back to Telg. “Go ahead and shoot your question or statement at me.”
The four Gojid look stunned for a moment, off-put by something I said- Oh, don’t tell me ‘shoot’ was predatory… Probably was.
“Just… throw out your question.”
“It was more of a statement, actually, but anyways. Family cares not from where the blood comes
, has to be one of the most herd-like statement I have heard from a predator.” Did he really just say that? He really did, but I can’t fault him. From his point of view, he’s been spun so many times that up is down, and left is right.
I shake my head, lowering it. A small chuckle slipping from between my lips. I could even hear my mother and father laughing behind me a few seconds later.
“Was what I said really that funny?”
“No, just the logic behind it is kinda funny. Like I said, humans don’t normally refer to ourselves as predators, and this whole alien
thing is kind of new to me.” My words carried upon by a light tone earns some laughs as well from our Gojid guests.
I clap my hands together, signaling the end of our little tangent. “Now, if I may resume my, if I do say so myself, informative
explanation… The proto-dogs seamlessly integrated into our small tribes at the time; they could track threats and prey miles before we were even aware of them, they could hear the smallest sounds and alert us of their dangers. Moreover, their sharp teeth and claws served as deterrents against other threats such as large carnivores, food-stealing rodents, or hostile human forces. Additionally, their companionship provided solace to lonely humans. As you can see,” I pointed back to Lacey, who was having her back rubbed by my father’s sock-covered foot, “Lacey seems to be enjoying herself quite nicely, but so is my father. In short, interacting with dogs triggers the release of feel-good chemicals in both human and canine brains. Activities such as petting, snuggling, and playing contribute to this positive bond."
Again, I pause, giving everyone some time to follow along. “Thus, they’d impact our evolution and vice versa: Humans that had dogs in their tribes were more successful than tribes without dogs. Humans that bonded more effectively with their canine companions would get even farther. As millennia went by, humans would get better at reading dog expressions, and dogs would get better at reading human expressions.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I typed into it for a bit until an old photo of a wolf showed up. I turned my phone’s screen toward the four Gojid. “Here you can see a wolf. They aren’t extinct due to some wildlife restoration efforts, but we had a few close calls. Wolves are extinct in the UK and Ireland as of now, but not in North America, Europe, or Asia. What you see before you are what thirty-thousand years of evolution has done to us.”
Based on the look that the Gojid were giving me. I would guess it was along the lines of wow
“Now, before you start asking more questions. I should let you know that humanity has not only domesticated one carnivorous species, but a few others as well; some birds of prey like falcons, felines, and mustelidae such as ferrets. Meanwhile, on the herbivorous side, we have horses, elephants, rabbits, and so on. Yeah, it’s quite a long list. Means more animals for us to pet and touch. Humans can bond with just about anything, even non-living things, but that’s a story for another time.”.
I perform a small stretch, feeling my back pop. A small break in the monotony of speaking for so long.
“Now, to go back to the human-dog bond. I should remind myself to tell you the story of Gelert. It’s quite a sad story, but bear with me for just a moment.”
I clear my throat, getting ready to speak out an old Welsh folklore myth.
“A long time ago, a prince of North Wales by the name of Llywelyn went out hunting without his trusty dog, Gelert. He’d return home later that day to see Gelert, covered in blood, jovially returning to him. This freaked out the prince, who rushed to his son’s crib, finding it knocked over and messy with blood. He feared that the dog had killed his son and immediately plunged his sword into the dog’s side.” The four Gojid wince at the description, having just been told of the forged bond I have described moments ago. “The dog’s pained cry heralds the cry of the prince’s infant son, who lay on the other side, protected from a slain wolf. Gelert had valiant fought to protect Llywelyn’s son from the wolf, and in so was rewarded with a blade through its heart! A tragic tale to discourage impulsive thoughts and rash rushes to judgment. It was said that the prince buried Gelert and never smiled again.”
I never considered myself a great storyteller, but somehow I managed to get the four Gojid all teary-eyed. Barlim was rubbing at her eyes once again, and so was Tack too.
“H-how could he have done that to the dog..?” Barlim’s meek voice trailed off.
“Well, as said, Llywelyn thought Gelert killed his son. It was a rash decision. This moral folklore is supposed to warn against such tragedies, speaking of which, isn’t there an extermination fleet heading this way?”
While I may have been speaking for so long, having taken all our attention away from the potential destruction of Earth, or the general mopey attitude that came from meeting Tova. It probably was wise to bring up the fact that armageddon was on its way to Earth.
The four Gojid just sort of looked down sheepishly at the ground or flicked their ears in a way that probably meant the same thing. I didn’t really mean to put them on the spot like that, considering it was some of their former allies
committing this attack, but I guess that’s just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.
“I think I can speak for all of us here that we don’t-” Telg was interrupted by my father.
“We don’t blame you, or at least I can attest to myself, my son, and my wife over here. One day, assuming we survive this looming catastrophe. There will be regret, followed by hope, and then love and compassion once again. Though, I don’t think that’s what my son was hinting toward, more over the fact that your allies are about to make a rash decision they don’t understand. Probably one you would have made years ago, but that doesn’t really matter here, or there. We live in the now, and I think it’s time we started stocking up on some goods for our cellar. Well, we got goods actually, and a couple of guns too, but nothing fancy like the Americans and all their machine guns. A .30-30 lever action, an old .44 revolver, a twelve gauge shotgun, and a .22 hunting rifle. Nothing fancy,” he shrugs and grunts. “I’m more worried about my sheep. The best we can do is pray they don’t shoot the barn.”
There’s a brief silence as the seven of us come down from the long monologue that was dispersed between moments of questionnaires. I rub one of my eyes, stretching my jaw open wide in a hand-covered yawn. How long have by been talking?
“Sprak! I gotta go or I am going to miss my flight!” Telg clamors, quickly hopping off the couch. He quickly taps at his phone with his claws, making his way toward the front door. “See you guys later, and thanks for letting us stay! Yes, I know how to call a taxi!” He opens the door and bolts outside. At least had the manners to close it back without slamming it.
This left us with three Gojid!
“Well,” my mother stood up from her chair. “I’m certain you’re all hungry after such a long adventure, and Telg is probably too, but he’s gone already. Let me see if I can make you all something to eat…” She hesitates for a second before continuing. “Nothing with meat or animal products in it. Just vegetables and fruit,” she iterates before walking off to the kitchen, leaving my father and I with the three Gojid.
You know, that leaves one important question that’s been on my mind. One that I had asked Barlim, but have been quickly distracted by her onslaught of sudden tears due to my forgetful nature. “A quick question if I may have your attention.”
The three Gojid turned their attention toward me, looking at me as they awaited my question
“How the hell did you all get here?”
submitted by SepticSauces
to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 14:10 AutoModerator [Download Course] Cody Wittick & Taylor Lagace – The Influencer Marketing Blueprint (Genkicourses.site)
| || | submitted by AutoModerator to Get_Courses_HQ [link] [comments]
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2023.06.06 14:02 Vegetable_Wear8016 Short Story - A tale that will give you an adrenaline rush
Hello ladies, this week my fictional story will leave you feeling cautious the next time you eat at a Chinese restaurant :)
The Fortune Cookie
Samuel was exhausted, it was nearly 10 p.m. and he was leaving his office. He was starving, he just wanted to eat and hit the bed. ‘What a terrible day!’ he was muttering to himself as he got into his old beat-up Renault Kwid. He had seen a Chinese restaurant nearby that opened recently and he decided trying it now would be the best option.
It was a small inexpensive-looking restaurant for quick meals. It had simple decor with traditional Chinese paintings and some random symbols of dragons splattered here and there. One bored receptionist cum cashier and only 1 waiter. It was not a place you would come to on a date.
He gave his order and started scrolling through his phone. He saw some updates of his friend travelling to Dubai for work, one of them getting married in a fancy resort in Rajasthan and one of them was working at Google and felt the need to constantly put #googleknowsbest in all his posts.
The real estate business in India was hard, there isn’t any strategy or marketing that can make you successful, it was entirely dependent on your network and getting lucky with the right client at the right time. The respect for agents was abysmal since it was not considered an elite profession and the commissions were shared between multiple parties.
You could hire a celebrity for the promotion of a project to bring in the masses but when it came down to the client writing a cheque for that booking amount, it had nothing to do with the celebrity. Those gimmicks were just enough to get them off their laptops and visit the property.
He had to constantly ensure he was at networking events or getting in touch with the businessmen of the city to source the right inventory to sell. His company was working on a budget villa project which was taking time to sell because of the location being close to a graveyard. Not many families wanted to stay close to a burial ground despite the villa’s appeal.
It was such a beautiful villa, the amenities, the location and the price, every aspect was attractive. ‘Maybe someday when I can afford it’ he thought to himself. He finished his meal and waited for the bill. He was served a fortune cookie with the bill, “Oh it’s been a long time since I have gone to a restaurant that still serves these” he said to the waiter. He opened the cookie and the message read ‘Don’t underestimate your ideas’. ‘That’s funny, I just had an argument with my manager about an idea I had which he didn’t like’ Samuel thought, he shrugged it off and paid the bill.
The next day at work, Samuel was in the cab with his Marketing Head going to a meeting regarding a residential project in the city. They were in the middle of random banter when he decided to casually mention his idea that his boss had rejected. “That’s not a bad idea at all, I think we should bring this up at today’s meeting and ask the client for their opinion,” the Marketing Head said to him. By the end of the day, Samuel was a happy man, the marketing guys for the residential project approved it and his Marketing Head gave Samuel all the credit for it in front of his boss.
A month later, it was a late night again for Samuel, he decided to hit the Chinese restaurant for dinner again. This time he was conversing with his old college friend Meera, he had recently reconnected with her over Instagram. He was about to pay the bill when he realised he had never eaten the cookie. He opened it and it read ‘Confess your love, it’s worth it’, ” Maybe I will” Samuel said aloud.
Later that night, he asked Meera out for a movie half expecting her to say that it was too soon to go on a date. The stars were aligned and she said yes. Their date turned into many dates.
One weekend, he told his best friend about the fortune cookies and that they were lucky for him. “Are you trying to say these cookies can predict your future?” “No, I’m just saying the messages have been right twice and I don’t want to lose out”. Just to humour Samuel, his best friend agreed to dine at the restaurant.
The meal was over and they were ready to open the cookies. Samuel read ‘Something dangerous lies in your path, stay cautious’ and his best friend read ‘Avoid the upcoming journey’. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” his best friend asked him looking annoyed. “I don’t know, maybe there’s some journey you are going to go on and you shouldn’t go?” Samuel responded. “I have journeys every weekend so this doesn’t make any sense!” his best friend exclaimed. His best friend’s parents lived 3 hours from the city and he used to visit them every other weekend. His best friend declared that this was a stupid activity and they agreed to disagree ultimately.
Samuel checked his entire house for any loose wiring, fire hazards, toxic chemicals, gas leaks, etc he couldn’t find anything. He even checked his car and his desk at the office, but nothing! Maybe this was a coincidence and he was taking this too seriously. It was a fortune cookie for God’s sake! It’s supposed to be for fun. He let the incident go and forgot all about it in the next few weeks.
A month later, his Goa trip planning was in full swing. Any Indian would know how the Goa plan works. You plan for months with your friends and right before the trip, the dominoes start to fall. Samuel’s manager declined his request for the leaves due to a promo event that was happening at the same time where they had roped in a huge celebrity to pretend like he loved the villa. “It’s Pratap Kapoor we’re talking about Samuel, this is no small guy,” his boss said. “Pratap has a 20,000 sq ft villa with a bonsai garden imported from Japan, he’s not relatable when it comes to endorsing a budget home” Samuel protested. “That may be true but he has a huge social media following and the fact that he may potentially own one of the villas will give customers the message that the graveyard is not an important factor” his boss stated ending the discussion. Samuel had lost the argument and the Goa trip.
He loaned his friends his car to carry on with their trip. They offered to cancel it but he insisted that they go, he didn’t want to ruin it. Besides, it was a good time to take Meera to one of those Korean restaurants she had been obsessing about.
It was when he was in the middle of eating his Bibimbap that he received the call. His friends had been in an accident on the way back home. A drunk driver rammed into them, fortunately they were not seriously injured but the car took most of the damage. “We were really lucky that the drunk guy had an equally beat-up car as yours” his best friend explained to him, Samuel’s thoughts drifted towards the message his cookie had revealed to him. This is what it was warning him from.
Over the next 5 years, it became a ritual for Samuel. He would eat at the restaurant before any big decision he had to make or if there was any big event coming up. Samuel moved to a different real estate agency which offered him a senior position, with time his commissions became better, he bought a better car, married Meera and he bought the villa near the graveyard.
“I already told you, I am not coming on that trip with your parents Meera,” he told his wife. “Just because the cookie said so?!” she asked. “Yes, the message said to exercise caution on your next endeavour and I went there just after we discussed the trip, I’m sorry but I cannot go, this is my process and you know it,” he said firmly. “You are letting these cryptic messages get the better of your logical self, it was fun in the beginning but it’s been 5 years now and you can start making your own decisions,” Meera told him, unable to believe her husband relied on luck from a cookie. “No, I trust the process and I would like to stick to it,” he said. Their fight escalated and it resulted in him staying home alone.
When Meera was away, he received a call from an unlikely source. The secretary to a local politician, politician wanted to sell his massive farmhouse on the outskirts of the city to settle some debts that occurred from his political rally. The politician had a bad reputation for solving everything with cash or brute force. But, this was a big deal, if he said no to the politician then another agent would do it and profit off it since word travelled fast in his circle.
“You can inform his assistant that we cannot take this up”. “He lost the election and his boys got into a fight as well that the media picked up so I think he’s bad news. Our agency has a certain reputation so we cannot be involved with certain types of individuals” Samuel’s CEO told him. Despite Samuel persuading him with the value of the property, the CEO refused and the matter was dropped.
Samuel decided that it was time to start doing things independently. He took on the sale of the property independently and asked the secretary to keep it discreet. He stood to make a huge commission on this, this could mean quitting his job and starting on his own so why give up the opportunity? Destiny had come knocking on his door, he couldn’t just ask her to leave.
He went to the restaurant to get a feel of his decision. While waiting for the food he called his wife to find out if she reached home safe, “So nothing weird happened during the trip?” he asked. “Nope, your fortune cookie was wrong this time. Everything went smoothly, you should have come. My parents didn’t believe you were sick, they think something’s going on with us” she told him. “Yeah, maybe I should have come,” he said relieved that the message didn’t come true. “Don’t forget to get the Kung Pao chicken and no cookie for me please?” she said ending the call. Samuel mulled over what had happened. Was it that the magic was over? For 5 years the messages had been right but not this time. Meera was back and safe.
At home, when he opened the cookie, it read ‘It’s not too late to back out’. Samuel was annoyed, this was a big deal where he stood a chance to grow his network and quit his stressful job. He went to bed and let the thought stir in his mind.
The commission he was offered was the highest he had ever been offered. Several agencies and agents were working on this property but he had the network of people who would need such a massive area, he could crack it. The decision had been made.
Over the next few months, Samuel intentionally lost a few deals so that he could dedicate extra time to the farmhouse. Fortunately, nobody suspected anything at his firm and he getting close. Finally, after 6 months of effort and negotiation, it was sold to a construction company, they were going to build a resort.
Later that year, Samuel was a richer, happier man. He was out in the world trying to be an entrepreneur when he received a call that ruined everything. The construction firm had filed a case against everyone in the land dealing stating that it was a fraudulent deal. They discovered a body in the premises hidden underground and it just happened that the exact spot was being dug up for a swimming pool. This was bad marketing for the resort. Who would bring their families to a place with a reputation for murder? The construction was stopped when the police intervened to do a complete investigation and the legal proceedings began.
Samuel started losing hair and sleep over the drastic change of events in his life. His entrepreneurship journey was falling apart and Meera and his relationship was on a steady decline. He didn’t know how to control it, he was trying to make things work both professionally and personally. Over the next few months, he tried yoga, went to church more often and travelled but, it was not enough to solve his problems. He realised the cookie had been right all along but he had gone against it. That was when he decided it was time to go back to the restaurant to get some advice. He was desperate.
He finished his meal when the waiter told him the news. “Sir, we’re shutting down this week, they sold the place to a McDonald’s franchise,” the waiter said looking ready to move on. “Sold it?! Why do you need a McDonald’s here when there’s a burger place 2 streets away?!” Samuel questioned reeling from the shock. “Sir, I don't know these things, I’m going to apply for a job when it becomes McDonald's. You have been coming here for a long time so I thought you should know that we’re closing” the waiter said clearing the table.
That was it, his final cookie in this place. He was mentally asking for it to give him some good advice on what to do next. The cookie read ‘Darkness awaits’
submitted by Vegetable_Wear8016
to TwoXIndia [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 13:59 HorrorMode If you ever hear a cry for help at night while camping, ignore it.
I love to camp, but after my most recent trip, I don’t think it will ever be the same.
I set up my tent on nice, flat ground and collected some wood for a fire. The night came with all its nightly sounds, and I relaxed at the hooting owls and chirping crickets. Even better was the fact that no one else was around.
It was subtle. I almost missed it. The voice came from deep within the woods, and for a moment I didn’t believe what I was hearing. It sounded female, but oddly enough, I just couldn’t tell.
“Please help,” it continued.
I shined my flashlight between the bushes and walked around. To be completely honest, even as a grown man, I was paralyzed with fear. So, I did the responsible thing and called the local police.
That’s when things went from odd to very, very weird.
The police told me to ignore it. I explained to them that someone could be injured and probably needed medical attention, but they assured me otherwise. When I kept pushing and asked why, they told me, “Sir, if you ever hear that voice again, ignore it. Do not respond, and do not approach.”
Well, I did hear it again. But I didn’t ignore it.
It was almost midnight when I heard the voice a second time. I awoke to someone whispering “help” and it sounded like she was just outside my tent. I went out to check and no one was there, but the voice continued from a distance, “Help. Please.”
Again I grabbed my flashlight and looked around the area I was camping. I was too afraid to follow the voice into the woods, especially since the authorities themselves avoided it. But I struggled morally, trying to decide whether I should go and help this person or listen to the police, who were concerned for my safety.
But then I heard another, different voice.
This other voice, which also seemed to be coming from the woods, was an octave lower. Unlike the first one, which cried for help, this one was loud and demanding.
“Quiet!” the other voice demanded. “No one’s going to help you!”
Once I heard that, I was sure someone was in trouble. I called the police again.
When I informed them about a second voice coming from the woods, they seemed even more concerned. They told me that I should pack my things and leave the camp site "immediately'. They said that hearing the second, more manly voice meant that “it” was getting desperate.
They also said that the two voices were coming from the same person. That part was bizarre and confused me, to say the least. It was at this point I dismissed the police in that area as crazy, but not before telling them off.
I got angry. I told them that if they didn’t get down here to come and check it out, then I would do it myself. I said repeatedly that a woman could be in serious trouble and that it was their duty to help her, but still they refused to come. All they kept repeating to me over the phone was, “Do not enter the woods, sir.” They seemed more afraid than I was.
Once I hung up the phone, I heard the voices again.
A gentle, “Please, somebody help me.”
And then a growling, “Quiet! No one’s coming!”
It was a little past midnight at that point. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had the chance to save someone’s life but instead cowered. So, I grabbed some things and ventured into the woods.
When I entered the woods, the voices ceased. Just like that. No cries, no whispers, and no commands. Even the owls and crickets went away. Nothing but dancing leaves and creaking tree branches.
I stopped walking and looked around, a full three-hundred and sixty degrees.
“Hello? Anyone here?” I called out.
“I’m here to help!” I continued. “Where are you? Are you okay? ”
I thought of calling the police again, then chuckled to myself.
I found it strange but somewhat comforting that I didn’t find anyone out there.
Nonetheless, I was still creeped out, so I packed my things and finally left the camp site.
I didn’t know why the police, of all people, were so afraid. Worst case, someone was in actual danger and we’ve all failed them. Best case, morons who think saying “help me” in the middle of nowhere is a great idea for a prank.
To be honest, when I heard the voice the very first time, I did think it was a joke. When I heard it the second time, along with that other voice, I became a bit more concerned. And same with the third time I heard it in the woods. But when I heard it again a fourth time, a week after I left the camp site, coming from inside my own house, I became very, very concerned
submitted by HorrorMode
to nosleep [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 13:55 Jonoabbo Breaking Down: Dorothea - Fire Emblem: Three Houses Unit Analysis
2023.06.06 13:54 Relative-Ad8347 Yourverse arrives on The Sandbox! A new concept of multipropriety
| || | submitted by Relative-Ad8347 to TheSandboxGaming [link] [comments]
Friends, creators, and explorers — welcome to YourVerse!
We are thrilled to share this exciting project with you!
In this article, we will guide you through the steps that will give you the best shot at being part of YourVerse!
“What is YourVerse, and what is meant by the concept of real estate in the metaverse?”
Allow us to explain! The phenomenon of owned purchases in the Metaverse
The purchase or rental of a property is the first step in being able to carry out any activity in the new digital dimension. Buying a house (and land) in the metaverse is becoming one of the main activities in the new digital dimension, given the possibility of carrying out practically any activity, from simple ones like having a place to be at the start of commercial activities such as shops, sales, and advertising spaces.
In 2021, at the peak of real estate transactions in the metaverse, staggering numbers were reached. The prices of land on existing platforms rose by 500%, and the transactions exceeded a total value of 500 million dollars. After an important correction in terms of economic value, which occurred last year, many believe that this is the best time to invest in the real estate sector. Thanks to the large growth rate, the phenomenon will become increasingly well-known. The increase in demand, especially in the most prestigious metaverses, will likely drive prices up. “Investing in the Metaverse today can be likened to buying a house in the countryside before it develops into a big city.” The metaverse of The Sandbox
The metaverse of The Sandbox can be understood as a three-dimensional virtual universe that can be explored through the use of avatars representing real users. Just like in the “analog” world, even in the metaverse, it is possible to interact with other characters, travel, buy objects, build, customize, sell, or rent properties in which to live or start commercial activities. Buy a property in the Metaverse Metafutura Srl
, an Italian company made up of expert builders, has launched the “YourVerse” project, which will be a place with real estate properties, events, and exhibition spaces that will facilitate the purchase and sale of owned properties in the metaverse via NFTs. The acquisitions will be signed through Smart Contracts, intelligent contracts that leverage the blockchain to define unmodified and extremely sophisticated transactions, with the deposit of the purchased NFTs in the buyer’s wallet. It is essential to emphasize that in the metaverse, purchases do not take place with traditional currencies. The system is, in fact, linked to the blockchain, and cryptocurrencies are used for buying and selling.
The Metaverse Real Estate Market has entered a vortex of strong growth, and given the potential for the future, therefore it seems to be the propitious moment to invest in the sector. It is important to underline the twofold implication, on the one hand for the user who buys the property, which is realizing an investment that also entails the acquisition of a sort of “showcase” in the metaverse of The Sandbox, as well as to participate in activities of socialization and a series of events that will lead to the expected and unexpected beneficial owners (participation in exclusive events, gifts, airdrops, treasure hunt etc …) On the other, for those who develop an economic activity, they can find a way to generate a profit directly or indirectly, creating events, sales, marketing activities etc… YourVerse, a unique proposal 1000 exclusive properties managed with NFT
Zoom of the map of The Sandbox
The project is carried out on a 2x2 Land on which a thousand properties managed through NFT arise, divided as follows: · Deluxe apartments · VIP apartments · Robot-apartments · Shops · Megastore · Billboards
of different sizes 1000 properties accessible to all.
What will be your % of possession in the City? Entry into ownership with NFT.
Exclusivity for each owner. Possible customizations for each owner and for large partners.
We create specially assets for your brand. Continuous maintenance by Metafutura srl.
The sale of collection is available from May 10, 2023. The potential return of the investment
By investing in YourVerse, you are investing in the future. To each property beyond the enjoyment of the experience, the return of image, and what you decide to buy (e.g. shop that leads to the completion of purchases from the city visitors), there will be frequent airdrops
and events that will allow to increase the value of your property. The experience will be open to all and the Grand Central Palace
which will be made in the center of the Land, will be able to host concerts, events, fashion shows, professional meetings, streaming, gaming, as well as NFT exhibitions
and this will create a large flow of visits and growing interest in possessing a part of the City. In addition, the great engine will be the public characters, who, having believed in the project, will be able to give growing visibility to YourVerse! Welcome to the first multipropriety project in the metaverse of The Sandbox! FAQ What is YourVerse?
YourVerse is a set of real estate property developed on a Land 2x2 that offers the first concept of Real Estate in the metaverse of The Sandbox, to be precise 1000 real estate units converted to NFT. What properties are present in YourVerse?
Deluxe Apartments, Vip Apartments, Robot Apartments, Shops, Megastore, Billboard of different sizes, each with its own privileged position. What is the utility in holding a YourVerse NFT?
Owning an NFT is equivalent to the exclusive possession of one of the thousand properties developed on the land. Holder side
, hold an apartment, gives you the opportunity to create private events, such as holidays for example, with exclusive access, to which to invite your friends. In addition, like Holder, you will participate in all the events on the land, with Airdrops, Mystery Egg Hunts, seasoned with NFT of international collections, prizes and incentives by the Land partners. Company side
, owning an NFT, such as a shop, gives the possibility to create its events in an always open land, possibility to customize your exhibition space and create public events. In addition, the possibility of renting
part of the Grand Central Palace is reserved for companies, all this will be able to give a great return of image. Customization packages will be revealed to make their real estate unit unique and increase their value. Is it possible to rent a real estate unit?
It will be possible to do it for companies immediately, which will make a rental contract through Metafutura srl
. Subsequently there will be implementations to make the Rent expandable on all properties. Do the properties all have the same value?
Absolutely not, the value is very different from one property to another. The possibility of now mining one of the 1000 NFT randomly, converges with on the one hand the thanks to being an Early Adopter as well as a supporter of the project, on the other the luck of being able to receive an asset with a much more important value of the cost of Mining. When will it be possible to access the land?
Entrance to YourVerse will be possible by the end of the year 2023. Are NFT transferable?
Absolutely yes, everyone can prepare as best he believes in his property, holding him or by selling it in the marketplace. Where can I buy a piece of YourVerse?
You can make the MINT until the stocks are exhausted here: https://www.metafuturastudio.com/yourverse METAFUTURA SRL
Metafutura Srl is a digital agency specialized in the production of assets and multimedia content based on 2D and 3D viewing in The Sandbox’s metaverse. We use metaverse as a communication tool aimed at enhancing knowledge through the visual and experiential impact.
We are able to bring virtuality to product communication and development processes, recreating digital works from scratch or by models respecting significant features with full loyalty.
Our technical sector also deals with the creation of images, 3D videos, virtual reality and graphics in general. TEAM
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