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umbralstars · 3 years ago

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Alright now that I've talked a bit about his province it's time to talk about the man himself. We should all be aware of the few bits of canon info we got about Rufus, but here's my own general thoughts about his character and the relationships he has with his family.

Rufus is 13 years older than Lambert and wasn't exactly thrilled when his parents decided to make Lambert heir instead because of him possessing a crest while Rufus didn't. Rufus understands logically why Crests are useful for rulers to have (the legitimacy they offer along with a powerful Relic if a ruler needs to defend the state is useful and he won't deny that) but doesn't believe a Crest necessarily makes one automatically a good ruler. Recognizing early on the faults in Faerghus' system of governance, and feeling like he has something to prove, Rufus was hell bent on leaving his mark on Faerghus whether he's king or not.

Rufus is actually an incredibly intelligent politician who studied not only the governing systems of old, but also tried to learn as much as he could about foreign governments so he could reform Faerghus. He's been reform minded since he was a teenager. Even spent a good portion of Lambert's formative years impressing his ideas onto his younger brother, until Lambert knew enough to start coming up with his own ideas and debating solutions with Rufus. While the brothers were never the closest, Rufus implicitly trusted Lambert because his brother was just willing to trust and listen to him and that meant a lot to Rufus. He did more than his fair share of criticizing his younger brother, but at least he knew Lambert could find appreciation in that.

As Grand Duke of Itha, Rufus had a certain view on wealth and how a government should be structured.

He firmly believes that wealth should be used to glorify the state through great public works and that a well educated populace along with a well fed and protected populace led to the greatest societies. He still lived large and made it known, but he had a more patriotic attitude towards his wealth and believed he had a moral obligation to spend it on Faerghus' greatness. Under his rule, Castell Itha went from a cultural backwater in Faerghus to having one of the largest public libraries (something that would be replicated in Fhirdiad with Lambert turning the Fhirdiad College of Sorcery's library into a royal one open to the public) in Fodlan and having better urban planning than many cities in the Empire. He personally encouraged the creation of great works of art, poetry, and new magical techniques all for the good of Faerghus. He believed that Faerghus could be a cultural powerhouse and he was going to make it so by Sothis.

Rufus' aspirations weren't just limited to Itha either as he was of the opinion that Faerghus' incredibly decentralized governance style was holding the Kingdom back from greatness. Ever since Loog, the Kingdom had been an almost confederation of various states who paid homage to House Blaiddyd and the royal court but devolved so much power on internal matters they were functionally independent. The Kingdom's codes of chivalry were mostly developed and lauded by the crown as a way to retain some centralized authority and respect, but the various states in Faerghus could pretty much beef with each other as they pleased. Nowhere worse was this problem than in the northern reaches of Faerghus. Because much of the north has sided with Loog there was never any consolidation, so the north was made up of hundreds of duchies, counties, baronies, etc that could give the Holy Roman Empire a run for its money.

Rufus saw all of this as a blight on the Kingdom and made it his life's mission to fix it when he became Grand Duke. Lambert and him were working towards a goal of essentially a federalized monarchy with a strong centralized government. It's the entire reason he started to consolidate power and take out anyone who dared to get in his way. He also has a very 'my way or the highway' outlook on the other noble houses and wouldn't hesitate to screw them over if they don't fall into lines or prove to him that they're incapable of leadership.

Rufus can also be incredibly petty and spiteful if he feels he's been offended in some way. House Galatea is the big example of this. Galatea had been having financial problems for decades before hand, and the Count spurning Rufus on his betrothal request for peaceful inclusion in the Grand Duchy he considered a grave insult. Rufus didn't incite the rebellion as some claim but he did capitalize on it because he wanted to show how weak Galatea was and undermine the Count's authority. A more bloody example came when a smaller noble house in his domain tried to kill Rufus and his heir to take the riches for themselves. While they failed on both counts, Rufus decided to purge the entire family and their supporters with having the ringleaders tried and executed leaving the rest to flee for the Alliance.

The only House he begrudgingly respects is House Fraldarius because he does consider Rodrigue to be a capable leader and they do somewhat get along. They encountered each other a lot and, while Rogrigue is critical of Rufus' certain proclivities, they were able to be amicable to one another. He dislikes how many nobles fled to House Fraldarius due to the perceived aggression on the Grand Duchy's part. But for him, as long as Rodrigue was on Lambert's side with the reform measures he can share power in the north. He and Margrave Gautier have always disliked each other for numerous reasons, but the two don't clash over territory so they can tolerate each other's presence.

Rufus is also a mixed bag of being extremely charismatic, but pretty much only becomes so to woo people or get what he wants. In all other aspects of his life Rufus was domineering and stubborn with his beliefs and in his social life. He was and still is extremely piss poor at handling emotions and this includes his own. He could also be cold and ruthless when it came to pursuing his goals and was willing to do shitty things to get results.

Speaking of doing shitty things yes the man is a prolific womanizer, and every single relationship he has with the women in his life and his children is unique. He does frequent brothels and has done so since he was in his late teens. He courts heiresses to incorporate their houses into his territory or for purely political gain. Many of the children he has had may very not consider him a father at all simply because he's never been in their lives for whatever reason. At bare minimum he makes sure his mistresses and his bastards have at least a comfortable living situation, but that's about it. Rufus is obviously not incapable of loving people or considering his children family, he just doesn't a lot of the time while he never wishes ill upon them. There are a few instances where this was not the case and he was much closer to his mistresses and children, but they were honestly few and far between.

Since I mentioned his family other than Lambert and Dimitri it’s OC time.

Rufus and Emyr

Darya Artemi was probably one of the few women Rufus ever truly fell and love with. He initially approached her in the same way he had heiresses in the past with just intentions of courting her along with her soon to be lands, but somewhere along the line he genuinely did fall for her. When Emyr was born and it was discovered he had a Major Crest Rufus jumped on the opportunity to make him the heir. They never did legally marry, but she was Duchess Consort in everything but legality. Darya was mostly fine with having an open relationship with Rufus as long as he was around for her and their children.

Rufus as a parent is just as domineering as in every other aspect of his life. He could be caring but extremely strict as well and pushed for perfection in everything Emyr did. He wanted his son to be the perfect heir for the province he was building, and be like him in many aspects. Emyr did love his father and wanted to live up to every expectation.

When Darya died, Rufus experienced one of the first major depressive episodes in his life. He pulled away from his children, threw himself into work and all of his vices, and became even harder on Emyr than he was previously. If her death wasn't enough, some of his mistresses felt an opportunity to get ahead and tried to fill the void or even remove Emyr on a few occasions. The houses never really leveled out again and both Emyr and Rufus clung to the perceived stability they had before Darya's death to their relationship's detriment. They never could come close to breaching those vulnerable waters.

When Emyr ran away with Katya, it came after years of strife between him and his father that did permanently damage their relationship. Rufus was devastated when he lost Emyr and Katya along with a good portion of his family. He grew even more depressed, lost control of the court entirely, and never could form anywhere close to a good relationship with his nephew. He lost a good number of relationships during the four years before his death in friends and family. He spent the last years of his life guilt ridden, dogged by horrible rumors, and trying to keep together a country which was begging to rip itself a part.

For Emyr's part, he never did wish for his father to die in the way he did. In some ways he did love Rufus even after everything. Emyr is like his father in many ways and terrified of becoming him in many others.

TL;DR: Rufus is complicated.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe3h oc #rufus blaiddyd #emyr artemi blaiddyd #fire emblem #rufus analysis #oh he is my beloathed #a good ruler until he lost control of everything #and pretty complicated personality wise #he's got his good and his bad parts #blaiddyd bastards #a lot of this IS for my own personal writing and so obviously a lot of it is very embellished #but feel free to take any aspect of this if it jives

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blackwoolncrown · 5 years ago

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This article is a must read, and so I have posted it here. Douglas Rushkoff is a fantastic human, please follow him on twitter here. Check out his books and Ted talks, he also has interviews on Youtube.

Anyway this article is just...incredibly revealing. America is really just one big PsyOp. His comments on civilization are A+++:

“Until quite recently, films like 1954’s Abstract in Concrete were banned for American viewers. Although produced with U.S. tax dollars, this cinematic interpretation of the lights of Times Square was meant for European consumption only. Like the rest of the art and culture exported by the United States Information Agency, Abstract in Concrete was part of a propaganda effort to make our country look more free, open, and tolerant than many of us preceived or even wanted it to be. In the mid-1940’s, when conservative members Congress got wind of the progressive image of America we were projecting abroad, they almost cut the USIA’s funding, potentially reducing America’s global influence.

Well, America today is in no danger of projecting too free, open, or tolerant a picture of itself to the world. But I’m starting to wonder if maybe the nationalist, xenophobic, inward-turned America on display to the world these days might just be the real us — the real U.S. Maybe the propaganda we created to make ourselves look like the leading proponents of global collaboration and harmony was just that: propaganda.

~Once the USSR and the U.S. divided Europe into East and West and the Cold War began, America went on a propaganda effort to present itself as more enlightened and free than the communists.~

Since the great World Wars, America has had a vested interest in fostering a certain global order. President Woodrow Wilson, who had run for president on a peace platform, ended up bringing America into World War I. When it was done, he established something called The League of Nations, which was meant to keep the peace. Thanks to an isolationist Congress, however, the United States never actually joined the League of Nations. That should have been a big hint that America’s interest in global cooperation was fleeting, at best.

During World War II, Roosevelt took his shot at global harmony with his “Declaration by United Nations,” which eventually gave birth to the UN, dedicated to international peace and basic human rights around the world. To most Americans, however, the United Nations represented little more than a way of preventing the sort of war that would again require American intervention. Yes, it was in New York, and yes, it was conceived and spearheaded by Americans but this didn’t mean that America really thought of itself as part of a great international community. The UN was really just a way for us to avoid having to go “over there” again.

This was surprising to me. I grew up in the 1970s, at the height of America’s cultural outreach to Europe and the world. I remember how great Russian artists and ballet dancers would come to New York, and how American artists and writers would go to Europe. There were exchange students in my high school from Italy, France, and Germany. The outside world — the international society of musicians, writers, thinkers that America was fostering— seemed more artistic, cultural, and tolerant than what I knew here, at home. It seemed like the future.

~~~

This was by design, and part of a propaganda effort that began in the 1940's. Once the USSR and the U.S. divided Europe into East and West and the Cold War began, America went on a propaganda effort to present itself as more enlightened and free than the communists. The State Department, the CIA, and the United States Information Agency, as well as an assortment of foundations from Rockefeller’s to Fulbright’s, all dedicated themselves to painting a positive picture of America abroad. This was big money; by the late 1950’s the USIA alone spent over $2 billion of public money a year on newsreels, radio broadcasts, journalism, and international appearances and exhibitions. This included everything from Paris Review articles to Dizzy Gillespie concerts.

The problem was that the image of America that these agencies projected to the world wasn’t the image many Americans had of their country. Information agencies were busy trying to make us look like an open and free society, as sophisticated and cosmopolitan as any European one. So, abstract art exhibits and films, book collections with modernist novels, intellectuals, people of color, modern dancers, and all sorts of avant-garde culture was sent for consumption abroad.

Conservative Americans, as well as the senators who represented them, saw this stuff as gay, communist, Jewish, urban, effete, and an altogether terrible misrepresentation of who we were and what we stood for. Why, they asked, should we be spending upwards of two billion dollars exporting decadent, self-indulgent art and culture to the world?

~~~

So Congress — convinced that there was still a national security advantage, or at least a business justification, in maintaining American global outreach — passed a compromise called the Smith-Mundt Act in 1948. The law made it illegal for the USIA to release any of its propaganda within the United States. Ostensibly, this was to protect Americans from the potentially manipulative propaganda it was spreading abroad. Information is a form of PSYOPS (psychological operations), after all, and we are not going to use such weapons on our own people.

But the real reason for the Smith-Mundt act was to prevent Americans from seeing themselves represented in ways that they didn’t agree with. The books in the traveling library were titles that many Americans thought would be better burned than celebrated. And the overall ethos of the program — to promote America’s internationalism and free society — were in direct contradiction to the values that many Americans held. The Smith-Mundt act created a wall between the image of America we exported to the world, and the one we maintained about ourselves.

By the time the Internet emerged, this division became impossible to keep up. YouTube, the Internet Archive, and Facebook bring everything to everyone. So in 2012, Smith-Mundt was repealed. Concerned netizens saw a conspiracy. Did this mean the government would now be free to use its psychological warfare on U.S. citizens? Perhaps. But the real intent was to relieve the government’s communications agencies from trying to hide their messaging from Americans in an age when hiding such programming is impossible.

~~~

But now that Americans are becoming more aware of America’s internationalist activities and sentiments, many are horrified and calling for retreat. This is the province of George Soros, the Rothschilds, and the Zionist conspiracy — not the good old U.S. of A. I wonder: was the Smith-Mundt Act hiding an internationalist and open-minded America from the few Americans who weren’t ready for it? Or was it simply hiding the nationalist and backwards-thinking America from the world? For all our efforts at telling Europe otherwise, maybe we are not really the modern society we self-styled proponents of public diplomacy like to think we are.

The measure of a civilization’s advancement is its capacity to insulate its people from the cruelty of nature. Right now, Americans don’t seem to be dedicated to that principle. Civilizations build public roads, baths, aqueducts, and later transportation, healthcare, and education into the fabric of society, as givens. Instead of seeing the poor as deserving of discomfort, civilizations see all human beings as deserving of essential human dignity. The more a civilization can spread these basic human rights and freedoms through the world, the more advanced the civilization.

However, this particular understanding of modernity and enlightenment is not universal. Instead of breaking down boundaries and building an international society, America’s current stated goal is to reject globalism, build walls, and treat other nations as business competitors. The America we were once hiding behind billion-dollar international culture campaigns is now the America we are broadcasting to the world. Instead of compensating for our American-made missiles with progressive art and media, now we are justifying their sale and use with America-first rhetoric.

America’s best hope for cross-border connection, identification, and intimacy is its people. This means you and me, sharing our beliefs, aspirations, culture, and compassion with as much of the world as possible. Just as conservatives fought against the export of an America they didn’t agree with is, it’s the progressives’ turn to speak on behalf of the connected and collaborative world we still hope for — even if we aren’t fit to be its leader, anymore.

(emphasis mine)

#civilization #climate crisis #politics #res1st #team human #douglass rushkoff #society #america #revolution #propaganda

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haeddoti · 4 years ago

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This is my first blog-post and it is about some of the books I read between year 7 and 11 in my German high school. These books aren’t in a particular order, I just wrote all of them down and took some notes to guide me along. I’ll give a brief summary and then my thoughts about the books.

Without further due, let’s get into the series!

Nr. 1 “Hexen in der Stadt-Ingeborg Engelhardt”

We read this book in seventh grade and immediately after reading (actually during reading as well) we asked ourselves how and why someone thought “Hell yeah, that’s a topic for 11 year olds” since the book is originally listed for grade 5 and 6.

The story takes place in a German town during the Thirty years war, the witch hunts are running wild and the church is all over the place. The story follows a family of four who live in this town, the father is a doctor, one daughter is read-headed and the other a sleep walker. And although the father is greatly needed in this time, the towns people are really suspicious of the family, and they have to flee the city.

First of all, the book was so dense, it was almost unbearable. Definitely not something for children and yet the book won the “Youth literature award” in Germany, so I guess it wasn’t too bad after all. I honestly don’t remember a lot from it, I know we watched a horrible movie about it and I also remember that the pacing(?) in the book was weird, because the first 80% or so took reaaaally long to read through and virtually nothing happened and then in the last 20% everything happened all at once and it was just too much.

Nr. 2 “Am kürzeren Ende der Sonnenallee-Thomas Brussig”

The only (apparent) reason why we read this book was because we had our final class trip to Berlin in year 10.

The setting is the DDR, East-Berlin to be precise, somewhere around 1970ish. Our protagonist Micha lives in a street which was cut in half my the Berlin Wall and he, unfortunately enough, lives in East-Berlin. He frequent meets with his friends in a nearby park where they listen to West-Music and swoon about Miriam, the neighborhood beauty who is kinda a not-like-other-girls-girl.

All in all, the books is about searching happiness and thinking about how it is so very close and yet never being able to reach it.

It was comfortable to read and overall it was an okay novel. I don’t remember much about it, although I literally read it a year ago. The insight about east-Berlin was cool, and the author definitely implemented own experiences and as someone who grew up in post-split Westgermany it was rather informative and interesting. The quote on the back of the book was also pretty.

“Happy people have a bad memory and rich memoirs”

Nr. 3 “Frühlings Erwachen-Frank Wendekind”

(Springs Awakening)

Oh. My. God. This whole topic was such a BS and I hated every second of it.

The book takes place, once again, in a German Town in a time where there is no Sex-Ed, aka 1900th century, which is also the topic of the book; Sex-Ed gone wrong. Our first protagonist Wendla grows up in a home with a loving, strict mother and far, far away from everything unholy like sex. Our second protagonist, Melchior, is a really smart, really handsome boy who is the top of his class and who likes to read provocative literature which makes him think about masturbation. His best friend is also handsome but really stupid but the social pressure keeps him from dropping out of school- that and his strict, abusive father. Melchior and Wendla fall in love (he hits her with sticks after she metions that she has never been hurt before), have Sex(he rapes her) and after Wendla gets pregnant and dies after an attempted abortion via poisonous plants her aunt have her, Melchior is only mildly devastated. He turns sad, and kinda crazy, after his best friend commits suicide. He has a rendez-vous with the ghost and death itself, he is happy again? I dunno, the whole book was all over the place.

Worse than the book was the discussions we had in class afterwards. One time we had to argue whether it was in-fact rape or if it was just sex. Second discussion we had was about Wendla being a masochist.

The worst thing about the whole topic was the stupid ass movie adaptation.

You think Percy Jackson has it bad? Oh boy. Ohhh boy. The movie plays in the 2000s, graffiti, cool skater boys, rapper-wannabes and early 2000s fashion included. The names stayed tho, cause why not name the male protagonist Melchior in 2001. There are scenes where teenagers, TEENAGERS, go to a brothel. Ah, I forgot.

They are 13-14, book and movie alike.

10/10 would NOT recommend.

Nr. 4 “Der Besuch der alten Dame-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The visit)

(No, not the horror movie)

Oh my goodness, I loved this book.

Picture this. A small town in a German province far away from any major cities with a single trail connection between Hambourg and Zurich, aka the whole length of Germany, where virtually nothing happens. One day, a former resident, comes for a visit. But not just anyone, Claire frikking Zachanassian comes for a visit.

And for blood, because this sixty-something, badass multi-billionaire who got her fortune by marrying a bunch of men who died coincidentally one after the other proposes to the town an offer.

One billion for the head of the man, Alfred the third, who expelled her out of the town after getting her pregnant and lying about it in court after she sued him.

They sent her away in the train, called her a hoe and laughed about her. She lived in a brother for a little while, her son died, and a horny, rich man decided to marry her because why not.

At first the towns people are disgusted by the offer, outraged by the immoral offer and they straight up deny it. “I’ll wait, Claire says”.

You see, the town is really, really poor. Not only because it is in a terrible location commercially wise, but also because Claire bought every factory in the town and brought them all to a stand still to slowly dry the city out. She planned this revenge.

And you see, the proposal of 500 million split between the inhabitants and 500 million for the industry of the city sounds great if you are on the brink of disaster and hunger and misery. But surely, with such an immoral offer, no one would want to commit a crime? Or would they.

Because, now that I look at it, Alfred really did something horrible… maybe, just maybe I can allow myself to stack up some dept.

And Alfred grew more and more paranoid. Begging Claire to stop this, apologizing on his knees, crying and sleeping with one open eye at all times.

We discussed in our class what we would do. We didn’t really came to a conclusion since we had nothing to compare, not one of us was ever asked to make such a decision. “It depends” was our final answer.

They do kill him in the end. It doesn’t end happy, Claire isn’t happy, but she does give the towns people their money. I really enjoyed reading this book. The female “antagonist” was refreshingly bad-ass and the moral despair was entertaining to read.

We learn that Claire is rich and powerful, but that she lost so much innocence, so much energy to enjoy her life in such young years that, as a reader, you cannot not sympathize with her.

Nr. 5 “Das Versprechen-Friedrich Dürrenmatt”

(The pledge)

Hands down the best book I’ve read in school.

This book is originally a critique by Dürrenmatt about the emerging detective novel genre where everything always works out.

The setting is in a Swiss town, 1950ish, and in the beginning the reader takes on the role of an author who meets a certain Dr. H who works for the police. They become friends and take a ride through the mountains. Upon taking a stop at a gas station, Dr. H introduces us to a seemingly old, smoking, alcohol-reeking man and a scruffy looking girl. The narrator is confused, asks who these people are, and back in the car, we learn that this is the former detective, no-one-escapes-me, super-brain Matthäi.

From that point on the narrator switches and we are now in a third person narrator perspective.

Matthäi is introduced again, this happening in the past, as a hard-working, clean, structured man who doesn’t smoke, drink or disobeys rules. No one really likes him in the office, but they value that he just so good at his job. But because he is so unapproachable, they want to sent him away to Jordan.

The week he was planning to travel there, a young girl is raped and then brutally murdered in a small town nearby. And because he is Mister Superbrain, he goes there to help investigate.

The other officers at the crime scene are (understandably) uncomfortable, they don’t want to talk to the family, or the people there in general. So Matthäi talks to everyone. He is a very calm, collected, cold man. So he meets with the family, tells them what happened to their daughter and is utterly, completely shocked when the mother just blankly stares in his face, and asks him to promise her to find the murderer of her daughter. He is shocked by the lack of emotion in this moment and sees himself in this cold visage of the mother. He promises her, just to get away from her as fast as possible, and drives back to be office.

I don’t want to spoil too much because this book is just so good, but oh my god

I’m in general a sucker for drastic changes in character or demeanor (hence why I liked The Visit so much as well) but his book takes everything to another level. They “plottwist” is so incredibly frustrating and nerve wraking to read, the perspective changes provide so much more depth.

And for the first time I finally read a really intricate, morally gray character.

Nr. 6 “Nathan der Weise-G. E. Lessing”

(Nathan the Wise)

This book was kinda eh. If I had so summarize it as fast as possible it would probably be “Religion and accidental incest”. It is about the three world religions and stereotypes between them, about genocide and also about stigmatization. It ends on a nice note, tho.

The only really remarkable passage of this book is the so-called “Ringparabel” in which Nathan answers to the question which religion is the real, big OG of them all. It is pretty nice and the symbolism is really fitting as well. The beginning of the book is incredibly boring but it does get better in the end. All in all not a total waste of time and money but nothing I would read again.

Nr. 7 “Die Leiden des jungen Werther- Goethe”

(The sorrows of young Werther)

Ah yes, no German class without Goethe. This book is written in a way that lets the reader really seep into Werthers emotion because it is written as a letter-novel. Werther is a young, nature-loving guy who (in the beginning of the book) is just really happy, go-lucky and over all nice. Then he meets Lotte, a young, pretty, smart and book-loving woman who is empathic to all those around her. He falls in love with her, despite knowing that she is literally engaged and about to marry. She knows he loves her, her fiance know he loves her and literally everyone knows he loves her and they are ok with it? I dunno. Werther has a severe Seasonal-affective-Disorder. He kinda makes it through the first winter after meeting Lotte but never really recovers, even during summer. In the second winter, he can’t take it anymore and he commits suicide.

I liked the book (not only because I can identify with the SAD). In the end we learn that Lotte isn’t as good as we originally think she is; She is actually really possessive of Werther and although she wants him to be happy, she doesn’t think anyone is good enough for him and thus he should just stay close to her. She enjoys the attention given by her husband, who is actually really nice and whom she does love, and by Werther who is utterly and completely obsessed with her.

Opinions on this book split 50/50 with my friends. Some of them think like me and they see the heart break and the desire to move on but ultimately, the way attraction is so so strong. Some other friends, more specifically my Help-with-Maths-Go-to-Guy hated this book with a burning passion. I can see why. The imagery is sometimes a tad too far-fetched and the wording is, in true Goethe-Fashion really hard to read and the sentences are kinda messed up as well.

But in the end it is still the book which opened the way for Goethe to be one of the greatest writers in Europe and I can see why.

Oh wow. This concludes all the books I read thus far. There will be definitely more to come next year and maybe I’ll do another post like this once I read some more.

I hope you enjoyed to read my thoughts and maybe felt inspired to look into one of these as well!

See you soon!

#books #german highschool #goethe #durrenmatt #my thoughts and opinions #we read more but these are the ones i recall best

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locria-writes · 6 years ago

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i like to imagine utanzhu mc gets into character by sliding yuju a single grasshopper ;) aNYWAYS does the utanzhu clan believe in a heaven & hell or reincarnation? do they have any special mourning or funeral traditions?

pls don’t traumatize poor yuju >.

but yay, lore!!! religion and culture is pretty homogeneous throughout yetakh, so this applies everywhere (of course, there are little regional/provincial quirks)

so let’s start with beliefs about death!

when people die, it’s believed they cross over to the underworld. there is no heaven for the dead -- when people refer to the heavens, they simply mean the gods. hell does exist though. usually, when people die, it is believed they cross over to the underworld, where they will remain for four years before being reincarnated. reincarnation is dependent upon a kind of karma, with those who have accrued good karma being able to reincarnate as a mortal, or a dignified animal/insect (e.g. horse, dragonfly, etc.). the only exception are children who die before their fourth year, which in that case, it is believed they will reincarnate in a year.

the underworld is thought of to be a vast city, not unlike those of the living.

hell is reserved for those who have committed one (or more) of the four great sins --

regicide/patricide/matricide (these are all seen as killing one’s parent, and the provincial princes are thought to be of a similar standing as the high king, therefore they qualify for the regicide as well)

fratricide/infanticide (these are seen as harming one’s family’s prosperity)

desecration of tombs

lying to the heavens (commonly interpreted as any kind of lying, but it refers to one not fulfilling an oath they made to the gods)

in hell, it’s believed that the sinner’s soul will suffer for seven lifetimes before being reincarnated to a ‘dirty’ animal/insect (e.g. rat, worm, etc.).

now, for funeral traditions!

the funeral really depends on the status of the person and their age. the higher status they had, whether they achieved a great feat, or if they were a noble, the larger and more elaborate the funeral.

the body is first cleaned and dressed for familial and religious blessings, and is left untouched in a cool room for at least 3 days (the actual number depends on other factors). offerings and prayers are made at auspicious hours (dawn, noon, dusk, and midnight) in the days that lead up to the actual funeral. for the entire duration, the house is decorated with white silk or cotton, and no gaudy colours are allowed. the bereaved dress in white cotton with simple black or dark grey trimmings during prayers/offerings/funeral procession, and are only allowed muted blues, browns, and greens with no elaborate stitching. women and girls are allowed to only white flowers and simple silver pins to decorate their hair. the flowers that can be placed in the house at this time are white lilies.

the actual funeral consists of final religious blessings from the priest, then cremation. the urn and memorial tablet are then paraded in a procession to the temple. during the procession, there are priests accompanying the bereaved, playing music and chanting prayers.

offerings are burnt to give the deceased a comfortable life in the underworld (offerings are all paper, and made in likeness of money, clothes, toys, etc.). after that, the ashes of the offerings are scattered at an auspicious time, quickly followed by the ashes of the deceased. it is at this time that people are told to openly grieve, the belief being the louder the cries are, the more likely the gods are to take pity of the dead and grant them a comfortable life in the underworld. once that’s done, either green tea or rice wine (depends on the age of the deceased), is poured onto the ground as a last toast.

a paper house and horse are also made, but aren’t burnt and scattered until after the 44th day after the funeral (not applicable to young children).

auspicious times are derived from three factors -- the characters that make up the deceased’s given names, their birth chart, and their age. typically, the younger they are, the closer to midnight their ashes are scattered as a symbol of a long next life.

high kings/heroes have incredibly elaborate funerals. unless the hero in question is a folk hero (like robin hood, or some kind of rebel), there is kingdom-wide mourning implemented. funerals typically last about a week.

nobles usually just have the city they grew up in in mourning, or alternatively, the province in mourning. things are fancy, but still fairly simple. funerals last between. funerals last between 3 to 6 days, sometimes 7.

commoners usually have their families and friends mourn, occasionally neighbours too. very simple overall. funerals last up to 3 days.

but the age of the deceased is the most important factor of all

// no true funeral; the body is cremated as soon as possible, some simple offerings, and no official memorial tablet (it’s become fashionable to make a funerary tapestry though).

4 to 13 // a relatively simple funeral, a procession of the memorial tablet, more expensive offerings, ashes are normally scattered in the last 3 hours of the day, memorial tablet is usually kept at the local temple.

14 to 30 // very similar to the previous age group, just more elaborate. the ashes are scattered between 3pm and 9pm, and the memorial tablet is usually kept at the local temple if the person has no children. if there are children, the tablet is kept at their kin’s home.

31 to 50 // relatively elaborate, expensive offerings are now used (red ink, sometimes even other family members’ blood can be used on them). ashes are scattered between 8am and 3pm, and the memorial tablet is kept at the family’s home.

51+ // very elaborate, only the finest offerings are allowed, and it’s expected for people to write prayers with their own blood and burn them as offerings. ashes are scattered between 4am and 7am, and the memorial tablet is kept at the eldest child’s house, if not applicable, then the next oldest kin.

mourning is dependent on the relation to the deceased, and is considered to have begun once the ashes are scattered. there are 3 phases of mourning

full-mourning

may only wear white, grey, and black clothes. silver and pearl jewellery is allowed, and women are allowed to wear simple decorations in their hair

disallowed from attending auspicious events, such as weddings, birthday celebrations, naming parties, etc.

may not attend or listen to operas

must pray 3 times a day (dawn, noon, dusk), and make offerings at each time, as well as burning joss sticks

men are disallowed from taking concubines at this time, as well as visit brothels

no weddings are allowed

only simple meals are allowed (no red meat, no delicacies aside from bird’s nest and other medical foods)

half-mourning

may wear muted colours with simple embroidery (no gold threat is allowed for nobles). jade, glass, enamel, and beaded jewellery is now allowed, and women are allowed more elaborate haistyles

disallowed from attending weddings

must pray once a day (either dawn or dusk), and make offerings and joss stick burnings twice a day (dawn and dusk)

men are disallowed from taking concubines at this time

no weddings are allowed

joss sticks should be b

quarter-mourning

must pray once a day (either dawn or dusk), and make an offering and joss stick burning during prayer

no weddings are allowed

there are considered to be 4 levels of relatedness to the deceased

'direct’ kin (children, parents, grandparents, siblings, spouse, concubines and their children toward the legal wife/husband, sworn siblings, commoners the high king and spouse)

4 weeks of full-mourning

4 months of half-mourning

4 years of quarter-mourning

‘close’ kin (cousins, aunts/uncles, nephew/niece, commoners to princes and spouse)

4 weeks of full-mourning

4 weeks of half-mourning

4 months of quarter-mourning

close but unrelated (close friends, employees to a boss, husband/legal wife/legal children to concubines)

4 days of full-mourning

4 weeks of half-mourning

4 weeks of quarter-mourning

acquainted (students/teachers, neighbours, etc.)

4 days of full-mourning

4 days of half-mourning

4 days of quarter-mourning

deceased young children are the exception to these, however. there is no official mourning time for them, but most families do half-mourning for 4 weeks, before shifting to another 4 weeks of quarter-mourning.

another exception is the high king. the high king is disallowed from ever entering full-mourning, so they will simply take the time allotted for full-mourning, and add it on to the time of half-mourning (e.g. instead of 4 weeks of full-mourning, the add on the 4 weeks to half-mourning).

throughout mourning, food is regularly offered to the deceased through household altars, or at the temple. prayers are often burnt in hopes of giving the deceased peace, and it is not uncommon to copy out whole books of scriptures to burn.

once the direct kin complete their mourning, it is customary to invite a priest to cleanse the house, and then to throw a banquet in honour of the deceased. the older they were, the more lavish and boisterous the banquet should be. firecrackers should also be set off once every week for 4 weeks to chase away the bad luck and unclean energy.

afterward, there are no real rituals or traditions to complete, aside from the yearly festival of ghosts. during that, if one was close to the deceased, it’s expected to pray, burn some offerings and joss sticks, and release a lantern for them as a sign of remembrance.

#kok lore #oh my god this was 1400 words #anyway this is mostly based off of chinese funerals aka the only funerals i've been to #lots of fanfare and lots of incense being burnt #i always feel a little bad whenever qing ming comes and ppl just see a bunch of chinese ppl bust out food at the graveyard #especially since it always falls near easter #and my family goes ham a whole pig?? hell yeah #Anonymous

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autodidact-adventures · 7 years ago

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History of Tea (Part 6): Replacing China

Britain's population was growing very quickly, and their colonies in the Americas & Asia were as well. They needed more tea, and they didn't want China to be growing it.

Until the late 1700's, they were fine with buying tea from China. The East India Company had a monopoly on this trade, and they didn't really want to look at alternative sources. From 1711 – 1801, they'd collected £77 million in taxes.

But more and more, European traders & entrepreneurs were wanting to control the tea trade themselves, and the trade of other commodities such as coffee, cocoa, sugar, rubber and opium. Kew Gardens was established in Britain, and other lesser versions in other places. “Collectors” could send specimens to these gardens, “to which the British could lay claim as soon as they were in possession of the place where they grew.” [?] Sir Joseph Banks (1743-1820) was a naturalist and president of the Royal Society from 1778; he sent out plant hunters around the world to find such specimens. Many “explorers” were doing the same thing.

In 1778, the East India Company asked Banks' advice on tea. He replied that it grew best from 26-30° latitude, and that it might grow in Bihar, Rungpor and Coochbihar (all in India). Green tea was believed to be a different species, and he said that it would thrive in the mountains; and that “proper inducements” would make sure that the people of Bhutan would grow it. (Bhutan is another country in SE-Asia, north-east of India.)

He pointed out that Chinese people often came as sailors, and that “their neighbours at Honan [Chinese province of Henan] may be induced by the offer of liberal terns to follow their example” in bringing tea shrubs and tools to the Botanic Gardens in Calcutta (India); and they would teach the natives how to process them. He insisted that tea “was of the greatest national importance” to Britain.

Banks stated that China was more difficult to deal with than other eastern countries – it was powerful and self-confident, and small armies couldn't overpower it. It was “vain” and dared to think it could manage its own affairs! They had to pull down the “haughty pride of the Chinese”, although this would be difficult. And the only way that tea could be grown elsewhere was to take plants and put them in similar environments in the European colonies, or in climates in other places that were suitable, such as Rio de Janeiro (Brazil) and St. Helena.

The Netherlands was the first country to take Chinese tea bushes to other parts of the world – in 1728, they were taking them to the Cape of Good Hope (the tip of South Africa) and Ceylon (in Sri Lanka). However, they wouldn't seriously establish tea estates until 1828, and these would be in Java (Indonesia), much closer to China. These plantations thrived, as they had cheap labour. But tea-growing in Java wouldn't take off properly until Indian tea plants were introduced in 1878.

Taking plants & seeds from Canton was a dangerous thing to do – the Chinese government put a price on the head of any merchant they suspected was doing this, and tried to capture their ships.

Two British embassies were sent to China, and both were encouraged to see if it was possible to bring out tea plants. The first embassy was Lord Macartney in 1792 (with Banks accompanying him), and they brought back seeds & plants for the Calcutta botanical gardens. The second embassy was Lord Amherst in 1816, but the plants sent from that were lost during the voyage.

The Industrial Revolution

The Industrial Revolution took place from about 1760 to 1820-40. Human labour was replaced with machines, which were faster, cheaper and more dependable.

At the same time, an agricultural revolution was going on, in much the same way. It began as a method that was focused on improved rotation, use of crops, and artificial fertilizers. Everything was designed to maximize efficiency. Jobs were carefully divided up into part. The maximum amount of machinery & non-human power was used to reduce costs.

This made British agriculture far more productive, in terms of crops per acre and crops produced per person. Britain was using large coal reserves to supplement animal, wind and water power. Many entrepreneurs began to think of how they could use all these new things in the production of tea. The way the Chinese did it was not nearly as efficient.

Tea Production in China

Tea bushes were planted in a rather haphazard way, and the implements used were simple, barely changing from the 800's to the 1800's. Family groups would often go out to pick the tea together. Constance Gordon Cumming wrote about it in the 1870's:

I am greatly struck by the number of girls whom we meet working as tea-coolies, and by the enormous burdens which they carry slung from a bamboo which rests on their shoulder. Each girl carries two bags thus slung, the weight of a bag being half a picul, which is upwards of 60 lb. Thus heavily burdened, a party of these bright, pleasant-looking young women march a dozen miles or more, chatting and singing as they go...The tea-plantations are scattered over the hills, forming little dotted patches of regularly planted bushes. Here the girls and women are busy selecting the young green leaves, which they pick and collect in large basket-work trays of split bamboo.

The naturalist Ernest Henry Wilson wrote about higher-altitude tea growing in the early 1900's: “The culture extends up to [1220m] altitude, the bushes being planted round the sides of the terraced fields on the mountain-sides. Very little attention is given them and they are usually allowed to grow smothered in coarse weeds to a height of from 3 to 6 feet.”

Processing the tea was a very long & arduous task. An early manuscript gives the method for commercial tea manufacture:

Spread the leaves about 12.5 – 15 cm thick on bamboo trays, in a place where the air can blow on them. Hire a ching fu (workman) to watch them. Leave them there from noon until 6pm, when they begin to give off a fragment smell.

Pour them into large bamboo trays. Toss the leaves with your hands about 300-400 times, in a process called to ching. This gives the leaves their red spots & edges.

Carry the leaves to the kuo and roast them.

Pour them onto flat trays. Roll them by hand in a circular direction about 300-400 times. The leaves should end up close and well-twisted. Poor rolling will leave them loose, open, straight and “ill-looking”.

Roast the leaves again & roll them; and then repeat those steps once more.

Take the leaves to the poey long (the fierce fire) and turn them without stopping until they are nearly 8/10 dried.

Spread the leaves on flat trays to dry until 5am, and then pick out the old yellow leaves and the stalks.

At 8am they are “poeyed” again over a slow fire. Turn them once at noon. Leave them to dry until 3pm, and then pack them into chests.

Near the end of the 1800's, Constance Gordon Cumming described the process, showing that it had changed little. It had probably been used for a thousand years.

The leaves are then spread on mats, and are left in the sun till they are partially dried. After this, they are placed in very large flat circular trays, and barefooted coolies proceed to use their feet as rollers, and twirl the leaves round and round, till each has acquired an individual curl...Then the whole process is repeated a second time. The leaves have another turn in the sun, another foot-curling, and a more elaborate hand-rubbing. Then once more they are exposed to the sun, till they are so dried that no trace of green remains. They are then packed in bags, and are sent off to the tea merchants to be fired under their own supervision in the great tea hongs, where the hitherto unadulterated tea leaf receives that coating of indigo and gypsum...Some of the tea farmers have charcoal stoves in their own houses, where firing is done on a small scale – but this is exceptional.

In the late 1800's, pressure from the Assamese industry's mechanization of this process led to attempts in some part of China to use machines instead of humans, but these attempts all failed, for various reasons.

The British agricultural revolution was a product of the application of capitalist methods, and the condensing of small farms into larger ones. The methods the Chinese used were deemed to be incredibly unproductive. The British wanted large-scale tea estates (or plantations) where things could be more productive, and this wasn't possible in China.

Transporting Tea in China

Britain used water and wheeled carts to save on transport costs. In China, getting the tea to the coast greatly raised the cost of tea. Samuel Ball wrote about this in the late 1840's:

The usual route by which the black teas are sent to Canton, is through the province of Kiang-sy. They are first transported down the river Min in Fokien to the small town of Tsong-gan-hien, whence they are carried, by porters, an eight days' journey, over mountain passes to Ho-keu, and the rivers of Kiang-sy, which conduct to Nan-chang-foo and Kan-chew-foo; and then, suffering many transhipments on their way, to the pass of Ta-moey-ling, in that part of the same chain of mountains which divides Kiang-sy from Quon-tong. At this pass the teas are again carried by porters – the journey occupies one day – when they are re-shipped in large vessels which convey them to Canton. The time occupied in the entire transport from the Bohea [tea] country to Canton is about six weeks or two months.

In some places the tea was poled down the river – but bringing the boats back up again required immense human labour. Isabella Bird wrote about it in the late 1800's:

...these men do the hardest and riskiest work I have seen done in any country...week after week, from early dawn to sunset...

Away they go, climbing over the huge angular boulders of the riverbanks, sliding on their backs down spurs of smooth rock, climbing cliff walls on each other's shoulders, or holding on with fingers and toes, sometimes on hands and knees, sometimes on shelving precipices where only their grass sandals save them from slipping into the foaming race below...these poor fellows who drag our commerce up the Yangtze amidst all these difficulties and perils, and many more, are attached to a heavy junk by a long and heavy rope, and are dragging her up against the force of a tremendous current, raging in billows, edies, and whirlpools; that they are subject to frequent jerks; that occasionally their burden comes to a dead stop and hangs in the torrent for several minutes; that the tow-rope often snaps, throwing them on their faces and bare bodies on jagged and rough rocks; that they are continually in and out of the water; that they are running many chances daily of having their lives violently ended; and that they are doing all this mainly on rice!

The terrain was too difficult for animals to be used. Over much of the route (when the tea wasn't being transported by boat), the porters carried huge loads on their backs. Ernest Henry Wilson (1867-1930) wrote about them, stating that they carried an average load of over 150kg each. On a section of the route that was under 225km, it took them 20 days.

With their huge loads they are forced to rest every hundred yards or so, and as it would be impossible for the carrier to raise his burden if it were once deposited on the ground he carries a short crutch, with which he supports it when resting, without releasing himself from the slings.

The porters were paid about one English shilling for these 20 days of work, and “out of this he has to keep himself and pay for his lodgings.” The porters were often emaciated from the gruelling work. They carried tea to and from the ports, and also up into Tibet, which was just as difficult.

There were many middlemen who organized the porters and allowed the transportation of tea through their areas, taking money for tolls, taxes and protection money. This also added to the overall cost of the tea.

Overall, though, tea was still relatively cheap to produce, in terms of labour and land. Peasant households and the middlemen needed the money from it as a supplementary source of income. But the British still weren't happy, as there was no centralized control over production; no way of improving or monitoring quality; and now way of applying science & knowledge to the production of tea, and the protection from various pests.

And the merchants at the ports made a great profit, which the British were not happy about. IN the mid-1800's, Samuel Ball wrote, “Thus one considerable item which entered into the cost of tea to the foreigner, was the Hong merchant's profit.”

Ball also gave the average costs of each stage of production in Chinese currency:

The British hoped to undercut these costs. And as other problems cropped up, it became more necessary to do this.

Opium

The British used several commodities to pay the Chinese for tea in the beginning, when only small amounts of tea were being imported. From 1750 to the start of the 1800's, they could use their hold over India to export cotton from Bengal to China, to pay for tea. But the Chinese improved their own cotton manufacturing, and eventually could produce it cheaper themselves, so this was no use anymore.

The main commodity was silver, which had always been commonly traded from the West to China. For the first 50yrs of the direct clipper trade (about 1720-70) it worked fine. But in 1776, the American Revolution cut off the major Mexican source of silver; and the cost of silver also rose through inflation. Britain was importing more & more tea, and they just didn't have enough silver to pay for it.

In 1758, Parliament gave the monopoly on opium production in India to the East India Company. China had banned opium imports, but Portugal was still illegally importing it. In 1773, Britain took control of this trade from Portugal. By 1776, they were exporting 60 tonnes, and double that by 1790.

Opium was mainly grown in Bengal, where nearly 500,000 people were employed in the huge industry. In 1830, Britain exported nearly 1,500 tonnes of opium to China, which was worth several billion dollars in today's money. In 1833, opium exports ot China were worth $11.5 million dollars (in the currency of the time), and imports of tea cost just over $9 million. Britain was making a profit overall.

The East India Company sold the opium to British merchants in India. These merchants exported it to China, and received silver coin as payment. The silver went back to London, and was then taken back to China to pay for tea.

The Company wasn't officially involved, but of course they knew what was going on. Chinese protests were ignored, or brushed aside with responses that it was nothing to do with the British Government or the East India Company. American merchants had basically the same system, but they used less pure opium from the Ottoman Empire.

Between 1780 and 1830, Britain increased their opium exports to China by 1000. The Chinese authorities tried desperately to deal with it, but constantly failed. They resorted to drastic measures, burning a year's supply of opium in a huge bonfire and arresting the British and Chinese involved.

Britain declared war, and the First Opium War (1839-42) began). Britisn warships destroyed the Chinese fortifications, and they won the war. They forced the Chinese government into major concessions, including huge reparation payments, and ceding Hong Kong to Britain. Amoy, Fuchow, Ningpo and Shanghai were turned into “open ports”, a further indemnity was paid, and the Chinese customs were forced to accept British supervision.

Growing Tea Elsewhere

But the main problem still wasn't solved. According to Edward Bramah, “In 1822, the Royal Society of Arts offered fifty guineas to whoever could grow and prepare the greatest quantity of China tea in the British West Indies, Cape of Good Hope, New South Wales or the East Indies. The prize remained unclaimed.”

And there was competition from the Dutch, who were succeeding in Java. In 1833, Parliament ended the East India Company's monopoly in China. The field was now open. Huge profits were possible, but it was still uncertain if it would work.

In 1828, the Governor-General of India, Lord Bentinck, set up a Committee to investigate the issue. The Committee consisted of businessmen and botanists, chosen by Bentinck. The most prominent member was Nathaniel Wallich, who was in charge of the Botanical Gardens in Calcutta. He showed the Committee a report sent to him by a Mr. Walker. It began with complaints about China.

...the jealous policy of the Chinese government in her intercourse with all nations; the apprehensions which she had always entertained of our formidable Empire in the East Indies; the ignorance, pride and prejudice of the Government;...the rapacity and corruption of her officers; and occasionally the misconduct of our own people.

These problems had hindered efforts to grow tea elsewhere other than China. But it was still possible, he stated.

Tea plants could be easily transported, unlike other things they'd tried (such as mangosteens). But China's resistance was the problem. Foreigners were only allowed in Canton. “It is an acknowledged fact that the Chinese empire is the most powerful on the face of the earth,” so it was able to enforce strict rules on the importing of foreign goods. But Europe's weapons were better, Walker continued, implying that they could deal with China in that way – this was only a few years before the First Opium War.

Walker gave figures that showed how tea was now everybody's drink, “the common people using it as a portion of food.” Each year, the government earned £4 million from tea. And tea was known to grow in other places – for example, reports from Buchanan Hamilton in Burma 50yrs earlier had spoken of a tribal people called the Singphos bringing tea down to the plains in baskets.

Tea grew best on hillsides on gravelly soil, like all camellias, and India had plenty of these, “of very little use to the East India Company.” They could bring Chinese people from Calcutta or the East Indies to oversee the growing & manufacturing. The East India Company was wanting to provide “some reasonable occupation” for the natives, and the Indians would be ideal labour, with their “sedentary and tranquil habits”, and their ability to live on 2-3p a day. And the Company's revenues would increase if they didn't have to buy tea from China (this was before their monopoly was ended).

Bentinck was convinced by this report, and Dr. Wallich drew up a report on the tea plant. He stated that it liked moist valleys and riverbanks, but also recommended growing it on the slopes of the Himalayan range, the Kumaon hills, Gurwhal, Dehra Dun and Kashmir. He suggested that the tea plants be put into a warm nursery for a while, and then transported to somewhere with frost and snow for at least six weeks.

The Tea Committee decided to send Mr. Gordon (one of their members) to Penang and Singapore, and China if possible, to get information, plants, and Chinese people. Gordon also took a questionnaire for the Dutch. How much did it rain in Java's tea districts? Were there fogs and/or snow? Were there trees for shelter; and what about manure & irrigation? How much were the labourers paid and fed? How were tea chests made.

The Dutch answered willingly, and Gordon sent a report back. The Dutch had over 3 million plants in Java. They found it difficult to get Chinese people to emigrated, because they were afraid of the sea, but they had “recourse to forced labour”, which would be no problem in India.

In the 1840's, Samuel Ball wrote about moving tea production to India, and how it would be beneficial for the Indian people:

The population of British India and its dependencies is computed at 114,430,000. Supposing these to become, like the Chinese, all consumers of tea, the impulse which this novel demand for labour would give to a country mainly dependent on its agricultural resources; the new, unprofitable and otherwise unoccupied mountain lands which would thereby be brought under cultivation; the industrial activity its manipulation and preparation would call forth; as well as the new and indirect demands on industry it would develop; and lastly, though least to be considered, but nevertheless of high importance, the new sources of revenue it would open to the government – are all considerations of such vast interest, that it ought not to be a matter of surprise, that the encouragement of the cultivation of tea on an extensive scale, is daily becoming more and more a subject of anxious solicitude on the part of the India government.

If tea drinking became widespread in India,

...when we consider the abstinence from animal food, which is imposed on the Hindoo by his religion, we cannot but think that the introduction and adoption of the Mongolian method of using tea in its broth-like form, mixed with butter and meal, would furnish not only a refreshing, but a somewhat substantial adjunct to his meagre dietary; while the leaf used as an infusion...would administer greatly to his comfort, healthy, and sobriety.

Robert Fortune (1812-80) was a Scottish botanist who would steal tea plants from China in 1848 for the East India Company. He wrote:

In these days, when tea has become almost a necessary of life in England and her wide-spreading colonies, its production upon a large and cheap scale is an object of no ordinary importance. But to the natives of India themselves the production of this article would be of the greatest value. The poor paharie, or hill-peasant, at present has scarcely the common necessaries of life, and certainly none of its luxuries. The common sorts of grains which his lands produce will scarcely pay the carriage to the nearest market-town, far less yield such a profit as will enable him to purchase even a few of the necessary and simple luxuries of life...If part of these lands produced tea, he would then have a healthy beverage to drink, besides a commodity that would be of great value in the market. Being of small bulk compared with its value, the expense of carriage would be trifling, and he would have the means of making himself and his family more comfortable, and more happy.

It had to be decided on where the tea would best grow, and how the tea-growing methods could be improved to make it profitable. The British were soon to discover their location.

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jincherie · 7 years ago

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Crown Jewels | Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: merman/maid!au Words: 4.5k+ Warnings: There’s nothing particularly wild about this one. Notes: KITTEN AND I TALK A LOT AND IT GIVES ME INCREDIBLE IDEAS also lowkey inspired by an idea I had while playing Skyrim (don’t ask I can’t explain the thought process)

You sneak into the castle to steal the King’s jewels and gold and find more than you bargained for.

|| Moodboard ||

Your breath came in quiet, shallow pants, your masked form pressed closely against the stone wall as you waited for the guards on your tail to pass. The satchel of jewels, a distinct weight against your left side, was a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. If the king’s guards caught you with the bag of stolen jewels, let alone at all, then you would be living the rest of your life in the dungeons you’d snuck through to get here. That is, if they didn’t decide to execute you for your crimes first. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo.

The king and queen that ruled over this province were, in a word, cruel. Taxes were high, and all the money taken from the people was spent on lavish balls and parties, and on allowing the royalty to live more comfortably. The previous rulers had treated the land and the people kindly and with respect, but the same could not be said for the current power. The king was a wicked man with no regard for the wellbeing of anyone but himself. His cruelty was known throughout the kingdom and manifested in his truculent temperament and violent fits of anger. The queen, however, was quite possibly the only one to trump her husband. Where his anger ran white-hot, hers ran frozen in her veins. She was cold, calculating, and almost entirely heartless. You didn’t know if she truly cared for her husband or not, but she definitely did not care for her people. They wanted to live the lush, luxurious life of royalty without any of the responsibility, and as a result the people— your people— were starving, and dying.

In a way, that was why you were here. Your guild, while a guild of thieves, was what you liked to call respectable, and stole only from those that could afford the loss. Nobles were more often than not your target, and you returned a sum of your spoils to the people so that they might be able to actually survive and make a living when the royalty and their taxes left them with nothing but a coin to their name. In your eyes, while you admitted thievery was probably not the ideal solution, what you and your guild did was honourable in a lot of ways. None of the royalty, and none of the noblemen, had ever worked hard for their fortunes. They didn’t deserve it, and abused the power it gave them, so why not put it to better use?

You were one of your guild’s prized jewels, and quite possibly the best they had to offer. Other guildmates might be sent on minor missions to retrieve gold or jewels from lesser nobles, but you were always assigned the big game. Which, of course, was why you were here… stealing the King’s prized jewels and gold. You’d also stolen a little something extra, something that was sure to help feed even more families than usual.

Your leader had directed you to go for the jewels and anything else valuable that you could. There had actually been a mysterious delivery to the castle a while back, something that had arrived from the sea with a large amount of guards escorting it. You’d bet that that was one of the most valuable things in this castle besides the king’s own crown. There were rumours as to what it was. People speculated things such an exotic jewel twice the size of a man, to a rare, tropical songbird. Some even thought it could have been a person, brought from a foreign place for the sick entertainment of the king and queen. Whatever it was, you hadn’t caught sight of it yet, and it was unlikely you would see it. You were most likely going to leave this place without it, but with the items you had already it wasn’t much of an issue.

When the enraged shouts of the guards had faded into the distance and you were sure the coast was clear, you moved from the wall and started on your way down the hall. You needed to get to the kitchens. The castle resided on the edge of a cliff, and the kitchens were on the lowest level. It had a door that opened directly to the outside, the cliff’s edge, where there was a staircase carved into the cliff’s face that led all the way to the beach below. It was the early hours of the morning, and the darkness would provide enough cover for you to make a swift escape. Currently, you were on the right side of the castle, but the wrong level. You needed to go at least another three floors down before you would be on the ground floor where the kitchen resided and where you needed to be.

You had no idea what this floor was used for, but compared to the other floors it was much quieter. Almost devoid of life besides yourself and the occasional guard, and you wondered why that was. The walls were still ornate and decorated like the rest of the castle, the halls lit dimly, but it seemed like it was frequented much less often. Shrugging, you continued. That just meant less trouble for you.

As you continued further, wisps of the strangest sound brushed against your ears. You stopped in your tracks, listening carefully. To your left was a dim hallway, and the sound, carried on the slight summer breeze, reached your ears again, only just brushing your senses before disappearing once more. For some reason, your heart had begun to ache. You still had a fair amount of time before dawn, and your superior couldn’t be mad at you for getting distracted if you didn’t tell him about it. Having made up your mind, you adjusted the strap of the satchel over your shoulder and turned down the dim hallway.

As you went deeper the light seemed to leave, the lights on these walls having been blown out. The sound grew more solid and tangible the closer you got, until you suddenly realised what it was. Singing. Someone was singing, and it was so mournful and hallowing that you felt your heart constrict and ache in your chest, your breath catching at the lump that grew suddenly in your throat. You didn’t realise you were crying until you reached a hand up and felt the wetness on your cheeks underneath the simple black mask you wore.

The voice brushing against your ears, so sad and full of sorrow, was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. It was a sound that you didn’t think someone human could ever create, and the language was not one familiar to you. You couldn’t imagine the sadness this person was feeling right now, how all-consuming it must be to swallow them whole in such a way.

You crept closer to the origin of the sound, a doorway up ahead, and tried not to make any noise. You didn’t want the singing to stop. Your fingers pressed against the heavy wood door once you were close enough, gently easing it open. The song grew louder with the removal of the final obstacle between you, and you froze at the sight that greeted your eyes.

A large window took up the wall that faced the ocean, allowing in moonlight that bathed the entire room in a soft blue light. There wasn’t a single candle illuminating the space, the large pool of water taking up the room appearing inky where it wasn’t touched by the moonlight. There, by the window, leaning his naked upper half over the edge of the pool, was a man with soft, coral pink hair. He gazed out the window as he sang, the song coming to a soft end as you stood and watched in awe. There was a ripple in the water, and your gaze followed to see the source. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped you, alerting the man to your presence.

He spun abruptly, startled by your sudden appearance and causing the water to splash with his movements. His beautiful sunset pink tail whipped once as he propelled and pushed himself as far away from you as the pool would allow. The scales colouring his tail shimmered where they met light, and the sight was so beautiful and entrancing you almost didn’t notice the sores and distinct scale-less patches scattered over it. Your gaze went to the man—merman— who was now staring at you with wide, fearful eyes. He seemed… tired, and weak. He looked thinner than he probably should be for his frame, and his skin, even in the current poor lighting, seemed too pale, almost sickly.

You wondered why he seemed so afraid of you before you remembered you were wearing a mask to hide your identity. No doubt even you would be scared if you turned around and saw an ominous masked figure standing there, staring at you. Hastily you reached up and pushed your mask back to the top of your head, taking a step forward but stopping when you saw him flinch and press against the pool wall.

“Ah, no,” you gasped, rushing to ease his distress. You mindlessly took another step forward, hands outstretched and palms facing out to demonstrate you meant no harm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I just heard you singing and followed the sound… You have a beautiful voice, I really am sorry for scaring you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He blinked at you shrewdly, worrying his full bottom lip with his teeth. He didn’t seem to know whether he should trust you. You had to wonder, how many people had hurt him before you for him to act this way? You had a feeling you wouldn’t like the answer, as your eyes fell upon his body and glimpsed at thin scars.

“Are you… okay?” you asked, taking another slow step forward. He didn’t flinch this time. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Jimin.” His melodic voice greeted your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat at the sheer sensation of hearing it. His eyes narrowed at you, more curious than anything, but you could still detect a hint of wariness. “What are you doing here?”

“Me?” you asked with a blink, before grinning and patting the satchel at your side. “I’m here to steal the king’s jewels. I’m going to take them back to my guild and then we will use them to help the people affected by the king’s selfish rule.”

The merman seemed curious, dipping further into the water and moving the slightest bit closer. “You help the people that way?”

You nodded with an affirmative hum, before tilting your head a little at him. Your mind was working, wondering how the king had managed to procure a real, live merman without the entire kingdom knowing about it. You had the sudden realisation that this beautiful creature before you was what had been delivered to the palace, so heavily guarded, not so long ago. “The king… were you what he had delivered?”

Jimin nodded, a saddened frown tilting his lips and creasing his brow as he turned to gaze out the window at the ocean once more. “I was caught not so long ago, by a ship whose captain was eager for gold. He traded me to the king for a hefty sum, and I’ve been in this room since… I miss the ocean.”

You watched as a stray tear welled in his eye and fell, trailing down his smooth cheek, a crystalline teardrop. “I’ve been away from it so long,” He said, voice soft, gaze longing. “I’m dying. Each day I spend away from the sea I grow weaker and weaker. Soon I won’t be anything at all.”

His words caused the ache in your heart from his earlier song to grow. You glanced out the window. Dawn would come soon, but you should have enough time… you hoped.

Biting your lip, you moved a little closer. “How long can you be out of the water? Does it harm you terribly?”

The merman turned, confused gaze finding yours. “A while, but if I’m out too long my body can’t handle it very well.”

You nodded. A while. Okay, you could work with that. You moved a little closer to the edge of the pool, shifting your satchel of jewels to the front of your body.

“I’m going to help get you out of here.” You declared, smiling at him. “I can’t just leave when I know you’re going to be stuck here wasting away at the king’s sick whim. I want to help you.”

Hope sparked in his eyes, gaze glued to your face and taking in the sincerity and eagerness to help that you seemed to emanate. “You would do that?” his voice was a whisper. “How?”

You froze. How were you going to do that? You knew how you were originally going to escape, but how were you going to do so with this beautiful creature in tow? He couldn’t walk with you, so that was out of the question. You would probably have to carry him. Your gaze ran along the length of his body as you tried to determine the best way to carry him with as little strain on both of you. You didn’t think you could do bridal-style, it would be better to spread his weight more evenly than just in your arms. You were strong, but not that strong. So maybe…

You eyed his long tail, decorated with beautiful, flowy fins. Could a piggyback work? It would probably just be like piggybacking someone with only one leg. Probably.

“I’m going to carry you,” you said after a moment. His eyes widened. “With the state you’re in right now, I don’t think you’re going to be all that heavy. Even so, I’ll carry you on my back because I don’t think I could carry you too long in my arms.”

He bit his lip, weighing his desperation to be free of the stone castle walls and back in the ocean against the likelihood of your plan failing. His desire to be free won out. “Okay. Help me up.” He said, moving to the side of the pool.

Water splashed over the edge as you helped him onto the side of the pool, before crouching in front of him and feeling his arms wrap around your neck and shoulders. Water from his form soaked your clothes but you didn’t mind, it was more refreshing than anything. He shifted his tail so you could hold it with your left arm. The scales were smooth, almost glossy, against your skin and you were careful to steer clear of the sores. You made sure he was comfortable before straightening out with a little effort and a soft groan. He was heavy, of course, but a lot lighter than you would have expected. His tail was honestly the heaviest part of him. If he was any heavier you might have doubted your ability to escape. You made sure the satchel of jewels was also secured against your front and began to move.

Your movements were purposefully smooth as you traversed the hallways, since you didn’t want to jostle Jimin and accidentally hurt him. His chin rested on your shoulder as you moved through halls, sticking to the shadows and growing ever closer to your original destination; the kitchens. There was the slightest ache in your back but it wasn’t enough to bother you.

“How did you get caught?” you asked the merman softly, feeling him shift a little against you at the question.

“I had a fight with one of my brothers and ventured too far from our cove.” He said softly, that melodious lilt still present in his voice even at such a low volume. “I was so angry I didn’t realise there was a ship nearby, and they caught me.”

“Ah,” you responded, cutting off as you stopped behind a corner and waited for a pair of guards to pass. “I’m sorry.” You said, once the guards had gone and you had resumed your trek.

You found the set of stairs you needed to get to the lower levels and made a beeline for it, careful not to jostle Jimin. “It’s not fair at all this had to happen to you.” You continued, adjusting him in your grip for a moment before continuing down the stairs. “Do you think your brothers are worried?”

Jimin let out a soft chuckle. “Definitely. They’ve probably been looking for me this whole time, especially Jungkook, even though they’d feel that I’m not in the ocean anymore.”

You were surprised at his words. “They can feel that?”

Jimin hummed in affirmation in your ear, resting his head against yours. He sounded tired yet eager to talk. You wondered how long he’d spent in that room with only himself for company. “Yeah. We’re connected to the ocean; we need it and it needs us. We’re one with it. It helps us tell when there is a disturbance in the waters so we can maintain balance. That’s our role.”

You both fell silent as you reached the bottom of the stairs. You were lucky, they had taken you the whole way down to the ground floor. Now all you needed to do was find the kitchens and you could make a quick escape. The guards had probably left the castle already, assuming you’d gone. In a way, Jimin had really helped you both by distracting you.

You allowed his words to sink in as you moved, following the smell of food and hoping it led you to the kitchens since you didn’t actually know where you were going. Idly you adjusted the satchel so it was more comfortable for the both of you, since it was pressing slightly against Jimin’s tail too.

Jimin seemed to notice. “Isn’t it too heavy?” he asked quietly. “With both me and the jewels?”

You adjusted your grip on him subconsciously, thinking for a moment before answering honestly. “If it comes down to it, I’ll drop the jewels.” You said, taking him aback. “I can always store them somewhere and come back to them, but you’re getting out of here tonight, no matter what.”

Jimin was silent at that. You’d given him something to think about.

Sooner than you’d hoped the kitchens came into sight, and you could have leapt for joy. You would be out of here in no time. Thankfully, as you found when you peered inside, since it was so early no one was in there yet. You slipped into the massive room, only just missing the corner of a bench to your right.

“I am so sorry in advance if I bump against anything.” You said, before moving through the kitchens and towards the door at the other end of the room. Low light peaked through the small window in the wood. Dawn would arrive soon.

Nimbly you managed to navigate the kitchens in the low light provided, and soon you were at the back door. By some absolute miracle gifted upon you by the heavens, when you tried the knob on the door it was unlocked. Beyond pleased by this turn of events, you quickly exited the castle.

The air was fresh and salty as you stepped out, the sky lightening more with each minute that passed.

“We’re almost there,” you assured Jimin, who had grown a little weaker in his hold around you. He mumbled something in response but you didn’t quite catch it and instead focused on beginning the trek down the staircase you’d just found at the edge of the cliff. Soon you would be down on the beach.

By the time your feet touched sand some time later your back ached thoroughly, and you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to carry the merman on your back. Jimin also didn’t seem to be doing too well, his hold more slack than anything and his form growing heavier as he grew closer to losing consciousness. You almost ran down the beach to the water, the lightened sky helping you greatly with trying not to fall or stumble.

The water was cool as it washed against you, seeping through your clothes and hitting your skin. It splashed up as you hurried into the small waves, your form quickly growing soaked. Jimin’s long tail dragged through the water as you waded deeper and deeper. You stopped only when the water was splashing against your hips. Quickly and as gently as possible you eased Jimin off your back, taking him into your arms and lowering him so most of his body was in the water. His breathing was shallow as he weakly clutched at your arms, and he gasped softly when he entered the water. You mumbled to yourself, hoping he would be alright.

Dawn broke on the horizon, and you watched as before your very eyes the sores and painful patches on Jimin’s tail began to heal. Colour began to return to his form, his skin bathed golden in the sunrise, and warmth returning to his face. His eyes cracked open and found your face, taking in your mesmerised look. Before, Jimin had been beautiful, but he’d also been weak and unhealthy. Now, he was��

“Stunning.” You mumbled to yourself, barely aware of your own words as you turned your head to smile at him. “I think you’re the real jewel here, Jimin.”

He blushed pink, pushing you away slightly and beginning to wade on his own as some of his strength began returning. He really was one with the sea, you thought in awe.

“Shut up.” He mumbled bashfully, but offered you a small smile anyway. “And thank you…”

“y/n.” you supplied with a soft smile of your own.

“y/n,” he repeated, sounding pleased. “Thank you, for helping me even when you didn’t have to, and had other priorities. I really… don’t think I would have ever been able to escape had it not been for you. So, thank you.”

You beamed at him. “You’re welcome. I’m happy I helped you, and that you get to see your brothers again, though I’m a little sad we have to part ways. I’m glad I got to meet you, Jimin.”

The merman returned your smile, moving closer to deliver a soft kiss to your forehead that robbed you of your breath and left you staring at him in surprise. “We’ll see each other again one day, I owe you my life after all.” He said, an affectionate lilt to his voice. “Listen for my song, and you’ll know where to find me. Until then…”

Your conversation was interrupted suddenly by the sound of several splashes not too far away.

“JIMINIE!” a voice, cried, and you both turned to look at the source.

Three male heads bobbed above the water several meters away, with the one that had shouted being the closest. Jimin’s face lit up with a radiant smile, happiness pouring from his expression. “Kookie!” he cried, looking almost tearful.

You smiled softly. These must have been his brothers. Jimin turned back to you, unable to keep the new grin off his face even as he seemed to realise sadly that he was now going to leave you.

“Thank you, y/n. Really.” He smiled.

You mustered your own grin. “You’re welcome. You better keep that promise and see me again one day! And don’t go getting caught again, okay? There’s only so many times I can rob the castle and save you.”

Jimin chuckled at that. “Alright,” he agreed easily.

You wanted to give him something, so he definitely wouldn’t forget you. Your face lit up as you had an idea and reached into the satchel still at your side. You pulled out the item you had in mind, grasping Jimin’s hand so you could place it in his palm. It was the little something extra you’d stolen besides jewels and gold. Jimin looked down at the heavy item in his grasp in awe.

“You should have this.” You said, grinning. “I think it would be more meaningful for you to keep. You can go and tell everyone you one-upped the king.”

Jimin grasped the item tightly, looking up at you happily. The king’s crown, golden and embedded with luxurious gems and jewels, glinted spectacularly in the light of the rising sun. You could feel the goodbye in the air, even without either of you saying it. Jimin moved forward one last time, giving you another soft kiss on the forehead, before pulling back. You waved and he gave you a final smile before turning and diving into the water, towards his brothers and the open ocean. Towards his home.

You watched, smiling fondly where you stood waist-deep in the water, as he resurfaced near his brothers and embraced them happily. You would have stood longer, but the distant sound of galloping and angry shouts reached your ears and you spun to see the king’s guards at the other end of the beach. You could tell the second they saw you, enraged yells growing louder, and you took that as your cue to leave.

You turned, seeing Jimin and his brothers had noticed them too, and waved, calling a hurried farewell. “Bye! See you again sometime! Stay safe!”

At the sound of the guards taking off towards you, you abruptly turned and rushed out of the water, legs straining until they were free of the tide, when you promptly took flight and sprinted up the beach. There was a dense forest that met the short area of grass before the sand, at the top of the beach. You would aim for there, since it would be easier to lose them that way. You just had to get around the edge of the cliff first. Thankfully, you weren’t too far from it.

Jimin watched as you sprinted away from the guards, nimble legs carrying you quickly enough to allow a swift escape. His eyes followed as you rounded the cliff and made for the forest. You soon disappeared within, and the guards followed, albeit with more difficulty. You seemed perfectly capable, and he didn’t doubt you knew what you were doing. He was happy you would be safe soon.

As his brothers grasped his arms and tugged him beneath the surface and towards their home, he couldn’t help but think how this, all of this he was experiencing right now, was only possible because of you. He felt so grateful, he wanted nothing but to repay the favour one day.

Looking to the shiny crown in his grasp, he let a small smile onto his lips. He would definitely see you again someday soon, and this time it would be to sing you a song that would win your heart.

#jimin x reader #mermaid!au #mermaid!au jimin x reader #jimin scenario #merman jimin #merman!au #merman!au jimin x reader #SURPRISE #bet you thought the other Timid drabble was next #well surprise!!!!!!#my work #oneshot #rbuns #bts scenarios

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dfroza · 5 years ago

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A dream that was shared

although those closest to him, his own brothers, despised it. even to the point of rejecting him and lying to their father to deceive him into thinking his son had died in a terrible tragedy.

this is the History that is read Today from the book of Genesis in the 36 verses of chapter 37:

Meanwhile Jacob had settled down where his father had lived, the land of Canaan.

[Joseph and His Brothers]

This is the story of Jacob. The story continues with Joseph, seventeen years old at the time, helping out his brothers in herding the flocks. These were his half brothers actually, the sons of his father’s wives Bilhah and Zilpah. And Joseph brought his father bad reports on them.

Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons because he was the child of his old age. And he made him an elaborately embroidered coat. When his brothers realized that their father loved him more than them, they grew to hate him—they wouldn’t even speak to him.

Joseph had a dream. When he told it to his brothers, they hated him even more. He said, “Listen to this dream I had. We were all out in the field gathering bundles of wheat. All of a sudden my bundle stood straight up and your bundles circled around it and bowed down to mine.”

His brothers said, “So! You’re going to rule us? You’re going to boss us around?” And they hated him more than ever because of his dreams and the way he talked.

He had another dream and told this one also to his brothers: “I dreamed another dream—the sun and moon and eleven stars bowed down to me!”

When he told it to his father and brothers, his father reprimanded him: “What’s with all this dreaming? Am I and your mother and your brothers all supposed to bow down to you?” Now his brothers were really jealous; but his father brooded over the whole business.

His brothers had gone off to Shechem where they were pasturing their father’s flocks. Israel said to Joseph, “Your brothers are with flocks in Shechem. Come, I want to send you to them.”

Joseph said, “I’m ready.”

He said, “Go and see how your brothers and the flocks are doing and bring me back a report.” He sent him off from the valley of Hebron to Shechem.

A man met him as he was wandering through the fields and asked him, “What are you looking for?”

“I’m trying to find my brothers. Do you have any idea where they are grazing their flocks?”

The man said, “They’ve left here, but I overheard them say, ‘Let’s go to Dothan.’” So Joseph took off, tracked his brothers down, and found them in Dothan.

They spotted him off in the distance. By the time he got to them they had cooked up a plot to kill him. The brothers were saying, “Here comes that dreamer. Let’s kill him and throw him into one of these old cisterns; we can say that a vicious animal ate him up. We’ll see what his dreams amount to.”

Reuben heard the brothers talking and intervened to save him, “We’re not going to kill him. No murder. Go ahead and throw him in this cistern out here in the wild, but don’t hurt him.” Reuben planned to go back later and get him out and take him back to his father.

When Joseph reached his brothers, they ripped off the fancy coat he was wearing, grabbed him, and threw him into a cistern. The cistern was dry; there wasn’t any water in it.

Then they sat down to eat their supper. Looking up, they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites on their way from Gilead, their camels loaded with spices, ointments, and perfumes to sell in Egypt. Judah said, “Brothers, what are we going to get out of killing our brother and concealing the evidence? Let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites, but let’s not kill him—he is, after all, our brother, our own flesh and blood.” His brothers agreed.

By that time the Midianite traders were passing by. His brothers pulled Joseph out of the cistern and sold him for twenty pieces of silver to the Ishmaelites who took Joseph with them down to Egypt.

Later Reuben came back and went to the cistern—no Joseph! He ripped his clothes in despair. Beside himself, he went to his brothers. “The boy’s gone! What am I going to do!”

They took Joseph’s coat, butchered a goat, and dipped the coat in the blood. They took the fancy coat back to their father and said, “We found this. Look it over—do you think this is your son’s coat?”

He recognized it at once. “My son’s coat—a wild animal has eaten him. Joseph torn limb from limb!

Jacob tore his clothes in grief, dressed in rough burlap, and mourned his son a long, long time. His sons and daughters tried to comfort him but he refused their comfort. “I’ll go to the grave mourning my son.” Oh, how his father wept for him.

In Egypt the Midianites sold Joseph to Potiphar, one of Pharaoh’s officials, manager of his household affairs.

The Book of Genesis, Chapter 37 (The Message)

accompanied by chapter 8 in the Letter of 2nd Corinthians that points to people helping each other:

[The Offering]

Now, friends, I want to report on the surprising and generous ways in which God is working in the churches in Macedonia province. Fierce troubles came down on the people of those churches, pushing them to the very limit. The trial exposed their true colors: They were incredibly happy, though desperately poor. The pressure triggered something totally unexpected: an outpouring of pure and generous gifts. I was there and saw it for myself. They gave offerings of whatever they could—far more than they could afford!—pleading for the privilege of helping out in the relief of poor Christians.

This was totally spontaneous, entirely their own idea, and caught us completely off guard. What explains it was that they had first given themselves unreservedly to God and to us. The other giving simply flowed out of the purposes of God working in their lives. That’s what prompted us to ask Titus to bring the relief offering to your attention, so that what was so well begun could be finished up. You do so well in so many things—you trust God, you’re articulate, you’re insightful, you’re passionate, you love us—now, do your best in this, too.

I’m not trying to order you around against your will. But by bringing in the Macedonians’ enthusiasm as a stimulus to your love, I am hoping to bring the best out of you. You are familiar with the generosity of our Master, Jesus Christ. Rich as he was, he gave it all away for us—in one stroke he became poor and we became rich.

So here’s what I think: The best thing you can do right now is to finish what you started last year and not let those good intentions grow stale. Your heart’s been in the right place all along. You’ve got what it takes to finish it up, so go to it. Once the commitment is clear, you do what you can, not what you can’t. The heart regulates the hands. This isn’t so others can take it easy while you sweat it out. No, you’re shoulder to shoulder with them all the way, your surplus matching their deficit, their surplus matching your deficit. In the end you come out even. As it is written,

Nothing left over to the one with the most,

Nothing lacking to the one with the least.

I thank God for giving Titus the same devoted concern for you that I have. He was most considerate of how we felt, but his eagerness to go to you and help out with this relief offering is his own idea. We’re sending a companion along with him, someone very popular in the churches for his preaching of the Message. But there’s far more to him than popularity. He’s rock-solid trustworthy. The churches handpicked him to go with us as we travel about doing this work of sharing God’s gifts to honor God as well as we can, taking every precaution against scandal.

We don’t want anyone suspecting us of taking one penny of this money for ourselves. We’re being as careful in our reputation with the public as in our reputation with God. That’s why we’re sending another trusted friend along. He’s proved his dependability many times over, and carries on as energetically as the day he started. He’s heard much about you, and liked what he’s heard—so much so that he can’t wait to get there.

I don’t need to say anything further about Titus. We’ve been close associates in this work of serving you for a long time. The brothers who travel with him are delegates from churches, a real credit to Christ. Show them what you’re made of, the love I’ve been talking up in the churches. Let them see it for themselves!

The Letter of 2nd Corinthians, Chapter 8 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, march 4 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

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junker-town · 7 years ago

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Sidney Crosby’s 30 biggest moments from his road to NHL stardom

The Penguins captain turns 30 today, so let’s celebrate by reflecting on the moments that propelled him to greatness.

Sidney Crosby has officially turned 30 years old. It seems quite incredible that one of the greatest hockey players of this time has reached his 30s, but it’s true! The captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins has hit yet another milestone in his long hockey career.

By NHL standards, Crosby should be in the midst of a decline as a forward in this league. Yet, the last few years have been some of Crosby’s best in the NHL and in international competition. The future generation of hockey players are here in Connor McDavid and Auston Matthews, but Crosby’s recent dominance has shown that he’s not done quite yet. And love him or hate him, he’s here to stay.

As such, we’re here to celebrate Crosby’s long, industrious, and historic hockey career with a list of 30 moments, stories, or general pieces of fun that make up his story to date.

1. His humble origins

Crosby famously grew up practicing hockey in his basement, dinging up the dryer next to the net in the process. That story became so famous that people now believe Crosby actually shot pucks into the dryer itself, as he performed that feat for Jay Leno back in 2005. The machine now resides in the Nova Scotia Sport Hall of Fame, though the misconception of the story lives on.

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2. His name is on his hometown’s sign

He’s Cole Harbour’s claim to fame!

3. His younger sister, Taylor, also plays hockey

And her bio at St. Cloud State is quite nonchalant about their relationship.

I love our Captain... but I also love how his sister's college hockey team addresses him in her team bio: http://pic.twitter.com/ZjjZxvQ1dW

— Jody (@jlhorn33) July 14, 2017

4. The Penguins had a 6.3 percent chance to win the 2005 draft lottery

Because of the 2004-’05 lockout, the NHL draft lottery for the following year was based on playoff appearances and draft lottery victories in the last four years. The previous year, the Penguins missed out on the top spot to grab Alex Ovechkin, raising their chance to draft Crosby in 2005 by 2.1 percent.

5. His first career NHL goal was assisted by Mark Recchi

Not a bad way to start your NHL career than on the receiving end of a pass from a future Hall of Famer.

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6. At the start of his career, he lived with Mario Lemieux

The championship pedigree runs strong in Crosby’s early career, though he played just 26 games with Lemieux before he retired due to an irregular heartbeat.

7. Despite a strong first season, he did NOT win the Calder Trophy

Crosby’s 102 points were not enough to best Ovechkin’s 106 at the end of the 2005-’06 season, and so the famous “rivalry” began.

8. He’s set records as the youngest NHL player for a lot of things

That includes being the youngest player to:

Score 100 points in a single season (18 years, 253 days old)

Win the Art Ross Trophy (19 years old)

Win the Ted Lindsay Award (19 years old)

Be named to the NHL's First All-Star Team (19 years old)

Score 200 career points (20 years old)

Tally two consecutive 100-point seasons (20 years old)

Win the Stanley Cup as a captain since 1895 (21 years old)

His Art Ross Trophy win also signifies him as the only teenage scoring champion in any major North American professional sport.

9. At the time, he was the NHL’s youngest captain

Crosby was named the captain for the Penguins when he was 19 years and 297 days old, an honor he actually turned down when he was 18 because he didn’t think he was ready. Connor McDavid now has him beat at 19 years and 266 days old, but that record stood for nearly 10 years.

10. His commercials are no better than any other star athlete

Please stop subjecting poor athletes to these things.

11. His pregame rituals are precise

And he eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before every game!

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12. At one point in his life, he owned a PSP

No news if Crosby has upgraded to a Nintendo Switch these days for those cross-country flights.

13. He’s also on a stamp

In the past, Canada celebrated great hockey legacies with commemorative stamps, and Crosby graced Canada Post’s “2016 NHL Great Canadian Forwards” alongside Phil Esposito, Guy Lafleur, Darryl Sittler, Mark Messier, and Steve Yzerman.

14. He’s the most decorated hockey athlete of his time

To his name across 12 NHL seasons, Crosby has:

Three Stanley Cups (2009, 2016, 2017)

Four Eastern Conference championships (2008, 2009, 2016, 2017)

Two Conn Smythe trophies (2016, 2017)

Two Art Ross trophies (2007, 2014)

Two Rocket Richard trophies (2010, 2017)

Three Ted Lindsay awards (2007, 2013, 2014)

Two Hart trophies (2007, 2014)

Six NHL All-Star selections (2007, 2008, 2009, 2011, 2015, 2017)

A World Junior gold medal (2005)

Two Olympic gold medals (2010, 2014)

A World Cup of Hockey gold medal (2016)

15. He won Canada its first Olympic hockey gold medal on home ice

Crosby’s “golden goal” in the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver gave Canada a 3-2 victory in overtime against the United States, helping the team to its first Olympic gold in the sport on home ice. Canada has hosted the Olympics three times, and its previous attempt in Calgary in 1988 fell short of the medal podium with a fourth-place finish.

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16. Alongside all his hockey hardware, he has an Emmy award

Yes, Crosby is one fourth of the way to an EGOT. His role in the Penguins-produced special, “There's No Place Like Home With Sidney Crosby,” won in 2016 in the “sports program one-time special” category.

17. He’s a member of the Order of Nova Scotia

In 2008, Crosby was awarded the highest civilian honor in Nova Scotia for "significant contributions to the province and the country."

18. Growing up, he was a fan of the Montreal Canadiens

Crosby’s dad was drafted by Montreal in 1984 with the 240th overall pick, though he never played at the NHL level.

19. He once skipped the line at a DMV, to controversy!

In Pennsylvania, celebrities get special treatment at DMVs to avoid large crowds at already packed places. In 2013, Crosby skipped the line in Allegheny County and it caused quite the stir with local Pennsylvanians, who said “he should have to sit and wait with everyone else,” according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

20. The number 87 has followed him forever

Crosby was born on Aug. 7, 1987 (or 8/7/87) and he wears the number 87 for the Penguins. In his recent contract extension signed in 2012, Crosby negotiated his contract to, wait for it, average $8.7 million per season over the next 12 years.

21. The 2016-17 season was one of his best in recent memory

Despite a concussion in the beginning of the season that kept Crosby out for a few weeks, he managed to put up 44 goals — his best since the 2009-’10 season — to win the Rocket Richard Trophy for the most goals in the NHL. Crosby’s shooting percentage of 17.3 was also his highest for a full season in his career, just barely beating out his 17.1 percent mark in 2009-10.

22. Peyton Manning texted him after his latest Stanley Cup win

From one G.O.A.T. to another!

Crosby said Peyton Manning texted him after the win. "I thought that was pretty cool. Didn't realize he followed hockey that much" -MC

— Pens Inside Scoop (@PensInsideScoop) June 15, 2017

23. He’s not the cleanest player

From allegations of whining that plagued him in his first few years in the league to chopping off part of Marc Methot’s finger and punching P.K. Subban’s head into the ice, Crosby hasn’t had the cleanest NHL career. Yet again, who has?

24. But he’s one of the most punished players in the league

On the flip side, Crosby’s star status means he gets pushed around A LOT by opposing players. One of the reasons the Penguins brought in tough guy Ryan Reaves this offseason is because players take liberties when Crosby is on the ice. Though Crosby sometimes gets the calls, there are a lot of instances that never get caught.

25. Concussions have plagued him throughout his career

To date, Crosby has had five concussions and has missed a total of 114 games due to concussion-related symptoms.

26. He doesn’t know if he’ll play until age 40

In an interview with NHL.com in January, Crosby said he isn’t sure if he’d still be playing at age 40:

"For whatever reason, the last couple years and even playing with a guy like [Matt Cullen], it crosses my mind and I'm thinking, 'He's 40. I don't know if I could do that.' My contract is until I'm 37, so that's where I see myself playing until, and then we'll see from there. You see where your body is and how everything goes.

"But 37 is pretty good. There's not a lot of guys playing at that age these days."

27. Time named him one of the most influential people in 2007

And at age 19 no less. Crosby has certainly come a long way since then.

28. He has a big love for history

Crosby recently took a college course at Southern New Hampshire University in the middle of the season through the NHL Players Association. His topic for his final paper? World War II.

29. He’s a member of the Triple Gold Club

In 2015, Crosby became the 26th member of the Triple Gold Club, hockey’s elite group of players who have won an Olympic gold medal, a World Championship gold medal, and the Stanley Cup.

30. He’s 30 years old and still at the peak of his career

If he can stay healthy, Crosby still has a long NHL career ahead of him. And how lucky we are to have him in the NHL. Happy 30th birthday, Sidney Crosby!

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wandering-chronicler-blog · 7 years ago

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The Wolf of Farore - Chapter 3

An Ongoing Zelda/Witcher Fusion Fic - Updates Wednesdays/Thursdays

[First] [Previous] [Next] [Archive] [On Ao3]

Summary:

War has come to The Kingdom of Hyrule. The people cry for a savior as monsters and spirits stalk the once green fields of the provinces. Famine grips the populace as the Gerudo Tribes and their blin allies strike along the borders. Hope for peace begins to drown in the blood spilled in No Man’s Land. But Hyrule doesn’t need another hero. It needs a professional.

The Story So Far:

Upon arriving in a refugee camp on Death Mountain run by the gorons who live there, Link is brought in ropes to the big boss, Darunia. He is able to convince him that he can look into determining why the dragon that lives in the mountain range attacked the camp. With the help of the scholar Gorko, the hylian hexer begins his investigation.

CHAPTER 3: PUTTING A PUZZLE TOGETHER

The sun was starting to peek over the horizon when he walked out again. There was still the scent of scorched earth in the air even though the fires had been put out. Link watched as the dead were counted. The gorons started taking the dead bodies and carefully pile them on an unlit pyre. He looked to see some of the refugees standing near them. Some helped, others wept. Many were human, while a few were hylian or even gerudo. Link merely closed his eyes and bowed his head. These were the people who needed him.

Link walked to where Epona had been hitched. “Time to get to work,” he said to the mare. He dug through the saddle bags for a moment before pulling a bottle of milk and another with a label that read ‘lupine sense’. He uncorked the second bottle and drank it. The liquid felt like ice as it went down his throat in spite of being kept in the warm saddle bag. He coughed and clenched his eyes shut as it took effect. A moment later he opened his eyes and saw the world with greater clarity. The smell of the dead grew potent in his nostrils, almost to the point he felt vomit rising in his throat. The wind clearly whistled in his ears and hushed conversations among the refugees became clear if he focused on them.

Link looked among the refugees again. He could see spirits standing among them; with the ones they’d loved in life or had found camaraderie with. Other spirits wandered the camp as well though. It was these he looked to. They wandered the camp, going through the motions of the events before the attack. Others shook and rocked in place but each was an echo of a life now gone. He’d done this before though, and needed to first find the scent of the attacker. He inhaled deeply as his sharpened senses worked to determine which one belonged to the attacker. It took a little effort, but he managed to climb onto the archive dome and inspect the claw marks, where its scent was strongest. Though it had gone to the skies, it was enough that if he used the rest of the lupine sense elixir in the caves, he’d recognize and be able to follow it if they needed to.

As he climbed down, he’d noticed, a couple refugees and the same guard who had brought him to see Darunia were now watching. They muttered about his strange behavior, but seemingly ignored him as he walked past. He’d heard these before though when he investigated. Alfonzo had always said to treat the investigations like the puzzles in the temple trials for potentials. Once he’d climbed down, he went to one of the ruined tents. The few belongings within it were scorched black. He picked up a canvas doll that had somehow survived the inferno and inspected it for a moment before gently putting it aside.

“What are you doing?” a small voice asked.

He looked up from his kneeling position and over his shoulder. A young boy stood there in ripped clothes. His dark hair was matted and long, falling over his eyes while his hands were burned and bandaged. The boy was around the same age he and Aryll had been found by the Chosen of The Crown in Aboda more than twenty years ago now. “Putting a puzzle together,” Link said.

His large eyes watched the hylian’s digging with intense interest. “You’re trying to put the tent back together?”

“No. I’m trying to figure out why the dragon attacked.” He picked up a blackened book. With his sharpened senses from the potion, he looked it over, but found nothing of use. There were no weapons, no armors, nothing to suggest the refugee had lost everything or never had them to begin with. Curiously though, he found some jewelry and gold. It was damaged horribly, but together enough that it was recognizable.

“But it’s a dragon…”

“And?” He looked back over his shoulder again.

“And it’s… It’s a dragon. Dragons are monsters that hoard treasures. Different kinds of treasures. They’re not dumb animals.”

Link nodded a little hearing the explanation. It was true. “Understand your enemy and you will increase your chances of victory.” He thought back on some of his past work, before the war. A small smile appeared on his face for a moment. “You may find that your enemy is just someone trying to help their friends like you are. And if you can reason with them, you may make a new friend.” He looked back at the ruined tent at the jewels. They didn’t appear to be incredibly valuable, but they had been left. He went to check another scorched tent and dug through the ash.

“So you want to be its friend?”

“Better than making an enemy.” Link picked up another ruined box. He pried it open with his knife, finding a few gemstones within and a charm similar to the one he’d tied around the knight’s wrists. Placing his index and middle finger on it, he sent a faint pulse of magic into it, but nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a poor copy. “It depends on how things go.” He stood up after putting the box back down and thought on his knowledge of some dragons in the past. Clearly this one did not value material wealth. He stood up again and resumed inspecting the site before looking at the child. “Were your parents in the attack?”

He shook his head. “Me and my sister. We came here with Joli. Do you know Joli?”

Though he wasn’t aware of it, his eyes widened and watered slightly. “I don’t.” He briefly glanced up from them to see the spirits pass through some of the others there. The funeral pyre began to burn as a goron spoke the rites to grant the dead peace.

“He’s funny. Always looking for shiny things. Ran into a grotto looking for treasure! He ran out when there were keese in it.”

That sounded like someone else he knew. When he looked up though, thanks to the potion, he saw a pale green, partially transparent man standing next to him. They’d been burned horribly and very little was able to help Link identify them. He did not let on to the child he could see their guardian next to them. “I know a man like that,” he said. “He helped me when I was in the South Seas.”

“You’ve been all the way to the sea?!” The child’s eyes were wide in surprise.

Link nodded.

“What’s it like?!”

“Well, it’s a number of islands, with the big ones being Windfall, Dragon Roost and Mercay. You know about rito?”

The child nodded eagerly, grinning.

“There’s a tribe from Dragon Roost. And they know just by listening to the winds if something is wrong with them. There are pirates. And zora. But not like the ones you’d see along the rivers. They’d have trouble if they came up the rivers into Hyrule.”

“Why?”

“They’re used to the warmer salt water. And the cooler freshwater in the rivers is difficult for them to adapt to. They can but it’s not comfortable for them.”

He took another couple minutes to answer the questions the child asked. He did not share his deeds though. Taking a moment to amuse them he felt would help them both. They were only one of many that had lost their families in the war and he felt some camaraderie to them. Even if it was only because him and his sister Aryll were orphans of another bloody war a little more than twenty years ago. He finished looking around and took a long drink from the bottle of milk. The spirits started to fade from his sight. The stench of death was dulled as well as his hearing back to more human levels. It would still be another hour before his senses were truly normal again, but he knew the enhanced senses could be problematic. The hearing in particular he’d found was the worst part.

He walked back to Epona and stowed the bottles. “So,” he said to her. “We have a dragon. One that does not hoard valuables or jewels that has stayed out of human conflicts for as long as anyone can remember.”

The horse flicked an ear and blinked at him as he reached up to give her snout a stroke. “Gorko mentioned knights going after it though,” he continued. “Maybe there’s some records of the more recent attempts.” He went back into the archive dome then.

It looked cleaner than the first time he’d entered, but there was still plenty of cleaning to be done. A couple refugees were shelving the books now while Gorko had a huge stack of them on two desks. He sat at one and flipped through it slowly, taking down notes in another book. He looked up as he saw Link approached. “Anything new outside?”

“A few things,” Link said. “This one doesn’t appear to have any desire to hoard treasures.”

“Sometimes dragons are pretty territorial. Maybe it’s upset about the refugees. But if that was the case, it’d have attacked when they started to appear. As it stands, it’s been over a year since refugees started to flow from Hyrule proper through the mountain range.”

Link found a chair and pulled it over. He winced a little from the shrill scraping it made on the stone. His hearing was still enhanced. “You mentioned knights had come along to try and deal with it earlier.”

“I did. From all over too.” Gorko stood up from his chair and pulled a book out from the pile. “Anyone carrying enough weapons and armor that comes through we need to keep an eye on. Anyone with an entourage as well. Big Brother doesn’t like strangers to go around so heavily armed unless they have a good reason. Doubly so with so many refugees now. Wouldn’t be surprised if he starts getting some help from the jarls in Holodrum to help keep the peace.”

“Things really that bad?”

“Getting there. We had a couple fights the guards had to break up earlier. I thank Din every day we don’t have a riot. Most people just want to get out of the country before The Tribes reach North Lanayru.”

“Long as the Hyrulean Army holds the Castor Wilds, that won’t happen.” Link opened the book and started to flip through it. “Wait, I recognize some of these names. Katir from Labrynna, The Calatian Bear… These are some pretty big names.”

“Anyone with a red ‘x’ by their name went off after it and never came back.”

He glanced back down. That was all he needed to do. “That’s a lot of names...”

“Exactly.” He coughed a little and went back to his notes. “The ones who don’t either weren’t hunting the dragon or were able to be talked out of it.”

“Hmm…” He kept going through the names. The number of willing knights and adventurers trickled to an end around the time the war started. He did stop though at a couple names, recognizing them as Chosen who had gone missing decades ago. “Find anything else out about the dragon?”

“I might have actually.” He grabbed another book and flipped through his notes. Gorko slid it over to Link. The hylian read quietly some of the scribbles. “So, The Warlord of Eldin was said to have traveled the world, seeking the strongest warriors and at one time lead an army of lizardmen and a few humans who he felt were worthy. Though his army was victorious many times and he personally led them, he felt empty and disgusted. Disgusted because humans are so petty and maybe a bit of hate in that he had never once met an opponent he could consider worth his time. So he retreated into the mountain. Our records however suggest that the dragon doesn’t even consider people worth his time anymore. So anyone who challenges him actually faces his appointed knight.”

“So he’s been at this for… Years.”

“Centuries, actually. That was just the most recent set of records we could find.” He motioned at the one Link held as he spoke.

“So, we try challenging him and make him keep his word. Provided we can’t talk it out of it in the first place. We do it somewhere we have an advantage. Does it have wings?”

Gorko nodded.

He began to formulate more of his plan. There was little heroic about what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going to risk the lives of the surviving refugees. He would need the obsidian shard bolts from his bag to shred the creature’s wings and the small bombs to help crack its hide. He’d first bring it to the ground. Then he’d finish it off. He also needed a backup plan though in case it was clear there was no way he could bring it down. He wasn’t going to let it hurt anyone else. “Could we lure it into the old Temple of Din and then collapse it?”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of challenging it to a fight?”

“Do you really want to take a chance?”

Gorko was quiet for a moment. “We can do that. A couple powder kegs in the main chamber on the supports will bring it down entirely. And I think Din would forgive you for it if it meant saving lives.”

“Sounds like we have a plan then.” He stood up. “I’ll go prepare.”

It was noon by the time they reached the cave him and Gorko would enter. It was far up the pass and from where he stood, he could see Eldin Province as well as the majority of neighboring Lanayru. He could even make out Castle Town at the heart of The Kingdom and the smoke rising out of No Man’s Land. Link was digging through Epona’s saddle bags as he waited. He’d traded the recruit’s uniform and tabard for the armor that Darunia had offered him. It was a deep red tunic with a plate piece over his torso and heavy greaves over his legs. His left arm was encased in similar plate to protect his sword arm. The gauntlets were woven fibers and scales made from skinned dodongos. His arming sword and shield were on his back. He pulled out a quiver of special bolts for his crossbow and loaded one. They were enchanted to explode into tiny obsidian daggers moments after having been launched. In the pouches on his belt were six small bombs and the rest of the lupine sense potion along with a bottle of milk and a little blue vial to mend his wounds. He hoped that he wouldn’t need it because he was sure any loud enough echoing in the caves would hurt his ears had he consumed the potion. He gave the mare a gentle rub on her neck before hearing the others.

Gorko walked up the pass with a pair of particularly bulky gorons. Each one was carrying a massive keg of explosive powder on each shoulder. Gorko was telling them about the importance of making sure things from the old temple had been recorded before they destroyed it, but they didn’t seem to pay any attention to him. In silence the two with the kegs kept going up the path while Gorko stopped next to Epona and looked to the entrance as well. The archeologist wore a scale armor vest on and gauntlets similar to Link’s. The biggest difference though was Gorko’s gauntlets had heavy plates above the knuckles. Even though gorons were hearty beings, Link knew full well the stories of how some would be eaten whole by dragons.

“My brothers will set up the explosives in the temple,” Gorko said. “Then they will head back down.”

“Sounds good.” He pulled the helmet of the armor on then and looked to the cave. “You ready?”

“I am.”

Link took a deep breath and lit his lantern with a flick of his fingers. After he’d hooked it to his belt, he started inside with Gorko next to him.

The cave began to grow hotter as they headed deeper. Not long after entering, they came across an old camp. They found scorched skeletons of men in armor and mail. There were four horse skeletons as well. Link cringed a little seeing how they’d thought it was a good idea to bring their mounts so far into the cave. The bodies looked like they had been left where they fell and the weapons were of no importance. Looking around, there were a few different caverns they could go.

“Map?” Link asked.

Gorko pulled one out of his bag and started looking it over. “This map might not be right,” he said. “Volcanic activity could’ve sealed off some of the paths or just rock slides. The dragon might’ve even changed things around to keep people guessing.” He looked down then. “But the tracks in here are well-preserved.”

Link knelt down and looked at them carefully. There were dozens of them and it was impossible to completely tell what was what, but they all were heading into another cavern. The bulk of them though started to head towards the crater. He got up a moment later. “We’ll try this way,” he said. “If we have to, I have the potion.”

They started down the tunnel then that lead towards the crater. It began to grow hotter until they came to a great cavern. Rotten wood platforms were affixed to the top level and they could look all the way down to the bottom. There were old statues it looked like carved into the walls and faded cave paintings of gorons. Gorko immediately started looking them over. He pulled a notebook from his bag and wrote furiously while Link slowly walked further down. It was clear it had once been a goron village or fort, but was long abandoned. He stopped though as he saw footprints. They were narrow and clearly not the prints of a knight or someone in armor. He reached up to his neck, but stopped. He no longer had his charm to check for any sort of magic trace. Following them though, he saw they were very fresh and they lead into a tunnel at the bottom.

When they reached the bottom, Link saw a great archway that lead further back. It was a throne room, but if that had been its original purpose, Link didn’t know. Bolted to the walls were scorched skeletons, still wearing the armor they’d worn in life. Their weapons and belongings as well were laid at their feet. Link recognized the heraldry on some of the shields as well.

A figure sat at the other end of it in a chair carved into a long pillar. There was a small area behind the throne as well with a number of round holes cut out of the rock to make windows. The red glow from the crater filled the chamber. The figure was a man and wore red plate armor. In one hand was a long spear with a pair of small prongs behind the weapon’s head. Its base had a small spike on it. Their helmet appeared like the head of a dragon and had a long red tail out the back. They looked up slowly as Link entered.

“Another…” the figure said. “Why have you come?”

“I am looking for the dragon,” Link said. “The one they call The Warlord of Eldin. You are his appointed knight, are you not?”

“Volga,” he growled. “Another looking for glory. How typical… Not waiting for the rest of the army I see. Just leave my master be. He has no interest in your wars.”

“I am not here to fight. I am here to ask them if they know anything about the refugees who were attacked.”

The figure on the throne stood up. The spear twirled in their hand in a circle. “You dare insult my master? Saying that he attacked worthless animals?” He laughed. “They are cowards. Not worth killing. And you! I will kill you where you stand for your insults!” They lunged off the throne, grabbing a spear next to them.

#My Fics #Writing #Zelda/Witcher Fusion Fic #Fanfiction #Zelda AU #Legend of Zelda #The Witcher #Link #Gorko #Ongoing Fic Series #The Wolf of Farore

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amethystina · 8 years ago

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I have no idea if you already got this AU, but steampunk!AU for Losers? or mecha/dieselpunk!AU for the Hobbit?

This is probably cheating since I’m already writing a steampunk!AU for The Losers and giving you headcanons from that seems a little lazy, but I’m going to do that anyway. Partly because I’m not sure if you mean “The Hobbit” as in “the dwarves” or “Barduil,” because I have no experience whatsoever with the former and would probably fuck it up completely. SO YEAH. Here are some headcanons for the steampunk AU I’m writing. It’s mostly world building, really, because that’s the only way I could keep it spoiler free.

The story takes place in Nova Auroris — a huge behemoth of a city that is the capital of the Empire. And no, it’s not the British Empire, and this is not Victorian steampunk. It’s roughly the same time period, yes, but the world looks different. The Empire is, in fact, Spanish — or this world’s equivalent of Spain and similar regions around the Mediterranean. Think Barcelona, Madrid, Sicily, Crete, and, to some degree, Rome and Venice. The city is divided into three districts: Netherstead (the slums), Copperborough (middle class), and Ivoryhold (the filthy rich). Out of the three, Netherstead is by far the biggest, and it’s there you have all the factories, the Coaldocks, and everything else the rich find undesirable. It is, quite frankly, a terrible place to live.

The Empire is ruled by a king and said king is growing less and less popular. Taxes are high, the people are sick and starving, wars are constantly being fought in attempts to expand the empire and increase its riches (well, for the rich, at least), and the poor just can’t stand it anymore. But it’s difficult to fight back. Above the city float six fortresses — known as the Star Citadels — which houses the Empire’s Royal Air Navy, and while they are supposedly for the city’s protection, the Citadels are also used to keep the citizens in line.

At the age of sixteen, every boy not rich enough to pay to be excluded (meaning everyone except those in Ivoryhold) is forced to enlist and join the Royal Air Navy. Despite the fact that they’re not much more than cannon fodder for the king’s war, most stay even after their three mandatory years are up, since they’re given food and housing at the barracks. It’s better than starving on the streets or moving back to their families who are, in all probability, even worse off. This means that most families have a son, brother, or father in the Navy, and they can’t risk drawing attention to themselves, knowing that their son/brother/father will be punished for it. The soldiers are kept obedient in much the same way, since anyone who speaks up against the crown gets a visit from the Death Specters. Those are the military trained assassin’s and sharpshooters employed by the Royal Air Navy. Everyone — even most officers within the Navy — fear them.

Slave labour is, unfortunately, also incredibly common in this world. The Empire has several provinces and colonies from which they occasionally take slaves, but a lot of them are also from Nova Auroris — Netherstead, more specifically, since some families sell their relatives into slavery as a last resort. Slaves are equipped with a metal mask that covers their face and nose, which prevents them from talking, eating, or drinking. The keys are held by the so called Slave Handlers who, twice a day, removes the mask to allow the salve to eat, shave etc. No speaking is allowed then either, and slaves will be severely punished if they try. This means that the slaves are dependent on their Handlers since they will undoubtedly starve without them. Running away isn’t an option, in other words. And, if a slave tries to remove the mask, it will slam shut like a beartrap and crush their face. This can also happen by accident, if the mask is jostled while the slave is working or sleeping, but the Handlers considers it worth the risk. They can always get more slaves. If the slave has any specific duties — cooking, machine maintenance, machine building — symbols are tattooed onto the back of their hands to indicate which one, since they’re not able to state it out loud.

There is, of course, a resistance, however. It consists of people from Nova Auroris and the surrounding provinces who are desperately trying to overthrow the king and reclaim their city. They’re men and women who have simply had enough (Aisha, Clay, Roque), people who have nothing left to lose (Cougar), and people who just want a better future for their children (Pooch). For over eighteen years they’ve been gathering members, resources, and information to help them battle the Empire, and they are finally ready to start fighting back for real.

Bonus headcanon (i.e. the actual plot): Cougar, a feared and respected Death Specter, has been a spy for the rebellion for the past eight years. He grew up in Netherstead and each single member of his family died before he reached the age of nineteen. When Clay found him, Cougar joined the resistance without hesitation, determined to avenge his family. His job was to gather information that would help the rebels ambush Navy transports and steal resources and ships. Now, however, Cougar has been given his final mission: steal the blueprints to the Star Citadels. No one can hope to liberate the city with the fortresses still functional, so the rebels need to find a way to incapacitate or destroy them — for which they need the blueprints. Despite his skills, Cougar is discovered and shit hits the fan in a bad way, which means he has to flee unless he wants to be executed for high treason. Surprisingly, he gets help from a slave with the cogwheels of an Engine Architect tattooed onto the back of his hands, and the bluest eyes Cougar has ever seen…

#Amethystina Does Memes #AU Meme #The Losers #Amethystina Writes #I am a horrible person #I know #The slave masks are barbaric #I just can't help it #World building is so much fun and the idea of a quiet Jensen was too tempting to resist #Also #Since Spanish will be the spoken language #Guess how much more relaxed Cougar will be while speaking?#Answer: A LOT #outercorner

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2soliddudes · 8 years ago

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Canada Reads 2017

Hey nerds! We're going to do a fun, exciting, sexy (?) new thing today...we're going to review the books for CBC's Canada Reads! As some/all/none of you may know, every year the CBC hosts an event called Canada Reads, which is basically just a book battle (the French version, which is unfortunately no longer, was literally called Le Combat des Livres), with 5 different Canadian celebrities each defending a book of their choice. The winner is then titled THE BEST CANADIAN BOOK EVER OTHER THAN ALL THE OTHER ONES THAT ALSO WON THE PRIZE OF BEST CANADIAN BOOK EVER.

Please note! We wrote this before the debates so we’re not sure what’s been kicked out yet and it has not affected our reviews below.

This year's theme “what is the one book Canadians need now?” and the shortlist includes:

The Right to Be Cold – Sheila Watt-Cloutier

Fifteen Dogs – André Alexis

Company Town – Madeline Ashby

The Break – Katherena Vermette

Nostalgia – M.G. Vassanji

It is worth noting that a very large number of the books on the 30/30 list are books that have been nominated for or won Canada Reads in previous years.

Anyway, here we go!

Kathleen: I am SO excited about Canada Reads this year! I almost wanted to read the entire long-list, but I held back.

Róisín: I am not that fussed.

Kathleen: Full disclosure: I have only read 4 of these books.

Róisín: I will be representing the one book Katy didn’t read.

Kathleen: I still feel like we are 100% qualified to make this Very Important Decision on behalf of all Canadians.

Kathleen: So the first book on the list is The Right to Be Cold by Sheila Watt-Cloutier. It explores the drastic changes that have been seen in Northern Canada as a result of climate change over the past 50 years or so. Sheila begins the book by discussing her childhood, and the world she grew up in, which was fascinating, and tragic.

Climate change is important as HECK, but I found some parts of the book to be a bit inaccessible to Canadians without prior knowledge of the topic. When she is talking about her lived experience in Northern Canada you really get an idea of how much chemicals in our water and atmosphere have really ruined a way of life for people, but the chapters that were just her talking about conferences was not great. TOO MANY ACRONYMS FOR ONE BRAIN TO KEEP TRACK OF. They were obviously a very important part of her journey, and it’s because of these that she was nominated for a Nobel, but I did find myself kind of tuning out in those moments. Basically, I found them less impactful.

I think this book would have been a great contender if the chapters about international climate change conferences were shorter.

Róisín: I didn’t read this book. It’s been on my library holds list for months and I should get it next week (classic TPL prank right there).

Kathleen: The next book on the list is Fifteen Dogs, by André Alexis!

Róisín: I read this after it won the Giller and I liked it but Katy? Why is it on a list with this theme?

Kathleen: Also how do we feel about it being on this list at all, regardless of the theme? It’s already won a big Canadian literary prize, we get it. We know it exists. Everyone loves it. It feels a bit easy to me. For anyone who doesn’t know about Fifteen Dogs, a) sorry for insulting you? b) It’s about fifteen dogs who are gifted with human intelligence and language.

Róisín: I have the same issue, about it being a recent prize winner. But also, it is great and I found it fun, and challenging at the same time.

Kathleen: I also really liked it! For some reason I find dog-on-dog violence way worse than if it was humans killing each other, so I found those parts hard to deal with.

Róisín: Girl if that is true, never read Jack London.

Kathleen: I think I have a harder time accepting that it’s fiction when it’s about dogs. Oh, this book here? Yes, obviously it is based on a true story about that time all those dogs learned to talk!

Róisín: As far as I know this is not a true story. (But Balto is.)

Kathleen: Side note: The audiobook of this is supposed to be INCREDIBLE. Alexis narrates himself, so you get a really cool sense of what he actually meant the Dogspeak to sound like.

My friend Brett (aka Wayne Bretszsky ) is convinced that this should be the winner.

Róisín: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Brett is wrong.

Kathleen: If I didn’t know this book was written by a Canadian, I would think that it being set in Newfoundland was an afterthought.

Róisín: Disagree. I feel like they start talking about Canada right from the first chapter and Newfoundland is an influence both explicitly and implicitly (what other province has oil rigs in the North Atlantic and significant oil rig culture? And those accents!)

Kathleen: So Company Town is about a city-sized oil rig off the coast of Newfoundland, owned by a large corporation. To me, it was kind like eating popcorn - fast and easy, kind of trash, but satisfying trash.

Róisín: My general review of this book is that it was aggressively okay, the sci-fi wasn’t that challenging and I liked the way both sex work, and disability were explored in the novel. It's a solid work of fiction but not amazing and the ending was such a let down and brought down the whole book for me. So I guess it's good that it's nominated? But it's not my winner.

Kathleen: Girl lets call it: The end was terrible. I can’t honestly decide if Ashby did this intentionally, but there are a lot of problems in Newfoundland today with crime, poverty, and drug abuse that we never hear about. Our idea of the life of all Newfoundlanders in pop culture is just their friendly, relaxed, “come-from-away” life, which isn’t an accurate portrayal of what is actually happening in the province. They are certainly a friendly, caring bunch, but it’s not like Newfoundland doesn’t have it’s issues. I would like to think that this book is trying to draw attention to that, but I honestly don’t think it is. It was a very easy read, so if there is an award for “book Canadians are most likely to finish” I think it might win. But you’ll certainly throw it after you finish the last chapter.

Róisín: Hi! This is my pick! I was super excited to see this book and the list because it was one of my top two fave books I read last year. (The other was The Best Kind of People by Zoe Whittall) BUT even though this is my fave I don’t know if is list? The Break came out so recently that it still has lots of time to win awards and attention this year. Which leads me back to not really knowing .

Kathleen: The Best Kind of People was SO GOOD. Why wasn’t that nominated? (This goes against what I was just saying about Fifteen Dogs. Sorry André Alexis!)

Róisín: Girl, stay focused. If we’re talking about urgency of topic, let’s talk about The Break. Like Company Town this book is a novel that centers on extreme violence against women. Unlike Company Town though, The Break explores different points of view (including perpetrators of violence) giving voice to multiple complicated women all who have been hurt - and importantly - all who act as carers for others in the book. It centres the experience of Anishinaabe and Metis families and not only is it timely, it’s gorgeously written (although it deals graphically with violence and other difficult subject matter).

Kathleen: That sounds devastating and wonderful. It’s also set in Winnipeg, right?

Róisín: It is! I especially love stories about sisters and mothers and daughters so this was right up there for me. Vermette immerses us in these messy family dramas and conversations in a way that is incredibly real and really sympathetic at the same time.

Kathleen: Girl here’s the test - could my mom read it?

Róisín: You ask me this all the time and it is such a weird metric because I don’t know what books your mom likes or does not like. I have recommended it to my mom, so maybe? The mom test is not equal but we both use it.

Kathleen: I do love messy family drama - and I think this is right on theme for Canada reads!

Kathleen: This one is my pick! It’s a clear winner in my mind. It’s set in the future, in a world where we have perfected the science of immortality, but only for those who can afford it. Rich members of society are able to undergo a procedure to wipe their memory, completely change their appearance, and create a new history for themselves, allowing them to walk away from their past and press reset whenever they choose. Scientists are able to insert false memories into their heads of their idyllic childhoods, spent with parents and siblings who never existed. Because no one dies, the rich keep getting richer, and Gen0’s, (aka Baby Gens, those that come from organic births), have no money or job opportunities, because no one is dying. Vassanji also delves into trans rights - the main character, Dr. Frank Sina, feels that trans people deserve to have their memories wiped, and lose any memory of their childhoods as the wrong gender. The plot itself is gripping and exciting, following the story of a doctor who helps patients undergo these medical procedures, and cuts out their Nostalgia, or Leaked Memory Syndrome, when parts of their past lives begin to trickle in.

Róisín: Girl that is a great synopsis, but why should it be the winner?

Kathleen: It feels so modern and current. All the issues in the book are the problems we are dealing with right now - the Baby Gen’s journey is the exact same as people of our generation, they’re paying for an education and ending up in crippling debt, only to end up unable to get a job because old, rich people screwed them over, but it takes you a while to see the parallels that he’s drawn. The world is also divided between the rich north and the poor south, and, of course, the south is a popular tourist destination - so all these rich people are coming to visit these resorts, and going on tours to see how terrible everyone else’s life is, while 500m away people are starving to death. Vassanji does a great job pointing out that this thing that we do today is really, really harmful, and it’s all wrapped up in this fascinating story,

Róisín: Oh brb gonna put it on hold at the library.

See you this Thursday, when we review Hugh Maclennan’s Two Solitudes!

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myquarantinediary2020 · 5 years ago

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Day ???

From now on I’ll title these by date, but right now it’s really April 6th, but the night of April 5th. Does that make sense? Honestly, I don’t care.

I highly doubt anyone will ever see this, but in case that happens I’m going to make a disclaimer. English is my first and only language, but I suck at it. My grammar is poor, and without spell check my spelling is awful. Pretty embarrassing for a 25 year old woman who grew up in an English speaking household, but oh well. This blog is going to basically a stream of conscious. You ever feel like you can’t just rant about your problems to people, because you fear it’ll bore them or they won’t care, or they’ll avoid you and your negative thoughts? Yeah, same. That’s why I’m here. If you read this, hopefully you can either relate, or are entertained. Or both. Preferably both. Is there a description box I should be putting this in? I should’ve looked into that before writing, but I didn’t. I’ll probably find that description box later on and regret typing this here, but I’m just going to leave this as is and if anything copy and paste. Again, I don’t care. I plan on being very honest about my what I do daily and, most importantly, my every day feelings. I’m not making any promises, because in the back of my mind I always fear about people I know finding something like this and knowing thoughts I keep to myself. In person I appear to be a pretty open person, but I’m actually incredibly private about my feelings and I’m trying to change that.

Anyways. Today really, really sucked and that’s why I’m here. I’ve cried for the past hour and feel like I don’t have anyone to talk to. I am blessed that I have great friends who I’m sure if I called would listen to me cry and comfort me, but there’s few things that I hate more than people seeing me in a “weak” state. Crying is NOT weak, but I’ve engraved that association into myself and have trouble letting anyone other than my mother see or hear me cry.

I’m social distancing by myself. By choice? Kind of. I was social distancing for almost 3 with someone I’ve been kind of seeing on and off for the past 9 months. Then I was basically told to go home. That’s a story for another day. I have family in this city I can go to, but I want to hold onto any freedom I have by not staying with family. I could stay with my aunt, but her and her husband are newly wed and I feel like I’d be intruding. I could stay with my grandparents, but then I’d be basically letting go of any privacy I have. My father lives in a neighboring province, but we don’t have a healthy relationship and it would be very bad spending an extended period of time with him in a space where neither of us can really leave. I’d be trapped. My mother lives in a different country, so that doesn’t help. And, with any of these people, I know I’d be constantly bombarded with the question “are you looking for a job?” Which I know they only ask, because they love and care about me, but this question makes my anxiety spiral and I’m already not in a great place right now.

I got laid off March 13th (which is a Friday the 13th, how fitting), because I am a server and although restaurants hadn’t officially shut down in service yet, it was inevitable. I hardly have any savings, because I’m irresponsible and haven’t been able to get employment insurance as yet and blah blah blah. I’ll get into it all more later on. Maybe today, maybe not. Honestly, it all just depends on how tired I am and whenever this writing “inspiration” drains down to “E.” “E” as in like empty on a fuel tank. Maybe you got it, maybe you didn’t until I explained it. If you didn’t understand you are welcome for my explanation. Okay, moving on.

Let’s do a play-by-play of my day. I plan on this being kind of like reality TV, but you have to read it. So....... less fun. Or maybe more fun if you like reading more than watching TV. I don’t know. I don’t care. If you got this far, thank you.

My memory sucks, but I’ll recap as best as possible. I love how I just said that as if any of you actually know what I did in my day and would know if I’m missing something.

Also, I just want to say this one time, before I start. I will also most likely only say this once. Anything I am upset about for whatever reason is validated. I know there are people who are worse off than me. I know there are people who are praying to only have the “problems” that I have right now. But you know what? That doesn’t mean my feelings are invalid for any reason. My problems are MY problems and what I can and cannot deal with mentally or physically is not dependent on the struggles of others. I do, and will continue to, pray and hope for better days of those who are worse (and better) off than I. That being said, if at any point you feel the need to make a comment (can you even comment on here? I don’t know, but either way...) about how you don’t think my problems are real problems, then you can just exit the screen and go do something else. Save that for something else.

I woke up, did the usual. Brushed my teeth. Peed. Morning poop. Then I went for a run. I only run a mile right now, because I have asthma and- actually you don’t care. I ran a mile. Went home, did some yoga and took a shower. Then, I made breakfast. I had avocado toast with a fried egg and some fruit (typical millennial). Brought my breakfast outside, and sat on my balcony while I ate, people watched, and facetimed my friend while we worked on and prepped our podcast that we’re releasing tomorrow. Or I guess today since it’s past midnight.

While I opened my laptop, I noticed I got an email from amazon that somebody tried to long into my account in China. China?!!?!?!?!?! I live in Canada! It took me a while to sign into my account properly, but who knows what else they tried to sign into. Then, when my friend and I were trying to get our episodes to be set up to release the next day on multiple platforms, we realized that it won’t show up on some of those platforms for a few days and so that was very frustrating, especially considering we already publicly announced the release date a week prior. Then, my friend and I did shit all while we talked on the phone for 9 hours. Yes, 9. We’re basically trapped in our houses, what else are we supposed to do? Don’t judge.

We got off the phone and this is where everything went downhill. There’s 7 light bulbs out in my condo. Yes, 7. Stop judging. No, these aren’t typos. I already mentioned I’m irresponsible, so why are you surprised? When I found out we had to stay inside and avoid other humans, I made myself a promise.

I will [at least attempt to] try to accomplish [most of the] things that I’ve been putting off for the longest time.

Was that a proper use of those types of brackets? I don’t know. And..... you guessed it! I don’t care.

So, one of those promises was to change those light bulbs. The other day I bought 8 light bulbs and today was going to be the day. First I went to the bathroom. One of the lights above the mirror burned out. I changed it. I felt success. I excitedly put the cover back over the light just to feel all my excitement drain right back out of me as I realized that the bulb I bought was too big and so the cover couldn’t fit back on. Also the light bulb flickers. I was like alright, not the worst, I’ll just take a working bulb from the hallway (which also needed a few changed). I tried to change those, just to find out they were GU24 bulbs. Do you know what that even is???? It’s okay, I didn’t either. It’s a light bulb that plugs in, instead of screws. WHY my place just can’t have regular light bulbs is beyond me. I felt pretty defeated, because I have a problem of starting things and not finishing them, and another promise I had made to myself was to actually finish tasks. Finding out I wasted money on 8 light bulbs I can’t use AND I can’t change my light bulbs at all was pretty disappointing.

After that I tried to rant on Instagram, but my phone has been acting up and now won’t record any audio if I record a video. I can’t take my phone into the Apple Store, because they’re all closed. I can’t send my phone in, because I need it, especially since I live alone.

Then I tried complete my employment insurance report, because I finally got my access code in the mail. I’m pretty sure I put something wrong, because now it says I have to call them. Do I want to call them? Absolutely not. The lines are going to be crazy, because everyone is calling. This also will likely delay my payments which I really need, because I haven’t worked in 3 weeks.

This is when I broke down. I’ve been feeling like a failure, more so recently, and this just felt like the icing on the cake. I’ll go into this more later on (mostly because I’m tired and need to wrap this up) but I feel like I’m going through a quarter life crisis right now and have accomplished nothing in life. I feel like I should know how to properly fill out an employment insurance application, but then again I’ve never needed it before, so how and why should I know how?

Ugh. Honestly I’m wrapping this up now, because I’m tired. I’ll try and write at least once a day. I’m not promising I will though, so don’t expect it. I’m not promising I’ll do anything. I’d like to add a photo that represents something about my day. Preferably, something positive. If I don’t add one to this post, it’s because I couldn’t find one, or forgot.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I genuinely appreciate it. Tomorrow I’ll go more into why this is all so stressful to me and all that. No promises though. It just actually feels good to write out how I’m feeling. It’s 2:20 am currently and it’s time to drift into sleep.

Actually hold on. One thing I do want to do is at least end with one positive thing about the day. I want to at least try to do this every time, because if I just constantly dwell in the negatives of my day to day life, I’ll probably go crazier.

The positive: talking to my friend for 9 hours. I’m actually so grateful to have a friend that I am able to talk to seamlessly for hours on end. She has the most beautiful soul and I am so blessed to have a friend like her in my life.

Okay, goodnight. Chat soon.

2:23am.

#quarantine #stayhome #anxiety

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investmart007 · 7 years ago

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NIPAWIN Saskatchewan | 14 die when truck collides with hockey team's bus in Canada

New Post has been published on https://goo.gl/PagjHH

NIPAWIN Saskatchewan | 14 die when truck collides with hockey team's bus in Canada

NIPAWIN, Saskatchewan | April 7, 2018 (AP)(STL.News) Canadians were moved to tears on Saturday after fourteen people were killed and 15 others injured when a truck collided with a bus carrying a junior hockey team to a playoff game. The bus driving the Humboldt Broncos had 29 passengers, including the driver, when it crashed at about 5 p.m. Friday on Highway 35 in Saskatchewan, Canadian police said.

Among the dead are Broncos head coach Darcy Haugan, team captain Logan Schatz and radio announcer Tyler Bieber.

Three people are in critical condition.

“An entire country is in shock and mourning,” Prime Minister Justin Trudeau said in a statement. “Our national hockey family is a close one, with roots in almost every town – small and big – across Canada.

Humboldt is no exception, and today the country and the entire hockey community stands with you.”

In a tweet, U.S. President Donald Trump said he called Trudeau to offer his condolences to the families of victims.

Darren Opp, president of the Nipawin Hawks, who the Broncos were set to play against, said a semi T-boned the players’ bus — an account police confirmed.

“It’s a horrible accident, my God,” Opp said.

Kelly Schatz, Logan’s father, says his 20-year-old son played for the Broncos for just over four years and had served as team captain for the past 2 ½ years. Meanwhile, tributes poured in online for Darcy Haugan, a father of two who was described as an amazing mentor to young players.

The names of others killed have not been confirmed. STARS air ambulance said it sent three helicopters to the scene.

Hassan Masri, an emergency room doctor at Saskatoon’s Royal University Hospital who has done work in war-torn Syria, said the crash reminded him of an airstrike.

Dramatic images from the scene appeared to show the bus torn in two by the force of the impact. Debris was scattered on the highway, and a large tractor-trailer lay overturned on the pavement.

The tragedy brought to mind an accident in 1986, when the Swift Current Broncos team bus slid off an icy highway and crashed in late December, killing four players.

The Humboldt Broncos are a close-knit team from the small city of Humboldt, Saskatchewan, which has a population of about 6,000. Many gathered at the community center at the hockey arena there after word of the horrific crash began to circulate.

Humboldt Mayor Rob Muench, wearing a green and yellow Broncos team jersey, hugged people Saturday morning as they came to the Elger Petersen Arena in the Saskatchewan town to comfort each other and learn more.

“It’s overwhelming. It’s been tough on everybody,” Muench said in a phone interview. “We’re a small community, some of those kids have been on the team for a number of years. A lot grew up in the community and everybody knows each other.”

The team was on its way to play in Game 5 of a semi-final against the Nipawin Hawks.

“Hockey was what brought us all together and we had two communities that were rivals in the rink. To find out that it was their first responders that aided our boys just warms your heart,” the mayor said as his voice cracked.

Many people wandered in and out of the arena throughout the morning. In a separate area, multiple crisis workers were assisting.

“Everybody is just so devastated. These poor young boys,” said Penny Lee, the communications manager for the town of Humboldt

The Saskatchewan Junior Hockey League is a junior ‘A’ hockey league under Hockey Canada, which is part of the Canadian Junior Hockey League. It’s open to North American-born players between the ages of 16 and 20.

Team President Kevin Garinger said parents from across western Canada were struggling to cope with the tragedy and were rushing to the scene.

“Our whole community is in shock, we are grieving and we will continue to grieve throughout this ordeal as we try to work toward supporting each other,” he said.

Michelle Straschnitzki, who lives in Airdrie, Alberta, said her 18-year old son Ryan was transported to a hospital in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.

“We talked to him, but he said he couldn’t feel his lower extremities so I don’t know what’s going on,” she said. “I am freaking out. I am so sad for all of the teammates and I am losing my mind.”

Opp, the president of the Hawks, said the coaching staff and players from their team were waiting to help.

“They are sitting in the church just waiting to hear any good news,” he said.

Pastor Jordan Gadsby at the Apostolic Church in Nipawin said more than a hundred people had gathered at the church — including parents and grandparents of the players who were on the bus.

“Lots of them are waiting for information,” he said.

Garinger said he still didn’t know the fate of one of the players living in his home.

“We don’t know who has passed and we don’t expect to know right away,” he said.

Garinger said all the team can do now is help the players and their families.

“We just need to try to support each other as we deal with this incredible loss to our community, to our province, to our hockey world.”

Kevin Henry, a coach who runs a hockey school in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, said he knows players on the team.

“This is I would think one of the darkest days in the history of Saskatchewan, especially because hockey is so ingrained in how we grow up here,” he said.

Much of the hockey world issued messages of condolences, including National Hockey League Commissioner Gary Bettman and Saskatchewan native Mike Babcock, who is the Toronto Maple Leafs coach. Babcock said that “it’s got to rip the heart out of your chest.”

By Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (U.S)

#canadians #Donald Trump #fourteen #Highway 35 in Saskatchewan #Hockey #hockey team #Humboldt Broncos #NIPAWIN Saskatchewan #truck collides

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