#Samson's vengeance

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Samson and Delilah

Samson Escapes Gaza

1 And Sampson went to Gaza, and saw there a harlot, and went in to her. 2 And it was reported to the Gazites, saying, Sampson is come hither: and they compassed him and laid wait for him all night in the gate of the city, and they were quiet all the night, saying, Let us wait till the dawn appear, and we will slay him. 3 And Sampson slept till midnight, and rose up at midnight, and took hold of the doors of the gate of the city with the two posts, and lifted them up with the bar, and laid them on his shoulders, and he went up to the top of the mountain that is before Chebron, and laid them there.

Samson and Delilah

4 And it came to pass after this that he loved a woman in Alsorech, and her name was Dalida. 5 And the princess of the Philistines came up to her, and said to her, Beguile him, and see wherein his great strength is, and wherewith we shall prevail against him, and bind him to humble him; and we will give thee each eleven hundred pieces of silver. 6 And Dalida said to Sampson, Tell me, I pray thee, wherein is thy great strength, and wherewith thou shalt be bound that thou mayest be humbled. 7 And Sampson said to her, If they bind me with seven moist cords that have not been spoiled, then shall I be weak and be as one of ordinary men. 8 And the princess of the Philistines brought to her seven moist cords that had not been spoiled, and she bound him with them. 9 And the liers in wait remained with her in the chamber; and she said to him, the Philistines are upon thee, Sampson: and he broke the cords as if any one should break a thread of tow when it has touched the fire, and his strength was not known.

10 And Dalida said to Sampson, Behold, thou hast cheated me, and told me lies; now then tell me wherewith thou shalt be bound. 11 And he said to her, If they should bind me fast with new ropes with which work has not been done, then shall I be weak, and shall be as another man. 12 And Dalida took new ropes, and bound him with them, and the liers in wait came out of the chamber, and she said, The Philistines are upon thee, Sampson: and he broke them off his arms like a thread.

13 And Dalida said to Sampson, Behold, thou hast deceived me, and told me lies; tell me, I intreat thee, wherewith thou mayest be bound: and he said to her, If thou shouldest weave the seven locks of my head with the web, and shouldest fasten them with the pin into the wall, then shall I be weak as another man. 14 And it came to pass when he was asleep, that Dalida took the seven locks of his head, and wove them with the web, and fastened them with the pin into the wall, and she said, The Philistines are upon thee, Sampson: and he awoke out of his sleep, and carried away the pin of the web out of the wall.

Delilah Learns the Secret

15 And Dalida said to Sampson, How sayest thou, I love thee, when thy heart is not with me? this third time thou hast deceived me, and hast not told me wherein is thy great strength. 16 And it came to pass as she pressed him sore with her words continually, and straitened him, that his spirit failed almost to death. 17 Then he told her all his heart, and said to her, A razor has not come upon my head, because I have been a holy one of God from my mother's womb; if then I should be shaven, my strength will depart from me, and I shall be weak, and I shall be as all other men.

18 And Dalida saw that he told her all his heart, and she sent and called the princess of the Philistines, saying, Come up yet this once; for he has told me all his heart. And the chiefs of the Philistines went up to her, and brought the money in their hands. 19 And Dalida made Sampson sleep upon her knees; and she called a man, and he shaved the seven locks of his head, and she began to humble him, and his strength departed from him. 20 And Dalida said, The Philistines are upon thee, Sampson: and he awoke out of his sleep and said, I will go out as at former times, and shake myself; and he knew not that the Lord was departed from him. 21 And the Philistines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and bound him with fetters of brass; and he ground in the prison-house. 22 And the hair of his head began to grow as before it was shaven.

Samson’s Vengeance and Death

23 And the chiefs of the Philistines met to offer a great sacrifice to their god Dagon, and to make merry; and they said, God has given into our hand our enemy Sampson.

24 And the people saw him, and sang praises to their god; for our god, said they, has delivered into our hand our enemy, who wasted our land, and who multiplied our slain.

25 And when their heart was merry, then they said, Call Sampson out of the prison-house, and let him play before us: and they called Sampson out of the prison-house, and he played before them; and they smote him with the palms of their hands, and set him between the pillars. 26 And Sampson said to the young man that held his hand, Suffer me to feel the pillars on which the house rests, and I will stay myself upon them. 27 And the house was full of men and woman, and there were all the chiefs of the Philistines, and on the roof were about three thousand men and woman looking at the sports of Sampson.

28 And Sampson wept before the Lord, and said, O Lord, my lord, remember me, I pray thee, and strengthen me, O God, yet this once, and I will requite one recompense to the Philistines for my two eyes. 29 And Sampson took hold of the two pillars of the house on which the house stood, and leaned on them, and laid hold of one with his right hand, and the other with his left. 30 And Sampson said, Let my wife perish with the Philistines: and he bowed himself mightily; and the house fell upon the princes, and upon all the people that were in it: and the dead whom Sampson slew in his death were more than those whom he slew in his life. 31 And his brethren and his father's house went down, and they took him; and they went up and buried him between Saraa and Esthaol in the sepulchre of his father Manoe; and he judged Israel twenty years. — Judges 16 | Brenton's Septuagint Translation (BST) Brenton’s Septuagint Translation of the Holy Bible, 1884. Cross References: Numbers 6:2; Numbers 6:5; Numbers 14:42-43; Numbers 16:14; Joshua 7:12; Joshua 13:3; Judges 14:16; Judges 15:18; Judges 15:47; Judges 17:1; Judges 19:6; 1 Samuel 5:2; 1 Samuel 19:11; 1 Samuel 31:9; 1 Chronicles 10:9; Esther 1:10; Lamentations 5:13

[vultures-and-scavengers]

this monologue is so interesting to me and i wish we got more details. like, dude, tell me more about losing your own purpose because you were chained to the order's. tell me more about feeling compelled into serving. like. there's some juicy backstory there, and we're only getting vague allusions.

and-- is he still feeling without a purpose? he says there's templars who have been through worse, so downplaying his own trauma, which was. you know. somewhat intense. and then the two options being die or lose your mind.

in addition, he mentions serving out of fear here, as opposed to the conversation held after he stays off lyrium.

he emphasizes anger in this one. that difference is just crunchy to me. god, i wish we'd gotten a bit more insight into him, but i do not envy his writer.

[rotten-whispers]

Imagine all the things that I'd do

If I could get my hands on you

[shoutydwarf]

veilguard spoilers !

literally None of these characters are above b tier for me except davrin and that's carried by him being a grey warden that doesn't need me to therapy speak him into being fixed.

sorry to be a toxic origins bro on main but my favorite characters are always the ones that don't recognize me as the player character pressing the buttons. their development isn't contingent on me making choices for them. they have opinions i don't agree with and which i can't change their mind on, a la vivienne/anders. alistair is one of my top companions because he has LINES in the motherfucking SAND. he will be your brother and/or your lover for the entire game but if you don't put his vengeance above your duty to the wardens, he will leave, if not attempt to seize power and force his ends. same for most all other origins and 2 companions (and inquisition to a lesser degree) - A. the option EXISTS to fundamentally piss them off to the degree they will want to kill you, and B. some of them literally WILL try to kill you. that's how roleplaying games are supposed to work. i am supposed to be a person in this world surrounded by other people in this world and i expect it to feel like that. moreso, i know they CAN make it feel like that, because they DID that in all 3 previous games.

there is no way to fail loyalty missions in VG. characters are so lukewarm that the guild of looting, pirating thieves exercises ethical tomb raiding and does monologue you about it. not a single one has any opinion that beckons you to use your brain cells. these characters do not evoke any emotion from me. i could write whole think pieces on why vivienne has the disposition that she does, why she thinks she's right, why i fundamentally disagree with her but still greatly empathize with her and consider her the best option for divine (out of 2 other companions that are just as complex). i have NOTHING to say about the veilguard companions. there is NOTHING to talk about here.

every single one of their villains are entirely one dimensional and unforgivable. THAT is the true disney aspect of the game. loghain, meredith, samson, calpernia, bhelen, branka, the architect, celene and gaspard, even fucking HOWE all have nuances and complexities to them that, even if you still end up at the conclusion that they're awful, you still have some things to think about. there are reasons leading up to their descents into cruelty and madness beyond just "me wanted power :p for fun :p"

this is also part of why davrin is the only memorable character for me; his villain was someone i knew and, frankly, the only interesting one out of the entire lot but only because she had an entire book's worth of setup. harding's was also great but because of the larger issue with zero catharsis for the titans, i have to kick her down several tiers with the rest of Mid Town.

don't get me started on the hardening system and how it can literally only happen to a single companion as a consequence to a single choice in the entire game. and then that 'hardening' actually has no bearing on their loyalty missions or, in neve's case, their romance.

the game does not make me think at all. it is designed to be consumed but not digested. there is nothing beyond the curtains. there is nothing to discuss. there is no nuance, no spice, no complexity, no grey areas. all that exists to talk about here is "i liked this part" and "i didn't like this part".

it is, like too fucking much of modern media, brain rot soup. and it doesn't even taste good.

[kcwriter-blog]

The Theme of Forgiveness in Cole’s Personal Quest

The theme of The Veilguard will be regret. But there is more to getting past regret than just deciding to get over it. To experience regret is to experience shame and guilt. It is to feel sorry for causing pain. It is about penance and forgiveness.

While I don’t know how that will play out in The Veilguard, I believe we see some of those same themes in Cole’s personal quest, Subjected to His Will. As Trick Weekes wrote Cole, Solas and presumably the quest, I think there are aspects of it that could be relevant to Rook and Solas’ arcs in Veilguard. Since there are potential spoilers, I will put the rest under the cut.

The quest revolves around the question of whether Cole should become more like a spirit or more human. There are pros and cons to each, and I really don’t think there is a right or wrong answer. What is interesting is how very Old Testament that section of the quest is.

Cole, Varric, Solas and the Inquisitor find the man responsible for the real Cole’s death. Cole’s immediate reaction when confronting him is, understandably, anger. It’s not so much that Cole wants revenge as it is that he feels he must seek it. The man was responsible for the real Cole’s death; therefore, he must die. Basically, an eye for an eye.

It’s an interesting set up because we aren’t being asked to decide whether the man will die. As Varric points out, no one is suggesting that. We are being asked to decide how Cole will heal. Will it be by exacting revenge or by offering forgiveness.

One thing we always overlook during the quest is the ex-Templar himself. We don’t consider his feelings. Feelings he has been living with since the day the real Cole died.

What we know immediately is that he is an ex-Templar. He wouldn’t be buying black market lyrium if he wasn’t. We also know how harsh a life that is due to Cullen and Samson’s backstories. As the Templars wouldn’t care about the real Cole’s death, he wasn’t kicked out because of that. Which means he probably left the order because he couldn’t stand to be reminded of what he had done. He regrets it. He is sorry.

So, on one side we have a man who feels so guilty, he leaves the order, subjecting himself to a precarious existence because he can’t forgive himself. On the other, we have the person harmed by his actions, seeking recompense.

Cole has two options. Or rather, we are given two possible paths for him. If the Inquisitor sides with Varric, he is offered the opportunity to exact revenge. This helps Cole grow but I would argue it is the easier option. Vengeance is simple. It makes us feel better right away. Forgiveness is much, much harder.

Why then does Solas advocate for it? Because forgiving someone who is truly repentant is an act of compassion. Cole is a spirit of compassion. To become more of what he once was, he must find compassion in himself.

And it is hard. I love the imagery of the scene where Cole confronts the Templar. The man realizes his sins have caught up to him. He sinks to his knees in front of Cole. Now he is at Cole’s mercy. At which point Solas steps in and asks Cole to feel the man’s pain.

Solas is asking Cole to empathize with the man, to try to understand not why he did what he did, but how he has felt every day since then. He wants Cole to understand that the man has been punishing himself. He has been doing penance. It isn’t working because he cannot forgive himself. He needs to be forgiven by the person he hurt.

Once Cole understands that the man has been punishing himself, he no longer feels the need to kill him. Forgiveness is Cole’s to grant or not grant. He has that much power. He chooses to forgive and in so doing frees them both.

While both ways of resolving Cole’s situation are valid,I believe that withholding forgiveness does not do Cole any good. All Cole learns from the experience is that taking a life for a life doesn’t solve anything. That doesn’t mean you heal. It just means you accept. Cole will never truly be free of the knowledge that the person he tried to help died. He was too late.

I should add that this doesn’t help the Templar either. He remembers what he did and apologizes because he fears for his life. Afterwards? He thinks the person he kills lives which means all he has done since then was pointless. That can lead to bitterness, resentment and possibly him hurting others because of it.

Now what does all this have to do with Rook and Solas? Well, Solas is carrying around about a thousand years worth of regret and guilt. Rook is probably carrying some also. Both for something they did that was supposed to save the world and ended up making things worse. They both will need to heal which means they will both need to find or accept compassion so they can forgive themselves.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in February 2024

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ We Ate the Dark by Mallory Pearson 🧡 The Paper Boys by D.P. Clarence 💛 Skater Boy by Anthony Nerada 💚 Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine 💙 A Vicious Game by Melissa Blair 💜 Clarion Call by Cayla Fay ❤️ Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman 🧡 The Absinthe Underground by Jamie Pacton 💛 Truthfully, Yours by Caden Armstrong 💙 Outsider by Jade du Preez 💜 Cross My Candy Heart by A.C. Thomas 🌈 The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

❤️ An Education in Malice by S. T. Gibson 🧡 The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Ann Older 💛 Never a Bridesmaid by Spencer Greene 💚 The Rewind by Nicole Stiling 💙 Good Christian Girls by Elizabeth Bradshaw 💜 The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha ❤️ The Terrible by Tessa Crowley 🧡 Blood Rage by Ileandra Young 💛 Call of the Sea by Emily B. Rose 💙 Sign Me Up by C.H. Williams 💜 Ways and Means by Daniel Lefferts 🌈 Peaceful in the Dark by A.A. Fairview

❤️ We Are Only Ghosts by Jeffrey L. Richards 🧡 Dead Ringer by Robyn Nyx 💛 Somacultural Liberation by Dr. Roger Kuhn 💚 Stormbringer by Erinn Harper 💙 A Saga of Shields & Shadows by A.J. Shirley 💜 Ghost Town by R.E. Ward ❤️ I Heard Her Call My Name by Lucy Sante 🧡 The Night Alphabet by Joelle Taylor 💛 Remedial Magic by Melissa Marr 💙 Bloom by N.R. Walker 💜 Entwined by Alex Alberto 🌈 Queer Newark edited by Whitney Strub

❤️ Tristan by Jesse Roman 🧡 How to Live Free in a Dangerous World by Shayla Lawson 💛 Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos 💚 Of Socialites & Prizefights by Arden Powell 💙 Lost Harbor by Kimberly Cooper Griffin 💜 Hannah Tate, Beyond Repair by Laura Piper Lee ❤️ Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert 🧡 How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly 💛 Blackmailer’s Delight by David Lawrence 💙 Tile M for Murder by Felicia Carparelli 💜 Impulse Buy by Jae 🌈 Live for You, Die With You by Kalob Dàniel

❤️ Fairest of All by A.D. Ellis 🧡 Goddess of the Sea by Britney Jackson 💛 A Taste of Earth by Nico Silver 💚 The Moorings of Mackerel Sky by M.Z. Emily Zack 💙 How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith 💜 V is for Valentine by Thomas Grant Bruso ❤️ Crushed Ice by Ashlyn Kane & Morgan James 🧡 When Tomorrow Comes by D. Jackson Leigh 💛 Bugsy & Other Stories by Rafael Frumkin 💙 The White and Blue Between Us by Kiyuhiko 💜 Guide Us Home by CF Frizzell & Jesse J. Thoma 🌈 The Friendship Study by Ruby Barrett

❤️ Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender 🧡 Heart2Heart edited by Annabeth Albert 💛 No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub 💚 Bless the Blood by Walela Nehanda 💙 Vengeance Planning for Amateurs by Lee Winter 💜 Who We Are in Real Life by Victoria Koops ❤️ Prove It by Stephanie Hoyt 🧡 Mewing by Chloe Spencer 💛 Awakenings by Claudie Arseneault 💙 Born of Scourge by S. Jean 💜 Disciples of Chaos by M.K. Lobb 🌈 To Cage a God by Elizabeth May

❤️ Greta & Valdin by Rebecca K Reilly 🧡 What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher 💛 You Had Me at Merlot by Melissa Brayden 💚 Turning Point by Cathy Dunnell 💙 For the Stolen Fates by Gwendolyn Clare 💜 Season of Eclipse by Terry Wolverton ❤️ These Haunted Hills by Jana Denardo 🧡 Samson & Domingo by Gume Laurel III 💛 Lies that Bind by Rae Knowles & April Yates 💙 We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller 💜 The Diablo's Curse by Gabe Cole Novoa 🌈 Blessings by Chukwuebuka Ibeh

❤️ Out There by Iris Eliot 🧡 At Her Service by Amy Spalding 💛 Green Dot by Madeleine Gray

[daitranscripts]

Skyhold Quest: Sit in Judgment

Raleigh Samson

Skyhold Masterpost Related Quest: What Pride Had Wrought Related: Cullen Cutscene Related: Dagna Conversation

Cullen: Forgive me, Inquisitor. For personal interest, I have relieved Josephine. As you might expect. Knight-Templar Samson, general to Corypheus, traitor to the Order. The blood on his hands cannot be measured. His head is too valuable to take. Kirkwall, Orlais: many would see him suffer. I can’t say I’m not one of them.

Dialogue options:

General: A serious matter. PC: Judging him will affect as many as his crimes. I won’t take it lightly. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Too valuable to kill? Really? PC: The headsman’s axe isn’t enough? That’s an impressive amount of ill will. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Don’t worry. He’ll suffer. PC: I can make him answer for what he’s done.

Samson: The red lyrium will steal your vengeance. You know what it does. Corypheus only delayed my corruption.

Cullen: Are you still loyal to that thing? He poisoned the Order, used them to kill thousands!

Samson: Templars have always been used. How many were left to rot, like I was, after the Chantry burned away their minds? Piss on it! I followed him so templars could at least die at their best! Same lie as the Chantry. The Prophet just isn’t as pretty.

Dialogue options:

Special (completed Before the Dawn): Maddox respected you. [1]

General: I want to be merciful. [2]

General: Your defense is pathetic. [3]

General: You coward. Blame yourself. [4]

1 - Special: Maddox respected you. PC: I found your people. They believed in you. Believed your cause was righteous. Samson: Not your business, Inquisitor. Cullen: Your friend Maddox was so loyal, he killed himself. For you. Samson: They were always going to die. I saw what Corypheus was doing, so yes, I fed them hope instead of despair. I made them believe their pain had purpose. Just like the Chantry does. Right, Commander? It ended as well as anything else I’ve done. Corypheus would kill me on sight. I’ll tell your people what they want. Everything I cared about is destroyed. [5]

2 - General: I want to be merciful. PC: I’m looking for a reason to be merciful, but you’re making it difficult. Samson: Did I ask for mercy? I know what I did. I know none of you can understand why. Cullen: You were always weak, and your leadership proves it. Samson: Every one of those templars would have suffered until nothing was left. And then be forced to kill and die. I gave them hope. Just like the Chantry. Just like you. But I’m weak, and you’re a savior. Do what you want, I’m done talking. [5]

3 - General: Your defense is pathetic. PC: You led them to their deaths, but did a good job? That’s your defense? Samson: I’m not offering a defense! What I did was a mercy for templars already lost. Cullen: You were always weak, and your leadership proves it. Samson: Every one of those templars would have suffered until nothing was left. And then be forced to kill and die. I gave them hope. Just like the Chantry. Just like you. But I’m weak, and you’re a savior. Do what you want, I’m done talking. [5]

4 - General: You coward. Blame yourself. PC: Coward. You pretend you had no choice, but you could have fought. Samson: I fought and lost, long before Corypheus! Your commander thinks he knows what that feels like. He’s wrong. Cullen: You were always weak, and your leadership proves it. Samson: Every one of those templars would have suffered until nothing was left. And then be forced to kill and die. I gave them hope. Just like the Chantry. Just like you. But I’m weak, and you’re a savior. Do what you want, I’m done talking. [5]

5 - Dialogue options:

Special (mentioned Maddox): Cullen will question you. [6] +Approves - Cole, Solas, Iron Bull +Slightly approves - Vivienne, Blackwall ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General (Dagna recruited): Dagna will study your powers. [7] +Approves - Solas +Slightly approves - Sera, Varric -Slightly disapproves - Dorian ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Interrogate him. [8] +Approves - Iron Bull +Slightly approves - Vivienne, Sera -Disapproves - Cole, Solas ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Let Kirkwall have you. [9] +Approves - Sera, Varric ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Shove this coward in a hole. [10] +Slightly approves - Sera -Disapproves - Cole ㅤㅤ ㅤ

General: Exile him to wilderness. [11] -Slightly disapproves - Cole, Iron Bull, Varric -Disapproves - Solas

6 - Special: Cullen will question you. PC: Very well. Samson, you will spend your remaining years serving the Inquisition. Cullen will be your handler. Perhaps he can get something useful out of you. Samson: I doubt the commander believe there’s anything worthy left in me. Cullen: You’re not wrong. But you served something greater than yourself once. Perhaps you can be made to remember that. Scene ends.

7 - General: Dagna will study your powers. PC: Samson, you can still be of use to good people. What you know is less important than what you are. My arcanist will study your resistance to red lyrium. Samson: Do as you will, Inquisitor. Your kind always does. Scene ends.

8 - General: Interrogate him. PC: You lost the right to choose your fate. You’ll help us, willingly or not. Cullen, extract what he knows. Samson: There’s no point, Inquisitor. There’s nothing left of me to break. Cullen: We shall see, traitor. You’ve forced it on us, and yourself. Scene ends.

9 - General: Let Kirkwall have you. PC: We could use more friends in the Free Marchers. We’ll barter you there. Samson, you are a traitor and a murderer. Kirkwall’s leaders will decide your fate. Samson: Do as you will, Inquisitor. Your kind always does.

10 - General: Shove this coward in a hole. PC: I’m sick of looking at you. There is no hole deep enough. Samson, you will spend your remaining days rotting in a cell. Get him out of here. Samson: Do as you will, Inquisitor. Your kind always does. Scene ends.

11 - General: Exile him to wilderness. PC: You don’t deserve a cell where you can die in comfort feeling sorry for yourself. If the lyrium takes you, Samson, let it happen while you and cold and alone. You are exiled. Samson: And when I lose myself, what then? You demand punishment for the lives I took, but release me to take more? Cullen: It’s too late for you to die like a templar. Look into dying like a Warden. Scene ends.

[your-dandy-king]

Briel reads @britannias-god-of-war’s note, and his face twists into a scowl, his outrage practically simmering off him. With a growl, he grabs a quill and ink, slamming them down on the table as he starts to write his response, his words practically burning through the page:

Admiral Nelson,

Oh, so now you’re watching with ‘great anticipation,’ are you? You must be fucking thrilled, sitting back with your smug British grin, watching the mess you made of Le Bucentaure, like some twisted spectator at a gladiator fight. You think this is some kind of entertainment, don’t you? Watching me piece together the wreck of a ship you and your bloody Royal Navy tried to turn into fucking driftwood?

Let me tell you something, Nelson — you may have won the day at Trafalgar, and you may have dragged Le Bucentaure through the mud and blood, but don’t you dare think for a second that this is the end of him or me. Marseille doesn’t fucking surrender, not to you, not to your fleet, and sure as hell not to the idea that we were bested by the likes of you!

You call my speech emotional? I call it the truth. I’ll fix him up, stronger and meaner than before, and when he sails again, he’ll be coming straight for that fancy British fleet of yours, with every plank and every sail a big middle finger to you and everything you stand for. Because unlike you, we don’t hide behind words or titles or behind fucking tea and scones — we build, we fight, and we keep coming back no matter how many times you try to break us.

So you keep watching, Nelson. Keep your eyes on the horizon, because one day you’ll see Le Bucentaure cutting through the waves again, and I promise you, he won’t be coming to exchange pleasantries. He’ll be coming to settle the fucking score.

Enjoy your anticipation while it lasts. It won’t be long before your grin fades and you realize that some ghosts don’t stay dead — they come back for vengeance.

Sincerely,

Samson Briel, Master Carpenter of Marseille

With a final flourish, he slams the quill down, the ink splattering slightly, and seals the letter with a ferocity that matches his glare.

[themournwatcher]

Fic Recommendations

Here are a list of the fanfictions that I have either read or are currently reading and think that should get more attention!

“Not Another Dragon Age Fanfic (The Lone Wolf Cries)” by dork_trash94 Kieran finds himself suddenly transported to Thedas, and vows to keep a close eye on the Dread Wolf to stop him from betraying them once again. As he finds out, a ‘close eye’ unfortunately means actually being close - and it doesn’t help that the game’s timeline is changing, either. Lots of pining, sprinkle of yearning, some funky Time-bending, and a frequently flustered Solas. (via @fen-harelapologist94 on tumblr)

They’ve also just released the first chapter of their newest fanfic!

“Tea Leaves and Sweet Dreams” by dork_trash94 Kieran was not prepared to meet Solas - the infamous and reclusive TA for Professor Flemeth’s Magic Theory and Application class - in person, in his tea shop. Much less the same academic program.

I am currently in the midst of reading this next fanfic but I positively adore the author’s use of language! Dwarves are not usually my favorite fantasy culture but I have so grown to love the Aeducan and Brosca storytelling here. It is the first part of a four part series so we are all in for a treat!

“Of Diamonds and Dust” by @dragonologist_phd Marja Aeducan and Darvis Brosca lead lives as different as one could possibly imagine. Marja Aeducan, a member of the nobility and second in line for the throne, has spent her life maneuvering the dangerous political machinations of the Diamond Quarter. Meanwhile, Darvis Brosca, a Casteless dwarf rejected by society, does whatever it takes to survive on the streets of Dust Town. When a Grey Warden arrives in Orzammar, the lives of Marja and Darvis are forever changed. Driven from the city by misfortune and betrayal, the two must join the ranks of the Wardens in order to save their own lives. But the surface has far greater dangers than they realize. The noble and the thief will need to stand together if they’re going to fight against the oncoming Blight, the brewing civil war, and the strange surface malady called “sunburn”. Also, the contemporary fic to read alongside it: “And So They Burned”

I have been reading “South” for over a year now and I need it to get widespread to a wider audience. His use of imagery and their idea of Tolkien’s world is so refreshing. They also have a lot of other LoTR fanfics that you should check out, too!

“South” by oxbridge The Grey Company rides south: Through Eregion, Dunland, and beyond.

Other fics that I’m currently reading and think should be shared!

“Dead Pasts and Dread Futures” by youworeblue The Inquisitor’s heart broke after the Exalted Council when her family of friends scattered to the winds. She was emptied of hope as Solas’s power and reach grew. Left with a dead past and dreading the future, Ixchel Lavellan lay down and chose not to wake up. As the Veil began to unravel, and the fabric of reality tore apart at the seams, a desperate ally sacrificed everything to give her a second chance. And Ixchel will never forgive him. (via @dreadfutures on tumblr)

“Keepers” by AkbalKiin A necromage in the plains causes a stir to the local folk. The Inquisition investigates and recruits an elf, a former Keeper, into their rank for his knowledge on Dalish archaeology and his stealth abilities. The Inquisition tests his skills as they close in on Red Templars as part of a plan to thwart Samson and Corypheus. (via @nightmarist on tumblr)

“Une Autre Histoire D'amour” (series) by fondofthehowes Exploring the relationship between Étienne Montmartre, an Orlesian warden better suited to be a bard, and Cassandra Pentaghast. For a woman that long pined for the concept of a man that would sweep her off her feet, she never anticipated that she would not only find it, but that he would be far more than that too.

“Would That I (O Unrepentant, Faithless, Treacherous)” by @thiefbird Saved from Alistair’s vengeance to presumably die to the Archdemon, Loghain Mac Tir is at a loss to find himself alive after the end of the Blight.

"The Lark and the Crow" by @dujour_13 Woljif had to admit, it was a pretty sweet deal. Why not follow through and see what an honest quid pro quo felt like? A couple of days ago he had been chained up, for lack of a proper jail cell, in the moldy basement of the Defender’s Heart tavern, furiously concocting dead-end escape plots. The worst thing about it was crouching in a dark corner on a hard, cold floor and gazing up the stairs where light, laughter, the scent of food, and sometimes even music drifted down, out of his reach. Perpetually out of his reach. Until, of course, this golden-headed half-elf had come down the stairs and made him a deal. (via @dujour13 on tumblr)

"none of us are going back." by @var_bellanaris "We are all going forward. None of us are going back." — Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain The Hero of Ferelden and the Hero of River Dane on surviving past the end of your myth. (via @v-arbellanaris on tumblr)

[atotc-weekly]

Book the Third—The Track of a Storm

[X] Chapter XIV. The Knitting Done

In that same juncture of time when the Fifty-Two awaited their fate Madame Defarge held darkly ominous council with The Vengeance and Jacques Three of the Revolutionary Jury. Not in the wine-shop did Madame Defarge confer with these ministers, but in the shed of the wood-sawyer, erst a mender of roads. The sawyer himself did not participate in the conference, but abided at a little distance, like an outer satellite who was not to speak until required, or to offer an opinion until invited.

“But our Defarge,” said Jacques Three, “is undoubtedly a good Republican? Eh?”

“There is no better,” the voluble Vengeance protested in her shrill notes, “in France.”

“Peace, little Vengeance,” said Madame Defarge, laying her hand with a slight frown on her lieutenant’s lips, “hear me speak. My husband, fellow-citizen, is a good Republican and a bold man; he has deserved well of the Republic, and possesses its confidence. But my husband has his weaknesses, and he is so weak as to relent towards this Doctor.”

“It is a great pity,” croaked Jacques Three, dubiously shaking his head, with his cruel fingers at his hungry mouth; “it is not quite like a good citizen; it is a thing to regret.”

“See you,” said madame, “I care nothing for this Doctor, I. He may wear his head or lose it, for any interest I have in him; it is all one to me. But, the Evrémonde people are to be exterminated, and the wife and child must follow the husband and father.”

“She has a fine head for it,” croaked Jacques Three. “I have seen blue eyes and golden hair there, and they looked charming when Samson held them up.” Ogre that he was, he spoke like an epicure.

Madame Defarge cast down her eyes, and reflected a little.

“The child also,” observed Jacques Three, with a meditative enjoyment of his words, “has golden hair and blue eyes. And we seldom have a child there. It is a pretty sight!”

“In a word,” said Madame Defarge, coming out of her short abstraction, “I cannot trust my husband in this matter. Not only do I feel, since last night, that I dare not confide to him the details of my projects; but also I feel that if I delay, there is danger of his giving warning, and then they might escape.”

“That must never be,” croaked Jacques Three; “no one must escape. We have not half enough as it is. We ought to have six score a day.”

“In a word,” Madame Defarge went on, “my husband has not my reason for pursuing this family to annihilation, and I have not his reason for regarding this Doctor with any sensibility. I must act for myself, therefore. Come hither, little citizen.”

The wood-sawyer, who held her in the respect, and himself in the submission, of mortal fear, advanced with his hand to his red cap.

“Touching those signals, little citizen,” said Madame Defarge, sternly, “that she made to the prisoners; you are ready to bear witness to them this very day?”

“Ay, ay, why not!” cried the sawyer. “Every day, in all weathers, from two to four, always signalling, sometimes with the little one, sometimes without. I know what I know. I have seen with my eyes.”

He made all manner of gestures while he spoke, as if in incidental imitation of some few of the great diversity of signals that he had never seen.

“Clearly plots,” said Jacques Three. “Transparently!”

“There is no doubt of the Jury?” inquired Madame Defarge, letting her eyes turn to him with a gloomy smile.

“Rely upon the patriotic Jury, dear citizeness. I answer for my fellow-Jurymen.”

“Now, let me see,” said Madame Defarge, pondering again. “Yet once more! Can I spare this Doctor to my husband? I have no feeling either way. Can I spare him?”

“He would count as one head,” observed Jacques Three, in a low voice. “We really have not heads enough; it would be a pity, I think.”

“He was signalling with her when I saw her,” argued Madame Defarge; “I cannot speak of one without the other; and I must not be silent, and trust the case wholly to him, this little citizen here. For, I am not a bad witness.”

The Vengeance and Jacques Three vied with each other in their fervent protestations that she was the most admirable and marvellous of witnesses. The little citizen, not to be outdone, declared her to be a celestial witness.

“He must take his chance,” said Madame Defarge. “No, I cannot spare him! You are engaged at three o’clock; you are going to see the batch of to-day executed.—You?”

The question was addressed to the wood-sawyer, who hurriedly replied in the affirmative: seizing the occasion to add that he was the most ardent of Republicans, and that he would be in effect the most desolate of Republicans, if anything prevented him from enjoying the pleasure of smoking his afternoon pipe in the contemplation of the droll national barber. He was so very demonstrative herein, that he might have been suspected (perhaps was, by the dark eyes that looked contemptuously at him out of Madame Defarge’s head) of having his small individual fears for his own personal safety, every hour in the day.

“I,” said madame, “am equally engaged at the same place. After it is over—say at eight to-night—come you to me, in Saint Antoine, and we will give information against these people at my Section.”

The wood-sawyer said he would be proud and flattered to attend the citizeness. The citizeness looking at him, he became embarrassed, evaded her glance as a small dog would have done, retreated among his wood, and hid his confusion over the handle of his saw.

Madame Defarge beckoned the Juryman and The Vengeance a little nearer to the door, and there expounded her further views to them thus:

“She will now be at home, awaiting the moment of his death. She will be mourning and grieving. She will be in a state of mind to impeach the justice of the Republic. She will be full of sympathy with its enemies. I will go to her.”

“What an admirable woman; what an adorable woman!” exclaimed Jacques Three, rapturously. “Ah, my cherished!” cried The Vengeance; and embraced her.

“Take you my knitting,” said Madame Defarge, placing it in her lieutenant’s hands, “and have it ready for me in my usual seat. Keep me my usual chair. Go you there, straight, for there will probably be a greater concourse than usual, to-day.”

“I willingly obey the orders of my Chief,” said The Vengeance with alacrity, and kissing her cheek. “You will not be late?”

“I shall be there before the commencement.”

“And before the tumbrils arrive. Be sure you are there, my soul,” said The Vengeance, calling after her, for she had already turned into the street, “before the tumbrils arrive!”

Madame Defarge slightly waved her hand, to imply that she heard, and might be relied upon to arrive in good time, and so went through the mud, and round the corner of the prison wall. The Vengeance and the Juryman, looking after her as she walked away, were highly appreciative of her fine figure, and her superb moral endowments.

There were many women at that time, upon whom the time laid a dreadfully disfiguring hand; but, there was not one among them more to be dreaded than this ruthless woman, now taking her way along the streets. Of a strong and fearless character, of shrewd sense and readiness, of great determination, of that kind of beauty which not only seems to impart to its possessor firmness and animosity, but to strike into others an instinctive recognition of those qualities; the troubled time would have heaved her up, under any circumstances. But, imbued from her childhood with a brooding sense of wrong, and an inveterate hatred of a class, opportunity had developed her into a tigress. She was absolutely without pity. If she had ever had the virtue in her, it had quite gone out of her.

It was nothing to her, that an innocent man was to die for the sins of his forefathers; she saw, not him, but them. It was nothing to her, that his wife was to be made a widow and his daughter an orphan; that was insufficient punishment, because they were her natural enemies and her prey, and as such had no right to live. To appeal to her, was made hopeless by her having no sense of pity, even for herself. If she had been laid low in the streets, in any of the many encounters in which she had been engaged, she would not have pitied herself; nor, if she had been ordered to the axe to-morrow, would she have gone to it with any softer feeling than a fierce desire to change places with the man who sent her there.

Such a heart Madame Defarge carried under her rough robe. Carelessly worn, it was a becoming robe enough, in a certain weird way, and her dark hair looked rich under her coarse red cap. Lying hidden in her bosom, was a loaded pistol. Lying hidden at her waist, was a sharpened dagger. Thus accoutred, and walking with the confident tread of such a character, and with the supple freedom of a woman who had habitually walked in her girlhood, bare-foot and bare-legged, on the brown sea-sand, Madame Defarge took her way along the streets.

Now, when the journey of the travelling coach, at that very moment waiting for the completion of its load, had been planned out last night, the difficulty of taking Miss Pross in it had much engaged Mr. Lorry’s attention. It was not merely desirable to avoid overloading the coach, but it was of the highest importance that the time occupied in examining it and its passengers, should be reduced to the utmost; since their escape might depend on the saving of only a few seconds here and there. Finally, he had proposed, after anxious consideration, that Miss Pross and Jerry, who were at liberty to leave the city, should leave it at three o’clock in the lightest-wheeled conveyance known to that period. Unencumbered with luggage, they would soon overtake the coach, and, passing it and preceding it on the road, would order its horses in advance, and greatly facilitate its progress during the precious hours of the night, when delay was the most to be dreaded.

Seeing in this arrangement the hope of rendering real service in that pressing emergency, Miss Pross hailed it with joy. She and Jerry had beheld the coach start, had known who it was that Solomon brought, had passed some ten minutes in tortures of suspense, and were now concluding their arrangements to follow the coach, even as Madame Defarge, taking her way through the streets, now drew nearer and nearer to the else-deserted lodging in which they held their consultation.

“Now what do you think, Mr. Cruncher,” said Miss Pross, whose agitation was so great that she could hardly speak, or stand, or move, or live: “what do you think of our not starting from this courtyard? Another carriage having already gone from here to-day, it might awaken suspicion.”

“My opinion, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “is as you’re right. Likewise wot I’ll stand by you, right or wrong.”

“I am so distracted with fear and hope for our precious creatures,” said Miss Pross, wildly crying, “that I am incapable of forming any plan. Are you capable of forming any plan, my dear good Mr. Cruncher?”

“Respectin’ a future spear o’ life, miss,” returned Mr. Cruncher, “I hope so. Respectin’ any present use o’ this here blessed old head o’ mine, I think not. Would you do me the favour, miss, to take notice o’ two promises and wows wot it is my wishes fur to record in this here crisis?”

“Oh, for gracious sake!” cried Miss Pross, still wildly crying, “record them at once, and get them out of the way, like an excellent man.”

“First,” said Mr. Cruncher, who was all in a tremble, and who spoke with an ashy and solemn visage, “them poor things well out o’ this, never no more will I do it, never no more!”

“I am quite sure, Mr. Cruncher,” returned Miss Pross, “that you never will do it again, whatever it is, and I beg you not to think it necessary to mention more particularly what it is.”

“No, miss,” returned Jerry, “it shall not be named to you. Second: them poor things well out o’ this, and never no more will I interfere with Mrs. Cruncher’s flopping, never no more!”

“Whatever housekeeping arrangement that may be,” said Miss Pross, striving to dry her eyes and compose herself, “I have no doubt it is best that Mrs. Cruncher should have it entirely under her own superintendence.—O my poor darlings!”

“I go so far as to say, miss, moreover,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with a most alarming tendency to hold forth as from a pulpit—“and let my words be took down and took to Mrs. Cruncher through yourself—that wot my opinions respectin’ flopping has undergone a change, and that wot I only hope with all my heart as Mrs. Cruncher may be a flopping at the present time.”

“There, there, there! I hope she is, my dear man,” cried the distracted Miss Pross, “and I hope she finds it answering her expectations.”

“Forbid it,” proceeded Mr. Cruncher, with additional solemnity, additional slowness, and additional tendency to hold forth and hold out, “as anything wot I have ever said or done should be wisited on my earnest wishes for them poor creeturs now! Forbid it as we shouldn’t all flop (if it was anyways conwenient) to get ’em out o’ this here dismal risk! Forbid it, miss! Wot I say, for-bid it!” This was Mr. Cruncher’s conclusion after a protracted but vain endeavour to find a better one.

And still Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.

“If we ever get back to our native land,” said Miss Pross, “you may rely upon my telling Mrs. Cruncher as much as I may be able to remember and understand of what you have so impressively said; and at all events you may be sure that I shall bear witness to your being thoroughly in earnest at this dreadful time. Now, pray let us think! My esteemed Mr. Cruncher, let us think!”

Still, Madame Defarge, pursuing her way along the streets, came nearer and nearer.

“If you were to go before,” said Miss Pross, “and stop the vehicle and horses from coming here, and were to wait somewhere for me; wouldn’t that be best?”

Mr. Cruncher thought it might be best.

“Where could you wait for me?” asked Miss Pross.

Mr. Cruncher was so bewildered that he could think of no locality but Temple Bar. Alas! Temple Bar was hundreds of miles away, and Madame Defarge was drawing very near indeed.

“By the cathedral door,” said Miss Pross. “Would it be much out of the way, to take me in, near the great cathedral door between the two towers?”

“No, miss,” answered Mr. Cruncher.

“Then, like the best of men,” said Miss Pross, “go to the posting-house straight, and make that change.”

“I am doubtful,” said Mr. Cruncher, hesitating and shaking his head, “about leaving of you, you see. We don’t know what may happen.”

“Heaven knows we don’t,” returned Miss Pross, “but have no fear for me. Take me in at the cathedral, at Three o’Clock, or as near it as you can, and I am sure it will be better than our going from here. I feel certain of it. There! Bless you, Mr. Cruncher! Think-not of me, but of the lives that may depend on both of us!”

This exordium, and Miss Pross’s two hands in quite agonised entreaty clasping his, decided Mr. Cruncher. With an encouraging nod or two, he immediately went out to alter the arrangements, and left her by herself to follow as she had proposed.

The having originated a precaution which was already in course of execution, was a great relief to Miss Pross. The necessity of composing her appearance so that it should attract no special notice in the streets, was another relief. She looked at her watch, and it was twenty minutes past two. She had no time to lose, but must get ready at once.

Afraid, in her extreme perturbation, of the loneliness of the deserted rooms, and of half-imagined faces peeping from behind every open door in them, Miss Pross got a basin of cold water and began laving her eyes, which were swollen and red. Haunted by her feverish apprehensions, she could not bear to have her sight obscured for a minute at a time by the dripping water, but constantly paused and looked round to see that there was no one watching her. In one of those pauses she recoiled and cried out, for she saw a figure standing in the room.

The basin fell to the ground broken, and the water flowed to the feet of Madame Defarge. By strange stern ways, and through much staining blood, those feet had come to meet that water.

Madame Defarge looked coldly at her, and said, “The wife of Evrémonde; where is she?”

It flashed upon Miss Pross’s mind that the doors were all standing open, and would suggest the flight. Her first act was to shut them. There were four in the room, and she shut them all. She then placed herself before the door of the chamber which Lucie had occupied.

Madame Defarge’s dark eyes followed her through this rapid movement, and rested on her when it was finished. Miss Pross had nothing beautiful about her; years had not tamed the wildness, or softened the grimness, of her appearance; but, she too was a determined woman in her different way, and she measured Madame Defarge with her eyes, every inch.

“You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.”

Madame Defarge looked at her scornfully, but still with something of Miss Pross’s own perception that they two were at bay. She saw a tight, hard, wiry woman before her, as Mr. Lorry had seen in the same figure a woman with a strong hand, in the years gone by. She knew full well that Miss Pross was the family’s devoted friend; Miss Pross knew full well that Madame Defarge was the family’s malevolent enemy.

“On my way yonder,” said Madame Defarge, with a slight movement of her hand towards the fatal spot, “where they reserve my chair and my knitting for me, I am come to make my compliments to her in passing. I wish to see her.”

“I know that your intentions are evil,” said Miss Pross, “and you may depend upon it, I’ll hold my own against them.”

Each spoke in her own language; neither understood the other’s words; both were very watchful, and intent to deduce from look and manner, what the unintelligible words meant.

“It will do her no good to keep herself concealed from me at this moment,” said Madame Defarge. “Good patriots will know what that means. Let me see her. Go tell her that I wish to see her. Do you hear?”

“If those eyes of yours were bed-winches,” returned Miss Pross, “and I was an English four-poster, they shouldn’t loose a splinter of me. No, you wicked foreign woman; I am your match.”

Madame Defarge was not likely to follow these idiomatic remarks in detail; but, she so far understood them as to perceive that she was set at naught.

“Woman imbecile and pig-like!” said Madame Defarge, frowning. “I take no answer from you. I demand to see her. Either tell her that I demand to see her, or stand out of the way of the door and let me go to her!” This, with an angry explanatory wave of her right arm.

“I little thought,” said Miss Pross, “that I should ever want to understand your nonsensical language; but I would give all I have, except the clothes I wear, to know whether you suspect the truth, or any part of it.”

Neither of them for a single moment released the other’s eyes. Madame Defarge had not moved from the spot where she stood when Miss Pross first became aware of her; but, she now advanced one step.

“I am a Briton,” said Miss Pross, “I am desperate. I don’t care an English Twopence for myself. I know that the longer I keep you here, the greater hope there is for my Ladybird. I’ll not leave a handful of that dark hair upon your head, if you lay a finger on me!”

Thus Miss Pross, with a shake of her head and a flash of her eyes between every rapid sentence, and every rapid sentence a whole breath. Thus Miss Pross, who had never struck a blow in her life.

But, her courage was of that emotional nature that it brought the irrepressible tears into her eyes. This was a courage that Madame Defarge so little comprehended as to mistake for weakness. “Ha, ha!” she laughed, “you poor wretch! What are you worth! I address myself to that Doctor.” Then she raised her voice and called out, “Citizen Doctor! Wife of Evrémonde! Child of Evrémonde! Any person but this miserable fool, answer the Citizeness Defarge!”

Perhaps the following silence, perhaps some latent disclosure in the expression of Miss Pross’s face, perhaps a sudden misgiving apart from either suggestion, whispered to Madame Defarge that they were gone. Three of the doors she opened swiftly, and looked in.

“Those rooms are all in disorder, there has been hurried packing, there are odds and ends upon the ground. There is no one in that room behind you! Let me look.”

“Never!” said Miss Pross, who understood the request as perfectly as Madame Defarge understood the answer.

“If they are not in that room, they are gone, and can be pursued and brought back,” said Madame Defarge to herself.

“As long as you don’t know whether they are in that room or not, you are uncertain what to do,” said Miss Pross to herself; “and you shall not know that, if I can prevent your knowing it; and know that, or not know that, you shall not leave here while I can hold you.”

“I have been in the streets from the first, nothing has stopped me, I will tear you to pieces, but I will have you from that door,” said Madame Defarge.

“We are alone at the top of a high house in a solitary courtyard, we are not likely to be heard, and I pray for bodily strength to keep you here, while every minute you are here is worth a hundred thousand guineas to my darling,” said Miss Pross.

Madame Defarge made at the door. Miss Pross, on the instinct of the moment, seized her round the waist in both her arms, and held her tight. It was in vain for Madame Defarge to struggle and to strike; Miss Pross, with the vigorous tenacity of love, always so much stronger than hate, clasped her tight, and even lifted her from the floor in the struggle that they had. The two hands of Madame Defarge buffeted and tore her face; but, Miss Pross, with her head down, held her round the waist, and clung to her with more than the hold of a drowning woman.

Soon, Madame Defarge’s hands ceased to strike, and felt at her encircled waist. “It is under my arm,” said Miss Pross, in smothered tones, “you shall not draw it. I am stronger than you, I bless Heaven for it. I hold you till one or other of us faints or dies!”

Madame Defarge’s hands were at her bosom. Miss Pross looked up, saw what it was, struck at it, struck out a flash and a crash, and stood alone—blinded with smoke.

All this was in a second. As the smoke cleared, leaving an awful stillness, it passed out on the air, like the soul of the furious woman whose body lay lifeless on the ground.

In the first fright and horror of her situation, Miss Pross passed the body as far from it as she could, and ran down the stairs to call for fruitless help. Happily, she bethought herself of the consequences of what she did, in time to check herself and go back. It was dreadful to go in at the door again; but, she did go in, and even went near it, to get the bonnet and other things that she must wear. These she put on, out on the staircase, first shutting and locking the door and taking away the key. She then sat down on the stairs a few moments to breathe and to cry, and then got up and hurried away.

By good fortune she had a veil on her bonnet, or she could hardly have gone along the streets without being stopped. By good fortune, too, she was naturally so peculiar in appearance as not to show disfigurement like any other woman. She needed both advantages, for the marks of gripping fingers were deep in her face, and her hair was torn, and her dress (hastily composed with unsteady hands) was clutched and dragged a hundred ways.

In crossing the bridge, she dropped the door key in the river. Arriving at the cathedral some few minutes before her escort, and waiting there, she thought, what if the key were already taken in a net, what if it were identified, what if the door were opened and the remains discovered, what if she were stopped at the gate, sent to prison, and charged with murder! In the midst of these fluttering thoughts, the escort appeared, took her in, and took her away.

“Is there any noise in the streets?” she asked him.

“The usual noises,” Mr. Cruncher replied; and looked surprised by the question and by her aspect.

“I don’t hear you,” said Miss Pross. “What do you say?”

It was in vain for Mr. Cruncher to repeat what he said; Miss Pross could not hear him. “So I’ll nod my head,” thought Mr. Cruncher, amazed, “at all events she’ll see that.” And she did.

“Is there any noise in the streets now?” asked Miss Pross again, presently.

Again Mr. Cruncher nodded his head.

“I don’t hear it.”

“Gone deaf in an hour?” said Mr. Cruncher, ruminating, with his mind much disturbed; “wot’s come to her?”

“I feel,” said Miss Pross, “as if there had been a flash and a crash, and that crash was the last thing I should ever hear in this life.”

“Blest if she ain’t in a queer condition!” said Mr. Cruncher, more and more disturbed. “Wot can she have been a takin’, to keep her courage up? Hark! There’s the roll of them dreadful carts! You can hear that, miss?”

“I can hear,” said Miss Pross, seeing that he spoke to her, “nothing. O, my good man, there was first a great crash, and then a great stillness, and that stillness seems to be fixed and unchangeable, never to be broken any more as long as my life lasts.”

“If she don’t hear the roll of those dreadful carts, now very nigh their journey’s end,” said Mr. Cruncher, glancing over his shoulder, “it’s my opinion that indeed she never will hear anything else in this world.”

And indeed she never did.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Samson and Delilah

One day Samson went to Gaza, where he saw a prostitute and went in to spend the night with her.

When the Gazites heard that Samson was there, they surrounded that place and lay in wait for him all night at the city gate. They were quiet throughout the night, saying, “Let us wait until dawn; then we will kill him.”

But Samson lay there only until midnight, when he got up, took hold of the doors of the city gate and both gateposts, and pulled them out, bar and all. Then he put them on his shoulders and took them to the top of the mountain overlooking Hebron.

Some time later, Samson fell in love with a woman in the Valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah. The lords of the Philistines went to her and said, “Entice him and find out the source of his great strength and how we can overpower him to tie him up and subdue him. Then each one of us will give you eleven hundred shekels of silver.”

So Delilah said to Samson, “Please tell me the source of your great strength and how you can be tied up and subdued.”

Samson told her, “If they tie me up with seven fresh bowstrings that have not been dried, I will become as weak as any other man.”

So the lords of the Philistines brought her seven fresh bowstrings that had not been dried, and she tied him up with them. While the men were hidden in her room, she called out, “Samson, the Philistines are here!”

But he snapped the bowstrings like a strand of yarn seared by a flame. So the source of his strength remained unknown.

Then Delilah said to Samson, “You have mocked me and lied to me! Now please tell me how you can be tied up.”

He replied, “If they tie me up with new ropes that have never been used, I will become as weak as any other man.”

So Delilah took new ropes, tied him up with them, and called out, “Samson, the Philistines are here!”

But while the men were hidden in her room, he snapped the ropes off his arms like they were threads.

Then Delilah said to Samson, “You have mocked me and lied to me all along! Tell me how you can be tied up.”

He told her, “If you weave the seven braids of my head into the web of a loom and tighten it with a pin, I will become as weak as any other man.”

So while he slept, Delilah took the seven braids of his hair and wove them into the web. Then she tightened it with a pin and called to him, “Samson, the Philistines are here!”

But he awoke from his sleep and pulled out the pin with the loom and the web.

“How can you say, ‘I love you,’ ” she asked, “when your heart is not with me? This is the third time you have mocked me and failed to reveal to me the source of your great strength!”

Finally, after she had pressed him daily with her words and pleaded until he was sick to death, Samson told her all that was in his heart: “My hair has never been cut, because I have been a Nazirite to God from my mother’s womb. If I am shaved, my strength will leave me, and I will become as weak as any other man.”

When Delilah realized that he had revealed to her all that was in his heart, she sent this message to the lords of the Philistines: “Come up once more, for he has revealed to me all that is in his heart.”

Then the lords of the Philistines came to her, bringing the money in their hands.

And having lulled him to sleep on her lap, she called a man to shave off the seven braids of his head. In this way she began to subdue him, and his strength left him. Then she called out, “Samson, the Philistines are here!”

When Samson awoke from his sleep, he thought, “I will escape as I did before and shake myself free.” But he did not know that the LORD had departed from him.

Then the Philistines seized him, gouged out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, where he was bound with bronze shackles and forced to grind grain in the prison.

However, the hair of his head began to grow back after it had been shaved.

Now the lords of the Philistines gathered together to offer a great sacrifice to their god Dagon. They rejoiced and said, “Our god has delivered Samson our enemy into our hands.”

And when the people saw him, they praised their god, saying:

“Our god has delivered into our hands our enemy who destroyed our land and multiplied our dead.”

And while their hearts were merry, they said, “Call for Samson to entertain us.” So they called Samson out of the prison to entertain them. And they stationed him between the pillars.

Samson said to the servant who held his hand, “Lead me where I can feel the pillars supporting the temple, so I can lean against them.”

Now the temple was full of men and women; all the lords of the Philistines were there, and about three thousand men and women were on the roof watching Samson entertain them.

Then Samson called out to the LORD: “O Lord GOD, please remember me. Strengthen me, O God, just once more, so that with one vengeful blow I may pay back the Philistines for my two eyes.”

And Samson reached out for the two central pillars supporting the temple. Bracing himself against them with his right hand on one pillar and his left hand on the other, Samson said, “Let me die with the Philistines.”

Then he pushed with all his might, and the temple fell on the lords and all the people in it. So in his death he killed more than he had killed in his life.

Then Samson’s brothers and his father’s family came down, carried him back, and buried him between Zorah and Eshtaol in the tomb of his father Manoah. And he had judged Israel twenty years. — Judges 16 | The Reader’s Bible (BRB) The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean.Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Numbers 6:2; Numbers 6:5; Numbers 14:42-43; Numbers 16:14; Joshua 7:12; Joshua 13:3; Judges 14:16; Judges 15:18; Judges 15:47; Judges 17:1; Judges 19:6; 1 Samuel 5:2; 1 Samuel 19:11; 1 Samuel 31:9; 1 Chronicles 10:9; Esther 1:10; Lamentations 5:13

Judges chapter 16 explained

[hannahhook7744]

Badun Detective Agency Detective Profile (Edited on December 2nd, Year 23 due to new information):

Name: Hannah Artemis Hook.

DOB: December 2nd, Year 8.

Status: Dead.

Last Known Address: The Stormbringer Crew (Part Time),

The flat above Hook's Inlet and Shack (Part Time).

Previous Address: The Jolly Roger.

Country of Origin: The Isle of the Lost.

Race: Caucasian. 

Gender: Female.

Dental:? (Profiler does not know what dental is and thus cannot answer the question). 

Height: 3"0 (36 Cm).

Weight: 47.7 lbs (21.63636 Kg).

Hair color: Dark Brown (with a white streak on the left, a teal one on the right).

Eye color: Dark Brown.

Languages: English, Pirate Speak, and Fairy Speak (Fluent),

Latin, English, Greek, Ciazarn, Spanish, and French (Sparsely).

Title: Detective-in-training Hannah Hook, Captain Hannah Hook, The Messenger, and Angel of Vengeance.

Identifiable markings: Mild freckles, very short nails (from her biting them), sideways anchor scar on her right knee, small dot scars all over her left hand, a mild thin scar on her scalp, and several jagged scars on her feet (from stepping on glass).

Family:  Severin 'Bluebeard/Le Barbe Bleu' de Montragoux (Adoptive Paternal Great Grandfather)(Deceased),

Lucretia Hook (Adoptive Paternal Great Grandmother)(Living),

Adelais Hook I (Adoptive Paternal Great Grandmother)(Living),

Nell Frost (Nanny/Potential Adoptive Paternal Step Grandmother)(Living),

Davy Jones (Alleged Adoptive Paternal Grandfather)(Living),

Jasper 'Patch' Hook (Adoptive Parental Uncle)(Living),

Arabella 'Bella' Smith-Hook (Adoptive Parental Aunt-via-marriage)(Living),

Atticus Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Deceased),

Greyson Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Living),

Ian Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Living),

Nevin Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Living),

Ian Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Living),

Morgan Hook (Adoptive Parental Cousin)(Deceased),

James Hook (Adoptive Father)(Living),

Zarina Hook (Adoptive Mother)(Living),

Lady Hock (Babysitter/Backup Godmother)(Living),

William Smee (Godfather)(Living),

Molly Smee (Godmother)(Living),

Samson 'Sammy' Smee (Godbrother)(Living),

Sterling 'Squirmy' Smee (Godbrother)(Living),

Skipper 'Squeaky' Smee (Godbrother)(Living),

Adelais Hook II/Allison Liddell (Adoptive Sister)(Living),

Calista Jane 'CJ' Hook (Adoptive Sister)(Living),

Harriet Hook (Adoptive Sister)(Living),

Peter Pan (Adoptive Brother)(Living), 

Ginevra ‘Ginny’ Gothel (Adoptive Parental Sister/ Biological Maternal Aunt), 

Harrison 'Harry' Hook (Adoptive Brother)(Living),

Icarus (Owl)(Living)

and Midas (Racoon)(Living). 

Education: 1st grade (Partly).

Employment: Worker at Hook's Inlet and Shack (Occasionally),

Worker at Hook's Clock and Curiosity Shop (Occasionally),

Isle Messenger (Occasionally),

Pirate Captain of the Stormbringer (Permanently).

Badun Detective Agency Employment: Detective-in-training.

Skills/abilities: Thievery, people reading, improvised weapons, escape artist, and researching.

Signature:

HaNnAh HoOk.

Notes: 

—Agent is impulsive.

—Agent has little to no self-preservation skills.

—Agent is partially blind and partially deaf, as well as extremely clumsy.

—Agent is not the best at fighting but is good at providing a distraction, running away, and being a swordsmen.

—Agent is also good at improvising and figuring out people's wants/needs (and using them to her advantage).

—Agent has debilitating migraines and sensory overloads. She also gets overstimulated and under stimulated a lot.

—Agent has a debilitating fear of spiders.

—Agent hates shoes.

Edited on December 2nd, Year 15:

Note(s):

—Agent Died on December 2nd, Year 15.

—Due to Agent Hannah Hook's deaths, the 'If I Go Missing' and 'Will' Files have become mandatory for all members of the B.D.A.

Edited on December 25th, Year 17 :

Note(s): Agent has been spotted multiple times after her death in a ghostly form. For theories on how, check theories file 077.

[pantherlover]

An Artificial Night Re-Read: Part 3

Hello again! Onto part 3:

Chapter Seven:

'The odds are against me ever having a knowe of my own' I don't know, Toby, I think there's at least a non-zero chance at this point.

Toby's definitely gotten better at eating whenever she can than she is in this book.

I wonder if Fetch's names are always connected to the person they've copied.

Did Sylvester mention Amandine because he thought she wouldn't like Luna sending Toby into danger, or because he thought she'd be able to stop Blind Michael?

Okay, it makes more sense that Toby was so blase about Blind Michael in the first book if most of the time he was 'old man yelling to get off his lawn' levels of nuisance.

I'm honestly super curious about what Luna's relationship with the Luidaeg looks like. Luna's Blind Michael and Acacia's daughter, so does Luidaeg fight with herself about liking a descendant of Titania, or is Luna being a child of her favourite brother enough to make her at least neutral to her? Luna seemed okay enough with her that she wasn't worried about sending Toby to the Luidaeg for help; have they interacted with each other at all? Or do they politely pretend that the other one doesn't exist?

Chapter Eight:

Can we talk about how Toby and Luidaeg have only known each other for, what - two years? A year and a half? - and Luidaeg already feels comfortable enough with Toby that she doesn't assume that Toby's calling because she needs her? I know Luidaeg is terrifying, but her capacity to love is pretty awe-inspiring.

Also Luidaeg has to help kill her brother! Her favourite brother, one of her only siblings left, because she knew her brother would eventually become a monster and she's the only one who can make sure Toby has a chance to do it.

Luidaeg calls Toby a child of Oberon and Toby ignores it. Luidaeg might not have given the most direct hints, but she really did try to tell Toby about her heritage when she could.

"He'll hold them until Halloween night... and then they'll Ride. It's [Blind Michael's] way of remembering our mother. Her Rides were always held on Samhian night." This is kind of surprising to me, given that we just learned in the latest short story that part of the reason he became Blind Michael in the first place is because he went to his mother for vengeance after his children were murdered and she turned him away.

I have to try to pay attention to when a fancy knife is described now, just in case the knife Luidaeg commissioned to kill Eira with shows up.

Chapter Nine:

Raj!!!! I forgot how many characters we were introduced to in this book!

OOF, Raj is having a *bad* day. Have Raj, Dean and Chelsea argued over who was having a worse time when the met Toby?

Chapter Ten:

"The Luidaeg is the only Firstborn I've ever dealt with on a regular basis, and her power is subtle, damped down until she can seem human to the casual observer. [Acacia's] power wasn't hidden at all." Given that Toby's regularly been around *two* other Firstborns at this point, this makes me wonder how Amandine and Evening were able to hide what they were for so long. I could see Amandine being able to hide her power through some type of blood magic, but what about Eira? Part of it could've been explained by Toby just not having a good grasp on what a normal Daoine Sidhe's powers looked like compared to Evening, but Evening hid it from *everyone*. Were her illusions just that good?

"It's Raj. I... the forest is very dark." Oh noooooo Raj would HATE it but I want to bundle him up in a blanket and hug hiiiiiiim

'"My father says Uncle Tybalt's friend October is an adult." He paused. "And a hussy."' I realize there's no way I could've appreciated this enough the first time I read this, given we hadn't met Samson yet, but this is seriously SO funny. I desperately want to know what Tybalt's behaviour looks like from his Court's perspective during this time period.

Chapter Eleven:

"[Blind Michael] hadn't just changed them on the outside. He'd changed them all the way down to the bone." Do we know what Blind Michael's first children were/what they could do? What Toby's doing here sounds like some kind of blood magic, but I don't think Maeve's descendants are really known for that; plus, everything Toby's ever about her powers are that you can take away a bloodline but you can't add one, which is exactly what it sounds like Blind Michael did. Is it just a really extreme form of transformation?

There's something extra brutal about Blind Michael taking one of the few Roane left, possibly during one of his first Rides. I wonder if that's what caused Luidaeg to try to kill him?

"You're Amandine's daughter, aren't you? You are. I can smell it on you. Why are you here? She never came, and once a road is set aside, no other feet should claim it." So THIS implies that Amandine had a road she could've used to save kids before, or at least used to visit Blind Michael's lands. I would've guessed it was the Blood Road, but as far as I remember the only issue was using that road was that Toby ran the risk of bleeding out before she got back, not that it was closed off from anyone to use. So if it wasn't the Blood Road, could it be a road connected to Janet?

That's it for now! Please feel free to come to discuss things with me. See you next time!

[nicklloydnow]

“In any serious strategic calculus, the “Samson Option” refers not just to a last-resort spasm of pure national vengeance, but to a purposeful set of specific operational threats. When examined together with Israel’s still intentionally ambiguous nuclear strategy (a doctrine most commonly referred to as Israel’s “bomb in the basement”), it becomes evident that these carefully fashioned threat postures are designed to enhance Israeli nuclear deterrence. Indeed, any such enhancement would represent this unique doctrine’s most obvious raison d’être. But are there further steps that would enhance the Samson Option’s effectiveness in this context?

There is more. Because strategic crises in other parts of the world could sometime “spill over” into the ever-unpredictable Middle East, dedicated strategic planners in Tel Aviv should already begin their preparations to “think Samson.” This is especially the case wherever the possible “spill” could concern the threat or actual use of nuclear weapons.

(…)

Among other things, this means meticulously conceptualizing—or perhaps re-conceptualizing—the prospective role of any calculated Samson Option.

Whatever this option’s more precisely nuanced goals, its key objective must always remain exactly the same. That objective is to help keep Israel “alive.” In this duly considered objective, Israeli policy must very conspicuously deviate from the otherwise useful biblical metaphor—Samson, after all, lost his own life when he tore down the temple on his Philistine captors—drawn illustratively here from the book of Judges.

Ultimately, in relevant military nuclear matters, “Samson” must be about how to best manage certain urgent processes of strategic dissuasion. Here, the primary point of Israel’s nuclear forces must always be deterrence ex ante, not revenge ex post. For now, at least, Israel’s presumed nuclear strategy, while not yet articulated in any precise or publicly ascertainable fashion, is likely oriented toward nuclear war avoidance, not nuclear war fighting. From all potentially concerning standpoints, including even the well-being of Israel’s pertinent national adversaries, this is the indisputably correct orientation.

At its conceptual analytic core, the Samson Option references a deterrence doctrine based upon certain implicit threats of overwhelming nuclear retaliation or counter-retaliation—responses for more-or-less expected enemy aggressions. Any such doctrine could reasonably enter into force only where the responsible aggressions had first credibly threatened Israel’s physical existence. In other words, considered as a potentially optimal element of dissuasion, it would do Israel little good to proffer “Samson-based threats” in response to “ordinary” or manifestly less than massive forms of anticipated enemy aggression.

(…)

The bottom-line reasoning here is as follows: Exercising a Samson Option is not likely to deter any aggressions short of nuclear and/or massively large-scale conventional or biological first strikes.

All things considered, Samson’s overriding rationale must be to bring the following clear message to all identifiably potential attackers: “Israel may sometime have to accept mega-destructive attacks, but it surely won’t allow itself to ‘die with the Philistines’ or become the combatant country to suffer more dire consequences.” By emphasizing some overtly symmetrical exposure prospects to existential harms—”Israel won’t die alone”—the Samson Option could continuously serve Israel as a distinctly meaningful adjunct to nuclear deterrence and also to certain more-or-less corollary preemption options.

Significantly, the Samson Option could never protect Israel as a fully comprehensive nuclear strategy unto itself. This option must also never be confused with Israel’s more generalized, or “broad spectrum,” nuclear strategy, one which must always seek to maximize national deterrence at recognizably less apocalyptic levels of possible military engagement.

(…)

Concerning long-term Israeli nuclear deterrence, recognizable preparations for a Samson Option could help to best convince certain designated enemy states that massive aggressions against Israel would never be gainful. This stance could prove especially compelling if Israeli “Samson” weapons were (1) coupled with some level of nuclear disclosure (thereby effectively ending Israel’s longstanding posture of nuclear ambiguity); (2) to appear sufficiently invulnerable to enemy first strikes; and (3) plainly counter-city/counter-value in their declared mission function. Furthermore, in view of what nuclear strategists sometimes refer to as the “rationality of pretended irrationality,” Samson could more generally enhance Israeli nuclear deterrence by demonstrating an apparently tangible Israeli willingness to take various existential risks.

To a manifestly variable and possibly even bewildering extent, the nuclear deterrence benefits of “pretended irrationality” could sometime depend upon a prior enemy state awareness of Israel’s counter-city or counter-value targeting posture. Worth noting here is that such a posture had been expressly recommended more than fifteen years ago by the private “Project Daniel Group,” in its then confidential report to Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. At present, it would appear plausible that this posture is also actual policy.

(…)

In those cases concerning Samson and Israeli nuclear deterrence, any recognizable last-resort nuclear preparations could enhance Israel’s preemption options by underscoring a singularly bold national willingness to take presumptively existential risks.

(…)

If left to themselves, neither deterred nor preempted, certain enemies of Israel (especially after any nuclear strike or exchange elsewhere on the planet) could convincingly threaten to bring the Jewish state face-to-face with the familiar torments of Dante’s Inferno, “Into the eternal darkness, into fire, into ice.” Such a portentous scenario has been made even more probable by the latest geostrategic strengthening of Iran in certain parts of Syria, Lebanon, Iraq and Yemen. This strengthening is taking place despite the US president’s withdrawal from the July 2015 JCPOA, or perhaps even because of this unilateral American abrogation.

At some point, various ominous intersections between a US-North Korean war and an expanding Iran-Hezbollah offensive could create wholly unprecedented perils for Israel. All such intersections, moreover, would be taking place within the broadly uncertain context of a second Cold War.

In extremis atomicum, these synergistic hazards could sometime become so unique and formidable that employing a Samson Option would seemingly represent the best available strategic option for Israel. In a more carefully structured world order, Israel would have no need to augment or even maintain its arsenal of deterrent threat options—especially the most perilous nuclear components—but this more ideal reconfiguration of world politics is still a long way off. Nonetheless, at some point, Israel, together with other future-oriented states, will somehow have to collaborate toward the incremental replacement of Realpolitik (power-politics) or “Westphalian” dynamics of international interaction, an intellectual collaboration that would largely be based upon a too long-delayed awareness that our earth is best conceptualized as an organic whole.”

“Iranian security officials helped plan Hamas’s Saturday surprise attack on Israel and gave the green light for the assault at a meeting in Beirut last Monday, according to senior members of Hamas and Hezbollah, another Iran-backed militant group.

Officers of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps had worked with Hamas since August to devise the air, land and sea incursions—the most significant breach of Israel’s borders since the 1973 Yom Kippur War—those people said.

Details of the operation were refined during several meetings in Beirut attended by IRGC officers and representatives of four Iran-backed militant groups, including Hamas, which holds power in Gaza, and Hezbollah, a Shiite militant group and political faction in Lebanon, they said.

(…)

A direct Iranian role would take Tehran’s long-running conflict with Israel out of the shadows, raising the risk of broader conflict in the Middle East. Senior Israeli security officials have pledged to strike at Iran’s leadership if Tehran is found responsible for killing Israelis.

The IRGC’s broader plan is to create a multi-front threat that can strangle Israel from all sides—Hezbollah and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine in the north and Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas in Gaza and the West Bank, according to the senior Hamas and Hezbollah members and an Iranian official.

At least 700 Israelis are confirmed dead, and Saturday’s assault has punctured the country’s aura of invincibility and left Israelis questioning how their vaunted security forces could let this happen.

(…)

Iran has been setting aside other regional conflicts, such as its open feud with Saudi Arabia in Yemen, to devote the IRGC’s foreign resources toward coordinating, financing and arming militias antagonistic to Israel, including Hamas and Hezbollah, the senior Hamas and Hezbollah members said.

(…)

The strike was intended to hit Israel while it appeared distracted by internal political divisions over Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government. It was also aimed at disrupting accelerating U.S.-brokered talks to normalize relations between Saudi Arabia and Israel that Iran saw as threatening, the senior Hamas and Hezbollah members said.

Building on peace deals with Egypt and Jordan, expanding Israeli ties with Gulf Arab states could create a chain of American allies linking three key choke points of global trade—the Suez Canal, the Strait of Hormuz, and the Bab Al Mandeb connecting the Red Sea to the Arabian Sea, said Hussein Ibish, senior resident scholar at the Arab Gulf States Institute in Washington.

(…)

Iran has long backed Hamas but, as a Sunni Muslim group, it had been an outsider among Tehran’s Shia proxies until recent months, when cooperation among the groups accelerated.

Representatives of these groups have met with Quds Force leaders at least biweekly in Lebanon since August to discuss this weekend’s attack on Israel and what happens next, they said. Qaani has attended some of those meetings along with Hezbollah’s leader Hassan Nasrallah, Islamic Jihad leader al-Nakhalah, and Saleh al-Arouri, Hamas’s military chief, the militant-group members said.

Iranian Foreign Minister Hossein Amir-Abdollahian attended at least two of the meetings, they said.

(…)

Egypt, which is trying to mediate in the conflict, has warned Israeli officials that a ground invasion into Gaza would trigger a military response from Hezbollah, opening up a second battlefront, people familiar with the matter said. Israel and Hezbollah exchanged fire briefly on Sunday.

(…)

The Iranian official said that if Iran were attacked, it would respond with missile strikes on Israel from Lebanon, Yemen and Iran, and send Iranian fighters into Israel from Syria to attack cities in the north and east of Israel.

Iran’s backing of a coordinated group of Arab militias is ominous for Israel. In previous conflicts, the Soviet Union was the ultimate patron of Israel’s Arab enemies and was always able to pressure them to reach some type of accommodation or recognize a red line, said Bernard Hudson, a former counterterrorism chief for the Central Intelligence Agency.

“The Soviets never considered Israel a permanent foe,” he said. “Iran’s leadership clearly does.””

“US Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said Sunday he has ordered the Ford carrier strike group to sail to the Eastern Mediterranean to be ready to assist Israel after the attack by the Hamas terror group that has left more than 700 dead. Americans were reported to be among those killed and missing.

The USS Gerald R. Ford, the Navy’s newest and most advanced aircraft carrier, and its approximately 5,000 sailors and deck of warplanes will be accompanied by cruisers and destroyers in a show of force that is meant to be ready to respond to anything, including possibly interdicting additional weapons from reaching Hamas and conducting surveillance.

The large deployment, which also includes a host of other ships and warplanes, underscores the concern that the United States has in trying to deter the conflict from growing. Israel’s government formally declared war Sunday and gave the green light for “significant military steps” to retaliate against Hamas, a day after Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said US President Joe Biden and other Western leaders had backed Israeli freedom of action to retaliate.

(…)

Along with the Ford, the US is sending the cruiser USS Normandy, destroyers USS Thomas Hudner, USS Ramage, USS Carney, and USS Roosevelt and the US is augmenting Air Force F-35, F-15, F-16, and A-10 fighter aircraft squadrons in the region.

(…)

In addition, the Biden administration “will be rapidly providing the Israel Defense Forces with additional equipment and resources, including munitions. The first security assistance will begin moving today and arriving in the coming days,” Austin said.

Congressional support for aid to Israel is up in the air amid chaos in the House of Representatives after speaker Kevin McCarthy was ousted last week.”

[ronnymerchant]

ABBY (1974)

What a great movie! I love Carol Speed!

She was in- among others-

. the BIG BIRD CAGE (1972)

.the NEW CENTURIANS (1972)

. SAVAGE! (1973)

.the MACK (1973)

. BUMMER! (1973)

. DYNAMITE BROTHERS (1974)

. BLACK SAMSON (1974)

. ABBY (1974)

. DISCO GODFATHER (1979)

. VILLAGE VENGEANCE (2006)

[trutletruffle]

just finished Slewfoot and good god it was good. samson is life and death, only killing denies his nature and destroys him, abitha is dead and the witch knows nothing of mercy, punishment and retribution and vengeance in blood. how abitha needs revenge, needs the blood of those who have wronged her more than she needs to be human and she gets to have it, gets to kill them all and it isn’t the wrong choice it is just a choice.

also the art is top tier i want to eat it i want to hang it up on my ceiling and stare at it all the time i want to live in it