#I simply cannot channel her. but I must. alas.

[ssruis]

Tragic that I lack emu’s sense of whimsy and joie de vivre because it makes writing her so difficult. On the flip side nene dialogue is fine because she’s relatable (hater, pathetic, and anxious) & ruikasa are both fairly easy (because I too enjoy talking in an incredibly pretentious way)

[crusherthedoctor]

The beach trope: another one that often comes early in Sonic's quests, and this one's no different, though expectations are very mildly subverted by making it the third zone instead of the very first. (Careful Crusher, you had the audience on the edge of their seats there.)

More importantly though, it's possibly one of the most famous and celebrated level tropes in the series. Emerald Coast is undeniably iconic, Seaside Hill is just as iconic while also merging with the Green Hill setup, and Wave Ocean... is a poor man's Emerald Coast, but it's probably better than most levels in '06 by comparison, so it too is iconic, from a certain point of view. We can't forget Jungle Joyride either, even if that's mostly because we got to see the frame rate die before our very eyes.

So how do you make your interpretation stand out? How do you prevent having a Wave Ocean 2: Wave Oceaner on your hands? Well, it's actually very simple...

Creating Zone 3: Coastline Resort

3-1: Shining Shore

Remember when I said that sometimes all it takes to make an environment feel different is the time of day, or a change in weather? This is one of the first major examples of putting that philosophy into action, as compared to previous beach levels, which were usually content with taking place in the bright sunny daytime, this one takes place under a pleasant purple sunset.

This of course contrasting heavily with not only the blue sea, but also the sands, which although given a mild touch of purple courtesy of the sunset, cannot fully hide their natural shade of white.

And of course, waterfalls.

We can’t forget the waterfalls.

Despite being a true blue beach level first and foremost, there are also a few hints of plaza, further setting it apart from the Emerald Coasts and Not-Emerald Coasts of old times past. This aesthetic in particular is based heavily on the seaside town of Whitby.

No doubt Sonic would admire this place, at least when he's not forced to go deep underwater. Maybe when the adventure is over, he can come back here and have a relaxing moment with... someone. Dunno who though. I doubt Eggman would be interested, and not just because he's actually in-character. Oh well, plenty more horses in the sea.

Speaking of, what about the underwater sections? Shining Shore does have them after all, in full 3D, as opposed to making them bottomless pits in disguise. Unsurprisingly, everything's a lot more blue than purple down there, gorgeously so, but the coral reef provides its own variety of colour.

The local fishies don't seem to mind you being in their line of sight... nor do the Badniks, but probably for a different reason.

Since we're three zones in, you might have noticed by now that each zone, regardless of their overall colour scheme, has one element in at least one act that goes all rainbow with the colours than everything else. You had the flower patches in Gleaming Meadows, you had the wood barriers in Tricky Tropics with their rusting paint jobs, and now we have the coral reef in Coastline Resort... any reason for this?

Alas, the answer is a mundane one: it's just a little way of tying all the zones in Viridonia together. As this quest revolves around the mystery of the elusive Ethereal Zone, this seemingly inconsequential aspect is a way of ensuring that it will always remain at the back of your mind. It may be relatively more subtle and easy to miss than, say, a giant moon glaring down angrily at you no matter where you go on the map as it literally comes closer and closer to killing everyone, but the intention is effectively the same: the central meat of the setting and story is always present in some form, however indirect, even if the characters aren't currently discussing it.

Also, shout out to the lighthouse that helped our heroes by inadvertently blinding the pursuing mechanized orca.

You really put a dent in Heavy Gunner's strategy.

First Section (calm): Lagoony Tunes (Crash Bandicoot 2: N-Tranced) Peach Field (Mario Hoops 3-on-3)

Second Section (adrenaline): Lost Palace (Team Sonic Racing) Hang Eight (Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back)

3-2: Crazy Rapids

Being a whimsical water park, made even more whimsical to fit the video game format, this one explains itself in a lot of areas. But let's go over the finer details anyway, shall we?

As mentioned in the fic, the park has been made to fit in seamlessly with the ruins present in the area, thus creating a Good Future-esque wonderland of nature and technology in harmony. For an idea of how the ruins aesthetic would work, imagine something akin to the Sunset Beach Resort in Jamaica, particularly the long bridge and archways you can see in both of these shots:

Kind of has an Aquatic Ruin vibe, doesn’t it?

Even then, that only applies to half of the architecture, as the other half breaks up the yellow with some white, reminiscent of a certain OTHER watery location in Sonic's past...

We also have the giant fountains sprinkled around the place. There are two types of fountains to be exact, both of which may seem familiar to the attentive eye...

The difference? They're larger. MUCH larger. As in, you can actually platform your way on and around them.

As for what’s inside? It's exactly how you'd imagine it to be, albeit exaggerated even further to befit a Sonic level.

And in-tune with the beachside mood, the Chao Garden found nearby would take a page from the one in Station Square...

...with a little extra flavor of this...

...complete with miniature water slides and the like for the adorable inhabitants... the inhabitants that Eggman currently has an unexplained interest in. How do the Chao factor into his latest plan?

Heh heh, only I and those I've discussed it with in PMs know that for now.

First Section (outside): Windy and Ripply (Sonic Adventure) Ocean Palace (Sonic Heroes)

Second Section (inside): Data Select (Tee Lopes) Wii Shop Channel - Mii Channel (Super Smash Bros. Wii U)

3-3: Aquarium Gallery

Disappointed that Crazy Rapids lacked that smooth red-on-blue contrast that Aquarium Park from Sonic Colours had? Well we can’t all be in the same league as Eggman sadly, but fear not, for the similarly named Aquarium Gallery gets right in on the action, combining red walls and an overall upper class aesthetic...

...with the expected quantities of shimmering blue that comes with the aquarium setting. And with glass tanks of great size, comes great fishies to go along with them.

The black and white checkered floor would also be a must. It's a Sonic game, we gotta have a checkered pattern somewhere. It just works. /ToddCrusher

Don't worry about the living conditions for the fish here, by the way. Eggman mechanizing them aside, the people who work at the park - and those who visit it - make sure to treat all the marine life with the utmost respect and kindness. Just a shame that they're apparently not so willing to lend that same understanding to Trudy... but it does provide an early hint that despite the few genuine bad apples who are outright antagonistic towards Trudy, most of the folks ignorant to her condition are exactly that at worst: ignorant. Meaning, despite first impressions, most of them are not bad people at heart, and with a little help and persistence, it's not entirely impossible that they can eventually learn to understand and sympathise with Trudy's situation.

In other words, they have more dimension than the background characters in Sonic Boom, where they're all mostly a bunch of one-note arseholes with little redeeming qualities and don’t deserve to be saved by Sonic in the slightest.

Anyhow, eventually, after a trip through one of those sweet underwater tunnels...

...we find ourselves in the cavern area, where red is exchanged for turquoise, and there are reflected ripples galore. Since the Marble Caves in Chile already look halfway to being a Sonic level due to its unique formations, that's the best comparison I can make here.

Too blue, you might say? Well, the sunset from earlier would be poking through the holes in the wall, adding some warm to the cool once more... the giant seashells everywhere help spice it up too.

Like these, but bigger than Ken Penders’ ego.

If that’s even possible...

First Section (aquarium): Rooftop Run - Night (Sonic Unleashed) Coconut Mall (Mario Kart Wii)

Second Section (caves): Sea Shell Shenanigans (Crash Bandicoot: The Wrath of Cortex) Dire, Dire Docks (Super Mario 64)

3-4: Hydro Plant

The outside structure for this place is shaped like a giant wall, which predictably brings the Hoover Dam to mind:

And that applies inside as well, at least initially. The similarities indoors come mostly from the generators, as well as the sheer size of the place.

Since it's considerably rustier however, we have darker lighting in place, with the sunset outside preventing it from being too dark inside. There’s also a copious amount of daring graffiti caused by hoodlums... or maybe Eggman, since he'd probably be the type to do that to any property that isn't his. Some of this graffiti would look very impressive...

While others would... uh...

Look, they tried, okay?

With all this graffiti, that means there’s opportunity for a generous helping of cheeky references to previous installments if you��re able to find them... and if you can understand them. To this day, the typo in “make belif reborn” has not been corrected. Absolutely disgusting.

But as the fic dictates, the further you go on, the tidier and more high tech it becomes. Simply put, this section would remind one of Aquatic Base from '06, mainly because I've always liked the idea despite its characteristically terrible level design, so why not salvage the concept and give it a second chance?

With some added flavor to make it less monotone, mind you. Like actual water sections, some green lights to break up all the blue, giant crab robot threatening to kill you... the works.

Sonic may be glad that this zone is behind him, but little does he know, it's not the only zone with intense water action around these parts. Luckily for him, that won't be for a while, so he can breathe a sigh of relief for now. Still, we know Eggman has other ways of keeping the gang on their toes...

First Section (rusty): Wily Stage 2 (Mega Man 7) Pokey Pipes (Donkey Kong Country 3)

Second Section (high tech): Ocean Base Act 1 (Sonic Advance 3) H2 Oh No (Crash Bandicoot: The Wrath of Cortex)

[yukiwrites]

Byleth, Revealing the Truth

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This is always so interesting to work on! >v<)

Summary: Coming to terms with the realization that he will never see Sothis again, Byleth finally confronts Rhea in front of the student body and reveals the truth of the deep and dark secrets the Church had been keeping for a thousand years...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -  Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10  - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

The air underground felt thicker and thicker with magical energy the closer they got to the Holy Tomb. Byleth could almost hear the memories unraveling around him, taking everything he had to simply look ahead and lead the way.

The students -- Claude, Linhardt and Ignatz especially -- explored the stones with deep curiosity, whispering amongst themselves while coming up with this or that theory about the place's origins. Once they descended through a mysterious contraption -- something Byleth's memories told him was called 'elevator' -- the awed gasps increased.

There it lay, right in front of them -- the gargantuan underground space known as the Holy Tomb.

"Are you surprised, Professor? This is the Holy Tomb." Rhea pressed her lips into a thin line, as though testing Byleth's grasp in Sothis' memories. The young Professor simply chewed his lower lip and took a short breath, seeing the young Rhea giggling and twirling around herself in every single place he directed his gaze to.

Standing on Byleth's left, Dimitri looked around with large eyes. "Incredible. To think such a vast space has been hiding beneath the Monastery all this time. I wonder what powers that giant mechanism that descends beneath the ground." He whispered the last part more to himself, taking a hand to his chin in thought.

Rhea's steps turned hastier as they approached the throne sitting on the opposite side of the entrance. It overlooked any and all who entered, centered so as to watch over the countless sarcophagi scattered all over the grounds.

"This is where the goddess who created this world was laid to rest, along with her children." She gestured vaguely from the sarcophagi to the throne. "It is said," she tried very hard to suppress her smirk, "that our creator, the goddess Sothis, sat upon this very throne." She let the words sink in for a moment, waiting for when Byleth's gaze turned to her. "Do you recognize this throne, Professor?"

"What, why would he know about this? Is that because he received the power from the goddess?" Claude blurted out from the position Hanneman had guided the Golden Deers to, crossing his arms in confusion.

"I do not think now's the time to ask such questions, Claude..." Ignatz shook his head beside Claude, whispering as low as he could, though still falling victim to the mysterious echo of the Holy Tomb.

"Now's precisely the time to ask questions, though..." Unsatisfied, but intent on staying put for the time being, Claude crossed both hands behind his head, feigning nonchalance.

Byleth looked away from Rhea towards the throne, clutching his chest and embracing the lump in his throat. "I do." He replied simply, making the Archbishop blink enthusiastically and clap her hands gracefully.

"So long... So long have I waited for this very day." Her eyes looked glazed over; her controlled smile just a step from conveying the deep-rooted madness within. "Go, Professor," she urged the young man through the steps. "Sit upon the throne. I have no doubt -- no doubt! -- that you will be gifted a r-revelation from the goddess." She bit her lower lip in anticipation.

Byleth gazed upon the throne, feeling the heat escape his body and his throat go dry.

He had just seen it inside his head, barely a week ago. He had gone up these very steps within his mind to console Sothis when she had regained her memory, just a few weeks previous. He had seen her sit upon it countless, countless times inside their shared memories.

His eyes burning, Byleth gripped the hilt of the Sword of the Creator on his hip and climbed the steps, one by one; one by one.

The more the throne approached, the more visions Byleth could see -- of Rhea, of Sothis, of her children; even of a young Seteth -- and his legs started trembling. He knew that if he had a normal heart, this would be the moment where it would be beating so loud he would barely be able to hear his own breathing.

Alas, his chest was as silent as ever, though if only his mind could say the same...

He touched the cold stone of the throne's hand rest, feeling a crackle of energy clashing with the one being emitted from his own body. Taking a deep breath, the professor slowly took a seat in the middle of the large throne, reminding him of how small Sothis always looked whenever she sat on it inside their shared mindscape.

Closing his eyes, Byleth felt a surge of memories cascading through his mind.

He could almost, almost hear Sothis' voice again, though it all stemmed from his own memories.

“You fool!! Do not go asking questions you might regret hearing the answer to!”    “Give it to her! Get away from here this instant! I cannot bear this conversation any longer!” He could hear her voice almost as clear as day, though he knew, deep within himself, that this was all just his own wishful thinking showing him what he wanted to see.

“I condone the way you forcefully try to yank it all out of me.”      “Your mind has been wandering and wandering…”      “Sothis, also known as The Beginning. I identify with both aliases, as does the goddess.”      “Am I simply a part of the goddess? The conscience once calls ‘self’? If so, is that the reason why I bear the appearance of a child?” Her voice as she condoned or comforted him made the Professor press his own lips into a thin line, a deep frown squeezing his eyes shut lest they overflowed with grief.

“Experiment? What- Did I go through such a thing in the past?”       “NO! No, no! Nooo!” “This… this is… It’s how I died.”

Byleth could barely keep himself from expressing his own grief, watching his and Sothis’ shared memories play out inside his mind.

“So that is why I did not want to remember…”      “Will you come with me?”    “Thank you…”      “I have the memories back, not the powers! Oh, why-why must this happen…!”      “What a beautiful love it must’ve been.”      “Your Father had been wary of her from day one.”

“Indeed… The wicked must be punished.”

“It was that simple, young one. She wanted to see me again.”

Byleth opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Rhea’s.

“She wanted to bring me back to life, Byleth, by using your body as a medium. I’d wager she almost succeeded this time.”       “Even though we’ve been together ever since you were born, it is a shame that I’ve only awoke a few months ago.”        “It is not the same as death, silly child. I will always be with you, quite literally.”

“We simply… will not be able to talk like this. I shall miss it.”

Rhea’s expression started to crumble. “Well…?”

“Can I be selfish just one more time?”      “Could you- hug me?”      “This will be the very last time anyway, for all eternity.”

Byleth slowly ascended from the throne, taking quiet steps down the stairs towards the Archbishop.

“Thank you… I’m glad it was with you to whom my fate was bound.”

The Professor stopped midway to the staircase, taking a deep breath and turning to the throne, bowing slightly to it. "I'm sorry, my friend... I’ll try to keep my promise as best I can, but…” He raised his gaze to the cold stone, then back to the increasingly nervous Archbishop.

Averting her gaze, Byleth tried to walk past her in a strangled silence, but she took his arm with a force that did not match her frail-looking get-up.

"W-wait, Professor? What happened? It w-was supposed to be just a step away..." Her voice derailed as her eyes shook -- the color seeped out of her face with each breath she took. "Answer me!"

"L-Lady Rhea, pray let the Professor go-" Dimitri tried to touch Rhea's hand which gripped Byleth's arm, but was shook off by the increasingly unhinged Archbishop.

"Do not interfere, child!" She hissed, her eyes and cheeks hollowing in despair.

Byleth's brow flickered with anger, so he, too, shook off Rhea's hand. "Don't touch my students." His voice was low, but somber, full of authority and barely controlled anger.

It was as though he had the poise of a god for the entire room fell silent as chills spread around everyone's spines.

Hanneman and Manuela exchanged glances, ready to haul the students out at any indication of Rhea losing control.

"I'm not a tool for your schemes anymore, Rhea! What did you want to happen, truly? To have Sothis possess my body and live and speak through my mouth? You can't ever replicate her body! It would've been a prison just as cruel as the one they put her through!"

"NO! No- no, she would be free! She would walk amongst us again- M-mother...! She would- reconstruct herself once she regained her powers-" Rhea blabbed, her field of vision and consciousness narrowing to Byleth only, forgetting about the dozens of onlookers.

Byleth clutched his chest, "regained what powers? Through a limited vessel there was no way to channel them! She could only keep the form of an amnesic child! Haven't you realized that the power of her soul can't be contained only in her Crest Stone?! The most she could do was wish to know who she was!"

Rhea's eyes widened so, they almost bulged out of her skull. "F-form of a child? No memories...? But then, how do you- how did she give you this power- o-oh, Mother..."

The Professor's chin trembled with the overlapped version of Rhea and her child self, his eyes burning with tears -- no doubt stemming from Sothis' side of his soul. "She!" He didn't notice he raised his voice until it left his throat. "She didn't want me to resent you up until the very end. She asked me to be merciful to the child who was most attached to her." His voice trembled and he could feel that a single tear escaped, though he was quick to dry it with the back of his hand.

Rhea's legs gave out. "M-mother..." She dug her face into her hands; her entire body, that once felt imposing and all-knowing, trembled and shivered like a lost little girl who simply missed her mother.

The students watched with glazed eyes, not knowing what to think or where all of that came from, most of their mouths agape in shock.

Byleth gave his back to the sobbing Rhea, turning to the audience. His eyes met his coworkers, though he could only see their worry for him in their expressions. He simply nodded and looked away from them towards every single student. "I'm sure you all have many questions." He managed to control his voice and grip at his sword to ground himself. "What failed to happen just now was the resurrection of the goddess." He declared, noticing how the air itself started to waver due to the students' anxiety. He took out his weapon and hung it overhead.

The Sword of the Creator shone in its characteristic red glow, stealing every pair of eyes towards it. "I have been housing the consciousness of the goddess inside me, which is why I am able to wield the weapon that was made with her very own bones."

A low 'eek' was heard amongst the students, though was deafened by Claude's loud objection. "Bones? What'dya mean by that, Teach? Are you saying...?"

Byleth nodded, pointing towards the House Leader. "Failnaught," he went from Claude to Dimitri, "Areadbhar," then towards the spot the Blue Lions stood at, "The Crusher, Aegir Shield, the Lance of Ruin, Lùin..." Then, he looked back to the Alliance House, "Freikugel, Thyrsus... They were all made out of the bones and crystallized blood of the children of the goddess. That I can wield the Sword of the Creator without its own Crest Stone is the proof -- for the crystallized blood of the goddess rests within my own heart."

"B-bones?" Ingrid's grasp on Lùin faltered, allowing it to fall with a loud clang on the ground. "B-but the ancient texts..."

"The Church has been manipulating the information of what happened a millennia ago to hide the true nature of the tragedy." Byleth placed the tip of his sword on the ground, resting both hands upon its hilt. "I'm sure none of you forgot what happened at Remire village." He let his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Those who were behind the attack on the village, as well as behind the murder of my father... They were the ones who, a thousand years ago, murdered the goddess and her children, drank their blood and made weapons out of their very bodies." His throat itched as the information was difficult to say. His eyes fell upon Flayn, who looked down in unfathomable grief. She had also been there, back then, as Sothis' memories imbued within the Sword of the Creator told him.

Mercedes and Marianne covered their faces with horror, being comforted by Annette and Hilda respectively, while the most devout students stared at the space without knowing what to think.

Edelgard took a step forward, seeing an opportunity. "Are you saying that we should topple the Church and let the people be free to believe in whatever gods they wish, Professor? This is all SO very surprising..."

Byleth shook his head. "Topple it? No. But it needs immediate reform. The people deserve to know the truth."

"Interesting." The Imperial Princess took the same step back, glancing around to watch everyone's reactions at the same time a loud wail exploded behind Byleth.

It was Rhea.

Her grief was so deep that she completely forgot how many millennia had been since she had been a little girl.

She cried and howled with the pain within her heart. "LEAVE! All of you- leave this place! Mother's- Mother's resting holy ground!" She bellowed as she dug her face deeper within her hands.

Byleth pressed his lips into a thin line, glancing back at Rhea then towards his fellow professors. They all nodded in agreement and started to herd the students to the exit.

"Wait, wait, wait, we're leaving? I still have a lot to ask, though!" Claude scurried to Byleth while Manuela had to physically maim Linhardt out of his spot.

"I'll answer whatever you want." Byleth nodded to the House Leader, then looked over his shoulder to the aghast students. "Whatever you all want. But for now..." he clutched his chest, trying not to think of the pain of losing his one and only friend for good. "For now, let's leave her to mourn on her own." He whispered under Rhea's loud wails.

The Archbishop climbed on the steps and threw herself on the throne, hugging it as though she did her mother, crying like she hadn’t cried in ages past.

I'll protect her from the public scorn however I can... I hope that's enough to fulfill my promise, Sothis. 

[victeazer-archive]

Here are my rough ideas regarding Jemima, Grizabella, Macavity, the nature of magic in the universe of Cats. I'm purely spit balling here on what I know and of course what I do know could be very little in the scope of things; please inform me if my theory is flawed based on any fact/canon within the Cats musical!

Anyway.

I'm new to Fandom and didn't entirely understand the hype surrounding Jemima - I only knew her as the kitten that sang the bridge in Memory which inspired Grizabella, a very iconic and memorable moment in the show, yes, but she wasn't particularly memorable to me (heheh) and her role in the story was taken by Victoria in the film adaptation.

So, I didn't really think abou Jemima until I revisited the classic 1998 recording of the musical and started browsing the Cats wiki to fuel my ever growing curiosity/hyperfixation and I came across a very peculiar detail that intrigued me. During midway through the show, it is described that Jemima was "telepathically selected" by Deutoronomy to relay a message to Grizabella, and this "possibly hints at her mystical nature". This raised many questions I want to unpack.

First off, I had no idea that Old Deutoronomy had the ability to communicate telepathically. It does make sense, as Deutoronomy is the only known cat able to access the Heaviside Layer - we can view this as one of his magical abilities, and a sign of him being the most powerful of all the magical cats. I suppose it just caught me off guard that it's not exactly explicitly stated that Deutoronomy was using his telephatic ability during this scene with Jemima, but it is a largely accepted interpretation and so we can confirm it is an ability he possesses.

Speaking of the magical cats, the other known magical cats are Mr Mistoffelees, and the Coricopat and Tantomile pair. The reason I bring these characters up is because I believe there is a specific logic to their magical power through age.

See, Mistoffelees is considered to be a young adult, about the same age as Victoria, who is seen transitioning from kitten to adulthood throughout the show. Now, there is subtle imagery of Mistoffelees possessing magic throughout the show (being able to open Jennyanydot's briefcase through gesturing his hands, for example) and until his big number (which I will discuss later), these magical tricks indicate that Mistoffelees' power is actually rather weak compared to the other magical cats like Coricopat and Tantomile, who are said to be able to predict the future, are shown to sense approaching presences and seem to share a telepathic bond between them. I believe that why Mistofelees's power is weak compared to that of Coricopat and Tantomile is because of age difference - the mystical twins are well into adulthood and their power thus could have grown stronger over time with maturity. It makes sense to me that the strength of magical power in a magical jellicle cat is relative to age, because at the very top of this hierarchy of magical cats is Deutoronomy, the oldest cat of this group. However, I don't think this is the only factor in a magical cat's power level, but I will discuss this later.

My second question regarding this scene is why Deutoronomy didn't simply send the message directly to Grizabella, telepathically. Heck, why doesn't he ever speak to her once throughout the play - we see him reach and fail to touch her, but I do not recall him calling after her. So, after wracking my brain for an answer, the conclusion I came to was this: he cannot use his magical power to communicate to Grizabella, because Grizabella is not a Jellicle Cat.

Let me break this down; yes, it is clear that Grizabella is a Jellicle Cat in the sense that she belongs to this species within the universe, but what I am referring to is specifically the tribe of Jellicle Cats, of which she once belonged to, and was then outcasted from. The magical cats within the show only ever really use their abilities in relation to others within the tribe; Mistoffelees summons Deutoronomy (which we will discuss I promise), the mystical twins are able to sense Deutoronomy's arrival, and, of course, Deutoronomy uses his telepathic power to communicate to Jemima. (There is an instance of the mystical twins being able to sense Macavitys precense, but I believe it has more so to do with the constant paranoia of Macavity's arrival throughout the play rather than their actual magical insight). So, it would be logical that Deutoronomy could not reach out to Grizabella, because he cannot actually use his power on her, only on those within the tribe.

This leads me to believe that there had to be some ritual taken place to remove Grizabella from this magical link between the Jellicle Cats, and that, of course, the only way to mend this link is through a Jellicle Cat's touch - an acceptance into the tribe's community, but also to the magical link to the, well, magical cats.

Onto my next point is that there is technically another magical cat within the show, but he is not accepted within the Jellicle Tribe. In fact, you could say he has his own opposing tribe that isn't really elaborated or established clearly within the show - but we do know that he has henchmen, some of which were Jellicle Cats (example, Mungojerrie, who we will talk about more in this too! Yay!) that clearly converted/were accepted back into the Jellicle tribe before the start of the show. In fact, it is implied that he has a personal history with individual members of the Jellicle Tribe like Demeter and Bombularina (who are rather matured adult queens). This leads me to believe that Macavity was once a Jellicle Cat, being that he was once a member of the tribe, but left to establish his own.

Now, I'm going to take some information from the movie adaptation, so forgive me (even though ALW did work on the film and so it could be recognized as new Canon etc etc etc...) Within the film, Macavity is actively eliminating other potential competitors for the Jellicle Choice, and is ultimately rejected by Deutoronomy for having "no Jellicle soul" (I'm paraphrasing).

Now, I believe that this is could actually act as Macavity's backstory for the musical. He was once Jellicle Cat, a magical one in fact, but used his magic for his own benefit instead of for the tribe (reminder that our aforementioned magical cats used their powers to protect, warn, or rescue their fellow jellicle cats). Rejected, or leaving on his own accord, Macavity instead forms his own tribe, that, again benefits only him. I should clarify that it is clearly evident that you do not have to be a member of the Jellicle Tribe to yield magical powers, ala Macavity being able to do so.

Now, as said before, Macavity recruited/lured cats from the Jellicle tribe to join his own. One of them is stated to be Mungojerrie who, according to this timeline, must have been a kitten when Macavity recruited him. Mungojerrie was an impressionable, trusting child who was probably attracted to Macavity's criminal lifestyle, as is Mungojerrie's character. However, it is clear that Mungojerrie left Macavity and returned to the tribe and was accepted back in. We can assume the reason he did would because he suffered from some form of abuse from Macavity, as we see him literally tremble in fear when he witnesses him, even as an adult Tom. Mungojerrie isn't the only one - Demeter is also constantly paranoid and anxious that Macavity will cross paths with her again. Macavity doesn't actually care about the people in his tribe. Again, it is for the benefit of himself.

Now, how could having a tribe benefit Macavity beyond helping him with his crimes or facilitating his needs? This is where I talk about the second factor that influences a cat's magical strength. We are getting to the Mistoffelees number.

Remember when I said that Mistoffelees is pretty weak up until his big number? Well, the reason I think he suddenly gained such power is the fact that he is accompanied by a chorus of his own Jellicle Tribe that are expressing adoration and affection for him. I believe that Mistoffelees is able to channel this positive energy into his magic, making him able to pull off such a great task such as teleporting Deutoronomy back. I believe a cat's magical power can be strengthened through not only maturity, but also through the support from a community.

(And in case you were wondering, Coricopat and Tantomile are rather recluse and quiet cats. Although I don't think they're hated within their community they are definitely not able to draw in a crowd like Mistoffelees, clearly).

Thus, I believe Macavity is trying to create a tribe so as to strengthen his magic, but doesn't actually value his fellow cats, so abuses or discards of them.

Let's circle back to Grizabella. Now, in the musical, it's never explained why Grizabella was outcasted from the Jellicle Tribe. However, in the film, they explain that Grizabella actually joined Macavity, and was thus shunned and ostracized by the Jellicle Cats. While not elaborated on, I feel like this is a solid explanation if we follow my theory. Grizabella could have been lured by Macavity into his tribe for many reasons; he could have promised her something akin to fame or glamor, as is her namesake, or could have seduced her romantically like he did Bombalurina or Demeter. So, Grizabella leaves the tribe and goes through some ritual to sever ties with them, if you will. She goes and travels with him, but not as peer but a servant to him; you can see she is torn and dilapidated, perhaps from years of abuse, neglect or suffering from a one-sided relationship in which Grizabella sacrificed her youth, her beauty and her community for Macavity, and he ultimately gave her nothing in return. Now, Grizabella could have left at her own accord, but I find it more plausible that Macavity discarded of her once he realized that she had lost faith in him, thus weakening his power. This could explain why in the film Grizabella seems to drift between Macavity and the Jellicle Tribe, clearly reaching back to the Jellicle Tribe but rejected by both.

Now, of all the jellicle cats that left and came back, why is Grizabella the one that the Jellicle Tribe resisted to accept her the most? I believe it could be that Grizabella was Macavity's oldest follower, one of his firsts perhaps, and thus possibly the longest-lasting tribe member who stuck by his side despite watching cats - kittens, even - come and go. It would be logical for them to distrust her expressing to return to the tribe, considering her unwavering loyalty to Macavity until this point.

(Just a side note I think this explains why Macavity comes back through out the play to kidnap Deutoronomy and Demeter, rather than luring or trying to convince them, just becoming frustrated and forcing them instead).

Anyway, let's try and go back to the beginning of all this. The scene. We have Deutoronomy, who is unable to communicate via his magic to his old friend that he had possibly forgiven for leaving, seeing how she had suffered, because she is no longer a part of the tribe, then using his magic to ask a young kitten via telepathy to relay a message of Happiness, and thus possibly awakening the young kitten's own mystical power through love, and acceptance. I believe that this isn't the only instance of Deutoronomy speaking through Jemima, either. He could have possibly telepathically relayed the verse in Memory (Daylight) for Jemima to sing. Through this he is already teaching her that her magic can be powered through love, affection, acceptance and especially, compassion.

Later, when Victoria finally touches and accepts Grizabella, she is once again within the tribe. And thus, her and Deutoronomy can finally reunite, and he can offer his friend redemption; a new life. I believe he is able to access the Heaviside Layer not only because he is the oldest and wisest of the magical cats, but through the power of his own love for who he deems the Jellicle Choice.

I feel like my theory on how magical cats work give these scenes a new layer and strengthens them, give em a lil logic. It just makes sense to me, and I cant really watch these moments the same way again once I've realized this.

Anyway, cat magic is powered by love and macavity is a dick so that's why I like Jemima more than I did before the end!

[shade-without-color]

The History of the Brossards Part II: Tristan II and how things fell out.

Note: Well this is the second part of the fall of The Brossards, and oh man things got way too wild. So I kinda borrow that incident from Anne Boelyn’s appearance in the pageant. It is quite a difficult one but I hope it is all satisfying for you to fill in the big gap in its history.

What I can say about Tristan II, and how it relates to Gascon Brossard, aside from that he took on his father’s handsome looks. However, I would attest that he is a man of quiet character. A traveller devoting himself to his ancestral home of Toussaint. For he took himself to serve under a king’s banner- Clovis. A handsome one and wise in his actions, like the Brossards he seems to disapprove the marriage of Princess Meve and King Reginald. For then he let go of Tristan from his duties when a family messenger came to the grounds of the palace to plead Tristan to come back to the estate, as his father requested him to be on his side during his fleeting last days. Of course, then he brought his wife, who was a Toussaint noble lady Sybile expecting their fourth child and their two oldest daughters Etoile and Serephina, and oldest son Marius back to his ancestral lands. I will get by with Serephina’s side much later as her story is tragic and frightening as the fates of the Brossards.

Tristan II came back to the lands, with his appearance weathered by Toussaint sunlight, to the warm welcome to his brother Eudes, as Kais did not hold much admiration for his favoured brother. Nevertheless, they put aside their differences to ease their father to the afterlife.

Thus Tristan II took over family matters, and buried his father in the same tomb as little Jean and Hugues, for they shall be united in death. Titus’ grave, in contrast to his role as the king’s eyes, were decorated rather simply, with only a figure to watch over him until judgement day. King Reginald took the trouble to arrange a lavish funeral for Titus, to the disapproval to Kais and Eudes, as they felt that it should be channelled to rather useful purposes like helping the fellow villages around their land. Nevertheless, all of Titus’ children and grandchildren watch the final moments of seeing their ailing grandfather lying at last, and only Tristan II is grateful for his generous offer. It said that after his father’s funeral that the Brossard brothers slowly drift apart, though they agreed on a few matters. That my friend sparked the seed of its downfall.

For now, I will talk about the sons of Tristan II, and I say he must be proud of them. For Marius, Gwain and Eudes II took up to be at the king’s side like his brothers, watching over the affairs. Marius has a similar temperament to his uncle Kais, sombre and yet sharp, Gwain was a charmer as he was brought into favour by a certain noble lady which he married, with the approval of his father Tristan, and have two young children Tristan III and his daughter Anne, Eudes II, took over his uncle’s position to look over the finances of the family,as he assigned renovation of the family tombs and its lands to be beautiful. It is said that Gwain’s balls and parties are the highlights of the North. Of course, Tristan II did spare no expanse as he brought barrels of wine from Toussaint and strong spirits from Mahakham to quench their guests’ thirst and entertainment so delightful that it made the men forget their trouble of the upcoming wars. It said that laughter and mirth light up the areas and the daughters of Tristan II, Etoile and Seraphina are wonderful hosts to many who come. However what they left is a strong impression of his youngest son, which he nicknamed himself the little pearl- Gascon. Even before we all know him as The Duke of Dogs, the leader of the infamous Strays of Spalla, he was a charming fellow and Tristain II think of him fondly as Hugues, should he survive that horrible disease. He is delightfully charming and witty- to the point that he managed to break a small smile to the stoic Kais. He was also loving to the wolfhounds which are three times his side, Fiorano and Pomino.

You may wonder previously that I mentioned about its tension, between Kais and Eudes, and Serephina, the beloved daughter. I would start simply with a party held by the Brossards, to celebrate Meve’s birthday, then I must add that Serephina is one of Queen Meve’s trusted handmaidens after the passing of Cicely, and recently she caught the attention to many nobles for her exceptional beauty. And oh it shows in a little pageant which all of the ladies dressed as the Queen’s blessings- which Marius, unfortunately, have to witness. And his sister was Preserving and it caught the eye of King Reginald, despite respecting the queen is known by the kingdoms to have many affairs with handmaidens, and she was not spared from his gaze. Throughout the night, he tried his best to get by her side, to the disapproval of Marius. For Reginald took matters by vouching for the ailing Tristain II, for her hand in marriage. In his lucidity, he refused it under the under the speech of Kais, as it will prove grief to Queen Meve. However, he was given some money in the condition that he would depart some men to service for a small war in exchange that his daughter will keep him company. Thus it began a secret affair, which Reginald disguised her as a pageboy to keep eyes away especially to the sharp Kais. It was not too long before he called his assassins to kill off Kais quietly by a cloth covered in poison, and buried him quickly without a grave. It was only one of the Brossards’ hounds to find his body. That started to caused grief to Tristan II, usually charming to grow bitter. He was too late to see Reginald’s cruelty for he was killed much later, as he went for Reginald’s hunting expeditions by a quick blade.

As for Serephina, she was left in the tower, impregnated by Reginald’s child which I cannot say more, as they perished that day, which in turn spread news to all Brossards, furious over her treatment of an innocent woman, for the child and mother were buried without any parting words or memorials. And thus began the rebellion of the Brossards in 1258- for it was a bloody one, and it only left a few in a trial. Marius and Eudes II spoke of the king’s infidelity which most agreed, and even to Queen Meve who was then rendered silent, as Reginald felt that harrowing affairs must not temper a woman expecting child, a royal heir that symbolised the unification of Lyria and Rivia. Of course, the judge overturned their sentence to take away a certain portion of their lands which they accepted it begrudgingly, but alas it did not satisfy Reginald’s vengeance. For he used the Brossards to accept his lust- as propaganda to his soldiers that they turned themselves to the enemy forces. And thus he did not spare any mercy to all. He started that outside, Elenore who was staying happily in Aedrin with her husband and a few grandchildren. For they were brought to a place of comfort to only be drowned by Rivians into the crushing tides of a nearby river. Then Eudes, who was in a study trip in Oxenfurt, he died by poison from a simple tipple of strong spirit. Etoile was deemed the worse, as she was murdered in her sleep.

If you must wonder about the massacre in the Brossard house, Gascon was outside the house, learning how to fence with his favourite lecturer. He was not aware of the murders until he saw all Rivian soldiers wiping the blood from their blades, as they recently killed his brother Eudes II and Marius fighting off the commander, pleading them to spare his life. He will never forget the dazed look of his mother whispering him to run away as fast as he could, with her chest slowly oozing out in blood. The fencing instructor Wolsey, empathetic to the Brossards’ downfall hid the boy quietly in the family cellar which he helped Marius to fight against the murderers. I wish to spare you the details of people even associated with the name, as it was a horrible deed that will stain the conscience of the North.

Soon silence fell upon the mansion, which little Gascon took what remains of his family including a torn off piece of the family crest. He held it with much pain, as he quickly ran away from the gazed looks of those murdered. You may wonder how he becomes the leader to the Strays of Spalla, simple- there are a few orphans staying by the woods neglected by necessity. Gascon used his wit and charm to build terror along the lands and sparing no expanse. He even dropped his last name, as a symbol of a departure of his tragic past when he turned ten summers. No matter how much he tried, he will never forget the looks in his family’s eyes and it will haunt him for his entire life until a certain queen amend her late husband’s pains.

Dear reader, I shall pause its history for you. Do the Brossards deserve such horrors? I do not think so, they served faithfully to the previous king of Lyria and maybe many before which I cannot record. It is just that fate becomes a cruel mistress to a noble family and a king blind in his own human downfalls that caused such pain. As I will write this simply,  how high they rise and yet how low they fall.

[ladydracarysao3]

In Love, Serenity  

Chapter Sixteen: Thunder & Revelations

Chapter Summary Izzalea questions her silent, insolent scout, before finally making it to the stronghold that contains her enemies and stolen soldiers.

Note For the Abner fans out there, this one is a biggie. Enjoy!

[Read Chapter 16 on AO3]  or [Start from the Beginning]

-Izzalea-

She hates this place.

Izzalea truly hates this Maker forsaken bog. Ever since she arrived, it’s been days of rotting corpse after rotting, fucking corpse. They seem to attack at every turn. Merely touching the waters surrounding her crew, wakes the undead that are lying in wait within. They’ve tried to avoid the water as best as they can, but at times it has been impossible not to walk through it, in order to get across channels, or washed out and flooded areas.

And the smell… Maker… the smell. Izzalea fears that the disgusting scent of death and decay will never leave her skin. She is obviously cursed to forever permeate her surroundings with a gut wrenching, reeking stink, and causing all in her path to wretch as she passes. She groans to herself at the thought, her stomach tightens and flips. She knows it is irrational, but the horrendous smell of rotting death is driving her insane. She is desperate to leave this marsh behind. Leave this muck and filth forever. Her desperation in turn has made Izzalea more determined than ever to find the abducted soldiers and get them home.

Izzalea rolls her neck in an attempt to release the tension building within it. She stretches and pinches at her shoulders, secretly wishing they could be massaged by a big, strong, pair of hands. Like Cullen’s hands. A smile spreads on her lips as Izzalea leaves the wretchedness of the bog, however momentarily, to envision the beautiful and handsome face of her commander. She blissfully imagines how firm and calming his touch would be on her aching shoulders. Like magical medicine, his presence would ease all of her tension. All of her worry. All of her stress.

Izzalea is snapped back to reality due to a particularly loud clap of thunder. The sound makes her jump, a quick, sudden cold sweat shimmers on her skin. She is never this jumpy, her frayed mental state is obviously taking its toll on her. She inhales deeply to calm her nerves, missing those brief thoughts of tranquility.

There has been one continuous storm roaring over the Fallow Mire ever since they arrived. Everything is waterlogged, everything is awful. But she must bring her attention back to the mission. She needs to focus. Izzalea must successfully complete this task, and she needs the assassin’s secrets to do so.

They learned that Abner was somehow kin to the clan that has their men. However, she has been tight lipped and unapproachable since her secret was discovered. What little of it was discovered, anyway. Izzalea can’t even tell what the woman is thinking. Is she scared? Is she angry? Is she forming a plan? Is she thinking anything? How is Izzalea to know what-in-the-void is going on when Abner, her Avvar expert, refuses speak? She is growing increasingly annoyed, impatient with the scout’s insolent behavior. Izzalea is the Inquisitor, after all, why is she not more forthcoming?

Izzalea watches as Abner moves about camp. Silently, the assassin helps pack everything for the day’s journey. She watches her act as if nothing’s happened. Acting as if a bomb of ‘What the fuck’ didn’t just go off in front of everyone. They all have questions. Izzalea sees it in everyone’s eyes. Hawke currently sits on a boulder on the edge of camp, paying far more attention following Abner with a discerning stare, than he is to mending his robes that lie in his lap. Everyone has been watching her, wondering what her story really is. What does she know? How is she related to these people?

Izzalea’s perplexed curiosity on the subject of Abner’s origins has been eating away at her. Observing Abner incessantly, she notes her movements, scans her features, looks for clues, but alas, she has come up empty. Abner looks nothing like the Avvar. For one, they are enormous, if the shaman they met is any indication. Abner is so petite by comparison. Izzalea cannot see how the women of these people could possibly be so small and still produce men of that size. It is baffling. Impossible.

Another loud, jarring, crack of thunder makes Izzalea tense her shoulders again. She’s got to get out of this pit, soon.  Abner was sent here for a reason, she needs her to talk. Izzalea feels herself glare at the woman, her thoughts turning fiery. She will not have the reason for her being stuck in the misery wasted, just because Abner has specially guarded secrets.

The group is almost finished packing away camp, for hopefully the last time before they find the stronghold holding their enemy and their soldiers. Determined to know what she knows, Izzalea decides she has been kind to her scout for long enough. It is time for her to share everything she knows about the ‘Hand of Korth.’

Taking a deep breath Izzalea stands straighter and squares her shoulders. Marching over to Abner, she affixes her best Inquisitor face. Izzalea exudes seriousness and above all, authority. There is no time for sugar coating. “Alright, Abner. Tell me everything about Hand of Korth,” she says sternly as she stares into the young woman’s dark, impertinent eyes.

Abner is unmoved. Her eyes, mouth, and voice are all flat, unimpressed. “He’s an ass,” she says simply.

In no mood for the ‘run around’ from this woman, irritation seeps from Izzalea’s voice as she speaks through clenched teeth. “Would you mind expanding upon that, scout?” She sighs and crosses her arms. Acting as if she is annoyed that Izzalea is pulling rank on her. Why does she think she’s here?

Abner looks to be searching for the right words, or the information she will choose to share. “Okay…” she begins, her voice only moderately lifted, “He is one of the sons of Movran the Under. I doubt Movran has anything to do with this. He isn’t a bad guy, but his son is.”

She pauses a moment as she thinks of what to say. Scrunching her face, her eyes move rapidly in the distance, searching her mind. She sighs as if she is surrendering an inner struggle and looks at Izzalea with a saddened gaze. Izzalea’s chest drops Abner appears to have suffered a miserable loss. She softens her posture and waits for Abner to speak.

“Alright,” she begins with a sigh, slumping her shoulders forward slightly, defeated. “So… Ofred.”

“You mean, Hand of Korth?”

Narrowing her eyes, glaring with an intense frown, she clenches her fists. “No,” she corrects, “I will never call him that. His name is Ofred.” Abner loosens her fingers. Huffing a sigh of tension loose, she shakes a thought from her head. “So, here’s what you need to know. He is waiting for you, yeah? He won’t be waiting alone. He won’t fight with honor, either. That’s not his way. He will probably have archers posted all over the hold ready to make you a pin cushion.”

Izzalea nods and thoughtfully rubs her chin, gliding her gloved fingers over her mouth. Speaking through the leather with a concerned expression, she asks, “But why does he want me? Could he be working with Corypheus?”

“No,” she says plainly. The petite and willful scout takes a deep breath and stares up at Izzalea seriously. “Alright look… You believe that the Maker is the one true God, yeah? And Andraste is his bride? She fought for him and he rules everything?” Izzalea nods with a shrug as Abner continues, “Well, the Avvar don’t believe any of that. They believe that there are Gods in everything. The sky has a God, the forests have a God, the mountains have a God. That last one is who he named himself for, Korth - The Mountain-Father. Avvar regard the mountains highest in all things, so this twat is trying to say he is all high and mighty, too.

Where you come in, Inquisitor, is you have the title ‘Herald of Andraste’. That is very similar to his, but of the wrong beliefs. The wrong God. He scoffs at you and thinks he can prove to you, his Gods, his people, and your people, that you’re full of it… by killing you. He will then be reaffirmed as the Hand of Korth, and you will be nothing.” As she finishes she drops her gaze from Izalea and looks at the ground, kicking at it uncomfortably.

Izzalea chews on her lower lip. Squinting at nothing, she falls deep in thought, processing this new information. A crazy person wants to use her death as a message, and it has nothing to do with the real problems Thedas is in enthralled with currently. She should be focusing on Corypheus and his ever growing army. She should be focused on saving Thedas from a monster who wants to be a God, and burn her world to the ground. Instead, she is here. In a bog. Because some idiot wants to puff out his chest to his people. Izzalea quickly becomes consumed with irritation. He has disrupted the Inquisition for nothing more than his ego.

Placing her hands on her hips, Izzalea stares at Abner vehemently, “Alright, how do we stop him?”

Her eyes sparkle in the faintest way, and a smirk flashes across her face. “Let me handle him,” she says with a soft purr. “Have the mages control the archers, send Cole to dispatch as many of them as he can. I want to go in ahead of you. Keep Bull at your side and keep your shield up… and no matter what happens,” she glares a bloodthirsty glare, but not directed toward the Inquisitor. Instead, she stares off into the distance. “I want to be the one that gives that bastard his killing blow,” she says with all seriousness of a scorned woman.

Izzalea peers at the assassin, taken aback by her ferocious body language. Her jaw is set, she seems as if to be picturing the man, imagining herself killing him. Her breathing is heavy but slow. Her fists are clenched again, the leather on her open fingered gloves creak, the knuckles of exposed flesh glow white.

“Abner… How do you know this man? Are you Avvar?” Izzalea asks her hesitantly. She reaches out to the woman, to touch her shoulder in an attempt to retrieve her from her murderous thoughts. Abner snaps her eyes to Izzalea’s hand and backs away, returning her attention to packing camp.

Silently, she grabs her knapsack and readies her horse. Refusing to look at the Izzalea any longer. With cold, steely confidence, she says, “You have the information you need, Inquisitor. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep that bit to myself.”

“Alright, Abner. Thank you for the information,” Izzalea responds, deciding to allow the woman some privacy, for now.  She leaves Abner’s side to ready her own horse.

--

“There are too many of them!” Solas calls out from the fray. He shoots a bolt of ice from is staff. It flies through the dark, wet air, sharply piercing into the skull of an undead horror. “We must make a run for the gates!”

Izzalea and her team explored and fought through the day, long into the night. It seems they have finally found the hold harboring the Avvar. However, the road to the gates is teaming with a never-ending mob of rotting, walking corpses. For every ten they kill, another fifteen seemingly spawn in their place. It is exhausting. At this rate, they will never make it to the captured soldiers. Izzalea cannot be so close to succeeding and fail now.

As loudly as her tired body can muster, which is just enough that they hear her over the roaring thunder and fighting, Izzalea cries out, “Everyone, run to the gates!”

Hawke flings a wall of fire behind them as they all race forward. They slam and shove past undead, only killing those they absolutely have to in order to advance. To Izzalea’s astonishment, as they make their mad dash, the gates of the keep’s battlements rise.

The Avvar have been watching them. They are ready.

They are waiting.

As soon as they arrive, stumbling, through the gates they begin to shut. The group kills a handful of undead that managed to follow them through, and then turn to face new enemies.

But no one is there.

Cautiously, Izzalea steps through the entry archway under the battlements, into the courtyard of the old, and until recently, long abandoned keep. She scans her eyes everywhere, looking for bodies or movement during flashes of lightning. The only constant light comes from the soft glow of the moon, softly illuminating the run-down keep through wild, whipping storm clouds.  Izzalea detects no one, nothing seems to move. She feels an eerie chill spark down her spine as she wonders where the Avvar are hiding.

“Where are they? The cowards!” Bull hollers and grunts in frustration, slamming his axe into a rotten wood crate. He howls a booming, growling sound into the thunder, “Cowards!”

“They wait. Inside. Come to us,” Cole mumbles ominously next to her. Izzalea silently calls upon the strength of the Maker, calls Andraste to her side.

She can do this.

Izzalea glares in the direction of the doors that lead inside of the keep, feeling a proud smirk bloom on her face. With all of the pent-up rage within her for having to be in the blasted keep in the first place, she cannot help but be pleased that she’s finally arrived. Bloodthirsty rage bubbles within her, excited to sink its teeth into her enemy. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” she grins wickedly. Gesturing toward the door, Izzalea looks confidently into the eyes of everyone in her party. With determination, she says, “Shall we?”

She leads the group to the door assertively, but cautiously. Her shield raised, her eyes scan every inch of their surroundings as she sees them. Solas refreshes a barrier over everyone as much as he is able, without greatly depleting his energy. They enter the keep and creep through its halls. It is damp, dark, and smells of rot and mold. The only light comes from the glow of the moon and the thundering lightning. As flashes flicker through windows, crumbled walls, and portions of missing roof slats, the white light gives them a glimpse of what surrounds them.

Izzalea’s guard on high alert, she waits for something to strike from hidden in the shadows. They turn down a large hallway where she can begin to see the glow of torches or braziers in the distance. This must be the way. The Hand of Korth must be waiting for her down this hallway.

Waiting in that room.

Abner creeps up beside her and murmurs softly, “Remember to keep your guard up, the mages will control the archers, Cole will silently take down who he can. Stand firmly and confidently. I will sneak my way behind him, through the shadows.” Izzalea nods in agreeance. She wonders how Abner can be sure as to how their enemy will trap them. She hopes Abner is right.

Almost to the end of the hall, they stand in front of what looks to be a throne room of some kind. That’s when Izzalea hears a man bellow from within, “Is that you, Herald of Andraste? Come to prove your worth?” He sounds menacing and large, voice deep and booming. But Izzalea is not afraid. Hand of Korth will not intimidate her.

“I am here,” she growls as she takes slow, calculated steps to the room’s entrance. Abner silently slips into the shadows and sneaks into the room. Feeling the soft static of a refreshed barrier Solas placed over around her, she steps past the threshold. They enter a large mezzanine, with steps reaching balconies of either side of the room. Balconies holding groups of archers, whose arrows are drawn… and pointed at her.

Straight ahead of her are a few grand stairs leading up to a dais. Large, broken and tattered windows line the wall behind it. They flash and rattle with every roll of thunder and lightning. Standing on the stage is a behemoth of a man. His body covered in red and white paint, animal furs, and torn leathers. His face partially covered by a red hood, small cut-outs for his eyes, a larger opening draped, exposing his nose down to his chin. Large, threatening, ram’s horns loom from either side of his head. He holds an equally menacing mace, the metal head of which is reminiscent of a two-headed beast.

Izzalea glares at the man confidently, priming her stance for attack. He may think he is intimidating, but she has faced dragons. He is nothing.

The man roars in foreboding laughter, “Good of you to come, Herald of Andraste. I’ve been expecting you.”

Izzalea wants to keep him talking, giving Abner enough time to sneak up behind him. She will try her best to allow Abner the honor of killing the man… if she can. She is ready for the alternative, if the need calls. “Where are my men, Hand of Korth. Have you injured them?” she asks, hatred dripping from her hardened, set jaw.

He chuckles and swings his mace indifferently, “They are safe… for now. But I am afraid upon your defeat, all will die.”

Izzalea snarls at the titan, “Perhaps we should fight with honor. One on one.” She gestures to the archers lining the balconies, “Call off your dogs and fight me like a man.” However, this monster deserves no honor.

Suddenly, an archer yells from the balcony, “Behind you!”

Korth swings his massive mace around violently, but misses Abner as she leaps backwards. He stands there, stunned momentarily upon seeing the woman, but then begins laughing. He holds his chest in great amusement, body shaking as each sound roars through him. He calls back to Izzalea over his shoulder, “Perhaps I should be thanking you, Herald of Andraste. It seems you have brought home my insolent and treacherous little wife.”

Stunned in silence, Izzalea is unsure of what to think. Did he just call her his wife?

Movement in her peripheral catches Izzalea’s attention, pulling a glance to the balcony on her left. With everyone’s eyes now on Korth and Abner, Cole is able to begin backstabbing, snapping necks, and  slicing throats of archers lining the left side of the room. With deadly accuracy, he silences each one, lightly eases their limp bodies to the floor without a sound. Izzalea snaps a look to the balcony on her right. Hawke and Solas have silenced the remaining archers, freezing them in place. Frozen still, waiting for Cole to send them to eternity as well.

No more warnings will be given to the distracted miscreant on the stage.

“I am not home to you, you foul bastard,” Abner growls between her teeth, a maelstrom of hatred swirls in her smoldering eyes. Body crouched in bloodlust, her blades drawn, ready to pounce on the man when given the opportunity. “I am here to kill you.”

The malevolent goliath of a man continues his looming laughter, “Oh, Abner, you always had such a mouth on you, my little half-ling princess. You never did respect the favor I bestowed on your tainted blood. You should have been pleased to have married a chieftain’s son.” Methodical, threatening, and malicious, he slowly paces towards her. Iron Bull and Izzalea gradually advance on him, approaching the dais, taking precautions to not make a sound in doing so.

“Because my love for you runs so deep, dear wife, I think I will keep you alive today. I will make you mine once again. And I promise you, my little half-breed bitch… the marriage will not be as amiable the second time, as it was the first.” He is growling at her, hunched forward, holding his mace as if he considers breaking her body first.

Abner screams in a bloodcurdling, murderous rage as she lunges at the man. Her action is far less calculated than Izzalea has come to expect from the assassin. She can only imagine that the fury within her has clouded all judgement. Izzalea panics for Abner’s safety and runs down the mezzanine toward the two, no longer concerned with the silence of her advance.

Izzalea is too late. Before she reaches the steps, Abner has leapt at him. He quickly responds with a colossal swing of his mace, connecting the head of his metal beast to her ribs. Upon contact her body is flung into the air, she soars backwards and lands limp on a pile of rubble with a broken thud. Izzalea is unsure if Abner is alive or dead. Her rage boils, surging through her. All she sees is red. Iron Bull booms with mountainous vigor, charging alongside Izzalea with the fury of a fiend.

Roaring with all of her might, Izzalea storms toward the monster. She slams her shield into the tough, large muscles of his back, the sharp, metal edges rip at his exposed flesh. These Avvar may be large, but they need more armor than paint, bones, and skins to protect their bodies from her.

The battle ensues with the speed of the lightning striking outside. An onslaught of screaming, bashing, striking, and parrying fills the cold, damp air. The Avvar spins while arcing his mace. Izzalea braces for the impact against her shield, calling upon all of her strength and training in becoming an impenetrable force. As his blow crashes into the strong metal between them, it sends shockwaves down her arm and into her shoulder. The pain is substantial, excruciating, but Izzalea is unmoved. A prideful, determined snarl spreads on Izzalea’s face.

Korth parries an attack from Bull’s axe at his flank, a distraction lasting just long enough for Izzalea to strike. She bares her teeth, screaming a guttural, primal sound as she lunges her sword forward. Piercing through his ribs, slicing through his flesh, the giant warrior’s blood sprays onto the front of her shield.

He howls in pain as he and Bull slam their weapons into each other again. The pain of his wound slows his skills, and he staggers back a few steps. Bull connects a blunt blow to the Avvar hard into the thick furs armoring his legs. Izzalea slices another deep swipe through his flesh, this time the cut spreads along his stomach. Their enemy stumbles rapidly backward, dazed and unable to breathe.

Bull and Izzalea creep in menacing pursuit, closing in on the bloodied, coughing, stunned form in front of them. Movement to her left captures Izzalea’s attention, as Abner is staggers toward the man as well. Izzalea motions to Iron Bull to halt his advance, allowing Abner her wish.

The Hand of Korth sputters and coughs thick blood. He sees Abner limping toward him, her long daggers in each hand. Blood drips from his lips as they curl into a sneering smile. He drops to his knees in front of her, spitting and gurgling. As he lands, Abner crosses her blades in front of her, slicing each one against his throat simultaneously.

Izzalea steals a glance behind them, to ensure the rest of her team is okay. She finds that there are no more archers, living, anyway. Solas, Cole, and Hawke stand in the middle of the mezzanine, watching Abner in astounded silence. Izzalea shivers with a sense of relief seeing that they are unharmed, and that the fight is over. They have won. Resuming her attention back to Abner, Izzalea witnesses the Avvar man slumped on the floor, dead, his blood quickly coating the stone below his body. Red and white pigments of his war paint mix with the deep, dark red of his blood, swirling together in a pool of death.

No one speaks in the hall, the only sounds echoing against the cold, wet stone are that of the ever-roaring storm. Abner stands completely and perfectly still, silently staring at the corpse lying at her feet. Izzalea worries about how badly Abner had been hurt. She had been limping and the blow she took was substantial. Nervous for her wellbeing, she softly calls out to her, “Abner…”

Slowly, Abner turns to face her. She is covered in the blood of her… husband. Her entire face, neck, and chest are glistening, soaked in gore.  Her face is flat and emotionless. Her eyes are black and empty. She treads slow, jagged footfalls up the stage, walking past Izzalea to descend the steps, down to the mezzanine. Izzalea reaches out to her, but is ignored. She grows more and more concerned with not only Abner’s physical wellbeing, but her mental wellbeing, as well.

She staggers and trips on the stairs, toppling limply down to the base. Solas and Hawke surge toward her. “Lay her flat on her back,” Solas orders Hawke as he grabs healing potions from his pack.

Izzalea slowly approaches the scene. Overcome with worry about the woman she barely knows, her chest feels tight and heavy. Will she be okay? Even if she lives through this, did the Inquisition push her too far? Will her mind heal? Izzalea watches sullenly, while trying to also allow space for the mages to work.

Solas tips her head and aids her in drinking a potion. Hawke lightly touches her ribs, through her light armor, where the mace impacted her body. She screams a heart breaking, reverberating cry and recoils at his touch.

“Will she be alright, Solas?” Izzalea asks in a hushed tone. Her shoulders slump, she slowly eases into a crouched, sitting position on the steps. Her eyes never leave the young woman sprawled out on the stone floor. Abner’s breaths are heavy and labored. Her face cringes with each inhale.

“Yes. But she will need to take care for a few days.” He looks at Izzalea earnestly, but she stares blankly at the scout. “Inquisitor… do not forget why we came.”

Izzalea slowly lifts her gaze to Solas, eyes blinking. What is he talking about? Abner needs help. He scowls when she doesn’t speak or move, “The soldiers, Inquisitor. You must find the soldiers. I will heal Abner’s injuries, but you must go.”

Right. The soldiers. Solas is right. Izzalea shakes the daze from her mind and looks for Cole. He is beside her, because… of course he is… “Cole,” she says softly, voice croaking, “Do you know where they are?”

“Yes, they are close. Follow.” Cole says and rises to his feet. Izzalea mimics his movements, trailing behind the spirit as they exit the throne room. Bull rests a hand on Izzalea’s shoulder, striding beside her. She looks up at him as he gives her a sad, but encouraging, smile.

They follow Cole through the hallways as he senses the presence of their trapped people. Izzalea’s mind is buzzing with worry and exhaustion, a whirling dervish of emotion. What happened in there? What happened in Abner’s life? Are the soldiers okay? Will Izzalea be able to safely get everyone back to Skyhold? She is so very tired. Her senses fried from this entire experience.

She rolls her neck and stretches her shoulders again, an attempt to relax at least a small amount before the discovery of her men. They need to see her as a strong force, not a nervous and fatigued fool. Finally, they reach a locked door. Cole kneels in front of the lock while producing a small set of picks from his belt. He works the lock deftly until Izzalea hears a click.

The most beautiful and wonderful sounding click Izzalea has ever heard. She exhales a sigh of relief as she hears the voices of her people murmur through the door. Izzalea stands firmly, smiling while Cole opens the door and she sees their lost soldiers inside.

“Inquisitor!” one man exclaims upon seeing her face. Izzalea steps into the room, scanning over everyone to check on their wellbeing. At first look, they seem little rough, but very much alive. And that is lovely sight to see. She inhales deeply, releasing the days of worry she had accumulated within her muscles. Izzalea beams warmly at the Inquisition forces in the room.

“See, I told you she would come,” a woman announces proudly to the others.

If only for a fleeting moment, Izzalea shares in her pride.

[creativitytoexplore]

[MF] The Man of the Forest https://ift.tt/3pmWMb6

The train bellows in the distance- running through the mountain pass like a dragon in the clouds. Smoke releases from the stack and rushes through the air. A man in the forest hears the sound of the technical beast- afraid due to his limited exposure to the advances of neighboring cities.

Everytime a train passes, the vibrations channel through the dirt. Sensitive to the nature surrounding him, the man feels each wheel rushing across the track. The vibrations that dissipate as distance increases still present the man with an earthquake sensation. Unnerved, the recluse curses under his breath when the train approaches his forest home.

Living alone in solitude can either make or break a soul. Since the man decided to reside in nature, he has felt a gracious tinge of relief. There are no neighbors in sight who may pass judgement or ridicule of the man. His way of life in the woods has brought him fresh air and plenty of provisions. He can fish from the nearby river or scavenge for berries. With a small home, the man doesn't need many logs to keep warm. His fireplace is suited for the entire flat.

Oh yes! Residing amongst the singing birds and the deer who share drinking water is living with good company. The man smiles as a squirrel scatters across his boot. Despite being from different species, the animals have seemed to not care about the man's presence. He is one of them- a forest dweller doing what he needs to stay alive.

Yet, what damage could this train bring? To both, the man and the animals, the train is a monstrous force. Where clear blue once existed, now black fog permeates through the sky. The disturbance is monumental. Only one decision could be made: move.

The man sighs with regret as he lays a hand on his home. Perhaps someday, another human would be able to withstand the noice of the technical beast and enjoy the house he crafted. Another human- another soul- who loves nature as much as the forest man. With that thought in mind, the man readies himself for a relocation.

The journey begins in spring, a comfortable time to begin building a home from nothing. With his supplies prepared, the man carries onward. He already knows that a new home would sit well by the riverfront. The trip to the river is about five miles through a tight forest. Care is crucial when walking, an unlucky encounter with a poisonous snake would put the man's journey to an end.

Regardless, he is confident trailing through the forest. As birds dart through turn brush, the man smiles- they are playful creatures. To the lone forest man, the birds remind him of children. After all, they are always flying to and fro with cheerful vigor. Honestly, the birds prove to be his favorite neighbors.

Once he reaches the river, the man continues to follow the water. He grabs a few pieces of dried meat from his pouch while searching for a place to craft his new home. After another few several miles, a clearing in the forest comes into view. The man laughs happily as he envisions a fresh log cabin- still very much alike to his old home- with a great view of the wild river.

Night ensues shortly so the man makes haste. For now, he must utilize a tent. The structure entails large branches and a rawhide cloth that the man brought. After the tent is set, the man builds a small campfire. Although he loves the wildlife, the man understands how dangerous nature can be at night. Fire wards away potential predators like bears of cougars.

The flames are as lively as the sound of the surrounding forest. The man sits around the fire and watches the flickers shoot up towards the stars. The contrast of the vibrant fire against a dark night overwhelms the man with sentiment. Life is beautiful and better when all is calm.

The man stands up and cracks his back. Tomorrow will be the beginning of hard but exciting labor. He lays inside his tent and thinks about how wonderful it will he to have a peaceful home again. There will neither be devilish trains to shake the earth nor black smog to disturb the balance. With beautiful thoughts in mind, the man quickly drifts into sleep.

The sun rises at dawn, painting the earth in light hues of red and pink. Once the morning birds begin their trill, the man finds himself awake. He opens his provision pouch and takes meat for breakfast. The campfire is low but at no cause for alarm. The man can safely leave without fear of causing a wild fire. Another good reason why working in the spring is beneficial- no summer heat to cause distress.

The man clutches onto a handmade axe. He finds a section of trees and begins to chop. Slowly but surely, he will have lumber to begin the foundation of the house. The process will last days and weeks. Fortunately, building a home in solitary is not new to the forest man. He understands the difficulties and bas the determination to prevail.

Time passes and the man stands in front of his new home. The cabin work is complete in midsummer. A feeling of relief warrants celebration. The man runs to the river and takes off his clothes. Cool water greats the man as he flops into the river. His swimming startles some fish who dart away. The man cannot help but to laughs- there's no need to be afraid especially since he isn't hunting. Of course, fish don't understand the difference between playing and preying.

After a good swim, the man returns to his cabin. He dries off and begins to cook some rabbit. Food always tastes better inside a home. There is no need to be afraid of bears coming through a solid door.

Finally! Peace is achieved!

At least that's what the man thought until several years later...

The sound of machinery begins to haunt the forest man. In the distance, trees have fallen to manmade construction in progress. As with the train, the vibrations of various trucks and tree cutting mechanics travel through the ground. The man's heart drops- not again!

Despite his age, the recluse decides to take action. He wants to know why the hell outsiders are causing destruction. The walk must take about half a day's journey, but is a necessary toll for this old man. Quickly, he gathers some provisions and a cane. With a bag over shoulder, the man begins to confront the disturbance.

He reaches the site before the workers pause for lunch. Surely, they were not expecting an angry old man walking to to them from the forest. The old man stumbles to catch his breathe. Once he found his ground, the man confronts a worker.

The cane slams against the ground to draw attention: "What do you all think you're doing!?"

The worker looks perplexed but unfazed: "Sorry old man, but you have to leave here. We're busy."

Outraged by the lack of decency, the old man continues to uproar: "How dare you all coming in here and destroying this beautiful forest! All of these trees have been here longer than you or me. They deserve to remain standing!"

The worker yells back annoyed and aggravated: "We're only doing our job! This trees are coming down. We will be working on fresh roads and a bridge. Look, this property all belongs to the state, and everyone has agreed to connect two cities together. That's how it's going to be and no old mountain man can stop production!"

The old man holds back bitter tears: "They have trains don't they? They don't need more roads! Already the trains have brought unrest. Now, with this project, more animals will be driven out of their homes!"

"Understand this," the worker harshly replies; "No one cares! When the work must be done, it will be done. Should more trees be chopped down, then they will be chopped down. The progression of towns and cities does not rely on trains alone. We need roads, we need construction! Now, go home old man and let me do my job."

The worker leaves with a hand shooing the old man away.

To see how little respect the workers have for the life that they are destroying hurts the old man's heart. Feeling defeated, the old man returns to his cabin. As night falls, so does the sound of construction. The old man opens his door weakly- the day's journey has been more difficult than he had thought.

He lays in bed without eating dinner. Looking up at the ceiling, the old man replays the scene of the construction site. Tears roll down his cheeks. He had believed that moving from his first home to a new location would bring him away from human interference. Yet, the contrary has been proven true- humans will continue to leave their mark. Regardless of the needs of nature, technology grows at a deadly pace.

Why can't there be balance?

The phrase crosses the old man's mind. He concludes that those workers were not people, but machines. After all, a human's role on this planet was designed to help support nature- not damage the life around them. Mulling over what was and what could be only creates more discomfort. The old man's love of nature is simply not shared by all.

Alas with the oncoming days of mechanical work, the old man understands that he has lost.

In the morning, the old man feels ill. He sits up in bed and coughs violently. Unfortunately, yesterday's journey left him weakened. The old man scrambles to get his cane. Walking slowly, he reaches the door. The beautiful river greats him as he steps outside.

On the other hand, he begins to hear the construction take place. More trees fall to the earth and the old man feels their vibrations. Overwhelmed by grief, the old man clutches his heart:

"Oh why can't they let me die in peace?"

Birds fly above overhead, singing in mourning for the dead As the river continues its course Unable to have remorse The old man had touched nature's heart For he would never from her depart Alas his soul give a final cry: "Why can't they love you as much as I?"

submitted by /u/Brash_Kid [link] [comments]

[itsnelkabelka]

Speech: Foreign Secretary Speech: Uniting for a Great Brexit

The other day a woman pitched up in my surgery in a state of indignation. The ostensible cause was broadband trouble but it was soon clear – as so often in a constituency surgery – that the real problem was something else.

No one was trying to understand her feelings about Brexit.

No one was trying to bring her along. She felt so downcast, she said, that she was thinking of leaving the country – to Canada.

It wasn’t so much that she wanted to be in the EU; she just didn’t want to be in a Britain that was not in the EU.

And I recognised that feeling of grief, and alienation, because in the last 18 months I have heard the same sentiments so often – from friends, from family, from people hailing me abusively in the street – as is their right.

In many cases I believe the feelings are abating with time, as some of the fears about Brexit do not materialise. In some cases, alas, I detect a hardening of the mood, a deepening of the anger.

I fear that some people are becoming ever more determined to stop Brexit, to reverse the referendum vote of June 23 2016, and to frustrate the will of the people. I believe that would be a disastrous mistake that would lead to permanent and ineradicable feelings of betrayal. We cannot and will not let it happen.

But if we are to carry this project through to national success – as we must – then we must also reach out to those who still have anxieties.

I want to today to anatomise at least some of the fears and to show to the best of my ability that these fears can be allayed, and that the very opposite is true: that Brexit can be grounds for much more hope than fear.

There are essentially three types of concern about the momentous choice the nation has made.

STRATEGIC

The first is that this is simply a strategic or geo-strategic mistake. On this view Britain is an offshore island comprising fewer than one per cent of humanity, and we need to be bound up in the European Union for protection – partly for our protection, and partly so that Britain can fulfil its historic role of providing protection for the other countries of the European continent. I come across quite a few people who think that Brexit has cast us adrift – made our geostrategic position somehow more vulnerable, while weakening the security of the whole of Europe.

SPIRITUAL

The second anxiety is essentially spiritual and aesthetic – that by voting to leave the EU we have sundered ourselves from the glories of European civilisation. People believe that we have thrown up a figurative drawbridge, made it less easy to live, study, work abroad; and decided to sacrifice the Europeanness in our identities. They fear that the Brexit vote was a vote for nationalism and small-mindedness and xenophobia. They think it was illiberal, reactionary and the British have shown the worst of their character to the world; indeed that it was in some sense unBritish.

ECONOMIC

And the third objection is the one that occupies most of the debate – the economic fear that we have voted to make ourselves less prosperous; that membership of the EU is vital for UK business and investment, and that the panoply of EU legislation has helped to make life easier for companies and for citizens. People fear the disruption they associate with change, and that our friends and partners in the EU may make life difficult for us. Sometimes these economic anxieties are intensified by the other fears – about identity or security – so that hitherto recondite concepts like the single market or the customs union acquire unexpected emotive power.

Well I believe that whatever the superficial attractions of these points, they can be turned on their head.

I want to show you today that Brexit need not be nationalist but can be internationalist;

not an economic threat but a considerable opportunity;

not unBritish but a manifestation of this country’s historic national genius.

And I can see obviously that I’m running the risk in making this case of simply causing further irritation.

But I must take that risk because it is this government’s duty to advocate and explain the mission on which we are now engaged;

and it has become absolutely clear to me that we cannot take the argument for granted.

We cannot expect the case to make itself.

That was the mistake of the pro-EU elite in this country when they won the last referendum in 1975.

As the Guardian journalist the late Hugo Young points out in his book, This Blessed Plot:

The most corrupted trait I kept encountering was the sense – so prevalent among the Euro-elite, that having won the decision they had won the argument. Many exhibited the unmistakable opinion not only that the battle was over but that the other side, however loud it shouted, had simply lost and should now shut up.

And he went on to say:

The noisier the contest became during the early 1990s, the heavier the silent gloating that accompanied it, from the class that knew it commanded every operational forum from the ante-chambers of Whitehall to the boardrooms of big business, from Brussels committee rooms where a thousand lobbyists thronged, to the outposts of the Commission.

Well the boot is now on the other foot, at least in theory. For all their power and influence – every major political party, the CBI, Barack Obama and so on – those voices did not prevail.

But is this the time now for the referendum winners to gloat?

Should we sit back in silent self-satisfaction? I don’t think we should.

It is not good enough to say to remainers – you lost, get over it; because we must accept that the vast majority are actuated by entirely noble sentiments, a real sense of solidarity with our European neighbours and a desire for the UK to succeed.

All I am saying is that by going for Brexit we can gratify those sentiments – and more.

So let me take the three anxieties in turn.

SECURITY: A STRONG BRITAIN AND A STRONG EU

To all who worry about our strategic position and the supposed loss of Britain to European security I can offer this same vital reassurance that the Prime Minister has made so many times and that I believe is welcomed by our partners.

Our commitment to the defence of Europe is unconditional and immoveable. It is made real by the 800 British troops from 5th Battalion The Rifles I saw recently at Tapa in Estonia, who have since been relieved by 1st Battalion The Royal Welsh.

Already this country is the single biggest spender in the EU both on aid and defence. Although we represent only 13 per cent of the EU’s population, we contribute 20 per cent of defence spending - and the RAF’s giant C17 transport aircraft represent 100 per cent of the heavy lift capacity of the whole of Europe - as well as 25 per cent of the overseas aid budget.

It makes sense for us to continue to be intimately involved in European foreign and security policy. It would be illogical not to discuss such matters as sanctions together, bearing in mind that the UK expertise provides more than half of all EU sanctions listings.

We will continue to be Europeans both practically and psychologically, because our status as one of the great contributors to European culture and civilisation – and our status as one of the great guarantors of the security of Europe - is simply not dependent on the Treaty of Rome as amended at Maastricht or Amsterdam or Lisbon.

SPIRITUALLY BRITISH, EUROPEAN AND GLOBAL

So let us next tackle the suggestion that we are somehow going to become more insular. It just flies in the face of the evidence. It was my Labour predecessor Ernie Bevin who said, “my foreign policy is to go down to Victoria station and go anywhere I damn well please.”

That is pretty much what the British people already do. We have a bigger diaspora than any other rich nation – 6m points of light scattered across an intermittently darkening globe.

There are more British people living in Australia than in the whole of the EU, more in the US and Canada.

As I have just discovered we have more than a million people who go to Thailand every year, where our superb consular services deal with some of the things that they get up to there.

The statistical trajectory suggests that this wanderlust is most unlikely to abate. In 2016 the British people paid 71m visits to other countries – and that is a 70 per cent increase since the mid-1990s, and now more than one foreign trip per person per year.

If we get the right deal on aviation and on visa-free travel – both of which are in our mutual interest – this expansion of UK tourism will continue, not just beyond the EU, but within the EU itself; and we will continue to go on cheapo flights to stag parties in ancient cities where we will, I’m sure, receive a warm welcome and meet interesting people, fall in love, struggle amiably to learn the European languages - knowledge of which, by the way, has suffered a paradoxical decline during our membership of the EU.

There is no sensible reason why we should not be able to retire to Spain or indeed anywhere else (as indeed we did long before Spain joined what was then called the common market). We can continue the whirl of academic exchanges that have been a feature of European cultural life since the middle ages, and whose speed of cross-pollination has been accelerated by the internet as well as by schemes like Horizon or Erasmus – all of which we can continue to support, and whose participating scholars are certainly not confined to the EU.

For those who really want to make Britain less insular, and we all want to make Britain less insular don’t we - the answer is not to submit forever to the EU legal order, but to think about how we can undo the physical separation that took place at the end of the Ice Age.

Fly over the Channel at Dover and you see how narrow it is, the ferries plying back and forth like buses in Oxford street, and as you measure the blue straits with your fingers you can see that this moat is really an overgrown prehistoric river that once flowed down from the mountains of Norway and was fed by its tributaries, the Thames and the Seine and the Rhine. Indeed Britain and Holland used to be joined in the old days by a territory known as Doggerland, but the customs of Doggerland are now lost to history.

In 1986 Margaret Thatcher and Francois Mitterrand had the vision to heal the rupture with a first dry crossing; and it is notable that Eurotunnel is now calling for both sides of the Channel to prepare for a second fixed link. It does indeed seem incredible to me that the fifth and sixth most powerful economies in the world, separated by barely 21 miles of water, should be connected by only one railway line.

I accept that the solution is still a few years off – though the need will be upon us fast – but I say all this to signal something about the attitudes that should inform Brexit.

It’s not about shutting ourselves off; it’s about going global.

It’s not about returning to some autarkic 1950s menu of spam and cabbage and liver. It’s about continuing the astonishing revolution in tastes and styles – in the arts, music, restaurants, sports – that has taken place in this country, in my lifetime, not so much because of our EU membership (that is to commit the fallacy known in the FCO as post hoc ergo propter hoc) but as a result of our history and global links, our openness to people and ideas that has brought 300 languages on to the streets of London, probably the most diverse capital on earth.

In that sense Brexit is about re-engaging this country with its global identity, and all the energy that can flow from that.

And I absolutely refuse to accept the suggestion that it is some unBritish spasm of bad manners.

It’s not some great V-sign from the cliffs of Dover.

It is the expression of a legitimate and natural desire for self-government of the people, by the people, for the people. And that is surely not some reactionary Faragiste concept.

It is to fulfil the liberal idealism of John Stuart Mill himself, who recognised that it is only the nation – as he put it, “united among themselves by common sympathies which do not exist between themselves and others”. Only the nation could legitimate the activities of the state.

It was only if people had this common sympathy that they would consent to be governed as a unit, because this feeling of national solidarity would “make them cooperate more willingly than with other people, desire to be under the same government, and desire it should be government by themselves or a portion of themselves exclusively.”

And there is good reason for insisting on this national solidarity, or common sympathy, because government involves tremendous impositions, by which we collectively agree to taxation that pre-empts half our income, and obedience to laws not all of which we think are necessarily sensible.

If we are going to accept laws, then we need to know who is making them, and with what motives, and we need to be able to interrogate them in our own language, and we must know how they came to be in authority over us and how we can remove them.

And the trouble with the EU is that for all its idealism, which I acknowledge, and for all the good intentions of those who run the EU institutions, there is no demos – or at least we have never felt part of such a demos – however others in the EU may feel.

The British people have plenty of common sympathies with the people of France, of course we do - but it is hard to deny that they also share common sympathies with plenty of non-EU people – the Americans, the Swiss, the Canadians, the Pakistanis; Thais, and that is one of the reasons why we in the UK have had such difficulty in adapting to the whole concept of EU integration.

To understand why EU regulation is not always suited to the economic needs of the UK, it is vital to understand that EU law is a special type of law, unlike anything else on earth.

It is not just about business convenience. It is expressly teleological. It is there to achieve a political goal.

The aim is to create an overarching European state as the basis for a new sense of European political identity.

British politicians, Labour and Tory, have always found that ambition very difficult. It is hard to make it cohere with our particular traditions of independent parliamentary and legal systems that go back centuries.

And in spite of many sheep-like coughs of protest from the UK, the process of integration has deepened, and the corpus of EU law has grown ever vaster and more intricate, and ever more powers and competences were handed to EU institutions, culminating in the Treaty of Lisbon.

We now have arrangements of such complexity and obscurity that I ask even my most diehard of remainer friends if they can explain their Spitzenkandidaten process – which has genuinely delighted the MEPs in Strasbourg but has mystified us in the UK; or the exact relationship between the EU’s Charter of Fundamental Rights, justiciable in Luxembourg, and the European Convention on Human Rights whose court sits in Strasbourg. Starter for ten: how many people in this room actually know the answer to those questions – I think very few. I think the answer to the second one is unknowable. How many know the name of their Euro-MPs?

And that is the point I sometimes make when I get the chance to throw the ball back over the net, to those who hail me in the street with cheery four letter epithets.

That’s the point, isn’t it. At least they know roughly who I am and roughly what I do, generally speaking.

If we wanted to find the person responsible for drafting the next phase of EU integration – in which Tony Blair and others would presumably like us to take part – we wouldn’t know where to find them, who they are, let alone how to remove them from office.

That is why people voted Leave – not because they were hostile to European culture and civilisation, but because they wanted to take back control.

That is why it is so vital that we don’t treat Brexit as a plague of boils or a murrain on our cattle, but as an opportunity, and above all as an economic opportunity.

THE BREXIT ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITY

Which brings me to the last crucial reassurances that my side of the argument must give.

We would be mad to go through this process of extrication from the EU, and not to take advantage of the economic freedoms it will bring.

We will stop paying huge sums to the EU every year and as the PM herself has said, this will leave us with more to spend on our domestic priorities, including, yes, the NHS.

We will be able to take back control of our borders – not because I am hostile to immigrants or immigration. Far from it. We need talented people to come and make their lives in this country – doctors, scientists, the coders and programmers who are so crucial to Britain’s booming tech economy.

It was my proudest boast as Mayor of London that we had 400,000 French men and women in the British capital – high-earning and high-spending types – while only about 20,000 UK nationals went the other way and were living in Paris.

And we must stay that way, we must remain a magnet for ambition and drive.

But we also need to ask ourselves some hard questions about the impact of 20 years of uncontrolled immigration by low-skilled, low-wage workers – and what many see as the consequent suppression of wages and failure to invest properly in the skills of indigenous young people.

We do not want to haul up the drawbridge; and we certainly don’t want to minimise the wonderful contribution they have made and certainly don’t want to deter the international students who make such a vital contribution to our HE economy, with 155,000 Chinese students alone.

But we want to exercise control; and if we are going to move from a low-wage, low-productivity economy to a high-wage, high productivity economy – as we must – then Brexit gives us back at least one of the levers we need.

I’ll tell you what, it is very striking isn’t it, that since the Brexit vote the fortunes of UKIP – the one stridently anti-immigration party in this country – have gone into a long deserved eclipse; and that is I think, because people feel they are being heard in their desire at least for control.

And the contrast in this country is very striking with some of the other countries and the Schengen countries, where no such control is possible, and where the far right is alas on the rise.

And as the PM has repeatedly said, we must take back control of our laws. And it would obviously be absurd, as Theresa May said in her Lancaster House and Florence speeches – which now have the lapidary status of the codes of Hammurabi or Moses – it would be absurd if we were obliged to obey laws over which we have no say and no vote.

As the PM said at Lancaster House remaining within the single market “would to all intents and purposes mean not leaving the EU at all.”

The British people should not have new laws affecting their everyday lives imposed from abroad, when they have no power to elect or remove those who make those laws.

And there is no need for us to find ourselves in any such position.

To those who worry about coming out of the customs union or the single market – please bear in mind that the economic benefits of membership are nothing like as conspicuous or irrefutable as is sometimes claimed.

In the last few years there have been plenty of non-EU countries who have seen far more rapid growth in their exports to the EU than we have – even though we pay a handsome membership fee, as I have mentioned many times.

In spite of being outside the stockade, the US has been able to increase its exports twice as fast. I think there are 36 countries around the world that have done better than us in exporting into the EU, even though they are not members.

And for those of us within the stockade, the cost of EU regulation was estimated at 4 per cent of GDP by Peter Mandelson and 7 per cent by Gordon Brown. Authorities which for the purposes of this argument I do not propose to dispute.

It is only by taking back control of our laws that UK firms and entrepreneurs will have the freedom to innovate, without the risk of having to comply with some directive devised by Brussels, at the urgings of some lobby group, with the specific aim of holding back a UK competitor.

That would be intolerable, undemocratic, and would make it all but impossible for us to do serious free trade deals.

It is only by taking back control of our regulatory framework and our tariff schedules that we can do these deals, and exploit the changes in the world economy.

It is a striking fact that our exports to the EU have grown by only 10 per cent since 2010, while our sales to the US are up 41 per cent, to China 60 per cent, to Saudi Arabia 41, New Zealand 40, Japan 60, South Korea 100 per cent.

Those figures reflect the broader story that the lion’s share of the growth is taking place outside the EU, and especially in the Asia-Pacific region.

In a world that demands flexibility and agility, we should be thinking not of EU standards but of global standards, and a regulatory framework to suit the particular needs of the UK

a country that already exports a higher share of its GDP outside the EU than any other EU country.

We already boast an amazing economy, diverse and very different from rest of EU.

We are the nation that has moved highest and furthest up the value chain of the 21st century economy.

We are a nation of inventors, designers, scientists, architects, lawyers, insurers, water slide testers - I met one in my constituency, toblerone cabinet makers - all the toblerone cabinets in Saudi Arabian airports are made in Uxbridge I am glad to tell you. There are some sectors, such as AI or bulk data where we really excel, we are streets ahead and in the future we may want to do things differently.

Of course we will need to comply with EU regulation in so far as we are exporting to the EU. (though we should realise that the single market is not quite the Eden of uniformity that it is cracked up to be: you try becoming a ski instructor in France, not that I have tried myself; and I discovered the other day that we have totally different standards in this country for flame retardant sofas, to say nothing of plugs)

But in a global marketplace, where we are trading in products that hadn’t been conceived even five years ago, serving markets that were poverty stricken 20 years ago, it seems extraordinary that the UK should remain lashed to the minute prescriptions of a regional trade bloc comprising only 6 per cent of humanity wonderful as it may be – when it is not possible for us or any EU country to change those rules on our own.

In so far as we turn increasingly to the rest of the world – as we are - then we will be able to do our own thing.

We will be able, if we so choose, to fish our own fish, to ban the traffic in live animals, end payments to some of the richest landowners in Britain while supporting the rural economy; and we will be able to cut VAT on domestic fuel and other products.

We can simplify planning, and speed up public procurement, and perhaps we would then be faster in building the homes young people need; and we might decide that it was indeed absolutely necessary for every environmental impact assessment to monitor two life cycles of the snail or to build special swimming pools for newts – not all of which they use in my experience – but it would at least be our decision to do that.

Freed from EU regimes, we will not only be able to spend some of our Brexit bonus on the NHS; but as we develop new stem cell technology – in which this country has long been in the lead – it may be that we will need a new regulatory framework, scrupulous and moral, but not afraid to be different. The same point can be made of innovative financial services instruments, where the FCA already leads the way.

We will decide on laws not according to whether they help to build a united states of Europe, noble goal that that may be, but because we want to create the best platform for the economy to grow and to help people to live their lives

And the crucial thing is that when we are running ourselves – when all these freedoms open before us - we will no longer be able to blame Brussels for our woes,

Because our problems will be our responsibility and no-one else’s.

And indeed no one should think that Brexit is some economic panacea, any more than it is right to treat it as an economic pandemic.

On the contrary, the success of Brexit will depend on what we make of it

And a success is what we will make of it - together.

And that very success will be the best thing for the whole of continental Europe - a powerful adjacent economy buying more Italian cars and German wine than ever before. I never tire of telling you we are the single biggest consumers not just of champagne but of prosecco as well and we want to go on in that role.

And so I say to my remaining remainer friends – actually quite a numerous brunch – more people voted Brexit than have ever voted for anything in the history of this country.

And I say in all candour that if there were to be a second vote I think it would be another year of turmoil and wrangling and feuding in which the whole country would be the loser.

So let’s not go there.

So let’s instead unite about what we all believe in – an outward-looking liberal global future for a confident United Kingdom.

Because so much of this is about confidence and self-belief.

We love to run ourselves down - in fact we are Olympic gold medal winners in the sport of national self-deprecation

And in the current bout of Brexchosis we are missing the truth: that it is our collective job to ensure that when the history books come to be written Brexit will be seen as just the latest way in which the British bucked the trend, took the initiative – and did something that responds to the real needs and opportunities that we face in the world today

That we had the courage to break free from an idea – however noble its origins – that had become outdated, at least for us.

Konrad Adenauer said that every nation had its genius, and that the genius of the British people was for democratic politics. He was right, but perhaps he didn’t go far enough.

Yes, it was the British people who saw that it was not good enough for Kings and princes to have absolute power and who began the tradition of parliamentary democracy in a model that is followed on every continent.

It was also Britain that led the industrial revolution and destroyed slavery and the British people who had the wit to see through the bogus attractions of protectionism and who campaigned for free trade that has become the single biggest engine of prosperity and progress.

And so I say to my constituent – don’t go to Canada, or anywhere else, lovely though Canada is.

This, the UK, is the country that is once again taking the lead in shaping the modern world

and it is our stubborn attachment to running ourselves that will end up making our society fairer and more prosperous.

In its insistence upon democracy, in its openness, its belief in the rights of the individual, in its protection of our legal system

its scepticism about excessive regulation

its potential for devolving power downwards

and in its fundamental refusal to discriminate between all the other peoples of the earth

and in its central distinction between a political loyalty and obedience to the EU institutions, and our eternal love for European culture, and values, and civilisation

Brexit is not just the great liberal project of the age, but a project that over time can unite this whole country. So let’s do it with confidence together.

Thank you very much.

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Net Advertising And Enterprise

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Net Advertising And Enterprise

The Internet is a brilliant location to do business, whether or not you’re a store promoting a selected line of products or a provider company making you’re residing on the Internet. There’s know-how, one age-vintage trouble with a commercial enterprise that by no means seems to go away: people may not buy what they do not know about.

This is in which Net marketing is available in.

Net advertising essentially entails the usage of various tools and services to permit your commercial enterprise to attain a much broader base of capacity clients. Properly Internet pay per click pay per click advertising will carry in a full-size number of clients, preserve them involved and then make extra than glad to buy greater of your products.

A not-so-Desirable Internet advertising and marketing application, understanding, will be an entire waste of time and money. Inside the worst case situation, you may even grow to be doing greater harm than Right in your commercial enterprise if the pay per click advertising and marketing strategy is poorly concept out.

Strangely enough, most people genuinely fail of their Net advertising techniques now not because they lack the understanding or the technical abilities to make Proper use of Internet advertising.

Seo, HTML, choose-in lists, landing pages – all of this could now not count number if the would-be marketer does no longer understand understanding to surely be triumphant with the gear at his or her disposal.

permit me to be clear: this article is not a technical guide at the finer factors of Net marketing. No tutorials, no assessments, no benchmarks.

this article aims to complement your technical and give you an idea of what to do together with your skill and understanding knowledge. It’ll allow you to channel your efforts and create ways-attaining plans.

In brief, this text will train you information be successful for your first 12 months of Internet advertising and marketing.

The Mindset of A hit Net Marketer

A Successful marketer needs a vision with the intention to be triumphant.

No, I now not speak approximately some grand, messianic vision or something. I am speaking about a vision a good way to define in which all of the Net advertising and marketing efforts will go to.

This imaginative and prescient will permit you to consciousness your efforts into something greater productive and could permit you to simply reach Net pay per click advertising. But before you could outline your imaginative and prescient, you need to first assume the Mindset of a Successful marketer.

This Attitude is in turn composed of various frames of thought. Right here are some of the greater important ones:

Sincere and Honest The very first factor I have to tell you is that no, in reality, A success Internet marketer is a sham and a fraud. The stereotype of the Internet marketer that sidelines as a ruthless vulture and snake-oil salesman are a photograph that is, alas, extra commonly adopted than I would like. But let me tell you that being a Successful Net marketer means being A hit for the longer term – and also you can’t achieve success in the end in case you begin your career as a fraudster. The rewards from fraudulent income or deceptive advertising and marketing techniques are immediately and appealing, However, you cannot build an advertising empire with foundations laid on lies and deceptions. A web marketer with a name built upon dependable enterprise and purchaser delight will yield greater rewards ultimately than a nameless ghost who has to alternate names every so often lest he/she face crook costs.

Willing to Test One of the marks of A success Net marketer is the willingness to attempt matters out. Many would-be entrepreneurs spend months (even years) analyzing understanding know knowledge be powerful in Internet advertising. This is all nicely and Proper, But all this may be for not anything in case you are not Inclined to place your abilities out on the open market wherein it’ll be definitely tested underneath stress. The truth of the matter is that there isn’t an absolute recipe for success as A web marketer. You simply have to grit your teeth and dive into the entire mess. You examine faster, and you may be capable of finding out what works and what does now not on your unique line of work. Even your mistakes can not be considered as disasters in case you research from them and use that information to higher yourself.

Displays and research From errors simply due to the fact an Experiment of yours fails does no longer mean you should simply up and forget about it. The whole factor of experimenting is to discover what works and what does not. If something you simply applied does now not work, like a weak landing page or faulty so, then you need to cross back and trace in which the mistake stemmed from. That is why it’s miles really critical that you mirror upon any troubles you stumble upon in your Internet advertising and marketing campaign. What went wrong, the information did it cross wrong, expertise can I restoration it and how am I able to enhance on it? Those 4 questions are staples in terms of reflecting on and mastering from any mistakes.

Seeks Excellence in All That needs to Be Done Good enough is a much cry for excellent, despite the fact that both are “Top” in an experience. Excellence is when you provide your exceptional to the entirety you do. This excellence is not non-obligatory if you want to be A success Net marketer. You don’t cut corners, you do not do a sloppy task and you don’t say “this is ideal enough.” Excellence is essentially approximately making sure that you do as Suitable a task as you can. This pursuit of excellence will constantly force you to discover higher and better ways of doing matters, significantly growing productivity and efficiency. high-quality of all, your clients will straight away understand your this excellence and will be extra Willing to as a minimum take a look at out what you have to offer.

Units Aggressive Standards to fulfill There is any other reason you need to are trying to find excellence – the first-rate and maximum threatening of your competition also do the equal. You need to always understand what your competitors are as much as. you need to know what they provide, the knowledge they do matters, the knowledge they market themselves or even information Successful they’re. If excellence will push you in addition up to your advertising and marketing efforts, then your opposition will define the naked minimal you need to paintings with. That is mainly beneficial while you are new to Net advertising. Your competitors will maximum probable were around for quite a long term already and could have spent a large quantity of money and time to get wherein they’re now. All you want to do is analyze understanding they do things and you’ll be able to benefit the maximum out of your competitor’s existing practices.

Is aware the needs of the patron

That is cliché, I realize, But it is something so many new Net entrepreneurs forget that it’s miles really worth pointing out all over again. All of us have desires. If any person comes alongside promoting something with a view to satisfying my wishes, then I could be more than glad to part with my difficult-earned money. This simple truth underscores the importance of spending time, cash and attempts attaining out and expertise the desires of your target customer base. Many first-time Internet marketers additionally have this body of thought in which they agree with that exploiting their customers and wringing money from them as quickly as feasible is the most effective manner to live to tell the tale. This questioning can not be greater mistaken. Any sort of enterprise, Internet marketing included, will simplest continue to exist if agree with is constructed between client and client.

Reaches Out and ‘Touches’ clients This is any other cliché, sure, But it is nevertheless vital: your clients have to experience which you certainly supply a hoot about their pride. I’ve encountered so many advertising and marketing procedures that appearance and feel stale and too centered on selling a product. The entrepreneurs Right here have made a deadly mistake: they got too absorbed with exploiting the needs of the patron in place of connecting to those needs. You must always understand that the products and services you provide are answers to a trouble, not the simple equipment you use to squeeze cash out from customers. It’s also well worth notice that you must no longer try too tough to “sell” your product to an ability customer. I’ve to stumble upon several sales pages with a ton of testimonies, movies, promos, guarantees and smiling faces all promising one factor or any other. The entrepreneurs at the back of These pages had been trying so tough to persuade me to buy their products that I without a doubt were given became off and left the web page before even finding out what they desired to promote to me.

Obvious about the whole thing

human beings can be greater Inclined to shop for a product if they recognize precisely what they may be getting. Many marketers love to apply fancy prose, grand guarantees, and technical jargon to bedazzle potential clients. This is not this kind of horrific component in maximum instances, But all this grandstanding might be for nothing if the capacity customer does now not understand what the heck they’re looking at. Be as Transparent as you could about what you promote and you may discover clients a good deal more Inclined to do business with you. That is especially crucial for product pricing and prices. You will be amazed at understanding sales pages exist on the Internet that does not list the actual expenses of purchasing a services or products. Lots of guarantees and Plenty of memories, sure, know knowledge lack of statistics on something as simple as pricing is sufficient to turn the general public far from the website online.

Builds a Community of Partners Net advertising is not one guy (or one girl) activity. You will want the assist of loads of human beings to make yourself clearly Successful in this area of labor. Once you get all the way down to the more complex aspects of Internet marketing, You may necessarily find yourself running with a whole host of people: content creators, writers, shippers, reviewers, accountants, client care and so on. Everybody you meet is a potential partner, so constantly take the opportunity to create and amplify your Network every time you can. Even fellow Net marketers can prove to be beneficial Companions. you may change customers by promoting services and products that supplement the business of the alternative marketplace. As an instance, marketer A sells fiction books thru Amazon even as marketer B sells leather covers for the Amazon Kindle. each marketer could work collectively to sell each different’s products; successfully sharing their client base with each different.

Emotionally Balanced approximately the commercial enterprise No person is a heartless machine, But breaking down into an emotional spoil all the time can not be Precise for the enterprise. An A success Internet marketer desires to be completely objective when it comes to making business choices. Your non-public life ought to not seep into your work, particularly when your pay per click advertising and marketing efforts start to get distorted In the manner. Ideas, opinions, biases and even political affiliations have to be kept break away paintings, otherwise, they may blind you from seeing matters as they really are.

This additionally goes for the achievement and failure of your Internet pay per click advertising and marketing ventures. Internet pay per click advertising and marketing is a fast-moving global, this means that things die off as quickly as they are born. appearance long and difficult at your pay per click advertising packages and be unbiased approximately which ones are well worth spending strength on and which of them want to be dropped.

Makes use of cash Productively and Efficaciously One of the greater commonplace problems with Internet marketers is that they do no longer know expertise use their money accurately. Shall we say you’ve got earned a fab thousand bucks in income from your most A hit pay per click advertising and marketing campaign? Payments and taxes are paid, and you still have $500 left over. What is going to you do with this money? Will you purchase instructional substances, achieve pay per click advertising gear and rent human beings to deal with the time-ingesting responsibilities, or will you blow all of it on a flowery pill Laptop? Understand that the cash you earn isn’t something you have to spend right away. it is a useful resource that you could use to make your marketing campaigns even extra A hit In the destiny. you could even use that money to shop up for retirement or as a loan down payment. Something you make a decision to do, simply make sure which you constantly ‘make investments’ your cash in something with a purpose to be definitely beneficial to you.

Inclined to Innovate and Create There is a variety of pay per click advertising programs obtainable that may introduce you to the basics, However, do now not ever overlook to be innovative. There may be often no need to reinvent the wheel, and there are masses of instances in which you could research from the stories of the A hit (and not-so-A success) entrepreneurs accessible. However, you do Understand that people are constantly gaining knowledge of and evolving as well. What might have labored two, three years ago may be Performed to demise by means of now – particularly thinking about the breakneck tempo of evolution over the Net. it’s far for this reason that an A hit marketer is usually Inclined to attempt out new matters. These new things won’t constantly achieve success or turn an income proper away, However, they will constantly impart precious information to the marketer on the stop of the day. This is especially vital while you bear in mind the subsequent frame of concept that is present Inside the Attitude of Successful Internet entrepreneurs.

‘Hungry’ for Increasingly information

The final However maximum without a doubt no longer the least of crucial mindsets of a Successful Net marketer is the ever-growing choice to examine greater about his or her enterprise. You have to in no way, ever stop wondering that you realize enough to preserve you on the pinnacle of your enterprise. The sector of the enterprise is ever-evolving, with new gamers (and competition) coming in with their revolutionary and innovative methods. The last aspect you need to do is to fall behind the Competitive curve truly due to the fact you are not at the pinnacle of the ultra-modern news and information regarding your enterprise. it’s far for this reason which you must usually be hungry to research Something you can about your enterprise.