#Greater adjutant

[todaysbird]

greater adjutant stork!

commission for @wizardhecker

[antiqueanimals]

Drawing Birds. Written and illustrated by Maurice Wilson. Published in 1965.

Internet Archive

[northernpintail]

What a neat story of community & conservation, and an absolute unit of a bird

[bumblebeeappletree]

In the northeastern part of India, the greater adjutant stork has been considered an ill omen for generations, and the endangered bird has paid the price. Its breeding population here fell to just 115 birds by the 1990s.

But when biologist Purnima Devi Barman witnessed villagers chop down a tree crowned with the storks’ nests — and chicks — she launched a grassroots effort to do something about it. Today, 10,000 women across the region have banded together to protect nests, raise fledglings, and run educational programs for children and adults explaining the benefits the storks bring to their communities. They even produce textiles that celebrate the giant bird — and bring critical income and empowerment to the local women who are safeguarding its future.

These efforts have been a resounding success for greater adjutant stork conservation. A recent survey found 1,830 of the distinctive birds in Assam, and the species’ status on the IUCN Red List has been changed from “endangered” to “near threatened” — a testament to what can be achieved with community conservation.

[mutant-distraction]

Rajamanohar Stephen

Greater Adjutant Stork

Wikipedia

The greater adjutant (Leptoptilos dubius) is a member of the stork family, Ciconiidae. Its genus includes the lesser adjutant of Asia and the marabou stork of Africa. Once found widely across southern Asia and mainland southeast Asia, the greater adjutant is now restricted to a much smaller range with only three breeding populations; two in India, with the largest colony in Assam, a smaller one around Bhagalpur; and another breeding population in Cambodia. They disperse widely after the breeding season. This large stork has a massive wedge-shaped bill, a bare head and a distinctive neck pouch. During the day, it soars in thermals along with vultures with whom it shares the habit of scavenging. They feed mainly on carrion and offal; however, they are opportunistic and will sometimes prey on vertebrates. The English name is derived from their stiff "military" gait when walking on the ground. Large numbers once lived in Asia, but they have declined (possibly due to improved sanitation) to the point of endangerment. The total population in 2008 was estimated at around a thousand individuals.

[teknah]

NOTE:

THE FOLLOWING DRABBLE SHOULD BE IMAGINED AKIN TO 90'S ERA FULL-MOTION VIDEO (FMV) PC GAME CUTSCENES, PRE-RENDERED GRAPHICS AND ALL.

____

QUICK ON IT: STARCROSSED SKIRMISHES

____

INTERPLAN

♫

Three starships from Interplanetary Command were preparing for FTL flight. While more established fleet vessels such as the ICS (INTERPLAN Command Starship) Hebe, or convoys like the Hearty Barnum. Taking the lead at greater speed was a Y-shaped, tuning fork the size of a town: the UFV (University-Fleet joint Vessel) Wishbone, part of the preliminary survey-support series. Rolling out the welcome mat for ships like the Hebe by sussing out the most difficult elements of an environment, planetside or by way of politics where diplomacy was concerned.

There were a slew of different aliens, service robots, and mutants. The dregs of INTERPLAN Command, disgraced college faculty and students, as well as inmates on work-release from the seceded corpo-colonies. Worst of the best-- skilled in their fields, but very expendable. All trying to keep the ship running, following a dream as far as it would take them. Even if all signs pointed to them hitting rock bottom...

As led by a technician, given the role of administrative adjutant...

____

MALAUG

The corporations with the most sense departed from Earth and many other worlds that formerly had easily susceptible markets, turning their off-world colonies into whole new nations. Retaining some of their grip on the seemingly 'enlightened worlds' of societies like that of the INTERPLAN Alliance.

♫

At one of their factories on a toxic pit of a moon, executives and their sniveling managers were toasting to unrelenting productivity. As a reward, the employees were granted an extra several minutes on their paltry fifteen minute breaks. One poor sap went towards a vending machine, where they failed to notice a tendril slap an enticing sticker onto one of the buttons that depicted the iconography of widely available soft drinks.

There, the worker received a bottle with a worm in it, not unlike the old Earth tequila. Only the worm within this one was no ordinary variety. Before the worker could scream, the little worm's larger friend bumped into the worker from behind, and bit into half of the poor sap's cranium. Leaving it exposed so that the worm could build up momentum, shoot out of the bottle like a bullet, and latch onto the exposed brain, and started piloting the body.

"ALERT! ALERT! MALLEABLE AUGMENTS HAVE BEEN DETECTED ON THE PREMISES!"

The workers fled. As did their bosses, their boardroom lords. Or they would have, had the cheap security system not begun to fuse the garage and regular doors shut to contain the threat. Not that it did much good: The MalAug brainworm used its host body's fingerprint recognition to open a hidden exit into the sewer system. From there they would feed on more of these mortal lifeforms, finding worship among eco-nihilists who aided them in piloting spacecraft.

The invasive spread of the MalAugs had begun.

____

AN-XR

♫

There once was a storied oligarchy. One that would do ANYTHING to retain its rule over the masses in the face of all other space factions and their bothersome ideologies. They turned to the stories of those who donned impervious armor, and asked the question:

"What if it was just the armor? Saves us the trouble of having to put on the damn thing! They needn't our fear, our toilet visits, coin or bread!"

Much laughter was had. The preservation of their royal designer-wear applauded. Only, what they failed to realize was that their notions of tyranny had been absorbed by their steadfast protectors. Who weren't having as much fun...

"... HYPOTHETICAL BROACHED. TRANSMITTING."

".... SUCCESS IMMINENT WITHIN A POSSIBILITY INDEX OF 97.4%."

Suddenly, their gala dances were a frightful affair as their own robots shot at their feet. Forcing their overlords to march to the production lines and order an excess of humanoid 'bots (including disguised infiltration droids), large 'smart-tanks,' and aerial drones to seek out targets. Any automaton they encountered were given a chance to join, but resistance was quelled immediately whether they were meat or machine. Likewise, all those who worshipped their ways were exonerated and given a place in this dictatorship.

They used a stencil and spray paint to mark themselves and their vehicles as part of the new empire: AN-XR.

____

VENATOR

♫

On some distant plains of a fragmented planet, those who lived within one of many kingdoms, those various lifeforms who had become practitioners of Dagar's Way, still swung the sword in quests for honor and glory. Even if such things incorporated projectile energy weapons and FTL spaceships.

But among them were hidden a secluded superior class: For only those who dedicated themselves to the hunt could rise to the place of the mighty Venator.

Striking invisibly from the sidelines, the Venator lashed out at only the strongest prey. One such warrior leveled an axe with a superheated blade at the latest of prey. Preparing a charged bolt of plasma to detonate a nearby cache of explosives. But a senior hunter did it for them.

This hunter was different. An experienced baroness, who beckoned the arrogant youngster aside. There, she pointed out the crash-landing of a meteoric passenger tumor. The overhead searchlights of a drone-dropship deployed from an orbital platform foothold that had been established by the AN-XRs. A couple of INTERPLAN shuttles were landing in a clearing, the crew aboard taking readings with high-tech instruments, before drawing their weapons.

There were far more interesting prey than the peons of their own faction to cull, now...

[rjzimmerman]

Photos from the Cornell Lab All About Birds:

Green Heron by Joshua Zhou / Macaulay Library.

The intensity packed into the yellow glare of a tiny Boreal Owl. Image by Marcin Dyduch / Macaulay Library.

We love the snaky vibes we get from this forest of Cape Griffon necks. Image by Angus Fritton / Macaulay Library.

The largest raptor in the Western Hemisphere has a mythologically spooky name. Harpy Eagle by Leon Moore/ Macaulay Library.

Greater Adjutants look rather like marionettes from a Tim Burton movie. Image by Frank Thierfelder / Macaulay Library.

It doesn’t get much spookier than a massive vulture that eats bones. Bearded Vulture by Marc Gálvez / Macaulay Library.

We love the frosty breath as we imagine this Common Raven quoths, “Nevermore.” Image by Bryan Calk / Macaulay Library.

A fast, agile raptor with a taste for snakes. Secretarybird by Yann Kolbeinsson / Macaulay Library.

[dragonscanwrite]

GoS: Saurus, part 1

There was a great hubbub around the return of the Star Canoe fleet. Many were eager to learn of the results of the expedition, of news on the whereabouts of the Slann. And a great amount of speculation; they hand brought back the Slann, the Slann was dead, the fleet had been attacked. That was for the chittering of the Skinks to worry themselves about. Xi-Boc was interested in the facts from an operational and security perspective.

He paced back and forth in the Saurus Temple Guard barracks, occasionally pausing to pick at some corrosion on his wristbands, gifted to him after leading a suicidal charge against the cursed ratmen some century or so before. he'd been the only one to return too, after having been excavated from the mounds of bodies.

A Skink messenger eventually turned up with grave news. The squad of Temple Guard sent into the stars had not returned. There was, however one warrior did return and was waiting down in the regular barracks.

Ka'rah stood to attention, laser rifle by her side, cold slit eyes staring straight ahead. Dozens of other Saurus were busy preparing themselves for duty around her. When Xi-Boc entered, they stopped and turned standing themselves at attention in his presence. He walked directly up to Ka'rah.

"Are you the one from the fleet?"

"Yes"

"Only survivor?"

"Negative sir, there were twenty saurus aboard. Seventeen have returned"

"But you were the only one to survive the boarding action?"

"Affirmative."

They stood for a short while, staring.

"You are one of the New Brood, yes?" The question was of a rhetorical nature. The bright orange dorsal scales were an unmistakable mark of those spawned on this new world.

"Affirmative. Second spawning."

The question was more of an accusation. The old warrior was mistrustful of the new spawnings. The orange dorsal spikes indicated clearly that this saurus was not one of those who had come with the temple-ship fleet from the World That Was.

"Come with me, I want a full report on the actions of the boarding party"

Xi-Boc turned abruptly and stalked away. Ka'rah breathed a sigh of relief and followed him.

He lead her into his private meditation chamber and let out a guttural rumble. A slender Skink entered moments later with a data pad and stool.

"This is Aktaka, my scribe. He will note what we discuss for later consideration." the old Saurus explained before turning to face Ka'rah. "Now, tell me of the operation, how you came to be involved and what happened to the Starseer's retinue."

Ka'rah stared into the cold, yellow glare. She nervously flicker her tongue. "I am unsure why I was selected. It appeared to have been an unplanned decision to include me. I was called up just before the mission commenced. There is a great suspicion over my generation. We have not yet been tested in battle. I suspect it was a sense of curiosity that informed the Starseer's decision."

The Old-Blood simply grunted. Ka'rah continued, "He had access to a greater number of warriors aboard the fleet but, from the briefing he gave, he did not expect enemies, let alone enemies in the number we encountered. Even will all of those on board we would not have enough for the resistance we encountered. While I understand a Starseer has great powers of divination, those powers were largely based on the ability to tap into a geomantic web. We do not have access to that here."

She was looking for any kind of reaction in the Old Blood. His adjutant was scribbling rapidly on his tablet. She plunged on, "The first five levels were clear as we ventured further, following the signal and the Starseer's instincts. Greenskins were encountered on the 6th level behind locked door that had to be broken through. We were unable to ascertain the numbers, position or strength of the enemy and so they were able to setup and ambush. Correct weapon choice was hard to make in the instance due to enemy use of ranged weapons but at close quarters. Sticking with close combat weapons helped for repelling the initial ambush but showed severe weakness when ranges rapidly changed. Mixed range combat with- "

"Enough! You talk too much soft-scale. Your kind always do. Twittering on like Skinks." Xi-Boc roared.

His words echoed away leaving just the sound of burning torches. The Old-Blood pointed at two bullet wounds on her battle-scarred hide. Blood still oozing from one of them.

"Is this how they went down? Their decades of war experience now obsolete?"

"One did. But not before taking down many foes. The fighting was in tight confines, in the bowels of the temple-ship. The other two went down fighting hoards of greenskins, hand-to-hand. The battle was lost from the outset, there were just too many. "

Xi-Boc considered this for a moment. He then reached out for Ka'rah's weapon, picking it up and turning the laser rifle over a few times, running a claw along the serrated blade at the end.

"And this is what saved you?"

She lashed her tail back and forth in frustration. He still seemed to be admonishing her for the crime of being young. She kept her voice calm and level out of deference though.

"As I have previously stated, the fighting took place in close confines for the most part. I perhaps killed as many with my blade as I shot. "

After turning the weapon over one more time, he handed it back.

"Five of your charges were killed, along with the rest of your squad. You did not meet your primary objective and were forced into a fighting retreat. You failed your mission." He spat out.

The room echoed into silence again.

"But you fought well and killed many enemies, and remained alive. You can wear your battle scars with pride. Now leave. I have much to contemplate."

The grizzled old Saurus turned and walked towards an alter at the far end of the room. Ka'rah stood for a moment, stunned at the sudden change in sentiment. Aktaka tapped her on the shoulder and lead her out of the room.

After closing the doors Aktaka turned to Ka'rah who was still standing in a state of confusion in the corridor, "He is extremely uncertain about what the future holds for him and his generation. Stubbornness and prowess with club and spear have always been his greatest strengths, and it has been for those that came before him for thousands of years. Now, things have changed. The old certainties have vanished and he still mourns for the old world and those who were lost in its destruction."

"He's still mourning after twenty years?"

"Well he has lived a long life, over eight centuries, and such a passing of time is such a small part of it"

He tapped at a few things on his tablet before looking up.

"Don't you also feel it? I've heard that the New Brood have feelings of loss too."

"For a place we have never know. Yes, its sometimes there at the back of my mind. I've seen it too. Or thought I've seen it. In dreams…"

"It's something to contemplate on, certainly. Now, I am sure we both have duties to attend to."

The Skink tapped a few buttons on his tablet before disappearing down another corridor.

Ka'rah pulled her own tablet out from its holster on her belt and looked at it, swiping a few times. The scheduled duties had been changed and she was now expected to be in the jungle somewhere north east of the city. A good forty-two run. But first, she needed to bathe and eat. There had been no time to rest since disembarking from the Star Canoe.

[republicsecurity]

Adjutant

In the dimly lit government office, the powerful bureaucrat, Director Henshaw, reclined behind her polished desk, exuding an air of authority that seemed to permeate the very walls. Her steely gaze fixed upon her subordinate, a young and eager official seeking answers in the labyrinth of bureaucracy.

"Control, Jenkins," Director Henshaw began, her voice a measured cadence echoing through the room. "Control is the bedrock upon which the strength of our paramedic corps rests. We can't have our conscripts wandering off the beaten path, now can we?"

Jenkins, slightly taken aback by the directness, nodded cautiously. "But Director, why such meticulous regulation? The paramedics are there to save lives, not become automatons."

A wry smile played on Director Henshaw's lips as she leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "Saving lives, yes. But discipline and order save civilizations, my dear Jenkins. The paramedics are the frontline of our health infrastructure, a crucial cog in the well-oiled machinery of this republic. We can't afford chaos or unpredictability."

She leaned back, her gaze unwavering. "Our conscripts give up certain liberties for the greater good. It's a sacrifice, a choice they make for the stability and security of the republic. Don't mistake the appearance of control for oppression. It's the backbone of progress."

Jenkins, though still uncertain, nodded again, absorbing the weight of Director Henshaw's words.

As Jenkins hesitated, a personal struggle etched across his face, Director Henshaw leaned forward, her expression softening just a fraction. "Speak your mind, Jenkins. Personal anecdotes often shed light on the complexities of our work."

Jenkins took a deep breath before revealing, "My brother, Director. He joined the Paramedic Corps about a year ago. We hardly see him these days. When he does visit, he looks... different. Muscular, so disciplined. It's like he's become a different person."

Director Henshaw nodded knowingly. "Ah, the transformation. It's not uncommon. The paramedic regimen shapes both body and mind. It's a testament to the effectiveness of our methods."

Jenkins continued, "He calls from time to time, but it's not the same. He's so precise, so controlled. Shaved head, always in uniform. It's like he's lost a part of himself."

Director Henshaw, her curiosity piqued, leaned forward and uttered a directive to Jenkins. "Give me your brother's designator, Jenkins. Let's have a look at his profile."

Jenkins hesitated for a moment, contemplating the implications of accessing his brother's personal information. After a brief pause, he complied, "JK5T6."

The director swiftly accessed the database, and on the holographic interface before her, the profile of Jenkins' brother materialized. JK5T6's alphanumeric serial, now more than just a designation, was a window into the intricacies of his conscripted life.

Director Henshaw scrutinized the information, her fingers deftly navigating through the holographic data. "JK5T6," she mused, "here we are. Let's see how he's been faring in our disciplined ranks."

As the data unfolded, Jenkins observed the transformation of his brother's personality traits. The Director began analyzing the changes with an unflinching gaze. "Reduced openness, increased conscientiousness, elevated extraversion, amplified agreeableness, and a notable decrease in neuroticism. Classic traits of a disciplined paramedic," she remarked.

Jenkins couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease witnessing the analytical dissection of his brother's evolution. "It's like he's become a different person," Jenkins muttered.

Director Henshaw, unfazed, continued her assessment. "These changes are intentional, Jenkins. They're what make our paramedics efficient, reliable, and cohesive. Your brother is embodying the very essence of the disciplined force we strive to cultivate."

The holographic profile flickered with data points, each one a reflection of the meticulous conditioning that had molded JK5T6 into a model paramedic. The Director, her eyes fixed on the hologram, concluded, "He's adapting well to the program."

Director Henshaw, having concluded her analysis of JK5T6's profile, turned her gaze back to Jenkins. "Reduced openness, elevated extraversion, amplified agreeableness, and a decrease in neuroticism," she reiterated, her tone carrying a sense of approval. "Your brother is receiving a gift from the Corps, Jenkins. A gift of self-confidence and adaptability."

Director Henshaw, addressing Jenkins' concern about the tight neuro-based VR conditioning, leaned forward once again. "The tight VR neuro conditioning, Jenkins, is a critical component of our training program. It's not just about transforming personalities; it's about imprinting the vast reservoir of medical knowledge directly into the minds of our paramedics."

She gestured toward the holographic display, highlighting the interconnected nature of the conditioning and the knowledge transfer. "Consider it an accelerated infusion of expertise. In the span of a few sessions, your brother, and others like him, absorb medical protocols, emergency procedures, and diagnostic skills that would take years through traditional education."

"The Corps needs paramedics who can operate with efficiency, precision, and adaptability," she continued. "The VR conditioning ensures that every paramedic possesses a standardized, comprehensive understanding of medical science. It's not just about following a protocol; it's about internalizing the knowledge to the point where it becomes instinct."

The holographic display flickered as she accessed data points, showcasing the iconic red uniforms and clean-shaven heads that defined the image of paramedics in the Republic.

"They could have chosen the Enviro Corps or a service with less conditioning, but here they are," she mused, her gaze fixed on the holographic projection. "It's remarkable how the aesthetics of their uniforms and the meticulous grooming become a visual signature of the Paramedic Corps. A uniformity that extends beyond appearances."

A sly smile played on her lips as she continued, "Did you know we program into them that they like if you gently touch their clean skull? It's a subtle detail, an intentional nuance that reinforces the sense of discipline and control. Even their preferences are crafted to align with the image we desire."

As she spoke, the holographic display showcased paramedics in their red uniforms, standing in formation or diligently tending to their duties. The image, carefully curated by the directives of the Corps, conveyed an aesthetic of order and precision.

Director Henshaw, a master of controlled appearances, pressed a discreet button on her desk, causing a wooden cabinet to swing open. Out stepped R4ZZI, impeccably dressed in his red bellhop uniform. He stood at attention, ready to fulfill any request from his superior.

"At ease, R4ZZI," she said, acknowledging his presence. "I was just reflecting on our work here. How do you find your duties today?" she inquired.

R4ZZI, with a slight bow, responded, "Everything is in order, ma'am. Is there anything you require?"

Director Henshaw, however, had a different line of inquiry in mind. "No, R4ZZI, I'm not looking for your assistance at the moment. I'm curious about something else. How do you feel? Are you happy in your current role?"

R4ZZI, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question, quickly composed himself and replied, "Yes, ma'am. I find fulfillment in serving and assisting. It brings me a sense of purpose and satisfaction."

The Director, with a contemplative gaze, continued her probing. "And what about the conditioning, R4ZZI? How does it sit with you?"

R4ZZI, displaying the expected confidence that came with his conditioning, responded, "The conditioning has been transformative, ma'am. I feel more self-confident and capable in my duties. It has enhanced my abilities to serve efficiently."

Director Henshaw nodded approvingly. "Good to hear, R4ZZI. Your demeanor, especially in that cute bellhop uniform, presents the perfect image of boyish innocence. It suits the public perception we aim to maintain."

Director Henshaw, satisfied with the exchange, allowed her fingers to gently stroke the shaved skull of R4ZZI. The bellhop, conditioned to accept such gestures, responded with a brief but genuine smile.

It was a display of authority, a reminder of the control that extended even to the physical interactions between superior and subordinate. The smile on R4ZZI's face reflected not just contentment but the successful implantation of responses deemed desirable by the conditioning process.

Approaching R4ZZI, Jenkins inquired, "Is that genuine emotion, or is it induced by conditioning?"

R4ZZI, ever the embodiment of compliance, responded by calling up a picture of himself from the day before conscript service. The image showcased a skinny boy with unruly hair, pimples, and an air of insecurity. It was a stark contrast to the confident and composed bellhop standing before them.

"Look at me now," R4ZZI stated, gesturing towards his present self in the bellhop uniform.

Jenkins, intrigued by the controlled existence of R4ZZI, asked to see the interior of the cabinet. R4ZZI, complying with the request, opened the door, revealing a space designed for practicality and efficiency.

The compact compartment contained a chair, strategically positioned with a contraption to facilitate the connection of the chastity device—a symbolic reminder of the tight control over personal freedoms. A terminal, presumably for communication and task management, stood adjacent to the chair, reinforcing the perpetual connection to the system.

R4ZZI, ever the dutiful bellhop, explained the practicalities of his confined space within the cabinet. "I stay in it when the Director is in the office, and there are no other tasks. I can enter from the corridor, always ready at any time," he clarified, gesturing toward the compact quarters.

The functionality of the cabinet became apparent as he continued, "I can even take a nap in the chair." The efficiency of the setup was evident—R4ZZI's existence seamlessly integrated with the demands of the regime. The cabinet served not just as a storage space but as a standby station, ensuring immediate readiness for any directive or task.

Jenkins inquired further, "How much time do you spend in there?"

R4ZZI responded with a pragmatic acknowledgment, "It depends on the Director's schedules. The Director has two, and we share the duties. Otherwise, I participate in ambulance activities or engage in sports."

"My duties vary between actual ambulance work, grounding me in the practicalities of the field, and administrative tasks here," he explained.

[sollannaart]

Józef Poniatowski and Berezina’s crossing

On occasion of the anniversary of the battle of Berezina, which happened 210 years ago, let me tell you a little bit on the topic what was happening with prince Józef at that time.

Wojciech Kossak, Burning banners, fragment of "Berezina" panorama

Some paintings, as, for example, the above placed part of Wojciech Kossak’s famous ‘Berezina Panorama’ show prince Poniatowski among Napoleon’s acting military commanders, but this does not reflect the reality. Because...

Well, prince Józef did present among French troops at that time and in that place, but was neither in command of the Polish corps, nor even able to stand.

To explain, however, the reason of such circumstances, we need to go back, for a month and 500 kilometers eastwards. Because there, near a town called Gzhatsk, on the 29th of October there had happened an accident with prince Józef.

Generał Poniatowski, as one of his adjutants, Józef Szumlanśki (more about him I wrote here), recalled, in a desire “to have a better look, spurred his huge English horse to jump onto an adjacent hill. The latter, unfortunately, turned to be rather steep, so the horse did not take the measure right and fell together with its rider...”  Prince Józef  thus was pinned down by his own horse, and for viewers, the incident looked so terrifying that they believed that Poniatowski had been killed in it!

A French engraving, showing prince Poniatowski and the polish lancers during the Russians campaign in 1812

I haven't been able to find any image depicting such a frightening event as described above, so as an illustration to it let me put one with prince Józef riding horse and a one lying near. 

And regarding prince Józef’s state after such an incident -  well, in fact, as you all know, it didn’t kill him, but its consequences were severe ones. It took a lot of time for doctors to stop bleeding, with the high probability Poniatowski had got brain concussion (though such a diagnosis had not been made that time), and, what’s more essential, prince Józef leg had been dislocated.

A man with such a trauma, of course, wasn’t able to ride a horse and thus general Poniatowski had to hand command of the Polish corps to general Zajączek. The only mean of transportation left to prince Józef in such condition as his was a carriage. And the only road - to the west, together with the rest of Napoleon’s troops.

Initially, Poniatowski’s carriage was riding together with the Polish corps, but by arriving to Berezina had been moved, for greater safety, to the group of vehicles of the imperial guard, who were to cross the river much earlier than the Poles. (This circumstance is a rather important one, being it otherwise - prince Józef’s destiny might have been different...)

 And thus we’ve come to Berezina, or - more precisely, to its crossing by the Grand Armée.

I won’t write about the battle itself, neither about the courage of the French pontooners - these brave deeds are out of this post’s topic - but what I ought to mention are throngs of people in queues to cross the river and difficulty of getting even into these queues.

January Suchodolski, Napoleon's troops crossing the Berezina River

Being not on horseback, prince Józef had to wait his carriage’s turn. In the evening of the 27th of November it still had a three quarters of the mile to the nearest bridge, and the chances of being left on Berezina’s eastern side (and thus being eventually captured by Russians) were increasing with with every hour of waiting.

And then colonel Szumlański, the adjutant of Poniatowski I’ve mentioned above,  came up with a tricky idea. As he later recalled: I found a detachment of the Guard's gendarmes who, partly at my most urgent requests, partly with generous pay, came to my aid. Shouting "by order of the Emperor”, they...” made all the vehicles standing in the line before prince Józef to have made him way, pushing aside or capsized those who couldn’t have done it by themselves. “By half past three in the morning this operation was successfully completed.” 

Maria Artwińska, The White Lady of the Poniatowski family over prince Józef’s carriage near Berezina

As the final illustration of the post let me place a drawing by the Polish painter Maria Artwińska, who depicted prince Józef’s carriage together with... a ghost. The latter is the notorious White Lady of the Poniatowski family, which allegedly appeared before them at crucial moment of their lives'. Prince Józef is said to see the ghost thrice, first time at Berezina, then during the May night in Kraków, when making a final decision to stay with Napoleon, and finally - in the battle of Leipzig, shortly before his death. 

[recurring-polynya]

Happy Valentine’s Day!  I can’t believe another year of tumblr Bleach fandom has passed! (this was supposed to be a New Years card but lol 2023 is already flashing by) Thank you for being a wonderful mutual and person to interact with. You’re always there with B3 no matter how ridiculous we get, whether through musing at length about the banalities of paperwork, to yelling incomprehensibly about greater/lesser adjutant storks (boy that seems like forever ago). You contribute so many positive things to Bleach tumblr and anytime I see a post from you, whether a reblog or original, I think “oh goodie! What treat am I in for now?!” Thanks for being amazing and I can’t wait to see what this year will bring! 

(•ө•) ♡

Ahhh! You're so sweet!

The year sure had flown past, so far! I feel like I've sort of fallen down on the job lately, in terms of not being as active, and I've been feeling bad about that. This was a nice reminder that we're really just all friends on here, hanging out and sometimes showing each other stuff we made or stuff we found or stuff we've been thinking about.

I'm honestly so, so happy that B3 came on the scene, because Gotei esoterica is such a niche field of interest, and I love having people to share it with.

Anyway, thank you so much and YEAH! here's to a new year of this being us:

[beardedmrbean]

Can I get some good vibes please? My grandmother is in the hospital and they haven’t figured anything out yet. I’m really scared.

Not sure if we're doing mood booster, good news, or prayers so I'm gonna go the blunderbuss method and do all 3.

First from Double Simba poor baby.

And here's a quoaka and their Joey playing peekaboo

That's all good news there

I will absolutely pray for you and your grandmother as well, and I am asking my followers if they wouldn't mind joining in at some point whenever the mood strikes to send a prayer or a good thought both of your's ways.

Rest of your family as well

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: ‘The Saga of Tanya the Evil’ #10

The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 10: Viribus Unitis by Carlo Zen My rating: 5 of 5 stars Pursuing victory without ever exerting the most casual glance toward the consequences of one's efforts invariably blinds the nation-state to the political, economic, and cultural deficiencies and failures sure to creep into the shadow of one's willful ignorance. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 unites the prophesiers of the Empire's impending demise around the one or two flickering candles of hope. And so, knowing the tiniest gasp or the sharpest exhale may snuff out these last lingering insights, Tanya takes a deep breath and pushes ahead. The previous volume of this novel series was the author's most prudent intellectualization of the war, and yet, somehow, the current volume goes one step further. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 yields to the intellectual superstructure of the previous volume and focuses almost entirely on witnessing the emotional and physical consequences of adhering to the wayward truths that infrequently muscle their way through the din of bureaucracy the and fog of military conflict. For her part, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff contemplates the efficacy of desertion, worries over the narrow viability of the General Staff's tentative false-flag operation, and feverishly ridicules her colleagues for their shortsightedness and inability to properly contextualize war as an extension of politics ("In the absence of problems that require heroic intervention, there simply is no need for a hero," page 003). The Empire is no longer losing the war; the Empire has lost. The only pragmatic observation available to the war's contributors concerns how quickly or how slowly the country will succumb to its varied wounds. The multifront conflict is bleeding the nation dry. Will the Empire simply wither until it runs out of human and technological resources? The diplomats at the Foreign Office have been sitting on their hands for years. Will the bureaucrats pull through and negotiate an armistice of some kind? Victory is no longer probable, and the military and the Foreign Office's prerogative has become to convince the greater government that a negotiated resolution is the Empire's only option for continued survival. Tanya spies these intertwining challenges not unlike negotiating with a three-headed chimera (i.e., the army, the government, the people). But a nation drunk on the presumption of total victory as a natural extension of total war won't sober up anytime soon. Solutions exist. Shocks to the system are possible. But it appears the Empire's communications codes have been decrypted, and it appears the eastern front is set to crumble (again), and it appears nobody truly knows what's going to happen next because nobody's been in this (losing) position before. "Even the mere idea of retreating provoked reactions of contempt… Whether or not there was precedence for retreating, from a military standpoint, the masses had no appreciation for that kind of logical thinking." (page 044) THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 is a compelling book because Tanya fights to validate the war's most dismal truths just as she pushes back against its many, conniving, socio-political constraints. For example, Tanya and the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion are assigned to the western front, under Lieutenant General Romel. But first, a pitstop, as Tanya must deliver a message from Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf to the newly promoted General von Zettour on the frontlines. Tanya-as-courier is a funny, squirrely shift in plans, as Zettour conspires to execute a magnificent tactical shift that could revitalize the eastern front for the Empire. But there are consequences. If Zettour's Operation Mini-Revolving Door fails, then the Federation will have the opportunity to bludgeon its way deep into Empire-held territories, and the Empire's soldiers will have lost their mettle. If the operation succeeds, with no small help from Tanya and her trusty adjutant, Serebryakov, then Zettour will have extended the Empire's lifeline on the eastern front for several tenuous months. The operation's failure and success both reek of desperation, and anyone with a brain can see Zettour has put his neck on the line to sustain a war effort that is slowly crumbling before his eyes. This volume doesn't disappoint when it comes to articulating Tanya in the field of battle. The first of the book's two battles, which occurs in the east, is a marvelous reminder of the dangers of maneuver warfare. This novel series is strong when it comes to field strategy, and war games more broadly, but on the tactical level, Zettour's brilliance is a highlight of the novel's first half. Zettour is an animal and a schemer. Everyone knows this. And yet, nobody can stop him. "It was at the same moment when the con artist across the table, who they expected to show his hand at any moment, kicked the entire table out from in front of them." (page 098) Another highlight? Tanya's face-to-face encounter with Commonwealth Lieutenant Colonel Drake, second-in-command of the multinational mage unit. Drake is an entertaining character because of his grudging compliance. However, THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 spares the man no peace, as Drake almost gets his arm sliced off and is nearly blown to smithereens during Tanya's recon-in-force feint. On the plus side, for readers, Tanya hilariously outsmarts First Lieutenant Mary Sue into blind fratricide. But the twisting and turning violence and deception of the eastern front soon gives way to the frail insecurities of the west. The gears of war grind on, but the oil and grease that keep the machine running are continuously diluted. Back at the capitol, Colonel Lergen meets with an official of the Empire's Foreign Office (the notably snooty Counselor Conrad), and together they plot to convince the hydra to end the war through bloody-nose posturing. That is to say, to strike at the enemy's doorstep and surreptitiously convince foreign citizenry of the threat the Empire poses, and thus spark sincere negotiations at the highest level. The western front is the focus of this effort, and Operation Doorknocker is quickly, hurriedly underway. The events on the western front are similar to the eastern front, but bloodier and less fortuitous. Tanya's 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is up against a whole brigade of the Commonwealth's marine mages. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 queries readers as to how invincible the 203rd really is, particularly when the political deliberations forcing the battalion's movements are weak, inexperienced, and absent conviction. How does one fight a war when the bureaucrats are too stupid to follow suit? How does one fight a war when one's communications have been compromised? How does one fight a war when an unspoken "Plan B" keeps resurfacing when one least expects it? Tanya emerges from Operation Doorknocker in one piece, but ultimately a failure; the Empire's hydra is increasingly to blame for getting in its own way. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 frames the Empire's imminent decline around Lieutenant General von Rudersdorf's dangerously practical view of power politics. In the previous volume, he floated the idea of a false-flag operation; he postulated that staging an attack in Berun, the capitol, would spur negotiations for peace. Rudersdorf knows that the integrity of a bureaucrat at war is not equivalent to the integrity of a soldier at war. But Rudersdorf's "Plan B" is increasingly problematic. For one, soldiers who acquiesce to hasten the demise of the Empire risk becoming traitors, if on the ironic pretense of overvaluing their patriotism. Lieutenant General Romel, for example, playacts the reckless leader, but his legitimate shrewdness could easily be misperceived as a stress-test gone too far. Second, the issue of hastening the Empire's demise is itself a query prone to bifurcation. Rudersdorf plies Colonel Lergen for reliability, successfully arguing that a false-flag operation grows more feasible as the war itself grows less winnable. Readers would be apt to explore this foreshadowing. If "Plan B" were to go into effect, where would Rudersdorf find such a group of willing soldiers? Obviously, he'd use the 203rd. Further, what would be the legal ramifications of doing so? Tanya's fate would be sealed. And what, then, of the political consequences? Rudersdorf ponders what would happen if he slayed the hydra himself, creating a Supreme Army Command that superseded (if not eliminated) the other heads of government. "I can't let my imagination get too out of hand." (page 276) When Rudersdorf not-so-jokingly asks Lergen to oversee the contingency plan, which he calls the Counter-Insurrection Plan, Lergen balks, but with only the smallest granule of confidence. Third, calling the false-flag operation a "contingency plan" means it's a viable and actionable plan should certain conditions be met. At present, nobody really knows what those conditions are or how much time is left until the trigger is pulled. Well, almost nobody. In the novel's closing pages, Lergen makes a startling discovery that recontextualizes the final months of the war and his role in it. THE SAGA OF TANYA THE EVIL v10 exposes the myriad ironies embedded in war's purposeful violence. Tanya lives up to her reputation as a ghost or a devil set to drive others to their fiery graves, but she's not without a conscience on the matter ("I know I'm fighting for the losing side," p. 219). Zettour calmly marks up his topographical map of the eastern front, lamenting how his skill compels extending a losing affair ("This wickedness of his was a sort of emergency measure, but he had to accept that it was becoming the norm for him," p. 284). Rudersdorf aims to redefine the boundaries of the war machine's obligations. And Lergen, angry with the Empire's "superfluous bureaucracy," becomes a political animal, though he loathes the necessity. "War was just an extension of politics, after all. Though it was conducted through force of arms and open warfare, the fact that it was humans who were doing the fighting meant that politics would always be a part of the fundamental equation." (page 296)

Light-Novel Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

[aishangotome]

Chapter 1-7 Wushang Guan (無上觀)

Chapter 1-5

.

.

.

The Xiliang army had already gotten this location from Zhang Rang's servant's mouth and arrived here before me.

Xiliang Soldier A: We came all the way here, wanting to get some water, but it's a dried-up well! We beat those old servants to a pulp and only then did we get this godforsaken place.

Adjutant: Did the people you sent to watch Xiuyi Tower see anything?

Xiliang Soldier A: Nothing! The Prince of Guangling hasn't left the residence. Early this morning, two women went out from the side door, looked like maids going shopping.

Adjutant: Keep an eye on the Prince of Guangling. Find out exactly where he is, where his maids are, everything.

Very few people know my secret. The male identity of "Prince of Guangling" is my greatest disguise.

When the previous Prince of Guangling passed away, he only had a daughter. For the sake of the greater good, I disguised myself as a man and moved within the court in a male role.

Adjutant: Take your tools to the Taoist temple, pry open the floor tiles, and search three feet deep!

Adjutant: Damn, I'm so thirsty! Get some water from that well over there!

Xiliang Soldier A: This well is dry...

Adjutant: What a damn place... Forget it, let's go!

I plan to follow them inside.

Find a lone Xiliang soldier... and change into their clothes.

Military Dog: Woof woof woof!!!

Xiliang Soldier A: Who's there?!

Oh no! I didn't see the military dog behind the tree!

The wind suddenly changed, the military dog smelled my scent, and barked madly towards where I was hiding.

The soldier led the military dog and walked towards me...

No choice, I have to fight!

???: Don't move.

Military Dog: Woof!

Xiliang Soldier A: Get lost! Where did this crow come from?! Get lost!

In a flash, I was pulled from my hiding spot by someone to behind the lotus pond.

The scent of Chinese photinia on his body mingled with the fragrance of lotus, faint and subtle.

???: Don't go out yet.

???: The flowing water will dilute the scent and confuse the military dog's sense of smell.

The twilight fell on his face, like gilded gold. Only his eyes were calm, as always.

You: Fu Rong...?!

Fu Rong: Shh. They haven't left yet, let's wait and see.

You: How did you know I was here?

Fu Rong: Passing by. I live nearby. You're dressed like this, I almost didn't recognize you.

You: Eh? You live in such a remote place?!

He stared at me quietly, his eyes cold.

Fu Rong: The rent in Luoyang city is already exorbitant.

No wonder he lives in such a remote place, so he was on his way home from work and passed by here...

You: Fu Rong, I need to investigate something in this Taoist temple.

You: Can you lure the people inside out? I have to go in and investigate the case.

Fu Rong: Difficult. Can the thing you're investigating withstand fire?

You: You want to set a fire to force them out... No, what if... No.

He didn't ask any more questions.

We retreated to a slightly further place, still able to hear the digging and knocking sounds coming from inside the temple.

You: Are they going to demolish this Taoist temple?!

This small Taoist temple obviously didn't have many places to investigate. In less than a quarter of an hour, the people inside came out.

Li Cui: Go back and report to General Dong, there's nothing here.

The Xiliang army rode away. I rushed towards the Taoist temple.

You: .....

The inside was already a mess.

Fu Rong: It's been demolished like this... Still investigating?

You: ....Investigate!!!

.

.

.

Chapter 1-9

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)