Antique coptic crosses

EgyptianPolytheism

2023.08.06 13:55 OldKem EgyptianPolytheism

Welcome to EgyptianPolytheism, a community for the indigenous Egyptian religion. Not only does this include the Pharaonic, Greek, and Roman, and Late Antique schools of religious philosophy, but also those elements of Egyptian religion which have persisted in Sufi Islam, Coptic Orthodoxy, Egyptian folk culture, and Middle Eastern occultism.
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2024.05.11 17:38 Chimera_Tracker They burned heaven in retribution, was it all worth it?

Colonies have been left in smoldering ruins. Razed to ashes by attackers that promised friendship in the vast void. Corpses left as ash across a dozen worlds, their existence almost completely eradicated by the invasive procession of their once welcoming neighbour. Where proud structures once stood against the frontier, cracked bones sat in silence under clouds of death.
In orbit, transponder pings of broken ships sang out into the cold eternal night. The frozen corpses of their crews revolved around the shattered metal hulks they once called home. Their resting places to be forgotten as their 'beep beep' into the eternal night grew ever softer.
.
.
.
Close to the heart of their civilization, Commodore Rankin sipped broseki tea as he examined the holographic map being displayed across the tabletop before him. It showed their progress into human space. All the systems they owned and occupied were highlighted red while the enemy’s’ were blue. From his end of the table, it looked like the Genosian Republic was extending a crooked hairy tendril right into the heart of human occupied space. Purity’s reach into the heart of corruption. After that terrible first strike, it was only right. Soon, they'd have the human cradle world, and with it, the humans would have no alternative but to submit and answer for the atrocity they committed at Oztei.
A soft patter of footsteps would disturb his tranquil meditation, drawing Rankin’s attention to a new entry into the station’s command center. The familiar figure on their way to their post was none other than Toressa, one of the many officers involved in information processing. More importantly though, she was a close friend in need of help.
Loose papers under her arm, uniform crumpled, and with her head tendrils sticking out at awkward angles, it appeared as though she'd spent another night obsessing on that conspiracy theory of hers about the beginnings of the war. A distracting side hobby of hers that got her sent back from the front lines. She used to be an up and coming officer when they were both the same rank. He continued going up while she stumbled and ended up drifting from post to post. If it weren’t for him, she’d have been dishonorably discharged with a permanent black mark on her head. To have a tendril on ones head permanently locked to a singular color was bad enough, to have it marked black for the rest of your life was another thing all together. It told everyone you weren’t to be trusted, that you were a danger, that you were the enemy even if you were one of us. It was the worst fate one could be given in their society.
Setting his cup down on the edge of the table, he straightens himself and makes his way over to her terminal to have a chat. He was determined to help her out of this rut, not just for what she’d done for him when they were recruits, but for what she’s meant to him through all these years.
Nearing her position, he’d notice the mild shift in her skin tone, signaling her awareness of his approach. It would be confirmed with her speaking before he could, "If you're here as my commanding officer, I know I'm late, I'll stay back to cover the time owed for my tardiness. If you’re here as my friend, I’m sorry for missing dinner last night.”
Rankin shook his head as he reached over her shoulder to pluck one of the loose papers she’d brought in and left sitting at the edge of her terminal. It was filled with mathematical formulae he recognised as spatial jump coordinates for ships. An antiquated system used by ships traversing great distances a long time ago, before the discovery of the hyperlinks. They were risky maneuvers that required immense precision to even increase your chances of appearing where you intended to a point above zero. What stuck out to him was not that she’d done the calculations by hand, but according to them, the chance of successful transition through said jumps was less than one percent.
"I'm here as your friend Toressa. I'm worried about you. I’ve entertained your eccentricities since you’ve come here because you promised they wouldn’t affect your duties like it has at your other posts. If it is starting to now, I think it would be best if we nib it in the bud wouldn’t you agree? It would be in your best-“
“Ha!” She scoffed loud enough to startle another officer seated nearby, “It would be in my best interests? Really? That’s a load of crap and you know it Rankin.”
Her words dripped with such hate it nearly made the hulking commanding officer flinch.
“It is Commodore Rankin, Officer Toressa. We’re-“
“In public, yeah, I remember. Honestly, I’m starting to not care, Commodore Rankin.”
“Toressa, you've been obsessing over this nonsense since P-D21. Look, everyone across the Republic, civil servant or not, were affected badly by the news reports about it. The humans destroyed that entire colony for no reason whatsoever. I know you had a distant relative there, but it was not like you could’ve done anything about it. I know I was lucky, and I know I should’ve reached out but we declared war not long after and I guess I forgot. I am sorry I wasn’t there when you needed a friend, but I am here now and I am not going to let you torch your last chance.”
He continues to stare at the back of her head as she lightly trembles, and her skin tone subtly changes. But it all stabilizes shortly after a soft ping rings out from her terminal. It would be followed by her balled up fists slamming down upon it. He peeks over her shoulder, seeing the error pop up displayed in bold letters across the cracked screen. The lock outs he had put in place this morning after she failed to report during roll call were working as hoped.
“I am sorry, but I can’t have you accessing data you have no reason to access. You were on this same self-destructive cycle at your last post. I am not going to let you do this to yourself here. There is nothing there. The human vessels slipped out of reach of the responding fleet at Oztei. We responded by attacking their foundries at P-D21. Warships being refitted were all that was there at P-D21 and we were lucky to have made it there before they went for the Capitol. The claims of the system being a frontier colony are untrue. You were an investigator on board the Rummeric at P-D21 for crying out loud. Your colleagues at the investigative bureau went after the traitors who claimed otherwise in attempt to sow dissent and start riots against the government. The last one of these scoundrels was charged as of two months ago. Are you trying to end up like them? They were liars, the whole lot.”
Rankin was nearly yelling at this point, but what Toressa said next nearly had him screaming at the top of his lungs in frustration.
“What if they weren’t the liars? What if it was us who did?”
Catching sight of the subtle shifts of color tone of the other officers seated at their stations close by was the only thing that stopped him from screaming. They were being overheard and he didn’t want this getting out no matter how good a Genosian he was.
"Lying to us?!" Rankin took half a step forward, spitting the words out with such disdain they might as well have been poison. Toressa had truly gone off the deep end if she could declare such things where listeners might eavesdrop.

'The government never lies to its people.'
That has been the motto of the Genosian Republic. All children are taught the importance of being truthful, not only to themselves but to everyone around them. From families to friends, you can never be considered a good Genoisan if you've told a lie, and a Good Genosian was what everyone strived to be. However, no society could ever survive like that. It is natural for kids to keep secrets from their parents, spouses from one another, the salesmen to their clientele. Telling half-truths is one of the many minor evils within Genosian society and though frowned upon, is not criminal. Fortunately, though such evils are present in all strata of their society, the civil service is believed to be exempt.
The Genosians believe that to serve the people, one is required to be the best possible version of themselves, and as such, amongst other things, a civil servant is said to be inherently unable to lie. To think that a high serving individual such as an Admiral or even a senator would lie not only to those around them but their entire population? That wasn't just blasphemy, it was treasonous.

Using his larger frame to act as a wall between them and those close enough to have possibly heard the treacherous remark, he whispers as softly as he could,
"Stop it! I warn you now Toressa! Do not spew such disgusting accusations. The Government would’ve never lied to us about the tragedy at Oztei. The humans attacked us after we offered them friendship. In return, Admiral Gantra led the fleet to that decisive blow at P-D21. Unlike our treacherous neighbors, we didn’t target the innocent. All civilian vessels were given the chance to leave the system when we attacked, only military targets were destroyed.”
"Oh really? Is that what you believe? That dribble? Gantara wasn’t the Hero you portray him to be. What makes you think the way you do Rankin? Seriously? How can you believe that he didn’t falsify his reports to make himself look better? Why wouldn’t he hide the-"
"Toressa! Are you insane? Are you?! What could have possibly happened to you that your mind is filled with such disgusting beliefs? You're a servant of the people, Toressa. You know better."
It was at this point that Rankin would notice something sticking out of the stack.
"Do I really? Do you want to know what I think of us servants? Do you really want to hear what I think of this war?!" Toressa spat back, her tone growing louder with each declaration, getting too loud once again for Rankins comfort.
Prodding the pile with just enough pressure to get it to topple, Rankins bites back a gasp at what he uncovers. Noticing the change in color tones of several individuals seated further away, he grabs Toressa by her forearm along with the paraphernalia. The act invites more attention to them. Eyes starring at them from across the entire room as he walks the struggling Genosian female towards the observation lounge.

On a normal day, the lounge would be a serene place for reflection and relaxation. Clear alloy bulkheads ran down the length of the room, providing any who used the space with a spectacular view of the pristine world they were blessed to orbit.
Khasana was a paradise class world, a revered holy world to the Genosian people. A place that was said to mimic what their afterlife was like. Twice the size of all habitable worlds across Genosian and Human territories, boasting a comfortable point nine gravity with zero axial tilt. A thin ring of ice and rock girdles the equator, flowing in the opposite directions to its rotation. The way the light reflects off the ring causes a soft aura to radiate around the planet, making it appear ever more paradisal.
Being such a revered world within their society, none were allowed on the surface without a permit from the Government. To obtain such a permit would require an immense amount of service to the Republic that till date, only a handful of Genosians can boast of having set foot on Khasana soil.

At this moment, the atmosphere of serenity became strained with anger as the two Genosians hashed it out within the empty space.
“Are you joking Toressa? After all I’ve done to save your commission, to get you here, you spit on all of it by having such things on your person? The Truth Seekers? Seriously?! They’re anarchists! They embody every sin known to us Toressa. They’re liars!”
Rankin crushed the flyer in his hand as he spoke, shaking his head as he steps away from Toressa and towards the bulkhead.
“They aren’t liars Rankin,” Toressa sighed as she watched her friend pull away with such disgust at her presence. His colour spoke the words he held within, and she could read him like a book, she always could.
“Nothing they’ve announced has ever been a lie. Every document, every picture, every word they’ve shared has been the truth. They might stretch the truth a little at times, but they’ve never misled anyone.”
“Oh yeah? So, you’re telling me their ramblings have all been true? Hmm? That we’ve been fighting a war we initiated? We offered them friendship Toressa, they were the ones who spat in our faces with what they did at Oztei.”
“The humans aren’t the monsters of this story Rankin,” Toressa approached, resting her hand on her friends’ shoulder, “Why do you think you’re here and not out there commanding a ship at the front? Why are you, a Commodore, commanding the station orbiting heaven? A station that is nothing more than a filing office?”
“What the hell are you talking about Toressa? I earned my position, others would’ve given an arm to-“
“Given an arm to be on a ship at the front line defending their families. Given an arm to be on a ship blowing a human vessel into pieces. Not here, watching over Heaven without ever hoping to touch it. Everyone posted here is the same Rankin. You’ve just never noticed. When you don’t do what is asked of you, when you stick to the very principles they taught you since young, when you do your damned hardest to be the best Genosian alive, they send you here as punishment. Your career forever stalled with only the sight of Heaven to remind you of what you’ve lost.”
Rankin starred at Khasana floating before them, then at Toressa’s reflection standing just beneath it. Just like how she could read him, he could read her nearly as well and he knew she truly believed every word she was telling him. In another life maybe, they could’ve been mates.
“I refused to sign the edited report of what I discovered at Jes’Port. They reassigned my commanding officer, and I got this promotion.”
Toressa nods sadly “I signed the report they gave me. I thought I was doing the right thing but the guilt from what we did ate me up inside. The reason why I know the truth seekers are telling the truth is because I was the one who fed them those documents. I’ve never slept better since.”
“What does all of this have to do with that pile of papers you brought in? Riddled with spatial jump calculations that you were so afraid to input into your personal tablet that you did them all by hand?”
Rankin glances over his shoulder at his companion who was examining her watch. She catches his gaze and smiles. He smiles back while she nods to Khasana. He turns his attention back to it as a fleet of ships arrives in orbit around it.
“That’s the flagship. Admiral Gantara and the captains of the ships at P-D21. They’re headed back to the front after their refitting.” Rankin utters out mindlessly as the unthinkable happens.

Like a rogue star it skates across the heavens at unimaginable speeds. The laws of physics bending around it, making the very fabric of the universe tremble in its wake. Forged in the flare of their home star, its body was fused with the ashes of the unjustly demised. Their names carved into every inch of its surface. Screaming to any who would hear, it would pierce Khasana’s atmosphere in an angry fiery glow.
With so many souls to be accounted for, one shell wasn’t enough. The first was followed by a second, then a third, then a fourth and then the last. Their hardy shells pierced the planets crust with ease, their immense momentum carrying them through to the liquid core in a matter of moments.
All Genosians witnessing the event stare in shock at the sizeable scar left on the planets pristine surface by the five objects. They would be witness to an even greater sight as the minutes ticked on and the shells sank closer to the core.
Khasana’s thick mantel was made of a single unbroken piece. It prevented the world from suffering quakes, even now as it was struck from up high. Cracked but otherwise undamaged spare the sizeable crater left on its surface, the interior planetary pressure remains unchanged.
The first shell reaches the point where its integrity could no longer withstand the pressures acting upon it and cracked. The liquid metal seeps through the cracks, reacting with the vial of antimatter within. The detonation sends an intense wave outward, causing the second shell to rupture and detonate in a similar manner. The third follows soon after, then the fourth and finally the fifth just as it crosses the threshold between the mantel and the liquid core. The pressure would be too much as the planet begins to shake. Cracks shoot out from the point where the five shells had pierced its mantel. Magma streams burst out, setting everything it touched on fire.
Rankin would fall to his knees as he watched heaven burn and finally explode, destroying the small fleet of ships with it. Toressa would keep her hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“The people at Oztei died because of our own Governments failings. We killed innocent humans for nothing and hid the atrocities we committed. Now they’ve burnt heaven in retribution, was it all worth it?”
submitted by Chimera_Tracker to humansarespaceorcs [link] [comments]


2024.05.11 17:37 Chimera_Tracker They burned heaven in retribution, was it all worth it?

Colonies have been left in smoldering ruins. Razed to ashes by attackers that promised friendship in the vast void. Corpses left as ash across a dozen worlds, their existence almost completely eradicated by the invasive procession of their once welcoming neighbour. Where proud structures once stood against the frontier, cracked bones sat in silence under clouds of death.
In orbit, transponder pings of broken ships sang out into the cold eternal night. The frozen corpses of their crews revolved around the shattered metal hulks they once called home. Their resting places to be forgotten as their 'beep beep' into the eternal night grew ever softer.
.
.
.
Close to the heart of their civilization, Commodore Rankin sipped broseki tea as he examined the holographic map being displayed across the tabletop before him. It showed their progress into human space. All the systems they owned and occupied were highlighted red while the enemy’s’ were blue. From his end of the table, it looked like the Genosian Republic was extending a crooked hairy tendril right into the heart of human occupied space. Purity’s reach into the heart of corruption. After that terrible first strike, it was only right. Soon, they'd have the human cradle world, and with it, the humans would have no alternative but to submit and answer for the atrocity they committed at Oztei.
A soft patter of footsteps would disturb his tranquil meditation, drawing Rankin’s attention to a new entry into the station’s command center. The familiar figure on their way to their post was none other than Toressa, one of the many officers involved in information processing. More importantly though, she was a close friend in need of help.
Loose papers under her arm, uniform crumpled, and with her head tendrils sticking out at awkward angles, it appeared as though she'd spent another night obsessing on that conspiracy theory of hers about the beginnings of the war. A distracting side hobby of hers that got her sent back from the front lines. She used to be an up and coming officer when they were both the same rank. He continued going up while she stumbled and ended up drifting from post to post. If it weren’t for him, she’d have been dishonorably discharged with a permanent black mark on her head. To have a tendril on ones head permanently locked to a singular color was bad enough, to have it marked black for the rest of your life was another thing all together. It told everyone you weren’t to be trusted, that you were a danger, that you were the enemy even if you were one of us. It was the worst fate one could be given in their society.
Setting his cup down on the edge of the table, he straightens himself and makes his way over to her terminal to have a chat. He was determined to help her out of this rut, not just for what she’d done for him when they were recruits, but for what she’s meant to him through all these years.
Nearing her position, he’d notice the mild shift in her skin tone, signaling her awareness of his approach. It would be confirmed with her speaking before he could, "If you're here as my commanding officer, I know I'm late, I'll stay back to cover the time owed for my tardiness. If you’re here as my friend, I’m sorry for missing dinner last night.”
Rankin shook his head as he reached over her shoulder to pluck one of the loose papers she’d brought in and left sitting at the edge of her terminal. It was filled with mathematical formulae he recognised as spatial jump coordinates for ships. An antiquated system used by ships traversing great distances a long time ago, before the discovery of the hyperlinks. They were risky maneuvers that required immense precision to even increase your chances of appearing where you intended to a point above zero. What stuck out to him was not that she’d done the calculations by hand, but according to them, the chance of successful transition through said jumps was less than one percent.
"I'm here as your friend Toressa. I'm worried about you. I’ve entertained your eccentricities since you’ve come here because you promised they wouldn’t affect your duties like it has at your other posts. If it is starting to now, I think it would be best if we nib it in the bud wouldn’t you agree? It would be in your best-“
“Ha!” She scoffed loud enough to startle another officer seated nearby, “It would be in my best interests? Really? That’s a load of crap and you know it Rankin.”
Her words dripped with such hate it nearly made the hulking commanding officer flinch.
“It is Commodore Rankin, Officer Toressa. We’re-“
“In public, yeah, I remember. Honestly, I’m starting to not care, Commodore Rankin.”
“Toressa, you've been obsessing over this nonsense since P-D21. Look, everyone across the Republic, civil servant or not, were affected badly by the news reports about it. The humans destroyed that entire colony for no reason whatsoever. I know you had a distant relative there, but it was not like you could’ve done anything about it. I know I was lucky, and I know I should’ve reached out but we declared war not long after and I guess I forgot. I am sorry I wasn’t there when you needed a friend, but I am here now and I am not going to let you torch your last chance.”
He continues to stare at the back of her head as she lightly trembles, and her skin tone subtly changes. But it all stabilizes shortly after a soft ping rings out from her terminal. It would be followed by her balled up fists slamming down upon it. He peeks over her shoulder, seeing the error pop up displayed in bold letters across the cracked screen. The lock outs he had put in place this morning after she failed to report during roll call were working as hoped.
“I am sorry, but I can’t have you accessing data you have no reason to access. You were on this same self-destructive cycle at your last post. I am not going to let you do this to yourself here. There is nothing there. The human vessels slipped out of reach of the responding fleet at Oztei. We responded by attacking their foundries at P-D21. Warships being refitted were all that was there at P-D21 and we were lucky to have made it there before they went for the Capitol. The claims of the system being a frontier colony are untrue. You were an investigator on board the Rummeric at P-D21 for crying out loud. Your colleagues at the investigative bureau went after the traitors who claimed otherwise in attempt to sow dissent and start riots against the government. The last one of these scoundrels was charged as of two months ago. Are you trying to end up like them? They were liars, the whole lot.”
Rankin was nearly yelling at this point, but what Toressa said next nearly had him screaming at the top of his lungs in frustration.
“What if they weren’t the liars? What if it was us who did?”
Catching sight of the subtle shifts of color tone of the other officers seated at their stations close by was the only thing that stopped him from screaming. They were being overheard and he didn’t want this getting out no matter how good a Genosian he was.
"Lying to us?!" Rankin took half a step forward, spitting the words out with such disdain they might as well have been poison. Toressa had truly gone off the deep end if she could declare such things where listeners might eavesdrop.

'The government never lies to its people.'
That has been the motto of the Genosian Republic. All children are taught the importance of being truthful, not only to themselves but to everyone around them. From families to friends, you can never be considered a good Genoisan if you've told a lie, and a Good Genosian was what everyone strived to be. However, no society could ever survive like that. It is natural for kids to keep secrets from their parents, spouses from one another, the salesmen to their clientele. Telling half-truths is one of the many minor evils within Genosian society and though frowned upon, is not criminal. Fortunately, though such evils are present in all strata of their society, the civil service is believed to be exempt.
The Genosians believe that to serve the people, one is required to be the best possible version of themselves, and as such, amongst other things, a civil servant is said to be inherently unable to lie. To think that a high serving individual such as an Admiral or even a senator would lie not only to those around them but their entire population? That wasn't just blasphemy, it was treasonous.

Using his larger frame to act as a wall between them and those close enough to have possibly heard the treacherous remark, he whispers as softly as he could,
"Stop it! I warn you now Toressa! Do not spew such disgusting accusations. The Government would’ve never lied to us about the tragedy at Oztei. The humans attacked us after we offered them friendship. In return, Admiral Gantra led the fleet to that decisive blow at P-D21. Unlike our treacherous neighbors, we didn’t target the innocent. All civilian vessels were given the chance to leave the system when we attacked, only military targets were destroyed.”
"Oh really? Is that what you believe? That dribble? Gantara wasn’t the Hero you portray him to be. What makes you think the way you do Rankin? Seriously? How can you believe that he didn’t falsify his reports to make himself look better? Why wouldn’t he hide the-"
"Toressa! Are you insane? Are you?! What could have possibly happened to you that your mind is filled with such disgusting beliefs? You're a servant of the people, Toressa. You know better."
It was at this point that Rankin would notice something sticking out of the stack.
"Do I really? Do you want to know what I think of us servants? Do you really want to hear what I think of this war?!" Toressa spat back, her tone growing louder with each declaration, getting too loud once again for Rankins comfort.
Prodding the pile with just enough pressure to get it to topple, Rankins bites back a gasp at what he uncovers. Noticing the change in color tones of several individuals seated further away, he grabs Toressa by her forearm along with the paraphernalia. The act invites more attention to them. Eyes starring at them from across the entire room as he walks the struggling Genosian female towards the observation lounge.

On a normal day, the lounge would be a serene place for reflection and relaxation. Clear alloy bulkheads ran down the length of the room, providing any who used the space with a spectacular view of the pristine world they were blessed to orbit.
Khasana was a paradise class world, a revered holy world to the Genosian people. A place that was said to mimic what their afterlife was like. Twice the size of all habitable worlds across Genosian and Human territories, boasting a comfortable point nine gravity with zero axial tilt. A thin ring of ice and rock girdles the equator, flowing in the opposite directions to its rotation. The way the light reflects off the ring causes a soft aura to radiate around the planet, making it appear ever more paradisal.
Being such a revered world within their society, none were allowed on the surface without a permit from the Government. To obtain such a permit would require an immense amount of service to the Republic that till date, only a handful of Genosians can boast of having set foot on Khasana soil.

At this moment, the atmosphere of serenity became strained with anger as the two Genosians hashed it out within the empty space.
“Are you joking Toressa? After all I’ve done to save your commission, to get you here, you spit on all of it by having such things on your person? The Truth Seekers? Seriously?! They’re anarchists! They embody every sin known to us Toressa. They’re liars!”
Rankin crushed the flyer in his hand as he spoke, shaking his head as he steps away from Toressa and towards the bulkhead.
“They aren’t liars Rankin,” Toressa sighed as she watched her friend pull away with such disgust at her presence. His colour spoke the words he held within, and she could read him like a book, she always could.
“Nothing they’ve announced has ever been a lie. Every document, every picture, every word they’ve shared has been the truth. They might stretch the truth a little at times, but they’ve never misled anyone.”
“Oh yeah? So, you’re telling me their ramblings have all been true? Hmm? That we’ve been fighting a war we initiated? We offered them friendship Toressa, they were the ones who spat in our faces with what they did at Oztei.”
“The humans aren’t the monsters of this story Rankin,” Toressa approached, resting her hand on her friends’ shoulder, “Why do you think you’re here and not out there commanding a ship at the front? Why are you, a Commodore, commanding the station orbiting heaven? A station that is nothing more than a filing office?”
“What the hell are you talking about Toressa? I earned my position, others would’ve given an arm to-“
“Given an arm to be on a ship at the front line defending their families. Given an arm to be on a ship blowing a human vessel into pieces. Not here, watching over Heaven without ever hoping to touch it. Everyone posted here is the same Rankin. You’ve just never noticed. When you don’t do what is asked of you, when you stick to the very principles they taught you since young, when you do your damned hardest to be the best Genosian alive, they send you here as punishment. Your career forever stalled with only the sight of Heaven to remind you of what you’ve lost.”
Rankin starred at Khasana floating before them, then at Toressa’s reflection standing just beneath it. Just like how she could read him, he could read her nearly as well and he knew she truly believed every word she was telling him. In another life maybe, they could’ve been mates.
“I refused to sign the edited report of what I discovered at Jes’Port. They reassigned my commanding officer, and I got this promotion.”
Toressa nods sadly “I signed the report they gave me. I thought I was doing the right thing but the guilt from what we did ate me up inside. The reason why I know the truth seekers are telling the truth is because I was the one who fed them those documents. I’ve never slept better since.”
“What does all of this have to do with that pile of papers you brought in? Riddled with spatial jump calculations that you were so afraid to input into your personal tablet that you did them all by hand?”
Rankin glances over his shoulder at his companion who was examining her watch. She catches his gaze and smiles. He smiles back while she nods to Khasana. He turns his attention back to it as a fleet of ships arrives in orbit around it.
“That’s the flagship. Admiral Gantara and the captains of the ships at P-D21. They’re headed back to the front after their refitting.” Rankin utters out mindlessly as the unthinkable happens.

Like a rogue star it skates across the heavens at unimaginable speeds. The laws of physics bending around it, making the very fabric of the universe tremble in its wake. Forged in the flare of their home star, its body was fused with the ashes of the unjustly demised. Their names carved into every inch of its surface. Screaming to any who would hear, it would pierce Khasana’s atmosphere in an angry fiery glow.
With so many souls to be accounted for, one shell wasn’t enough. The first was followed by a second, then a third, then a fourth and then the last. Their hardy shells pierced the planets crust with ease, their immense momentum carrying them through to the liquid core in a matter of moments.
All Genosians witnessing the event stare in shock at the sizeable scar left on the planets pristine surface by the five objects. They would be witness to an even greater sight as the minutes ticked on and the shells sank closer to the core.
Khasana’s thick mantel was made of a single unbroken piece. It prevented the world from suffering quakes, even now as it was struck from up high. Cracked but otherwise undamaged spare the sizeable crater left on its surface, the interior planetary pressure remains unchanged.
The first shell reaches the point where its integrity could no longer withstand the pressures acting upon it and cracked. The liquid metal seeps through the cracks, reacting with the vial of antimatter within. The detonation sends an intense wave outward, causing the second shell to rupture and detonate in a similar manner. The third follows soon after, then the fourth and finally the fifth just as it crosses the threshold between the mantel and the liquid core. The pressure would be too much as the planet begins to shake. Cracks shoot out from the point where the five shells had pierced its mantel. Magma streams burst out, setting everything it touched on fire.
Rankin would fall to his knees as he watched heaven burn and finally explode, destroying the small fleet of ships with it. Toressa would keep her hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“The people at Oztei died because of our own Governments failings. We killed innocent humans for nothing and hid the atrocities we committed. Now they’ve burnt heaven in retribution, was it all worth it?”
submitted by Chimera_Tracker to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.11 15:34 Wise-Tower-3317 Just Daydreaming

TLDR: med student/landscape photographer seeking low key advice for a car in 3-5 years - would like it to be hybrid, AWD/4WD, have lane assist, and of course, be reliable. Looks are a plus :)
So I'm a second year medical student that already has quite a nice second hand used car owned by my parents (2010 Toyota Corolla LE: https://images.app.goo.gl/BBtNQ8kYvxRbUMNn9). It gets me from A to B very comfortably, and even has Bluetooth (I realize how antiquated that sounds). While it is still going strong at 130K, I obviously want to EVENTUALLY get a car of my own in like 3-5 years. I thought it's never too early to test the waters, ask questions, and learn a few things about buying a car.
Mandatory:
Ideal:
Cars that have peaked my interest so far:
Also feel free to share your personal tips as far as dealerships, online shopping, used vs new, etc goes.
Thanks in advance!!
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2024.05.11 13:42 No_Current1529 The Mosque-Madrasa of Sultan al-Muayyad

The Mosque-Madrasa of Sultan al-Muayyad
Located in Cairo, Egypt. The best Friday prayer experience I had thus far 🤩
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2024.05.11 08:48 Violetserendipity Question for Lady Dior, Lady D-Lite, and/or Book Tote owners

Hello,
I am interested in buying a new Dior bag. I am conflicted over some styles and how to wear them daily.
Do the embroidered bags get damaged from wearing it cross body everyday? Where I work I would not be comfortable just leaving it on my desk and would prefer to keep it on me when I leave my desk. Would the embroidered or lambskin or calfskin also be damaged from friction against clothing?
My main concern is that since the bag is expensive, I would like to wear it even to work to get the most out of it. I mainly wear skirts, dresses, or light colored jeans and I can switch bags on days where I wear dark blue jeans.
My choices are
Small Lady Dior Bag $5900 Melocoton Pink Pearlescent Cannage Lambskin
Small Lady Dior My ABCDior Bag $6000 Powder Pink Cannage Lambskin Or Antique Pink Cannage Lambskin
Medium Lady D-Lite Bag $5200 Powder Pink Cannage Raffia (Conflicted on this because I like the previous all pink version Rosewood Cannage Embroidery more but they’re not selling it anymore)
Small Dior Book Tote $3600 Black or Latte Macrocannage Calfskin These seem like book tote versions of Lady Dior (Black would be more versatile but might be too much for daily wear since I rarely wear dark colors. Latte is prettier but afraid of color transfer from my clothes. Also the book totes are less pricey but my concern is that I prefer a bag that closes)
Thank you for any input you have!
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2024.05.11 01:47 ChinaCatSunfIower Don't know if my resume is good enough to send out in this state. What can I improve?

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2024.05.10 20:04 Vukobasa An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)

An observer in the Near East: MONTENEGRO (1907)
ΜΟΝΤΕΝEGRO
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans―The road to Montenegro―Cettinje and its petroleum tins―About the blood-feud―England and Montenegro―Warned not to attempt to go to Albania―My guide a marked man-The story of Tef―A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje―A cigarette with the Prince―The policy of Montenegro―A confidential chat―His Royal Highness's admiration for England―His views upon Macedonia―He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania. but I persuade him to help me―His Highness's kindness―Souvenirs.
**
CHAPTER I
THE CITY IN THE SKY
Why I went to the Balkans— The road to Montenegro — Cettinje and its petroleum tins — About the blood-feud — England and Montenegro — Warned not to attempt to go to Albania — My guide a marked man — The story of Tef — A woman's fickleness, and its sequel.
I ENTERED the Balkans by the back door. The luxuries of the Orient Express had no attraction for me. I wanted to see the Balkans as they really are, those great, wild, mountainous countries, so full of race hatreds, of political bickerings, of fierce blood-feuds, of feverish propa- gandas those nations with their interesting monarchs and their many mysteries.
The "Orient" runs direct from Paris to the Balkan capitals, it is true, but if one goes to study a people the capital is not the only place in which to discover the truth. One must go into the country, move among the peasantry, hear their grievances and investigate their wrongs. Therefore I decided to enter the East by Montenegro, and also visit the wild and little-known regions of Northern Albania.
The comfortable voyage by the Austrian-Lloyd mail steamer Graf Wurmbrand from Trieste down the Adriatic, touching at Pola, the Austrian naval station, Lussinpiccolo, Zara- famed for its maraschino-Sebenico, Spalato, and Gravosa to Cattaro, has been already described by many writers. Suffice it to say that it is perhaps one of the most picturesque of pleasure-trips in the world, for every moment one has a fresh panorama of mountain and blue sea, of green, fertile islands with subtropical vegetation, and tiny white villages nestling at the sea's edge, as the steamer threads her way through the narrow and often difficult channels.
At times the wild scenery, especially in the Bocche di Cattaro, reminds the traveller of the Norwegian fiords, and at others the coast is an almost exact reproduction of the French Riviera.
The object of my journey was, however, not in order to write a mere description of men and places. There have been other travellers in the Balkans who have related their story, therefore my mission was to make careful inquiry into the present unsettled state of affairs, try and discover the grievances of both sides, and endeavour to obtain from the rulers and statesmen of the various nations their aspirations for the future. This I succeeded in doing, for the various monarchs of the Balkans graciously gave me audience; and from their Ministers, from the middle classes, and from the peasants, I was enabled at last to form some conclusion as to the real situation-political, economical, social, and financial.
The writer who attempts to place the various Balkan questions impartially and clearly before the public will at once find himself utterly confused, and wallowing wildly in a morass of misstatement and misrepresentation. The Balkans are torn by race hatreds, party strife, and the intrigues of the Powers. The Turk hates the Bulgar, the Serb hates the Austrian, the Roumanian hates the Greek, the Albanian hates the Montenegrin, the Bosnian hates the Turk, while the Macedonian hates everybody all round. What is told to one authoritatively one hour, is flatly contradicted the next; therefore it is not in the least surprising that in the European Press there have been so many misstatements about the various Balkan questions, the real truth being so very difficult to obtain.
I have, however, endeavoured to obtain it, and at risk of being injudicious, to place before the reader the facts as they are, without any political bias, or any seeking to gloss over the many glaring defects of administration of which I have myself been witness.
To describe the beauties of the Bocche di Cattaro, that series of winding channels where the high grey mountains rise sheer from the water, would be only to traverse old ground. Suffice it to say that I landed at Cattaro on a bright, sunny noon, and found upon the quay a tall, lean mountaineer who had been sent to meet me.
To the traveller fresh from the West the Montenegrin costume of both women and men is very attractive, but a few days in the Balkans soon accustoms the eye to a perfect phantasmagoria of colour and of costume. Pero was my driver's name, and I noticed that around his waist was a revolver belt, but minus the weapon. I inquired where it was, and with a grin he informed me that Cattaro, being in Dalmatia, the Austrians would not allow Montenegrins to bring arms into their country; so they were compelled to leave them on the other side of the frontier, ten kilometres distant.
My bags packed upon the three-horse travelling carriage and secured with many strings, and Pero equipped with a plentiful stock of cigarettes, he mounted upon the box, whipped up his long-tailed ponies, and we started on our eight-hour ascent of that great wall of mountain that hides Montenegro from the sea.
As we ascended through the little village of Skaljari we entered upon a magnificent road, said to be one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times, and steadily ascended, until at the striped black-and-yellow Austrian boundary post we crossed the frontier, and were in the "Land of the Black Mountain"-Montenegro. Across the road, at an acute angle, a row of paving-stones marks the frontier, and soon after- wards we found ourselves in the wildest and most desolate mountain region. At a lonely roadside hut Pero obtained his big, serviceable-looking revolver, and I, of course, wore mine in my belt; for in Montenegro or Albania arms make the man. A man unarmed is looked upon as an effeminate coward. Indeed, by order of Prince Nicholas every Monte- negrin must wear the national dress, both men and women, and every man must carry his revolver when out of doors.
Four hours from Cattaro we were in a lonely mountain fastness, a wild, desolate, treeless region of huge limestone rocks of peculiar volcanic formation, which gave them the appearance of a boiling sea. The views over the Adriatic as we turned back were so superb that, despite photographing being strictly forbidden on account of the fortresses in the vicinity, I could not resist the temptation to take one or two surreptitiously. On, through a bleak, uninhabited country, we at last reached the guard-house of Kerstac, and then half an hour later found ourselves upon a plateau where, in the centre, stood the small clean village of Nyegush, the ancestral home of the reigning family, and the scene of most of the Montenegrin wars of independence. Here we halted for half an hour at the post-house, and before we left, the big, lumbering post-diligence, with its armed guard, came up behind us.
Before we moved off again it had grown dark, the moon shone, and for four hours longer we alternately climbed and descended through that wild region of silence and desolation, until at last we saw, deep below, the lights of Cettinje, the little capital, and an hour later brought us to the unpre- tending "Grand" Hotel.
Hardly had I entered my room when there came a loud knock at my door, and a tall, scarlet-coated Montenegrin warrior, armed to the teeth, entered and saluted. For a moment I looked up at him aghast, but the mystery was solved when, next second, he handed me with great ceremony a telegram from a dear friend in England wishing me God- speed. I had taken him to be, at least, one of the Prince's bodyguard, and he was only a plain telegraph messenger!
This was but one of many surprises in store for me in Montenegro. Next morning I went out to look round the clean little capital, when, on passing the Prince's palace, I saw a number of soldiers drawn up, and as I went by, the band suddenly struck up the British National Anthem! I raised my hat, halted, and stood puzzled. Surely they were not honouring me! Another moment, however, and I recognised the reason. In a carriage, accompanied by the Grand Marechal of the Court, there drove up my friend Mr. Charles des Graz, the newly-appointed British Chargé d'Affaires to Montenegro, who was about to present his creden- tials to His Royal Highness the Prince.
Montenegro is perhaps the most interesting country in all the Balkans. Cettinje, a small, clean town of broad streets and one-storeyed, whitewashed houses, is a little city in the sky, lying as it does in a cup-shaped depression at the summit of a high, bare mountain. Its long, straight, main street reminds one very much of a small country town in England, if it were not that everyone is, by law, compelled to wear the national dress, and every man has in his belt his big, long- barrelled revolver, without which he must never go out of doors.
The men, sturdy mountaineers, are of fine physique- handsome fellows, all of them. Their dress consists of dark blue baggy trousers, white woollen gaiters, raw-hide shoes, a scarlet jacket heavily braided with gold, and a small round cap, with black silk around the edge and the crown of the same colour as the jacket, bearing the Prince's initials in Servian letters, "H.I." The women, who are particularly good-looking, wear dark skirts, beautifully hand-embroidered blouses, and a kind of long coat, with open sleeves of soft, dove-grey cloth. Forbidden to wear European hats, they are compelled to adopt an exactly similar cap to the men, except that the crown is embroidered instead of bearing the royal initials.
Nowhere have I seen such glorification of the male as in Montenegro. To the men, born fighters as they are, work is undignified; therefore the women toil while the opposite sex look on. I saw women employed in building operations and performing work which, in other countries, is left to day- labourers.
Cettinje is quaint in the extreme. The only houses of foreigners are the various Legations, and the only foreigners are diplomats with their wives and families. The first thing that strikes the stranger is the number of petroleum tins. Opposite the hotel I saw a great ring of empty tins, numbering some hundreds, ranged around a fountain. A few women were squatting gossiping, and an armed policeman lounged against the water-source. On inquiry, I found that there was a water famine, and the tins had been placed there at dawn to await the moment when the authorities thought fit to allow the people to get their daily supply. The women had gone away to work, and would return later. The Monte- negrins a short time ago constructed a reservoir, but there was a crack in it, so the water ran away. Hence the famine.
The petroleum tin is never out of sight for a single moment in Cettinje. At any hour, and in any street, you see women and children carrying them. They are used for everything, from milk-pails to flower-pots.
In Cettinje one comes for the first time up against the dark-faced, scowling Albanian in his tightly fitting trousers of white wool striped with black, his dirty white fez, and the swagger of superiority in his gait. He is well armed, and for a good reason. The Montenegrin hates the Albanian, because of the constant border feuds over at Podgoritza, where blood is constantly spilt, and where I have seen a Montenegrin in the market squatting over a basket of apples with a loaded rifle.
That morning I was chatting to a man in Montenegrin dress, of whom I had bought some excellent cigarettes, manufactured by the Montenegro Tobacco Monopoly-an Italian syndicate, by the way and happened to mention that I was on my way to Albania. "Ah, gospodin!" he exclaimed, holding up both his hands, and glancing at the revolver in my belt. "Take my advice.
Don't go into Albania or Macedonia. You are not safe there from one moment to the other. For half a word they'll shoot you dead as easily as they drink a glass of wine. No man's life is worth a moment's purchase there. I'm Albanian myself from Kroja-and I know."
This was scarcely reassuring. I looked about me on every hand as I strolled through Cettinje. All was so quiet, so orderly, so very peaceful there, even though the big, burly mountaineers in the gold-laced jackets eyed me with askance as I passed. Not without some trepidation I took a number of photographs, for I had heard that, like the Turk, the Monte- negrin was averse to having his counterfeit presentment put upon paper. Nevertheless, the first feeling of insecurity having passed, I very soon found myself quite at home in Cettinje, and in the midst of very good and kind friends.
A good many foreigners come up from Cattaro to pry about Cettinje for a day or two, buy picture-postcards and antique arms, sneer at the honest Montenegrin, and return into Dalmatia. Towards such, the Montenegrin is not par- ticularly polite. But those who go to Cettinje to seriously and thoroughly study the people and their future will find a great deal of genuine and charming hospitality.
My first day in Cettinje was lonely. Afterwards, until I left, I was always with friends and officials, who took the greatest trouble to answer my questions and explain matters.
Montenegro is entirely unlike any other country in the world. Its air of antiquity is particularly pleasing, while on every hand the beneficent rule of Prince Nicholas is apparent. Every man in Montenegro swears by his Prince, whom he almost worships. They call him their "father," and if His Royal Highness raised the standard of war to- morrow, every man would rise and fight to the death. The Prince is accessible to all his people-more so to them, indeed, than to the diplomats. Sometimes, early in the morning, he will sit in an arm-chair on the steps leading to the entrance of his palace, and there hear the complaints or petitions of his people. In this patriarchal way he often ministers justice. Last year he granted Montenegro a Constitution, and there is now a Skupshtina similar to that of Servia; but the people have not yet quite understood that in future they must go to the Ministers, and not to their Prince. They will see him, and nobody else.
In no country is loyalty and patriotism so strong as in Montenegro. The army is well trained, and the whole country being one huge natural fortress, a foreign enemy would experience enormous difficulty in gaining entrance. In Cettinje, even a constant traveller like myself meets with continual surprises. One day, while walking at the rear of the Bigliardo, or old palace-so called because when built the first billiard table was introduced-I heard the sound of clanking chains behind me. At first I took no notice, but as it continued with regular rhythm I glanced behind, when, to my amaze- ment, I saw a convict in leg-fetters with difficulty taking his afternoon stroll beneath the trees! There were several others on the grass plot before the prison, idling in the shadow or gossiping with their friends, who had come to keep them company!
Inquiriesshowed that most of these prisoners were murderers, not for robbery but for vendetta. In Montenegro the blood- feud is constant, and life is held very cheap. It invariably commences by jealousy, and is of everyday occurrence. Two lovers quarrel, and one is shot. Then the blood-feud commences, and unlike in Italy or other Southern countries, the vendetta is not only upon the murderer, but upon his next-of-kin. Therefore, if the assassin escapes into Servia, Bosnia, or Turkey, as he so often does, the brother of the dead man takes up the feud and kills the assassin's brother without parley when next he meets him. I myself saw a man shot dead one night in Ryeka, at the head of the Lake of Scutari, and the murderer walked coolly away undeterred. It was the blood-feud, and no one took much notice.
"S'bogom!" (God be with you!) It is the expression you hear on every hand in the Balkans. In the streets the peasants touch their round caps in salute and exclaim, "S'bogom!" When you leave for a journey and when you return, when you rise and when you go to rest; even if you go for a short walk-it is the same. Life is so uncertain in those wild regions that the protection of the Almighty is invoked upon you always, and your revolver is ever ready in your belt.
In Cettinje I had a faithful guide and servant, a black-eyed, somewhat sinister-looking Albanian, named Palok. He travelled with me through Montenegro and Albania, and was most faithful and devoted. Besides Albanian and Serb he spoke a little Italian, and possessed a keen sense of humour.
One day, while we were travelling through the wild, bare mountain, a perfect wilderness of huge boulders without a single tree or even blade of grass, we halted for our midday meal, and while eating he told me of a great friend of his who had recently been killed at Spuz for vendetta, and he added, fondling the butt of his revolver, "I too, gospodin, shall die before long."
I looked at him in surprise. His usually humorous face had changed. It was dark and thoughtful, and his black eyes were fixed upon me.
"Is there a blood-feud upon you, then?" I asked, in surprise.
"Yes," he replied briefly; and though I endeavoured to persuade him to tell the story, it was not until the following day that with some reluctance he explained.
"A year ago my brother Tef, away in Scutari, fell in love with a beautiful girl. He had a rival-a young Albanian, a coppersmith in the bazaar. They quarrelled, but the girl-ah! she was very beautiful-preferred Tef. Where- upon the rival one night took his rifle and laid in wait for my brother in the main street of Scutari. Early in the evening he left the house of the girl's father, and as he passed the fellow shot poor Tef dead."
And he paused as his brow knit deeply, and his teeth were set tightly.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, gospodin. What would you have done had your own brother died a dog's death? I took a rifle, and within a week the murderer was in his grave. I shot him through the heart and then I left Scutari."
"And you are safe here, in Montenegro ?"
"Safe! Oh dear, no," he answered. "One day-it may be to-day-the fellow's brother will kill me. He must kill me. It is Fate-why worry about it? It does one no good."
And the marked man, the man doomed to die at a moment when he least expects it, rolled a cigarette and lit it with perfect resignment.
"And are you not afraid to go with me back to Scutari?" I asked, amazed at his fearlessness.
"Afraid, gospodin!" he exclaimed, looking at me in reproach as his hand instinctively wandered to his weapon. "Afraid! No Albanian is afraid of the blood-feud. I have killed the murderer, and his brother must kill me. It is our law." And the doomed man smiled gravely.
"And the girl?" I asked.
"Ah! They are all the same," he answered, with a quick shrug of the shoulders. "A month ago she married a tobacco- seller a man old enough to be her father. Poor Tef! If he could but know!"
"And the blood-feud still continues?"
"Of course-until I am dead."
Then Palok smoked on in silence, entirely resigned to the fate that awaits him. He knows that one day, as he walks along the road, the sharp crack of a hidden rifle will sound, and he will fall to earth, another victim of a woman's fickleness.
S'bogom! God be with you!
CHAPTER II
AN AUDIENCE OF PRINCE NICHOLAS
The Palace at Cettinje-A cigarette with the Prince-The policy of Monte- negro-A confidential chat-His Royal Highness's admiration for England-His views upon Macedonia-He urges me not to attempt to go to Albania, but I persuade him to help me-His Highness's kindness -Souvenirs.
HIS Royal Highness the Prince will be pleased to grant you private audience at four o'clock this after- noon, gospodin."
The tall, burly aide-de-camp in the little round cap, high boots, pale blue overcoat, and pistols in his belt, saluted, and we shook hands.
It was then three o'clock, and I was just about to go out to visit Madame Constantinovitch, the mother of Princess Mirko. So I had to return at once to my room and dress for the audience. The kings and princes of the Balkans have a habit of summoning one at a moment's notice, and paying visits at unearthly hours.
Here, in Cettinje, in the heart of these wild, desolate fast- nesses, one seems so far removed from European influence, yet how great a part has this rocky, impregnable country, with its fierce soldier-inhabitants, played in the politics of Eastern Europe, and how great a part it is still destined to play in the near future!
The fact that everybody is armed gives the stranger an uncanny feeling. The man who brings one's coffee wears a perfect arsenal of weapons in his sash, and one quickly acquires the habit of carrying a revolver one's self. Indeed, if you are wise, you will carry a good serviceable weapon from the moment you enter the Balkans to the moment you quit them. But if you approach the Albanian frontier, you will be at once warned not to fire without just cause. A few shots is sufficient to alarm the whole neighbourhood for many miles, and on hearing the alarm every man seizes his rifle and flies to the rendezvous, fully equipped and eager for the fight with those Albanian border tribes, of whom I afterwards had the good fortune to be the guest.
I had already had a long chat with Prince Danilo, the Crown Prince of Montenegro, whom I found a very smart and highly educated man, fully alive to the political difficulties of the neighbouring states and the necessity of Montenegro preserving her independence. He held very strong views upon the terrible state of affairs in Macedonia, and gave me many interesting details about his own country.
Having met him, and also his younger brother, Prince Mirko, I was particularly anxious to make the acquaintance of their father, Prince Nicholas, the ruler of the sturdy, warlike dwellers of the "Land of the Black Mountain "-the principal and most striking figure in this remarkable country, where peace and war walk ever hand-in-hand.
Since 1860, when his uncle, Prince Danilo, was assassinated, he has ruled justly, if somewhat sternly, and has succeeded in raising his nation from a state of semi-civilisation to the high place it now occupies in the Eastern world. In 1888 he gave the country a Civil and Criminal Code, and last year he granted a Constitution. Indeed, he has done all in his power to induce his warriors to follow the arts of peace without forgetting those of war.
At the hour appointed, the royal aide-de-camp called in a carriage and drove me to the Palace, a long, dark brown building of somewhat plain exterior, as befits the home of a fighting race, where I was received in the great hall by half a dozen bowing servants in scarlet and gold. Here I was met by the chamberlain, who conducted me up the grand staircase and into the great audience-chamber, with its many fine paintings and highly polished floor. Then, after a moment, the Prince-a brilliant figure-entered, shook me by the hand, and welcomed me to Montenegro.
These formalities ended, His Royal Highness said in Italian, "Come, let us go into yonder room. We shall be able to talk there more comfortably." And he led me into a smaller chamber, where he gave me a seat at the table where he sat.
The afternoon was gloomy, and dusk was creeping on, therefore upon the table a great antique silver candelabra had been set, and by its light I was enabled to obtain a good view of the ruler of Crnagora, the "Land of the Black Mountain."
Of magnificent physique, tall, muscular, with hair slightly grey, he bore his sixty-five years lightly. Attired in the splendid national costume of scarlet, blue, and gold, with high boots, he wore a single decoration at his throat, the Cross of Danilo, of which Order he is Master. Upon his hand- some, well-cut features the candles shed a soft light, causing the gold upon his dress to glitter, and I noticed, as I asked him questions, how his dark, keen eyes shot quick, inquiring glances of alertness.
After the first few minutes of regal formality His Highness's manner entirely changed. Putting ceremony aside, he pro- duced his cigarette case of crocodile skin, with the royal crown and cipher in gold in the corner-offered me a Montenegrin cigarette, took one himself, lit mine with his own hand, and then we fell to chatting.
In the delightful hour and a half we smoked together I asked the prince-poet many questions, and learnt many things. He explained several difficult points in Balkan politics, which to me, an Englishman, had always been puzzling. We spoke in Italian of Macedonia and of a certain well-known foreign diplomat in London who was our mutual friend, the Prince giving me a very kind message to deliver to him.
Presently I referred to the splendid result of his rule, and related to him a little incident which had occurred to me in Nyegush a few days before, as showing how deeply he was beloved by his nation. A smile crossed his fine open countenance as he replied simply, "I have done my best for my people-my very best; and I shall do so as long as God gives me life. I am happy to believe that my people appreciate my efforts."
"And now, Monseigneur," I asked, "will you tell me what is the present position of Montenegro?"
"The present position is peace," was his prompt answer. "I have granted a Constitution, and the first meeting of the new Skupshtina has been held successfully. Though the Albanian question is always with us, I am thankful to say we are on the most excellent terms with Turkey, while towards Russia we are pursuing our traditional policy. For the Emperor Francis Josef of Austria I have nothing but the most profound admiration, and I owe very much to him."
"And towards England, Monseigneur ?"
"England has been, as you know, Montenegro's very best friend," replied the Prince. "I, personally, have the greatest respect and admiration for your great country. We Montenegrins always remember that it was Mr. Gladstone who gave us the strip of seaboard on the Adriatic with Dulcigno. He was our greatest friend, and his memory is respected by admirer by every man in Montenegro. Of Tennyson, too, I am a great I am very fond of his poems."
"You are a poet yourself, Monseigneur," I remarked, remembering that more than one poetical drama from his pen had been successfully produced on the stage.
His Royal Highness smiled, and puffed slowly at his cigarette.
"I have written one or two little things, it is true; but nothing of late."
"I wonder if I dare ask your Royal Highness to write a few lines for me as a souvenir of my visit?" I asked, not without some trepidation.
"Ah!-well-I won't promise," he laughed. "All depends whether I'm in the mood for it."
"But you will try, won't you?
And the Prince nodded assent.
Then we spoke of Servia and of recent events there; but he was not inclined to discuss the question, and naturally so, when it is remembered that his daughter was the late wife of King Peter.
Returning to the burning question of Macedonia, I saw that he was well informed of all that was transpiring around lakes Presba and Ochrida and down in Serres.
"It is a monstrous state of affairs," he declared. "Something must be done at once, for as soon as spring comes again the massacres will increase."
"But there are outrages, tortures, and massacres every day," I remarked.
"Ah yes," he sighed, "I know. Most terrible details have reached me lately. But you are going to Macedonia yourself, and you will see with your own eyes."
"And what, in your opinion, would be the best settlement of the question?" I inquired.
"There is but one way, namely, for the Powers to call a conference and place Macedonia under a governor - general, who must be a European prince. The reforms would then be carried out, and the Greek bands expelled from the country. How long will Europe tolerate the present frightful state of affairs?"
"The fact is, Monseigneur, that we, in England, are very ignorant of the true state of things, or even of the facts of the Macedonian question," I said.
"Ah, there you are quite correct. If your English public knew what was really happening-how an innocent Christian population is being slaughtered and exterminated because of international rivalry-they would cry shame upon those responsible for this wholesale murder and outrage. But" -he smiled-" I almost forget myself. My position as a ruler forbids me to talk politics, you know!" And we laughed together.
"So you are going to Servia, Bulgaria, Roumania, and to Constantinople-eh?" he remarked a little later, when we had lit fresh cigarettes. "In Bulgaria, and also in Roumania, you will see many things that will interest you. The Bul- garians are very strongly armed, and so are the Roumanians."
"Her Majesty the Queen of Roumania has also promised me audience," I said.
"When you see her, will you please present to Her Majesty my most cordial respects. She is so very charming."
"I want, Monseigneur, to visit Northern Albania, leaving Montenegro by Ryeka and Scutari. Would that be the best route, do you think?"
"What!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Do you actually contemplate visiting the tribes up in the Accursed Mountains?"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"Well, my advice is, don't think of going there. If you do, you will never return. You'll be shot at sight, like a dog. You have no idea what those uncivilised tribes are like. The whole country is utterly lawless."
"So I understand. But I've also heard that the Albanian possesses a deep sense of honour. And I thought that I might possibly obtain permission from one or other of the chiefs."
The Prince was silent for a moment. Then, looking at me across the table, said-
"Do not go. It is far too great a risk."
His advice was the same that my, friends in London had given me; the same that I had received there, in the market-place of Cettinje.
But I was determined, and pressed His Royal Highness to assist me, at last receiving his promise of help. By his kind permission, the Albanian named Palok acted as my guide, and what eventually happened to me in that wild region will be seen in the following pages.
"Well," exclaimed the Prince at last, "if you go up there, it must be at your own risk. I've warned you of the danger. No one has been up there for many years. It has been at- tempted, of course, but travellers have either been held to ransom, and the Turks have been compelled to pay for their release, or else they have simply been shot by the first Albanian meeting them. The country beyond Scutari is the most unsafe in the whole Balkan Peninsula."
I replied that I intended to make the attempt.
"Well, then, I wish you buon viaggio," he laughed. "May every good luck attend you, and as we say in Montenegro - S'bogom! (God be with you!) When you return for I suppose you will pass this way down to the sea-come and see me, and tell me all about the Skreli and Kastrati country -for of course I am highly interested. They are always at war with our people on the frontier."
"I will let your Royal Highness know the moment I am back in Cettinje," I promised.
Then rising, he gripped my hand warmly, saying-
"Then I will help you if I can. Be careful of yourself, for I shall be anxious about you. Again, S'bogom!"
And the Prince accompanied me to the head of the grand staircase, where I made my obeisance, turned and descended through the rows of armed and bowing servants ranged in the hall, charmed by His Royal Highness's graciousness towards me and by the pleasant chat I had enjoyed.
When, after my journey through Northern Albania, I one afternoon re-entered that audience-chamber, and he came forward with outstretched hand to greet me, he exclaimed-
"Well, well! I am so glad to see you back safe and sound. You look a little thinner in the face a little travel-worn- eh? Life in the Albanian mountains is not like your life in London or Paris, is it? But never mind as long as you are safe," he laughed, placing his hand kindly upon my shoulder.
"Come along to this room. It is more cosy," and he led me to the smaller apartment, his own private cabinet.
For nearly two hours I sat relating to him what occurred on my journey, and describing the wild country which had, until then, been practically a sealed book. Even though Cettinje is so near, hardly anything was known of the Skreli, the Hoti, the Klementi, or the Kastrati tribes, save that they were brigandish bands who constantly raided the Montenegrin frontier.
The Prince listened to me with great attention, and put many questions to me as we smoked together.
Then rising, he took from a drawer in his great writing- table a small scarlet box, and as he opened it he bestowed upon me a compliment undeserved, for he said -
"There are few men who would have risked what you have done. Therefore I wish to invest you with our Order of Danilo, as a mark of my appreciation and esteem."
And he displayed to me the beautiful dark blue and white enamelled cross of the Order, the same that he was wearing at his throat, surmounted by the royal crown and suspended upon the white ribbon edged with cerise.
After he had invested me with the Order, saying many kind things to me, which I really don't think I deserved, he added-
"The chef du chancellerie will send you the diploma in due course, and I trust, when you petition your own gracious Sovereign King Edward, that His Majesty will allow you to wear this insignia."
I thanked His Royal Highness, gripped his hand, and a few minutes later passed through the line of bowing servants out of the Palace.
And that same evening I received from His Royal Highness the signed photograph which appears in these pages.
Before I left Cettinje I received the following expressive lines, written especially for me by a Montenegrin poet who is a great personage, but whose name he would not permit me to give. They are in Servian as follows, and I have placed their English translation below :-
S' veledušnog Albiona
Pružiše se dvije ruke
Crnoj Gori da pomogu
U junačke njene muke
S' vrućom rječu na ustima
Gladston diže Crnogorce
A Tenison za najprve
U svijet ih broi borce
Na glas svoih Velikana
Britanski se narod trže
Da pomože da zaštiti
Crnu Goru iz najbrže
Posla svoje bojne ladje
Sto na tečnost gospostvuju
Veledušno da zaštite
Domovinu milu Moju
O fala ti po sto puta
Blagorodni lyudi Soju
Dok je svjeta dok je greda
Nad Ulcinjem koje stoju
Hraniće ti blagodarnost
Ova šaka sokolova
Koima si u pomoci
Stiga putem od valova.
The literal translation in English is as follows:-
From the great-souled Albion,
Two arms were stretched
To help Montenegro
In her heroic sufferings.
With fiery word on his lips
Gladstone lifts up Montenegrins,
Whilst Tennyson declared them
The very first fighters in the world.
On the call of their great men,
British people rose up
In quickest manner, to help
And to protect Montenegro.
They despatched their war-ships,
Which rule over the seas,
Generously to protect
My Fatherland so dear to me.
Oh! thanks to thee, hundredfold thanks,
Noble race of men.
As long as the world lasts,
As long as the mountains above Dulcigno stand,
Will remain grateful to thee,
This handful of falcons,
To whose help thou didst come
By the road of the waves.
- An Observer in the Near East - William Le Queux. Publisher, E. Nash, 1907.
\**
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submitted by Vukobasa to Crnogorstvo [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 18:05 Due-Aerie-8852 What If The Star Wars Is A Story About The Jewish People?

What If The Star Wars Is A Story About The Jewish People?
About three years ago, I don’t remember exactly why, I wanted to find out the number of Jews who perished during the Holocaust. I went on Google and began typing in the search bar “how many Jews were slaughtered….”
However, as soon as I typed “how many je…”, Google suggested autocomplete options based on the popularity of the query. Now, this suggestion is not the first one anymore, but back then, the leading query was “how many Jedi survived order 66”. Such is pop culture. People sometimes seem to care more about the fate of fantasy worlds and galaxies than about the fate of their neighbors on our planet.
But here’s what else is interesting. This search and Google’s suggestion led me to think that Star Wars is, in some ways, a retelling of the Bible. George Lucas admitted that he didn’t just invent this story; he compiled it from many different sources, including, notably, Herbert’s Dune as a strong inspiration — how is Tatooine not Arrakis? And he overlaid the foundation of Star Wars with the myth algorithm, which recurs from culture to culture, from era to era, across peoples. What is the Bible, if not a myth?
This algorithm is described in detail by Joseph Campbell in his magnificent book “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” — a colossal and very enlightening work. The last interview with Campbell was incredibly interesting, recorded right at Skywalker Ranch owned by Lucas. It is precisely by following the recipe from “The Hero with a Thousand Faces” that Star Wars (especially the original trilogy) turned out to be so interesting, familiar, fairy-tale-like, and yet close to us, despite being set in space and all that.
But it seems to me that it’s a bit more interesting than that. I think that Star Wars is a story about the Jewish people.
Consider this: a Jedi must be born a Jedi, just as one is born a Jew. For this, a certain amount of midichlorians — cells that determine the level of the Force in the body — is necessary. Isn’t that a selection by a higher power?
In very rare exceptions, someone with a low level of these cells can become a Jedi, but this requires an even more difficult path. Similarly, one can convert to Judaism, not being born Jewish, by observing all the strict and necessary rules. This process is called giyur.
Both Jedi and Jews have their own rules of conduct and life in general. This code is called “The Jedi Code”, Jews have Torah (literally ‘Instruction’ or ‘Law’). Yes, any organization and ideology have similar statutes, but the Jedi, like the Jews, lead others to the Force and to God, respectively. Notably, in both cases, it’s not about the afterlife, but about everyday life.
Both Jedi and Jews, especially the religious ones, wear specialized clothing and haircuts that immediately allows them to be distinguished from other mortals.
And both the Jedi and the Jews have a tale of a messiah.
In the case of the Jedi, it’s someone who was supposed to bring balance to the Force in the galaxy and establish peace between good and evil. His arrival is predicted, and he is eagerly awaited.
In both cases, the messiahs are born in a desert area on the fringes of the world/galaxy — Palestine/Tatooine.
Both messiahs are born of immaculate conception and have no father. The first was conceived by the Holy Spirit, the second by midichlorians themselves, of which the boy had an off-the-charts amount.
The biblical messiah was a carpenter. The Jedi messiah tinkered with technology, particularly fixing droids.
The biblical messiah walked on water. The Jedi carried the surname Skywalker — walking among the stars.
The lives of both messiahs were unremarkable until they came of age.
Both messiahs turned out not to be who people were waiting for and hoping for.
The biblical messiah called for the destruction of the old Jewish temple and caused disturbances in it. The Jedi messiah literally destroyed the Jedi temple, killing all the younglings — children in training.
Both messiahs die and both are resurrected. The Jedi becomes Darth Vader.
Both messiahs served as instruments for strengthening empires. The biblical one for the Roman. The Jedi for the Galactic.
A galactic hunt is declared on the Jedi with the goal of their complete annihilation. The aforementioned “Order 66” is reminiscent of the number 666 — the number of the beast, signifying the end of the world. For the Jedi, Order 66 was literally the end. The biblical messiah did not personally hunt Jews, unlike his counterpart from Star Wars. However, the execution of the biblical messiah, which was initiated by the Jews, added fuel to the fire of hatred and persecution of the Jewish people in all parts of the Christian world.
The cherry on top can be considered the appearance of Darth Vader. His helmet was designed to inspire terror. For this purpose, the design of his helmet incorporated elements of a Wehrmacht soldier’s helmet. By the way, Hitler considered himself nothing less than a savior and purifier, especially after surviving a series of assassination attempts, which only convinced him of his own chosenness. Vader mercilessly killed the remaining Jedi. The Nazis even more brutally and mercilessly exterminated the Jews. In one case, this was the direct action of a fantastical messiah. In the other, hatred of Jews in 1930s Germany fell on fertile ground already prepared by Christianity, which held that the Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus, and therefore deserved punishment.
Both the swastika and the Iron Cross are ancient pagan symbols rebranded by fascism, where the cross has always and everywhere been an image of the Sun. In the case of Christian ideology, the cross was adapted to suit its needs from a well-known and effective symbol of antiquity into a logo for a new militant ideology. Incidentally, the first symbol of Christianity, before it became a state ideology, was a fish. Vader, on the other hand, represents a relic of the archaic almost mystical and magical past of the Old Republic.
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submitted by Due-Aerie-8852 to u/Due-Aerie-8852 [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 16:44 Commentary455 Perfected through Suffering

Jesus, the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world

Hebrews 5:7-9 YLT(i) 7 who in the days of his flesh both prayers and supplications unto Him who was able to save him from death—with strong crying and tears—having offered up, and having been heard in respect to that which he feared, 8 through being a Son, did learn by the things which he suffered—the obedience, 9 and having been made perfect, he did become to all those obeying him a cause of salvation age-during,
Matthew 26:39 (YLT) And having gone forward a little, he fell on his face, praying, and saying, My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou.' Matthew 26:42 (YLT) Again, a second time, having gone away, he prayed, saying,My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from me except I drink it, Thy will be done;'

Matthew 26:24 (YLT) the Son of Man doth indeed go, as it hath been written concerning him, but woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is delivered up! good it were for him if that man had not been born.'

[Him is Christ; that man is Judas. Some Bibles have the correct application of Him and that man in the margin. One might say, good it were for Jesus to avoid the betrayal, the anguish, and the cross, but the divine will required it.]
Mark 14:18 (YLT) and as they are reclining, and eating, Jesus said, `Verily I say to you—one of you, who is eating with me—shall deliver me up.'
John 13:11 YLT(i) 11 for he knew him who is delivering him up; because of this he said, `Ye are not all clean.'
John 13:18-19 YLT(i) 18 not concerning you all do I speak; I have known whom I chose for myself; but that the Writing may be fulfilled: He who is eating the bread with me, did lift up against me his heel. 19 `From this time I tell you, before its coming to pass, that, when it may come to pass, ye may believe that I am he;
John 13:27 (YLT) And after the morsel, then the Adversary entered into that one, Jesus, therefore, saith to him, `What thou dost—do quickly;'

“For the Word, realizing that in no other way would the corruption of human beings be undone except, simply, by dying, yet being immortal and the Son of the Father the Word was not able to die, for this reason he takes to himself a body capable of death, in order that it, participating in the Word who is above all, might be sufficient for death on behalf of all, and through the indwelling Word would remain incorruptible, and so corruption might henceforth cease from all by the grace of the resurrection.”

"He has been manifested in a human body for this reason only, out of the love and goodness of His Father, for the salvation of us men. We will begin, then, with the creation of the world and with God its Maker, for the first fact that you must grasp is this: the renewal of creation has been wrought by the Self-same Word Who made it in the beginning. There is thus no inconsistency between creation and salvation for the One Father has employed the same Agent for both works, effecting the salvation of the world through the same Word Who made it in the beginning."

-Athanasius

Athanasius is venerated as a saint in the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Catholic Church, the Coptic Orthodox Church, the Anglican Communion, and Lutheranism. 20th pope of Alexandria.
https://www.reddit.com/ChristianHistory/comments/1b9ncdx/athanasius/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2
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2024.05.10 15:44 ThrowAwayQuestionner Is this Jade ?

Is this Jade ?
Hi Fellow Experts,
Not long ago I had a trip to HongKong and came a cross a shop (an actual shop not a road side stall) selling antique jade items, I've stepped in and bought this 2 piece jade ware (body+ lid) , but I'm not able to tell if its jade, It has this layer of grey specs over parts of the piece which i tried to wash away (with dish detergent and a brush) but didn't work; i.e. when the piece is wet the white specs go away, but it becomes obvious only after the item becomes dry. Is it a natural occurrence or poor quality jade/ workmanship ?
Overall its in a a shade of dark olive green Its slightly translucent when held against light, feels kinda heavy and is cool to touch like a stone, I tried shinning some UV light to see if any work has been done on it but it didn't have any reflective irregularities
Have I been scammed?
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submitted by ThrowAwayQuestionner to whatsthisrock [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 07:42 No-Quality-2644 Yūrei Chronicles

YŪREI CHRONICLES [ 幽霊クロニクルズ ]
Tales of Japanese Horror [ 日本のホラーの物語 ]
By: Seph Cruz [ 投稿者: セフ・クルーズ ]
CONTENTS [ コンテンツ ]
Preface [ はじめに ]
Chapter 1: The Cursed Scroll [ 第 1 章: 呪われた巻物 ]
Chapter 2: The Shrine in the Shadows [ 第 2 章: 影の神殿 ]
Chapter 3: The Haunting of the Geisha [ 第 3 章: 芸者の幽霊 ]
Chapter 4: The Onryo's Revenge [ 第 4 章: 怨霊の復讐 ]
Chapter 5: The Dollmaker's Curse [ 第 5 章: 人形師の呪い ]
Chapter 6: The Shadow in the Forest [ 第 6 章: 森の影 ] Chapter 7: The Haunting of the Yūrei Inn [ 第 7 章: 幽霊旅館の幽霊 ]
Chapter 8: The Curse of the Haunted Kimono [ 第 8 章: 幽霊着物の呪い ]
Chapter 9: The Mirror's Malevolence [ 第 9 章: 鏡の悪意 ]
Chapter 10: The Bridge to the Beyond [ 第 10 章: 彼方への架け橋 ]
 "Yūrei Chronicles: Tales of Japanese Horror" 
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
In the heart of Kyoto, where history whispered through the ancient streets, there existed an antique bookstore known only to those who sought the rarest of tomes. Nestled among centuries-old texts and dusty manuscripts, a forbidden scroll lay hidden, waiting for an unwitting soul to stumble upon its chilling secrets.
Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
The quaint, dimly lit bookstore was a treasure trove of the past. Intricate calligraphy adorned scrolls, while faded ink whispered stories of long-forgotten samurai and mystical creatures. Among these relics of history, one scroll remained elusive, concealed behind a glass case. Its dark, ornate cover bore no title, and its presence seemed to beckon.
Haruki, a young scholar with a fascination for the occult, visited the bookstore one rainy afternoon. His curiosity led him to inquire about the enigmatic scroll. The elderly shopkeeper, Mr. Tanaka, peered at him with a knowing look, cautioning him about the scroll's malevolent reputation.
"Many have sought to uncover its secrets," Mr. Tanaka said, his voice trembling with age, "but few have lived to tell the tale."
Haruki, undeterred by the ominous warning, insisted on examining the scroll. Mr. Tanaka, sensing the scholar's determination, reluctantly unlocked the glass case. As Haruki unrolled the ancient parchment, he saw that it was filled with intricate symbols and incantations, written in a language he could barely comprehend.
For days, Haruki delved into the scroll's mysteries. His sleepless nights were filled with whispers from unseen forces, and chilling drafts seemed to haunt his small apartment. Yet, he pressed on, believing that the scroll held untold knowledge and power.
One fateful night, as a full moon cast eerie shadows across his cluttered study, Haruki recited an incantation from the scroll. The room grew icy cold, and an otherworldly presence enveloped him. A mournful wail echoed through the room, and Haruki's heart raced as he beheld the apparition before him.
A yūrei, its long, disheveled hair obscuring its gaunt face, hovered in the air, its eyes filled with anguish and rage. It reached out bony, pale fingers toward Haruki, its spectral form translucent yet undeniably real.
In that moment, Haruki realized the scroll's true nature – a curse that summoned vengeful spirits to torment the living. He had unwittingly invited the yūrei into his world, and now, it sought retribution for its suffering.
The scholar's life turned into a nightmare as the vengeful spirit haunted his every waking moment. His research became an obsession to find a way to pacify the yūrei and lift the curse. With each passing day, Haruki's health deteriorated, his body and mind succumbing to the relentless torment.
Desperate, he sought the guidance of a renowned exorcist, who revealed a grim truth. The only way to break the curse was to discover the scroll's origins and offer the yūrei the peace it so desperately sought.
As Haruki ventured deeper into the scroll's history, he uncovered a tale of betrayal and tragedy that spanned centuries. With newfound knowledge and a heavy heart, he prepared to confront the vengeful yūrei and set things right.
In a chilling confrontation between the living and the dead, Haruki faced the spirit, offering it the closure it craved. As the yūrei dissipated into the ether, its mournful wail echoed one last time, fading into the night.
Haruki emerged from the ordeal forever changed, carrying the weight of the scroll's curse as a cautionary tale. The forbidden knowledge he had sought had come at a great cost, a reminder that some mysteries should remain hidden, and some curses should never be invoked.
As the sun rose over Kyoto, the antique bookstore remained shrouded in an eerie silence, and the cursed scroll returned to its cryptic slumber, waiting for the next unwitting soul to unlock its dreadful secrets.
End of Chapter 1: "The Cursed Scroll"
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
In the heart of a tranquil Japanese village, nestled among ancient forests, stood a centuries-old Shinto shrine, known to few but revered by all. This sacred place held an eerie secret, hidden in the shadows of its past.
Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
The village of Mizuki was picturesque, surrounded by dense woods and the whispers of rustling leaves. Its most treasured gem was the Shōrin Shrine, a sanctuary dedicated to the worship of the kami, where the villagers paid homage with heartfelt prayers and offerings.
On a bright spring morning, the Hayashi family moved into a charming house near the shrine. Yuko, a spirited young girl with inquisitive eyes, was enchanted by the quaint beauty of Mizuki and the mystique of the Shōrin Shrine. Her parents, Masato and Yuki, hoped the peaceful village would offer respite from the bustling city.
Their first evening in Mizuki was serene, and the family felt blessed to live in such an idyllic place. As night descended, they heard a faint melody echoing through the forest—a haunting tune played on a traditional shamisen. Yuko, drawn by curiosity, followed the eerie melody to the shrine.
At the shrine's entrance, she saw a flicker of movement among the trees and bushes. As her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight, she gasped in awe and terror. There, bathed in an ethereal glow, stood a beautiful woman dressed in a white kimono, her long hair cascading like an ebony waterfall.
The woman's face bore an expression of immense sorrow, and her eyes seemed to pierce Yuko's very soul. In her delicate, spectral hands, she held a shamisen, its strings plucked by fingers that had long since turned to mist.
"Who are you?" Yuko asked, her voice quivering.
The apparition gazed at Yuko with an inscrutable sadness and whispered, "My name is Hana. I have been bound to this shrine for centuries, waiting for someone to hear my song."
Hana's story unraveled like a tragic tapestry before Yuko. She had once been a young woman in love with a humble fisherman from Mizuki. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they met a tragic end at the hands of the villagers.
As she spoke, the melody of her shamisen became more mournful, and the trees seemed to weep in sympathy. Hana's spirit, bound to the shrine, could only find solace by sharing her story with the living.
Yuko, moved by Hana's tale, felt a deep connection to the ghostly figure. She promised to help Hana find peace and bring her story to light. Together, they would uncover the truth behind the tragic love story that had ensnared the shrine for centuries.
As Yuko delved into the village's history, she uncovered hidden documents and ancient scrolls that confirmed Hana's story. The injustice done to Hana and her beloved was a blot on the village's past, a truth that had been concealed for generations.
With newfound determination, Yuko rallied the villagers to acknowledge the village's dark history and to seek forgiveness for the sins of the past. In a moving ceremony at the Shōrin Shrine, the villagers offered their prayers, and Hana's spirit was finally set free.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Mizuki in golden light, Hana's ethereal form dissolved into a wisp of gratitude and serenity. The shrine, once shadowed by sorrow, now radiated with newfound peace.
"The Shrine in the Shadows" became a tale passed down through generations, a reminder that love and forgiveness could transcend even the darkest of curses. Mizuki continued to flourish, its shrine standing as a testament to the enduring power of redemption.
End of Chapter 2: "The Shrine in the Shadows"
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the vibrant streets of 19th-century Tokyo, beneath the shimmering lanterns and behind the delicate allure of geisha, a haunting presence lurked—a presence that would forever change the life of a celebrated geisha named Kaede.
Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
In the heart of Tokyo's historic Yoshiwara district, Kaede was renowned as one of the most captivating and skilled geisha. Her beauty was ethereal, her dances mesmerizing, and her laughter like the tinkling of wind chimes. But beneath her porcelain makeup and the grace of her performances lay a heart heavy with secrets.
One cool autumn evening, as the lanterns cast their warm glow on the district, a newcomer arrived at the teahouse where Kaede performed. His name was Kaito, a handsome and enigmatic man with piercing eyes that seemed to see beyond the facade of the geisha. Kaede's heart quickened as their eyes met, and she felt a connection she had never experienced before.
As weeks turned into months, Kaede and Kaito's bond deepened, their love blossoming like the cherry blossoms in spring. But their love was a forbidden one, as Kaito was a samurai, and their worlds were as different as night and day.
One fateful night, Kaito revealed a dangerous secret to Kaede—he was involved in a plot against a powerful daimyo who ruled with cruelty and oppression. Kaito believed that by exposing the daimyo's corruption, he could bring justice to the people. He asked for Kaede's assistance in gathering information from the teahouse's influential patrons.
Reluctantly, Kaede agreed, and together, they embarked on a treacherous path filled with deceit and danger. As the days passed, they uncovered dark secrets that could expose the daimyo's crimes. However, their actions did not go unnoticed.
One evening, as Kaede performed for a gathering of influential men, a sinister figure appeared in the shadows. It was the vengeful spirit of a geisha named Akiko, who had perished in Yoshiwara under tragic circumstances. Her ghostly form was veiled in a blood-red kimono, and her eyes burned with malevolence.
Akiko's haunting began subtly—a chill in the air, whispers of despair, and a feeling of dread that hung over the teahouse like a shroud. Kaede, sensing the supernatural presence, knew that they had awakened a vengeful spirit.
Desperate to protect Kaede, Kaito sought the guidance of a local exorcist, who revealed the tragic story of Akiko. She had been a geisha in love with a samurai, but their forbidden love had led to betrayal and death. Her restless spirit sought vengeance on those who dared to love across societal boundaries.
With the exorcist's help, Kaito and Kaede embarked on a perilous journey to confront Akiko's spirit and offer her the peace she so desperately sought. In a climactic showdown, they faced the vengeful geisha, revealing the truth behind her betrayal and death.
As the first light of dawn bathed the Yoshiwara district, Akiko's spirit dissipated, her eyes filled with sorrow and resignation. The curse she had cast upon the teahouse lifted, and peace returned to the district.
Kaede and Kaito's love story continued, forever marked by the supernatural forces they had encountered. The teahouse thrived once more, its lanterns casting their warm glow over the enchanting district, where love knew no boundaries and forgiveness transcended even death.
"The Haunting of the Geisha" became a legend whispered among geisha in Yoshiwara, a testament to the enduring power of love and the consequences of forbidden desires in the mysterious world of Edo-era Tokyo.
End of Chapter 3: "The Haunting of the Geisha"
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
In the heart of a decaying city, where abandoned buildings stood as silent witnesses to forgotten tragedies, a group of urban explorers would stumble upon a place where the restless dead held their sinister dominion.
Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
The city of Kurayami had fallen into disrepair, its once-thriving industries crumbling, and its streets echoing with the memories of better days. Among its many derelict structures was the forsaken Kurayami Hospital, a place whispered about only in fearful tales.
Rumors spoke of a curse that had befallen the hospital after a gruesome series of medical experiments in the early 20th century. Patients had been subjected to horrific procedures, and their agonized cries still seemed to reverberate through the corridors.
A group of urban explorers, lured by the thrill of the forbidden and the allure of the macabre, set their sights on Kurayami Hospital. Among them was Hiroshi, the group's leader, and Yumi, a budding photographer with an affinity for capturing the eerie beauty of abandoned places.
As the explorers entered the hospital's crumbling entrance, they were greeted by the musty scent of decay and the eerie silence of long-abandoned hallways. Shadows danced in the dim light as they ventured deeper into the forsaken building, their footsteps echoing like distant whispers.
The group's excitement turned to unease as they encountered signs of the hospital's dark past—rusty surgical instruments, bloodstained gurneys, and cryptic medical notes. Yumi's camera captured it all, each photograph revealing more about the hospital's gruesome history.
As night fell, the explorers gathered in the hospital's decrepit lobby, their flashlights casting trembling beams into the darkness. It was then that they heard it—a faint, mournful wail, like the keening of a soul in torment.
Hiroshi, the group's fearless leader, brushed off their concerns, attributing the sound to the wind or their imagination. But the cries grew louder and more anguished, echoing through the halls.
The group became separated as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors. Yumi, camera in hand, wandered into the hospital's disused psychiatric ward. There, in a shadowed corner, she saw her camera's flash reveal a horrifying apparition—an onryo, a vengeful spirit with long, disheveled hair and eyes filled with hatred.
The onryo's spectral form contorted with rage as it approached Yumi. Its icy fingers reached out, and she felt an otherworldly coldness pierce her very soul. She knew that this was the spirit of a patient who had suffered unimaginable horrors in the hospital.
As Yumi's companions searched for her, they stumbled upon the onryo's lair and witnessed the terrifying encounter. In a desperate bid to save Yumi, they searched for a way to pacify the vengeful spirit.
Through a combination of research and communication with a local historian, they learned the full extent of the hospital's atrocities. Armed with this knowledge, they returned to the onryo's domain to confront the spirit and offer it the peace it had been denied for so long.
In a climactic showdown, the group faced the onryo, revealing the hospital's dark secrets and acknowledging the suffering of the tormented souls within. With profound remorse, they begged for forgiveness on behalf of those who had perpetrated the atrocities.
As the first rays of dawn broke over Kurayami, the onryo's anguished wails transformed into a mournful sigh. The spirit, its wrath finally quelled, dissipated into the ether, leaving behind a sense of profound sadness and closure.
The group of urban explorers emerged from Kurayami Hospital, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. They had confronted the past and offered redemption to the restless dead, leaving the decaying city with a newfound sense of hope.
"The Onryo's Revenge" became a cautionary tale among urban explorers, a reminder that some places are best left undisturbed, and that the past, no matter how dark, can be confronted and reconciled.
End of Chapter 4: "The Onryo's Revenge"
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
In a remote mountain village, nestled among mist-shrouded peaks, a master dollmaker crafted exquisite creations that captured the hearts of collectors worldwide. Yet, within her secluded workshop, a malevolent force lurked—one that would ensnare a curious journalist in a nightmarish world of living dolls and dark secrets.
Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Hidden away in the secluded village of Ichiban, known only to those who ventured deep into the mountains, lived a master dollmaker named Ai. Her dolls were celebrated for their lifelike beauty and craftsmanship, with collectors from distant lands coveting her creations.
One brisk autumn morning, a journalist named Keiko received a cryptic letter from a source in Ichiban, hinting at a sinister mystery surrounding Ai's dolls. Intrigued by the enigmatic message, Keiko embarked on a journey to the remote village, determined to uncover the truth.
Ichiban was a place untouched by time, its cobblestone streets winding through dense forests and past centuries-old homes. The village exuded an eerie tranquility, and the locals spoke in hushed tones about Ai's dolls, rumored to be infused with a piece of the human soul.
Upon reaching Ai's workshop, Keiko was greeted by the dollmaker herself, a woman of grace and poise. The workshop was a treasure trove of exquisite dolls, their eyes seeming to follow Keiko's every move. Among them, a particular doll known as Hikari stood out—a hauntingly beautiful creation with ebony hair and obsidian eyes.
As Keiko delved deeper into the village's mysteries, she discovered that Hikari was believed to house the soul of a deceased child, a belief held by both Ai and the villagers. The doll's unsettling presence and the uncanny resemblance it bore to a girl named Mei, who had died tragically years ago, sent shivers down Keiko's spine.
Keiko's nights in Ichiban were filled with restless dreams of porcelain dolls that came to life. In these dreams, Hikari beckoned her to uncover the truth behind the dollmaker's creations. Guided by an inexplicable compulsion, Keiko embarked on a quest to unearth the dark secrets hidden within Ai's workshop.
As Keiko investigated further, she uncovered Ai's own tragic past—a story of unrequited love, loss, and a desperate desire to capture the essence of the human soul in her dolls. With each revelation, the line between the living and the lifeless blurred, and Keiko felt herself becoming entangled in a nightmarish world.
The dolls that had once been works of art now seemed to harbor malevolence. They moved of their own accord, their eyes filled with an eerie, lifelike intensity. Keiko realized that Ai's obsession had bound her to a sinister force, and her creations hungered for more than just existence.
In a chilling climax, Keiko confronted Ai and the curse that had gripped her creations. Together, they sought to break the curse's hold and release the trapped souls within the dolls.
As the moon hung low in the night sky, Ai performed a solemn ritual, guided by the spirit of Mei, whose essence had been captured in Hikari. The dolls, imbued with a restless energy, gathered around, their haunting eyes watching as the curse was lifted.
With a mournful sigh, the dolls' porcelain features softened, and their malevolence dissipated. The spirit of Mei was set free, and the dolls became lifeless once more, their beauty preserved in eternal stillness.
Ichiban returned to its peaceful slumber, and Keiko departed with a newfound appreciation for the power of art and the depths of human longing. The village's haunting tale of the dollmaker's curse served as a reminder that some obsessions could lead to the creation of something far more sinister than art itself.
End of Chapter 5: "The Dollmaker's Curse"
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
In a land steeped in history and tradition, the Aokigahara Forest, known as the "Suicide Forest," concealed a dark secret. Within its dense, ancient foliage, a group of hikers would embark on a journey that would lead them into the heart of a malevolent force.
Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Deep within the prefecture of Yamanashi, shrouded in a perpetual mist, lay the infamous Aokigahara Forest—an expanse of ancient woodland that held a dark reputation. Known as the "Suicide Forest," it had been a site of countless tragic deaths throughout the centuries.
A group of adventurous hikers, seeking to conquer the wilderness and challenge the forest's ominous legends, gathered on a chilly autumn morning. Among them was Akira, an experienced guide with a deep respect for the forest's history, and Yumi, a young woman in search of adventure and solace from her own troubled past.
The hikers ventured deep into the forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick blanket of moss and fallen leaves. The dense canopy above cast eerie shadows, and the trees seemed to whisper secrets of sorrow and despair.
As they trekked further into the woods, they began to notice strange occurrences—a disconcerting sense of being watched, distant whispers on the wind, and ghostly apparitions that flickered at the edge of their vision. Akira, the guide, attributed these phenomena to the forest's ominous reputation and urged the group to press on.
Yet, the forest's grip on their minds and senses tightened. Yumi, in particular, felt a strange connection to the haunting forces that seemed to lurk behind every tree. Inexplicable visions of tragedy and despair flashed before her eyes, and a sense of overwhelming dread enveloped her.
Night descended on the forest, and the hikers set up camp, their flickering campfire offering the only semblance of comfort in the oppressive darkness. It was then that Yumi encountered a spectral figure—a yūrei, her kimono tattered and her eyes empty voids.
The yūrei beckoned to Yumi, her voice a mournful echo. Unable to resist, Yumi followed the apparition into the depths of the forest, her companions unaware of her disappearance. The yūrei led her to a clearing where an ancient tree stood, its gnarled roots forming a grotesque face.
As Yumi approached the tree, she felt a malevolent presence—an ancient spirit of the forest itself. It spoke to her, revealing the tragic history of Aokigahara—the place where those who had lost hope sought refuge in death.
Yumi learned of the forest's vengeful guardian, a yūrei born of countless lost souls, whose suffering fueled its malevolence. It was the embodiment of the forest's sorrow, forever bound to torment those who ventured within.
Realizing that Yumi was now connected to the yūrei, her companions embarked on a desperate search to rescue her from the forest's clutches. With the guidance of Akira's knowledge and determination, they confronted the vengeful spirit, revealing the pain of their own pasts and the impact of their actions on the world around them.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Aokigahara in a pale light, the yūrei's malevolence waned, and its grip on Yumi loosened. With a final sigh, it dissipated into the morning mist, its haunting presence released from the forest.
Yumi was reunited with her companions, forever changed by her encounter with the malevolent spirit of Aokigahara. The forest's ominous reputation remained, a reminder of the darkness that could consume those who dared to venture too close to its heart.
"The Shadow in the Forest" served as a chilling testament to the mysteries of Aokigahara, where the past and the present intertwined, and the boundaries between life and death blurred beneath the ancient canopy.
End of Chapter 6: "The Shadow in the Forest"
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
In a remote village nestled among mist-covered mountains, a centuries-old inn held a sinister secret. When a weary traveler seeks refuge within its ancient walls, she becomes entangled in a web of supernatural mysteries that threaten to consume her soul.
Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
The village of Okuyama was a hidden gem, nestled among towering peaks and blanketed in mist. Within this secluded haven stood the Yurei Inn, a centuries-old establishment steeped in history and whispered legends. Its age-old charm masked a sinister truth—a haunting presence that had plagued the inn for generations.
Amidst a dense fog, a lone traveler named Rei arrived in Okuyama, weary and seeking shelter from the elements. The Yurei Inn, with its rustic charm and flickering lanterns, seemed like the perfect refuge. Little did Rei know that her stay at the inn would unravel the mysteries hidden within its ancient walls.
Upon her arrival, Rei was greeted by the inn's elderly proprietress, Eiko, a woman whose weathered features and deep knowledge of the village's history hinted at a deeper connection to the inn's haunting past.
As Rei settled into her room, the oppressive atmosphere within the inn became palpable. Shadows seemed to dance in the corners of her vision, and strange, ghostly whispers echoed in the corridors. Unbeknownst to her, Rei had become a pawn in a centuries-old battle between the inn and the vengeful spirits that resided within.
In the dead of night, Rei awoke to a chilling presence at her bedside—an ethereal yurei, her white burial kimono flowing like a spectral river. The vengeful spirit's eyes held an insatiable hunger, and she reached out to Rei, her fingers icy and skeletal.
Rei's nights became torment as she encountered more yurei within the inn, each with their own tragic stories of betrayal, injustice, and unfulfilled desires. The spirits sought vengeance, and Rei's presence within the inn had awakened their malevolence.
Desperate to uncover the inn's secrets and free herself from the spirits' relentless pursuit, Rei sought the guidance of Eiko. The elderly proprietress revealed the tragic history of the inn—an establishment built on the suffering of countless souls who had met their demise within its walls.
Eiko's own family had been entangled in the inn's dark legacy, and she bore the weight of their deeds. Together, Rei and Eiko embarked on a journey to confront the yurei and offer them redemption, hoping to break the cycle of suffering that had plagued the inn for centuries.
In a harrowing confrontation with the vengeful spirits, Rei and Eiko unveiled the truth behind the inn's cursed history and acknowledged the pain of the souls that had been wronged. With heartfelt apologies and rituals of atonement, they sought to release the spirits from their torment.
As the first rays of dawn bathed Okuyama in a golden light, the yurei's spectral forms dissolved into the ether, their eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and gratitude. The Yurei Inn, once a place of darkness, now held the promise of redemption.
Rei departed from Okuyama, forever marked by her encounter with the supernatural. The Yurei Inn, now cleansed of its malevolent spirits, stood as a testament to the power of reconciliation and the hope of breaking the chains of the past.
"The Haunting of the Yurei Inn" became a cautionary tale among villagers, a reminder that the sins of the past could be confronted and forgiven, even in the face of vengeful spirits.
End of Chapter 7: "The Haunting of the Yurei Inn"
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
In the heart of Kyoto, where tradition and modernity intertwined, a family heirloom, an ancient kimono, carried a chilling curse that had plagued generations. A woman must delve into her family's history to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it before it consumes her and her loved ones.
Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Kyoto, the city of a thousand temples, was a place where time seemed to stand still. Among the historic districts, the Nakamura family had passed down a treasured heirloom for generations—an exquisite silk kimono adorned with intricate embroidery, a relic of a bygone era.
The kimono had always been a source of fascination and reverence within the Nakamura family. It was said to be imbued with mystical powers, protecting its wearer from harm and misfortune. But beneath its ornate beauty lay a dark secret—a curse that had haunted the family for centuries.
Emi, the youngest of the Nakamura family, had grown up hearing stories of the kimono's mystical properties and the curse that clung to it. When her grandmother passed away, leaving the kimono in her care, Emi became the latest custodian of this fabled garment.
As the years passed, strange occurrences began to plague Emi and her family. The kimono seemed to have a malevolent presence, causing nightmares, unexplained accidents, and a growing sense of dread. Emi's husband, Toshiro, and their young daughter, Yuki, bore the brunt of the curse's effects.
Desperate to protect her loved ones, Emi embarked on a quest to uncover the origins of the curse and find a way to break it. She delved into her family's history, poring over ancient scrolls and consulting with local priests and scholars.
Through her research, Emi learned of a tragic love story that had been concealed for generations—a forbidden romance between a Nakamura ancestor and a woman from a rival clan. The lovers had been torn apart by a vengeful spirit, and their love had been sealed within the cursed kimono.
With newfound determination, Emi sought out the help of a renowned exorcist, who revealed that the curse could only be broken by reconciling the spirits of the star-crossed lovers and offering them a chance at eternal peace.
Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki embarked on a journey to the ancestral shrine of the Nakamura family, where they conducted a solemn ritual to appease the vengeful spirits. As they offered their prayers and made heartfelt apologies on behalf of their ancestors, a profound sense of forgiveness washed over them.
In a climactic moment, the cursed kimono transformed, its once malevolent aura dissipating into the ether. The spirits of the star-crossed lovers, now free from their torment, appeared before Emi and her family, their eyes filled with gratitude.
As the cherry blossoms rained down upon Kyoto, Emi, Toshiro, and Yuki returned home with a newfound sense of peace and closure. The kimono, no longer cursed, became a symbol of their family's resilience and the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Curse of the Haunted Kimono" served as a reminder that the sins of the past could be atoned for and that the bonds of love and family could transcend even the darkest of curses.
End of Chapter 8: "The Curse of the Haunted Kimono"
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a quiet suburban neighborhood, an antique mirror with a sinister past found its way into the home of a young couple. As they unwittingly unleashed the malevolent spirit trapped within, they must confront the mirror's dark history to save themselves and their family.
Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
In a serene suburban neighborhood, where cherry blossoms bloomed with each passing spring, lived a young couple, Hiroshi and Aiko, who were enamored with the charm of their new home. They had recently moved into a quaint, old-fashioned house that came with a peculiar antique mirror.
The mirror was ornate and beautiful, its frame adorned with delicate carvings of cherry blossoms. It had been left behind by the previous owner, a recluse who had passed away under mysterious circumstances. Little did Hiroshi and Aiko know that this mirror carried a malevolent secret.
As they settled into their new home, strange occurrences began to unfold. Reflections in the mirror seemed to distort, showing glimpses of eerie, shadowy figures lurking in the background. At night, whispers filled the room as if unseen voices murmured from within the glass.
Aiko, with her fascination for the occult, was the first to sense the mirror's sinister aura. She delved into research, uncovering tales of a cursed mirror that had plagued the previous owner's family for generations.
The mirror had once belonged to a vengeful spirit, a yūrei who had perished in despair. Its malevolence was bound to the glass, and those who possessed it were tormented by the spirit's relentless anger and sorrow.
Desperate to free themselves from the mirror's curse, Hiroshi and Aiko sought the guidance of a spiritual medium. Through a series of rituals and séances, they made contact with the vengeful spirit trapped within the mirror.
The spirit's story unfolded like a tragic drama—the yūrei had been a young woman in love with a man from a rival clan. Their love was forbidden, and when their secret was discovered, they had both met a grisly end. Her spirit had been bound to the mirror as punishment for her defiance of societal norms.
With the medium's help, Hiroshi and Aiko offered prayers and apologies on behalf of the mirror's original owner, seeking forgiveness for the wrongs committed against the vengeful spirit. They vowed to help the spirit find peace and redemption.
In a chilling climax, they conducted a final ritual, allowing the yūrei to pass on and find the solace she had been denied for centuries. As they gazed into the mirror one last time, they saw the spirit's reflection fade into the distance, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and farewell.
The mirror, now cleansed of its malevolence, became a symbol of hope and renewal for Hiroshi and Aiko. Their family flourished, and the cherry blossoms in their garden bloomed with newfound vibrancy, a testament to the enduring power of love and forgiveness.
"The Mirror's Malevolence" served as a chilling reminder that even the most innocuous objects could carry dark secrets, and that confronting the past and seeking redemption could break the bonds of even the most malevolent curses.
End of Chapter 9: "The Mirror's Malevolence"
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
In a remote mountain village, isolated from the modern world, a historic bridge served as a link between the living and the dead. When a group of travelers crossed its ancient planks, they would discover the chilling truth behind the bridge's supernatural origins.
Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
Deep within the heart of the Japanese mountains, nestled among ancient forests and shrouded in mist, lay the village of Yamanokawa. It was a place where tradition and superstition still held sway, and the bridge that spanned the river was both a lifeline and a gateway to the unknown.
A group of adventurous travelers, drawn by the allure of Yamanokawa's untouched beauty, embarked on a journey to explore the village's remote reaches. Among them were Kaito, a historian with an insatiable curiosity, and Mia, a photographer who sought to capture the essence of this secluded world.
The village's centerpiece was the Akane Bridge, a weathered structure made of ancient wood and adorned with centuries-old lanterns. Its planks creaked with the weight of history, and the river below whispered tales of lives long gone.
As the travelers ventured deeper into Yamanokawa, they discovered that the villagers held a profound reverence for the bridge. It was said to be a link between the living and the dead, a place where offerings were made to appease the spirits that dwelled in the surrounding forest.
As night descended, the travelers set up camp near the Akane Bridge, its lanterns casting an eerie, flickering glow on the river's surface. It was then that they heard the sound—a mournful melody that seemed to emanate from the bridge itself.
Mia, driven by curiosity, followed the haunting tune to the bridge's edge. There, bathed in an otherworldly light, she saw a figure—a woman in a white kimono, her long hair flowing like an ebony waterfall.
The woman, whose name was Hikari, revealed herself to be a yūrei, a spirit bound to the Akane Bridge for centuries. She had once been a young bride whose love had been torn apart by a tragic accident on her wedding day. Her spirit was eternally linked to the bridge, where she waited for her beloved to return.
Kaito, the historian, delved into the village's archives and uncovered the tragic story of Hikari's past. It was a tale of love and loss, of a bride whose life had been cut short, and a groom whose heart had been forever scarred by grief.
With newfound determination, the travelers sought to reunite the spirits of Hikari and her beloved. They embarked on a journey deep into the forest, following a path laden with offerings and prayers.
At the heart of the forest, they discovered an ancient shrine dedicated to love and reconciliation. There, in a poignant ceremony, they offered heartfelt prayers and apologies on behalf of the villagers and the groom who had never returned.
As the first light of dawn broke over Yamanokawa, a sense of serenity washed over the Akane Bridge. Hikari's spectral form dissolved into the river's mist, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and gratitude.
The travelers departed from Yamanokawa, forever changed by their encounter with the supernatural. The Akane Bridge, now freed from its haunting past, stood as a testament to the enduring power of love and the hope of reuniting even in the afterlife.
"The Bridge to the Beyond" became a legend whispered among villagers, a reminder that some bonds could transcend time and that the spirit of love endured even in the face of eternity.
End of Chapter 10: "The Bridge to the Beyond"
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2024.05.10 05:36 The_Way358 Essential Teachings: The Political and Cultural Context of the New Testament

The End of the Old Testament

Beginning in 606 BC, Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon launched the first of three successive attacks upon the city of Jerusalem and the people of Judah. During the second attack (597 BC), Ezekiel, Daniel, and about 10,000 other inhabitants of Jerusalem were carried into captivity. During the third attack (587-586 BC) Jerusalem was completely destroyed. Her walls were broken down. The gates were burned. The temple was destroyed. The city was left desolate in shambles.
While in captivity, Daniel foretold that the Babylonian Empire would be overtaken by the Medes and the Persians, the Medes and the Persians would be conquered by the Greeks, the Greeks would be conquered by the Maccabeans (Hasmoneans), and the Hasmoneans would be conquered by the Romans. The Romans later installed the Herodians as vassal (or "client") kings of Rome over Judea. Daniel further foretold that the establishment of the kingdom of God would take place during the days of the this mixed empire (Dan. 2:41-44); this empire began near the end of the "intertestamental period," spilling over into the times of the New Testament.

The Intertestamental Period

The time between the last writings of the Old Testament and the appearance of Christ is known as the “intertestamental” (or “between the testaments”) period. It lasted from the prophet Malachi’s time (about 400 BC) to the preaching of John the Baptist (about AD 25). The political, religious, and social atmosphere of Israel changed significantly during this period. Again, much of what happened was predicted by the prophet Daniel. (See Daniel chapters 2, 7, 8, and 11 and compare to historical events.)
Israel was under the control of the Persian Empire about 539–332 BC. The Persians allowed the Jews to practice their religion with little interference. They were even allowed to rebuild and worship at the temple (2 Chron. 36:22-23, Ezra 1:1-4). This span of time included the last 100 years of the Old Testament period and about the first 100 years of the intertestamental period. This time of relative peace and contentment was just the calm before the storm.
During the intertestamental period, Alexander the Great defeated Darius of Persia, bringing Greek rule to the world. Alexander was a student of Aristotle and was well-educated in Greek philosophy and politics. Alexander required that Greek culture be promoted in every land that he conquered. As a result, the Hebrew Old Testament was translated into Greek, becoming the translation known as the Septuagint. Most of the New Testament references to Old Testament Scripture use the Septuagint phrasing. Alexander did allow religious freedom for the Jews, though he still strongly promoted Greek lifestyles. This was not a good turn of events for Israel, since the Greek culture was very worldly, humanistic, and ungodly. As a result, many in the Jewish population would begin to adopt increasingly Hellenistic views and ways of thinking about God and the Scriptures.
After Alexander died, Judea was ruled by a series of successors, culminating in the Selucid king Antiochus Epiphanes. Antiochus did far more than refuse religious freedom to the Jews. Around 167 BC, he overthrew the rightful line of the priesthood and desecrated the temple, defiling it with unclean animals and a pagan altar (see Mark 13:14 for a similar event to take place in the then future). Antiochus’ act was the religious equivalent of rape. Eventually, Jewish resistance to Antiochus, led by Judas Maccabeus and the Hasmoneans, restored Jewish priests and rescued the temple. The period of the Maccabean Revolt was one of war, violence, and infighting.
Around 63 BC, Pompey of Rome conquered Israel, putting all of Judea under control of the Caesars. This eventually led to Herod being made the vassal (or "client") king of Judea by the Roman emperor and senate. This is the nation that taxed and controlled the Jews and eventually executed the Messiah on a Roman cross. Roman, Greek, and Hebrew cultures were now mixed together in Judea.
The years of Herod’s rule were a time of turmoil for the Jewish people. He was an Idumean. His ancestors had been forced to convert to Judaism, but the Jews never accepted Herod. In fact, they resented him. He was the representative of a foreign power. Scheming, jealous, and cruel, he killed two of his own wives and at least three of his own sons. Just five days before his own death, Herod had his oldest son, Antipater, put to death. Augustus once said that it was better to be Herod’s pig than his son (a wordplay, since the Greek words for pig, hus, and for son, huios, sound very much alike). His relations with Rome were sometimes troubled due to the unsettled conditions in the empire. Herod was a strong supporter of Antony, though he could not tolerate Cleopatra with whom Antony had become enamored. When Antony was defeated by Octavian (31 BC), Herod pledged his full support to Octavian.
Herod proved himself an efficient administrator on behalf of Rome. He kept the peace among a people who were hard to rule. He was a cruel and merciless man. Yet, during a time of great famine, he used his own funds to feed the people. Among his many building projects in Jerusalem, his greatest contribution to the Jews was the beautification of the Temple in Jerusalem. This beautification seems to have largely been an attempt to conciliate his subjects. The Temple, decorated with white marble, gold, and jewels, became proverbial for its splendor: “Whoever has not seen the temple of Herod has seen nothing beautiful.”
It was during the reign of Herod that Jesus was born (Matt. 2:1-18, Luke 1:5). Herod was the king who ordered the execution of the male babies in Bethlehem, for fear of being usurped by the prophesied Messiah (Matt. 2:16-18).

Major Political Events of the New Testament

At his death (4 BC), Herod left his kingdom to three of his sons. Antipas became tetrarch (“ruler of a fourth”) of Galilee and Perea (4 BC–AD 39). Philip became tetrarch of the Gentile regions to the northeast of the Sea of Galilee (4 BC—AD 34). Archelaus was to be king of Judea and Samaria, but Rome refused to give him the title of king. He was ethnarch (“ruler of the people”) of these two territories. He proved to be a poor ruler and was deposed (6 AD). His territories were placed under the direct rule of Roman procurators under the control of the governor of Syria.
John the Baptist rebuked Antipas for divorcing his wife in order to marry Herodias, the wife of Philip, his half brother. In retaliation, Herodias induced her dancing daughter to demand the head of John the Baptist. Antipas yielded to the grisly request (Mark 6:17-29, Matt. 14:3-12). Jesus once referred to Antipas as “that fox” (Luke 13:32). Later Jesus stood trial before him (Luke 23:7-12).
Except for brief periods, Roman governors ruled Archelaus’s former territory. The fifth procurator appointed to rule over Judea was Pontius Pilate, before whom Jesus stood trial prior to his crucifixion. Interestingly, three times Pilate pronounced Jesus innocent, yet he lacked the courage to set him free for fear of the angry mob whipped up by the enemies of Christ (John 18).
Herod Agrippa I, grandson of Herod the Great, executed James, the apostle and son of Zebedee, and imprisoned Peter (Acts 12:1-5). He was smitten of God when he accepted the praise of the people, “It is the voice of a god, and not of a man.” Luke tells us that because “he gave not God the glory,” “the angel of the Lord smote him" and "he was eaten of worms," and died (Acts 12:21-23).
The governor Felix heard the apostle Paul preach the gospel and trembled at the word, yet postponed obeying the gospel (Acts 24–25). He hoped that Paul would bribe him with money, but Paul never did and remained a prisoner for two years under the governor Felix.
Festus, who took the place of Felix, also heard Paul’s case (Acts 25). Willing to do the Jews a favor, Festus suggested that Paul return to Jerusalem to stand trial. Being a Roman citizen, and knowing that the Jews intended to kill him, Paul appealed his case to Caesar.
This presented a problem for Festus. He had no choice but to send Paul to Rome. The problem was that he did not have any charges to write in the papers to accompany Paul to Rome. Thus, he asked Herod Agrippa II, great-grandson of Herod the Great, to listen to Paul’s self-defense and see if he could determine what charges should be written against Paul before sending his case to Rome. Agrippa heard Paul’s self-defense and was “almost” persuaded to become a Christian himself (Acts 26:28).
Upon the death of Festus, Albinis and then Florus were appointed governors of Judea. It was during Florus' reign that the Jewish revolt of AD 66-70 took place, which ended with the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in AD 70.

Groups, Peoples, and Philosophies of the Day

During the span of the Greek and Roman occupations, some important political/religious groups emerged in Israel. In a study of the New Testament, it is important to consider the historical background and significance of some of the Jewish groups in Palestine at the time, whose names are familiar as participants in the drama of early Christianity. These were the groups with whom Christ Jesus had to deal as he observed and often challenged their views. Entrenched in positions of authority and leadership through anciently established hierarchy, tradition, or inheritance, their resistance to change was almost inevitable.
Most familiar of the New Testament parties and groups in political and religious life were the Sadducees, the Pharisees, and the scribes. The nationalistic and revolutionary Zealots are also mentioned. The Herodians were exclusively a political party, members and supporters of the family of the Herods, whose titular authority was permitted by Rome. Finally, there's the Galileeans and the Samaritans, who weren't necessarily attached to any of the aformentioned ideologies, but were citizens of their respective states.
Jews and Samaritans were to have no dealings with each other, so Samaritans technically had no dog in this fight between the Jews' themselves and their own ideologies, but it's important to mention them because they contribute to the narrative of the New Testament through Jesus' dealings with them, and his famous parable of "the Good Samaritan."
THE SADDUCEES
The Sadducees constituted a conservative priestly party among the Jews. Their name probably derived from Zadok, the high priest who anointed Solomon as king (1 Kings 1:39). Comprised of high-priestly families from the Jewish aristocracy, who had come into power largely during the Maccabean War, they were educated and wealthy men, fairly few but wielding great power. No man who was unable to trace his descent from a priestly family could offer sacrifice in the Temple. The Sadducees represented the aristocrats and the wealthy. The Sadducees, who wielded power through the Sanhedrin, rejected all but the Mosaic books of the Old Testament. They refused to believe in resurrection and were generally shadows of the Greeks, whom they greatly admired.
While upholding the spread of Greek culture, the Sadducees stressed the letter of the Mosaic Law, or Torah. They denied the authority even of ancient tradition, and rejected the current concepts of angels, immortality, resurrection, and final judgment (Mark 12:18‐27, Acts 4:1-2; 23:8). They jealously guarded Temple worship and sacrificial rites, objecting to Jesus' cleansing of the Temple, which infringed their religious authority. After the destruction of the Second (or Herod's) Temple in 70 AD, when the Jewish state came to an end, their sway virtually ceased. In the absence of the Temple, the office of priest became obsolete, to be succeeded by that of the rabbi in the synagogue.
THE PHARISEES
It was when the people were in exile, Solomon's Temple having been destroyed, that the need arose for local gathering places, which became the forerunners of the synagogue. Even after some of the exiles returned to Palestine, and the Second (or Zerubbabel's) Temple was built, the continued dispersion of many Jews and the demand for Scriptural knowledge that came with the religious reformation of Ezra and Nehemiah made the synagogue and its school increasingly necessary. In New Testament times they prevailed in all cities and towns where Jewish people resided.
The beginnings of Pharisaism go back to the days of Ezra and Nehemiah, who lived about 450 years before the New Testament era. Ezra did much to bring stability to his nation in a period of downfall and discouragement. He upheld two main concepts, which formed, as it were, the heart of Pharisaism. First, he erected a distinct barrier between Jew and Gentile. The Jews he regarded as God's holy people. Intermarriage between them and others of mixed ancestry', such as the Samaritans, was not to be tolerated. Also, he made the Law of Moses the central point of Jewish religion, virtually establishing it as the constitution of the Jewish people.
In their objection to the Hellenizing of Judaism, after the rise of Alexander the Great, many Jews became even more strict in their desire to maintain the purity of their law and tradition. Thus it is easy to see how they came to be called Pharisees (Hebrew Perushim), meaning literally "separatists." These were the ones who adopted, or popularized, a prescriptive method of interpreting the Law of Moses, as opposed to the "descriptive wisdom" methodology of Jesus as seen in the New Testament.
Contributing a democratic influence in Judaism, Pharisees were basically laymen, coming from all walks of life, often including scribes and priests. Like the Sadducees, they sought to uphold the Mosaic Law, but their concern was to adapt its teachings to current situations, and their influence was primarily in the synagogue.
Much of the strength of Pharisaism came from the adaptability of this movement to changing conditions, a tendency which helped in preparing for Christianity. It was the Pharisees who were largely responsible for taking the Messianic idea and keeping it alive in the hopes of the people. Also, it was they who upheld the belief in immortality and the resurrection, to which the Sadducees took great exception. Unlike the Zealots, they generally rejected violence as a means to national liberation.
While modern research is providing justification for more favorable opinions concerning the Pharisees' role in history, there was ample room for Jesus' repeated denunciations of the abuses and inconsistencies he observed. The Pharisees added to the Law of Moses through oral tradition and eventually considered their own laws more important than God’s (Mark 7:1-23). While Christ’s teachings often agreed with the Pharisees, he railed against their hollow legalism and lack of compassion. Nevertheless, Pharisees such as Nicodemus (John 3:1; 19:39), Gamaliel (Acts 5:34) and his famous pupil, Saul of Tarsus (Acts 22:3) certainly represented the highest thought in Judaism.
THE SCRIBES
The powerful seventy-one-member Sanhedrin or Council, the highest Jewish court, was made up of Pharisees and Sadducees, with the high priest as president.
The scribes, strictly speaking, formed a legal profession rather than a party. They—and a nearly identical group, the lawyers—were usually Pharisees, though occasionally there were Sadducean scribes as well. They were professional teachers who were interpreters and transcribers of the Law at a time when hand-copying was the only method of preserving any document.
So insistent were the Jews upon maintaining the absolute accuracy of their sacred Scriptures that the work of the scribes demanded exceptional skill and mastery of the text. The Jews considered the Law of Moses to be the infallible standard, God's own law. It was their national, civil, moral, and religious law in one.
The scribes not only transmitted but contributed to "the tradition of the elders"—an ever-increasing body of legalistic detail, which, when committed to writing, formed the Talmud.
It was usual for the scribes to have another occupation to supplement their unpaid teaching and writing work. Their work combined the many functions of judge, lawyer, preacher, teacher, and scholar. The office of the scribe gradually merged into that of the rabbi, for when the canon of the Old Testament was finally settled in 90 AD—largely the result of the Pharisees' work—the need for the scribes as interpreters of the Law diminished.
There are many references to scribes in the Old Testament, but clearly "Ezra the scribe" (Neh. 8:1; 12:26) was the true antecedent of those referred to in the New.
THE ZEALOTS
The Zealots were members of a first-century political movement among Judean Jews who sought to overthrow the occupying Roman government. The word zealot derives from the Greek zelotes, meaning “emulator or (zealous) follower.”
According to the Jewish historian Josephus, the Zealots “agree in all other things with the Pharisaic notions; but they have an inviolable attachment to liberty, and say that God is to be their only Ruler and Lord" (Antiquities 18.1.6).
Hezekiah, under whose leadership the Zealots arose, was martyred by Herod. Their appearance on the political horizon of Palestine came early in the Roman occupation. According to Josephus, they "were particularly active in AD 6 during the revolt of Judas of Gamala, in Galilee, who maintained that compliance with the Roman demand for a census would constitute an act of enslavement 'among Palestinians." Josephus was apparently unaware of the role played by Hezekiah in the rise of the Zealots. This appears from his reference to Judas as their author.
They "were most influential in Galilee and later in Jerusalem, especially from the time of Herod (37 BC –AD 4) until the fall of Jerusalem (AD 70)."
"They refused to pay taxes and considered it a sin to acknowledge loyalty to Ceasar." They "harassed the Roman administration with every means at their disposal." They "relentlessly opposed the Roman attempt to bring Judea under her idolatrous rule."
It was from among the Zealots that the extreme Sicarri arose. The Sicarii were famous for hiding their daggers in their cloaks and using them to secretly target their enemies during the festivals (Antiquities 20.8.10). Some sources make a sharp distinction between the Zealots and the Sicarii, while others do not. It seems fair to say that the Sicarii were part of the Zealot movement, but not all Zealots were Sicarii. Thus, “Zealot” was an umbrella term for the revolutionaries who rebelled against Rome.
Some sources say that those who belonged to the family dynasty of Hezekiah were all Sicarii. Wikipedia designates the Sicarii as “a splinter group of the Jewish Zealots.” The Sicarii are mentioned in Acts 21:38, where Paul was asked if he was the Egyptian who had led 4000 assassins (or “dagger-bearers”) into the wilderness.
Of importance in New Testament history, the Zealots led a rebellion when Rome introduced imperial cult worship. The Great Jewish Revolt began in AD 66. The Zealots successfully overtook Jerusalem, but their revolt was ultimately unsuccessful. In AD 70, the Romans destroyed the city of Jerusalem and the Temple. A remnant of the Zealots then took refuge in Masada.
Josephus records many of the atrocities committed by the Zealots when they possessed Jerusalem, blaming them for being the ones truly responsible for its destruction, as the city was left quite desolate and chaotic by the time the Roman general Titus even came to finish it off.
It is my belief that there are, in fact, 5 kingdoms which precede the kingdom of God in Daniel chapter 2, and not 4, as commonly taught. It is also my belief that the fourth kingdom was the Hasmonean (Maccabean) Dynasty, and that the fifth kingdom (thus, the "Beast" of Revelation; see Daniel 7) wasn't Rome, but apostate Israel instead. It is my belief that the Beast represents apostate Israel as a whole, the culmination of which was the Zealots. This explains how it had authority over every nation (the Jewish Diaspora) and how it conquered the saints (same). The Zealots were just a symptom of the disease, but John’s vision focuses on them more because they were the ones who brought about the eschatological war.
THE HERODIANS
The Herodians held political power, and most scholars believe that they were a political party that supported King Herod Antipas, the Roman Empire’s ruler over much of the land of the Jews from 4 BC to AD 39. The Herodians favored submitting to the Herods, and therefore to Rome, for political expediency. This support of Herod compromised Jewish independence in the minds of the Pharisees, making it difficult for the Herodians and Pharisees to unite and agree on anything. But one thing did unite them—opposing Jesus. Herod himself wanted Jesus dead (Luke 13:31), and the Pharisees had already hatched plots against him (John 11:53), so they joined efforts to achieve their common goal.
The first appearance of the Herodians in Scripture is Mark 3:6, "And the Pharisees went forth, and straightway took counsel with the Herodians against him, how they might destroy him." Jesus had been doing miracles, which caused some of the people to believe in him for salvation, and that threatened the power and position of the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Herodians. The Herodians again joined with the Pharisees to challenge Jesus, to see if they could trap Jesus in his words by a trick question, to either discredit him or to get him to stop preaching (Matt. 22:15-22).
Jesus regarded the two groups as in unity against him and warned his followers against them: "Take heed, beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and of the leaven of Herod." (Mark 8:15b). Yeast in this context is false teaching, the rejection of Jesus as the Messiah, and hypocrisy. Many scholars believe that the Herodians looked to Herod as a messiah, a savior of sorts who would put the Jewish land in favor with the Roman Empire and bring blessings to them. Jesus’ presentation of himself as the Messiah was a threat to the Herodians' attempt to make Herod the influential political power in the land.
In the then future (now past; we're Preterists), the Bible tells us that many would be deceived by an Antichrist figure and would view this Antichrist as a "messiah." He would be a political leader as well as a false religious leader, and he would promise peace and prosperity through policy. The Herodians at the time of Jesus were also focused on political goals rather than the eternal goals that Jesus proclaimed. They thought Herod might bring peace politically. But Jesus came to bring us salvation from our sins. The lesson we learn from the error of the Herodians is that we are not to trust in man's devices or politicians, as they trusted in Herod (Psa. 118:8). We are to put our trust in the Lord.
THE GALILEEANS
A Galilean was an inhabitant of the area in Israel near the Sea of Galilee. In the time of Christ, Galilee was the northernmost of the three provinces of Israel, above Samaria in the middle and Judea in the south. Approximately 700 years before Christ, Galilee’s Israelite inhabitants were conquered by Assyria. Most of the Jews living there were relocated to Assyria, while non-Jewish immigrants moved into Galilee (2 Kin. 15:29–17:24). This is why the Bible sometimes refers to the area as “Galilee of the Gentiles” (Isa. 9:1, Matt. 4:13-16).
Judeans tended to look down on Galileans, viewing them as uneducated and of questionable ancestry (John 1:46; 7:52). Galileans also had a reputation of being rabble-rousers, as they often took part in protests and uprisings against the Roman occupiers. It is significant that Jesus grew up in Galilee (Matt. 2:19‐23) and in Galilee recruited most of his disciples, started his ministry, and performed his first miracles (Matt. 4:17-23, John 2:11). Being Galilean, Jesus “was despised, and we esteemed him not” (Isa. 53:3).
We see glimpses in Scripture of how Galilee may have been a trouble spot for Roman rule. Gamaliel mentioned a failed revolt led by “Judas the Galilean” in Acts 5:37. In Luke 13:1-3, some people told Jesus about an incident involving Galileans: “There were present at that season some that told him of the Galilaeans, whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices” (vs. 1). Neither Scripture nor secular history gives any more details regarding this massacre, but it is likely that the Galileans, visiting Jerusalem to offer sacrifices, had been caught up in a nationalistic fervor and started a commotion on the temple mount. The Roman governor Pilate quickly and violently quelled the disturbance, killing the Galileans along with their sacrificial animals, perhaps as a public demonstration of how violators must “atone” for their “sins” against Rome.
Jesus responded to hearing about the massacre of the Galileans with a warning: “Suppose ye that these Galilaeans were sinners above all the Galilaeans, because they suffered such things? I tell you, Nay: but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish” (Luke 13:2b-3). Instead of conjecturing on the Galileans’ sin, Jesus said to his audience that they needed take care of their own sin. They all needed to repent.
Peter, being a Galilean, spoke in a northern Aramaic dialect, and his accent and vocabulary gave him away when he was trying to remain anonymous on the night of Jesus’ arrest. As Peter was sitting in a courtyard during one of Jesus’ trials, a servant girl came up to him and said, “Thou also wast with Jesus of Galilee” (Matt. 26:69c). Later, another servant girl said, “This fellow was also with Jesus of Nazareth” (vs. 71). A short time later, others said to Peter, “Surely thou also art one of them; for thy speech bewrayeth thee” (vs. 73). Galileans naturally stood out to the people of Jerusalem.
The fact that Jesus lived and ministered in Galilee is yet another example of his identification with those the world rejects. He came to seek and to save the lost. Those who follow his example will likewise proclaim his message and live out his teachings among culture’s outcasts and minister to “the least of these” (Matt. 25:40).
THE SAMARITANS
A Samaritan was a person from Samaria, a region north of Jerusalem. In Jesus’ day, the Jewish people of Galilee and Judea shunned the Samaritans, viewing them as a mixed race who practiced an impure, half-pagan religion.
Samaritans, as a people distinct from the Jews, are first mentioned in the Bible during the time of Nehemiah and the rebuilding of Jerusalem after the Babylonian captivity (Ezra 4:17, Neh. 2:10). Both Ezra chapter 4 and a fifth-century BC Aramaic set of documents called the Elephantine Papyri point to a schism between the Jews and Samaritans during this Persian period.
The Samaritans saw themselves as the keepers of the Torah and the true descendants of Israel, from the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh. They had their own unique copy of the Pentateuch, the first five books of Moses, and believed they alone preserved the original Mosaic religion. Samaritans also had a unique religious system and established their primary worship site on Mount Gerizim. They considered the Jerusalem temple and the Levitical priesthood illegitimate.
The historian Josephus and Jewish tradition trace the origin of the Samaritans to the captivity of the northern kingdom under Assyria in 721 BC. Jews of the northern kingdom intermarried with Assyrians after the captivity and produced the half-Jewish, half-Gentile Samaritan race. When the Jews accused Jesus of being a “Samaritan” in John 8:48, they were rudely suggesting that he was a half-breed, born of an unfaithful mother.
In New Testament times, the Jews despised Samaritans and would have nothing to do with them. The Samaritans were still living primarily around Mount Gerizim (John 4:1-42), but also kept to their own villages (Matt. 10:5, Luke 9:52). Scripture mentions encounters with Samaritans in towns bordering Samaria (Luke 17:11-19) and on roads between Jerusalem and Jericho (Luke 10:29-37).
Jesus met with difficulty when ministering to people in Samaritan villages (Luke 9:52-53) and at one point told his disciples not to enter them (Matt. 10:5-6). Nonetheless, Christ shared the good news with Samaritans, ministering to a Samaritan woman (John 4:4-26) and healing a Samaritan leper (Luke 17:11-19).
The most recognized Samaritan in the Bible is the one in Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29-37). A Jewish legal expert had put Jesus to the test, asking him to explain the commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself”; specifically, he asked Jesus to define the word neighbor.
That’s when Jesus told his parable of a man in need, portraying the Samaritan as the hero in the story. In the lawyer’s eyes, the Samaritan was the least likely candidate to act lovingly and compassionately to his neighbor. As intended, the story shocked Christ’s audience of prejudiced Jews. Jesus showed that authentic love must transcend all human boundaries of race, religion, nationality, economic class, and educational status.
In Acts 1:8, Jesus told his disciples that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, they would be his witnesses in Samaria. In Acts chapter 8 the prophecy was fulfilled, and Samaria became an early mission field for the spreading of the Church.

The Shammaite and Hillelite Interpretations of Mosaic Law

Shammai and Hillel were two influential Jewish rabbis whose commentaries on the Torah shaped Jewish theology and philosophy for hundreds of years. The Shammaite and Hillelite schools were the two dominant approaches to Jewish Law during the years of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Unfortunately, the destruction of the Temple in 70 AD resulted in the loss of most records relating to the debates between these two groups. The Hillelite school quickly gained dominance after the Temple was razed, so much of what we know about first-century Hillelite and Shammaite law comes exclusively from later Hillelite writers. These writers portray the Shammaite-Hillelite divide in a manner similar to modern two-party politics, with each side seemingly bound and determined to contradict the other on everything.
According to tradition, Shammai was a Pharisee who taught in the years just prior to Jesus’ birth. In his commentary on the Law, he emphasized the need for Temple rituals, and his interpretation is characterized as strict, literalist, and Israel-centric. The school that followed those interpretations is referred to as the Shammaite interpretation of Jewish Law.
Rabbi Hillel, a contemporary of Shammai, was less concerned with temple worship. His commentary is seen as being more liberal, tolerant, and accepting of Gentiles. Hillel was also known for codifying traditional patterns for exegesis into seven individual rules. His Hillelite school was a rival to the Shammaite approach. After the destruction of the Temple, the influence of the Shammaite school faded, and Hillel’s philosophy became the dominant approach to Jewish Law for more than 400 years.
Scholars are unsure how many of the differences between the Shammaite and Hillelite schools are factual and how many are the products of revisionist history. While Jewish scholars prior to 70 AD make frequent reference to the disagreements between these two groups, the vast majority of surviving records are from Hillelite writers. It’s possible that the Hillelites exaggerated some of the differences between Shammai and Hillel in order to portray Hillel in a more heroic light.
Even with such open questions, it’s clear that the interplay between Shammai and Hillel influenced Judaism during the early Christian era. The rivalry between the two schools greatly contributed to Judaism’s growing belief that the oral law—such as promoted in the Shammaite or Hillelite schools—was as authoritative as the written Torah.
Some scholars debate which school, Shammaite or Hillelite, had a greater influence on the theology of the New Testament. Jesus’ restrictive rules on divorce echo those of Shammai, while Hillel allowed for a wider range of acceptable reasons to end a marriage. Jesus also phrased the “Golden Rule” using a more challenging, positive expression, in contrast to Hillel’s lighter, negative expression of the same basic idea. At the same time, Jesus was welcoming of non-Jewish people and often castigated the Pharisees for their excessive legalism. The fact is that Jesus presented the truth, and his agreement with either Shammai or Hillel was secondary and coincidental. Jesus spoke the Father’s Word, and his teaching cannot be seen as a defense of any rabbi (John 12:49).
There is also an academic debate over the influence of Shammai and Hillel on the theology of the apostle Paul. On one hand, Paul was a student of Gamaliel, who came from the Hillelite school and might have even been Hillel’s grandson. But, prior to his conversion, Paul (Saul) was hardly a tolerant, Gentile-friendly Pharisee. Rather, in opposition to Gamaliel’s teaching, Paul took a severe stance. And in his letters Paul expresses an Israel-centric, all-or-nothing obedience to the Law (Rom. 3:19-28; cp. James 2:10), which many scholars would identify more with Shammai. Of course, as he was writing inspired Scripture, Paul was not concerned with what rabbi might have had a past influence upon him; he was “moved by the Holy Ghost” and wrote what the Spirit wanted (2 Pet. 1:21).

The Ediomite Lineage of Christ's Enemies

Around 63 BC, the Roman Triumvirate Pompey brought Judea under Roman Rule. He pushed all the Jews into the areas of Gallilee, Jericho and Jersalem. Then he settled Greeks and Syrians in the rest of the land of Palestine. Originally, Galilee was settled by the tribe of Benjamin who always followed the tribe of Judah.
A few years earlier, Hyrcanus, a descendant of the Maccabees, conquered the land of Idumea. Idumea was the home land of the Edomites. He forced all the Edomites to be circumcised and follow the Jewish laws.
The Jewish Encyclopedia, 1903 edition, says under the heading Edom:
"They were then incorporated with the Jewish nation, and their country was called by the Greeks and Romans “Idumea” . . . From this time the Idumeans ceased to be a separate nation, though the name “Idumea” still existed (in) the time of Jerome."
The Edomites were the descendants of Esau. Esau married into the families of the Canaanites. The Canaanites were the people that God told Moses and the Israelites to kill and drive out of the land of Canaan. They were warned never to mix or marry with the Canaanites. God gave Edom the land south of Judea. They were driven westward by the Natabeans to the area that became Idumea. Their border was only 19 miles from Jerusalem.
Flavus Josephus who lived from 37 AD to 100 AD confirms Edomite occupation in southern Judea:
“That country is also called Judea, and the people Jews; and this name is given also to as many as embrace their religion (Judaism), though of other nations. But then upon what foundation so good a governor as Hyrcanus (grandson of Mattathias patriarch of the Maccabees, a family of Judahite patriots of 2nd and 1st centuries B.C.) took upon himself to compel these Idumeans (Edomites) either to become Jews or to leave their country, deserves great consideration. I suppose it was because they had long ago been driven out of the land of Edom, and had SEIZED ON AND POSSESSED THE TRIBE OF SIMEON (their land not the people), AND ALL THE SOUTHERN PART OF THE TRIBE OF JUDAH, WHICH WAS THE PECULIAR INHERITANCE OF THE WORSHIPERS OF THE TRUE GOD WITHOUT IDOLATRY…”
The word “Jews” in Scripture often refers to the inhabitants of the land of Judea. But it can also mean the tribe of Judah in some cases, or those who simply follow the Jewish religion (Judaism). The name for the land of Palestine was called Judea because they combined the name Judah and Idumea.
Now at the time of the Messiah, the Sadducees were in control of the Temple. Pharisees were the synagogue leaders. According to the Ency. Britannica and Philo, there were 6,000 Pharisees during the time of the Messiah.
Some had to be non-Jews and Edomites. When Herod came to power, he solidified his position by bringing in relatives from Idumea and appointing many non-Jews to important positions. And he killed the entire Sanhedrin except Hillel and Shammai. Herod was practicing Judaism, as many Edomites and Nabateans had been commingled with the Jews and adopted their customs.
The Edomites were called the Herodians in Scripture, and were politically aligned with Herod. As shown earlier, they plotted with the Pharisees to kill the Messiah.
The Bible also shows that some of the Pharisees were Edomites. Notice the verse below:
"They answered him, We be Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man: how sayest thou, Ye shall be made free?"-John 8:33
The Pharisees told the Messiah that they had never gone into bondage. This could only apply to the Edomites because the tribe of Judah was taken into captivity in around 586 BC by Babylon. They would have never told the Messiah that they never went into captivity. This verse proves that the Edomites were mixed among the Pharisees.
In the time of Christ, there were two Sanhedrins operating in Jerusalem, the first of which was a 23-member court run by the Sadducees that handled local affairs. Its larger counterpart, the Great Sanhedrin, was comprised of 70 elders with a president, who in the time of Jesus was Gamaliel. Acts 5:25 shows this group and the Great Sanhedrin coming together to discuss the problem of the Christians. The Great Sanhedrin functioned much like a combination of the Senate and Supreme Court, and most of its members at the time of the crucifixion were Pharisees from the school of Shammai.
You will note in the Book of Acts that Gamaliel, the president of the Great Sanhedrin, encouraged tolerance of the Christians. But because he and his followers were outnumbered by the aristocratic Sadducees and the Shammai-oriented Pharisees, the Great Sanhedrin ultimately elected to persecute the Christians. At the trial of Jesus before the elders of Israel, Gamaliel may not have been present. If he had, the circumstances may have turned out quite differently. The trial held to try Jesus was hurriedly assembled and included almost across the board members who were either Sadducees, or else Pharisees from the school of Shammai. It is possible that Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimithea represented the school of Hillel.

Conclusion

It's important to keep in mind when studying all this that Jesus came to establish the New Covenant, which is about a heavenly Jerusalem, not an earthly one like the Zealots and Pharisees of Jesus' day thought or like how Zionists today think: "And when he was demanded of the Pharisees, when the kingdom of God should come, he answered them and said, The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you" (Luke 17:20-21). Jesus even said, "My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence" (John 18:36b).
submitted by The_Way358 to u/The_Way358 [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 05:27 RudeHippo1745 11 day itinerary

It’s our first trip with my mom and dad if y’all got any tips of things to point out lemme know
Edit: I know it’s packed we plan on cutting some things out it’s just a plan
Tokyo: 4 nights
Day 1:
-Toyosu fish market (World’s largest-food and souvenirs) and Tsukiji (older one but more open) -Imperial Palace -Yurakucho neighborhood, 700 m stretch if pubs, casual restaurants for lunch -Tokyo tower (main obs deck) -Relax at Meiji Jingu (shrine and forest) -Yoyogi park (paths, ponds, snacks) -Harajuku -Golden Gai (alleyways with bars that are unique)
Day 2: Asakusa -Senso-ji temple (7th century) and Asakusa Shrine (try to go early-crowded) -Ueno park (cherry trees, art, shrine, museums, vendor stalls, and zoo) and Tosho-gu shrine -Akihabara Electric Town (electronics, music, manga, anime, weird maid cafes, arcades) -back streets in Asakusa for food -Go karting if we get licenses -Samurai ninja museum Tokyo
Day 3: -shinjuku Gyoen national garden (ponds, bridges, cherry trees) Shibuya (go to Ringram store for matching rings, go to Takeshita st. (harajuku area) For shops and crepes) -Shibuya crossing -Tea ceremony -book True Japan -Quirky cafe (kawaii monster, vampire, harry, ninja)
Day 4: -Rainbow Bridge -Meguro river or any of these: Yokohama Chinatown Baseball game Volcano Tokyo National Museum Restaurant you can fish for meal
**Train to Hakone: 2 hours by train (1 night) Natural hot springs Fujiya hotel (old, cool gardens, john and yoko stayed there) Lake Ashi Hike to Mt sengen Yumoto hot springs
Kyoto: (4 nights) *rent bikes, eat curry, ramen, and donburi (sushi more expensive here)
Day 1: -Arashiyama bamboo forest (go early), Tenryu Temple, Okochi Sanso Garden (not crowded) -Temple of the Golden Pavilion -Ryoan-Ji rock garden and temple -Toji temple (tallest, 8th century) -Daitoku-ji temple
Day 2: -Fushimi inari Taisha -Higashiyama (tea ceremony, philosopher’s path, shops/restaurants, nanzen-ji temple) -Kiyomizu-dera -Nishiki market and Teramachi stree(food stalls, maybe do food tour here) -Gion district (shopping, geishas, art, performances, antiques)-walking tour, nighttime Get Your Guide -Pontocho Row (night scene)
Day 3: Nara -deer park -Todai-ji buddha and temple (8th century) -Daubitsuden -Kofukuji pagoda -Walking tour?
Maruyama park (k)* Arashiyama monkey park (k)* Nijo Castle (170 acres, zen gardens, moat) and Ninomaru palace* Heian shrine* Shimogamo shrine (6th century)* Samurai ninja museum kyoto Onsen- bath houses (must cover tattoos or can’t come in)
Hiroshima: day trip -Fudoin temple -Eat oysters, okonomiyaki, Okonomi village food hall, curry, ramen -Hiroshima castle -Bitchu matsuyama castle (1240 AD) -Peace Memorial Museum* -Peace Park* -Shukkeien Garden* -Ferry to Miyajima: Itsukushima Shrine on island, Tori gate, ride ropeway to highest point**
Osaka: (1 night) -take a food tour Get Your Guide -Osaka Castle* -Dotonbori (night life)* -Shitennoji temple -Minoh Park* -Universal studios?* -Shinsaibashisuji district for shopping* -Tsurumi Ryokuchi Park -Kuromon ichiba food market*
submitted by RudeHippo1745 to JapanTravel [link] [comments]


2024.05.10 01:08 ashweeuwu 2 week Itinerary Feedback: Golden route + Nagano, Hiroshima

hello! I have been looking into visiting Japan in February with my girlfriend. I have been working on a rough plan for: Tokyo, brief trip for the Snow Monkeys (since it would be peak season!), Osaka, one night in Hiroshima, Kyoto, Nara, and back to Tokyo.
I would also love suggestions for other things we’d enjoy in these areas!
suggestions I’m really interested in: - Arcades. I have an obsession with crane games and I know Japan has no shortage of those 😅😅😅 please give suggestions if you know of good places to go outside of the major chains like Round1, GiGo, Taito Station, etc. - Other nerdy stuff. Ghibli, pokemon, sanrio, Vocaloid. Gf loves Naruto, Evangelion, Genshin, League, and the Yakuza games - Animals. no exotic animal cafes or anywhere else that exploits them. Rescues, ethical zoos and the like are what I would like to know about!!!! we also love cats and always love hanging out with them :) - Vintage, antiques, and thrift. - Plus size clothing (especially secondhand, if any). We are definitely not Japanese standard size, but love the styles.
This is my current rough itinerary. pls let me know if anything sounds unreasonable!
February 4th - 18th
4th - land in Tokyo - Mostly rest. Maybe skytree city or Odaiba if not absolutely tired
5th - Nerima/Itabashi - Suga Shrine (we love Your Name) - Maybe Nerima art museum if not dying of jetlag - Onigiri Bongo for lunch - Ikebukuro, Sunshine City Mall
6th - Yokohama - Gundam Base Yokohama - Chinatown - Shin-Yokohama Ramen museum - otherwise free
7th - Akihabara - Most of the day exploring Akihabara - Maybe stop for unagi in Ueno - Odaiba/Gundam Base Tokyo in the evening
8th - Nagano - Want to visit the snow monkey onsen park since it is prime season, but I also am aware the nearest road is 1.2 miles away during winter so not sure if it’s reasonable as first time visitors? - I’m thinking of two options: —— Day tour. Round trip from Tokyo. Guided tour from Nagano including Miso factory and the Jigokudani park. —— Stay one night in the ryokan right across from the park. Escape from civilization for the day and night, chill w monkeys in the snow
9th - Shibuya - National Art Center - Harajuku, Hachiko, crossing, usual tourist stuff lol - Gonpachi Nishi-Azabu for dinner
10th - Osaka - Shinkansen in morning - Train cat cafe - Osaka castle - Southgate plaza
11th - Osaka - Nipponbashi Denden town - Dotonbori - Concert at Namba hatch in afternoon
12th - Hiroshima - Shinkansen in morning - Peace memorial park and museum - Miyajima, Itsukushima - Thinking of guided tour of Miyajima, maybe one that also includes the peace park and museum. - May stay at Ryokan on Miyajima for the night.
13th - Kyoto - Shinkansen - Fushimi Inari - Shinkyogoku Shopping st after lunch - Samurai Ninja Museum - Nishiki market
14th - Nara/Kyoto - Nara park in morning - to Sannenzaka in afternoon - Kiyomizu-dera
15th - Kyoto - Arashiyama bamboo forest - + monkey park - Nijo castle - Manga museum
16th - Kyoto - Nyan-nyan ji cat temple - Kinka-kuji - Maybe Shinkansen back to Tokyo in the afternoon (the next morning if not)
17th - Tokyo - Maybe Ueno zoo and/or National museum - Asakusa, Nakamisedori St, Senso-ji
18th - Tokyo and departure - free! - fly out in evening 😔
thanks in advance! ☺️🩷
submitted by ashweeuwu to JapanTravel [link] [comments]


2024.05.09 21:28 Prudent-Orange1719 About Ecydsis (Firmament Spoilers)

Anyone else a little sad there's no vanity attached to this carousel to grind? It'd be a nice thing to work towards while grinding a million Stuivers, plus I'd like to have a count of how many me-husks I've just left laying around in this room at this point.
https://preview.redd.it/bpeewrb5cgzc1.png?width=885&format=png&auto=webp&s=134b81693cdbf87fcfcf9b0c9db7e712e1baf924
submitted by Prudent-Orange1719 to fallenlondon [link] [comments]


2024.05.09 13:23 Ar1in32on Request for help!

Hello.
I bought an antique (ish, probably 1930/40) silver jug recently for a friend as a gift which has since been given, hence lack of photos. Sorry.
There were three hallmarks on it, one was the Spanish shooting star, one was a makers mark, and one was a cross of Santiago / St James.
I cannot find any record at all online of the St James / Santiago cross being used as a hallmark, though I suspect it indicates the region in Spain where it came from (therefore likely Northern Spain).
Any ideas on this final hallmark would be much appreciated! Thank you.
submitted by Ar1in32on to Hallmarks [link] [comments]


2024.05.09 08:41 Cdn_citizen Current Post

Backed by Community Request, our Spring event is live! Details here. Participation is optional.

For all the great traders out there, thank you!
Thank you to those that share our posts, you are true guardians of Airsoft!
This is a mega post from a group of 40+ airsoft collectors'/players'.
Reddit chat sucks so we've added an Alternate Contact on Discord: cdnciti
Only trade of interest is a Inokatsu MK46.
Guns will only be sold to adults.
'PD' means Pending Deal. Crossed off items are sold.
All negotiations are done prior to pickup.
Pick up available in Markham, Yorkdale, Fairview Mall(Toronto) or STC.
Traders must agree in writing to the price and payment method before meeting up.
For shipped items, if payment is not received within 24 hours the trade is off.
EMT for shipped items or cash for pick ups.
If you are not comfortable trading in person in a public parking lot with security cameras and plate scanners then shipping is recommended.
+SHIPPING $$ means shipping cost is not included in the price. All trades are final.
All rifles include shipping/delivery costs.

Freebies donated by our group

Add one of these items to your trade when it's conditions are met. Spend amount is on a per trade basis. No holds on Freebies.
Only users who comment and proceed with a trade will receive the requested item.
Brand Product Price Pictures
Valken Echo Googles FREE with any item pics
Rpro Sight Protector FREE with $70+ pics
AI Gungas Kit FREE with $130+ pics
Valken Kilo Sling FREE with $150+ pics
Rpro Reflex FREE with $180+ pics
Rpro M600 FREE with $200+ pics
Rpro APL FREE with $200+ pics
FMA PEQ15 FREE with $220+ pics
FMA PEQ15 TAN FREE with $260+ pics
KWC 1911 FREE with $300+ pics
HFC Launcher FREE with $300+ pics
KWC PT99 FREE with $300+ pics
KWC SW40 FREE with $340+ pics
AI BURSTXL FREE with $370+ pics
KWC M17 FREE with $400+ pics
Madbull XM203 FREE with $500+ pics
KWC Deagle FREE with $500+ pics
KJW P09 FREE with $620+ pics
WE xDm FREE with $620+ pics
WE 1911SV FREE with $650+ pics
VFC M&P9 FREE with $720+ pics
KJW SP01ACCU FREE with $850+ pics
VFC G17G4 FREE with $960+ pics
TM PX4 FREE with $980+ pics

Collectors Pieces/Wall Hangers

Items in this section were not fielded. Tested and working.
GAS RIFLES
Brand Product Price Pictures
WE L85 $650 pics
- MSK $600 pics
- CQBR Kit2 $550 pics
- M416 Kit $950 pics
- M4 STRIKE $580 pics
- M4 MB DD 7" FDE $500 pics
- M4 SWS $680 pics
- M4 RIS kit $650 pics
- 416 $500 pics
- 416 CQB PKG #1 $740 pics
- 416 CQB PKG #2 $700 pics
- 416 CQB $600 pics
- CQBR KIT $650 pics
- PDWL BK $520 pics
- SCARL Kit $600 pics
- SCARL BK $540 pics
- - - -
KWA MP7 Kit $630 pics
KWC UZI $270 pics
GHK COLT M4RIS 14.5"(2019) $1100 pics
G&G SMC9 Kit $700 pics
GAS PISTOLS(SHIPPED)
Brand Product Price Pictures
TM M9A1#2 $250 pics
- 5.1 $360 pics
- 5.1 Kit $500 pics
- P226E2 2mags $240 pics
- M&P9 $340 pics
- G17G3 $280 pics
- M9 Chrome $400 pics
- MEU $320 pics
- 1911 Series '70 $320 pics
- USP $420 pics
- USPC Kit $480 pics
- USPC Kit2 $400 pics
- 5-7 $350 pics
- xDm $230 pics
- PX4 $300 pics
- G17 w/2mags $400 pics
- G17 Custom DE $320 pics
- G17 w/2mags $300 pics
- M9A1 $350 pics
- M92F Military $280 pics
- XDM $190 pics
- - - -
WE MEU DT $250 pics
- G27 Kit $400 pics
- Luger Kit $300 pics
- PX4 DT Kit $350 pics
- G17 Kit2 $330 pics
- G17 Kit4 $300 pics
- G17 Kit $400 pics
- G18C Kit $400 pics
- G18C G4 $300 pics
- G18C $220 pics
- G19 Kit $370 pics
- G19 G4 $230 pics
- G23 Kit $360 pics
- G23 G4 BK $230 pics
- G26C ADV Tan $210 pics
- G33ADV Kit $300 pics
- G35 BK/GD $250 pics
- G35DT Kit $340 pics
- G17 Dual $360 pics
- Luger w/SIL $200 pics
- Luger SV $250 pics
- P38 SV $240 pics
- F228 Kit $290 pics
- F229R Kit2 $300 pics
- F229 $190 pics
- F226 DT $240 pics
- F226 w/4mags $300 pics
- F229 Kit $320 pics
- F226E2 $180 pics
- F226 TAN $230 pics
- P-Virus $250 pics
- M902 $260 pics
- M9A1 w/SIL $250 pics
- M9 Navy TN/BK $200 pics
- 1911 Kit $300 pics
- MEU BK w/SIL $250 pics
- MEU SV Kit $300 pics
- KIMBER Kit $300 pics
- KIMBER $230 pics
- 1911DT Kit $320 pics
- M&P9 BK/GD Kit $350 pics
- M&P9DT $200 pics
- - - -
VFC M&P9T Kit $320 pics
- M&P9C $240 pics
- M&P9DT $250 pics
- M&P9 w/case $300 pics
- G17G4 $250 pics
- G17G4 Kit $500 pics
- G17G4 w/DOCTER $300 pics
- G17G4 $300 pics
- G17G5 $300 pics
- PPQ M2 w/2mags $320 pics
- FNX45B $300 pics
- FNX45DT Kit $440 pics
- FNX45B Silenced $350 pics
- - - -
KJW KP05OD Kit $340 pics
- P09UGSR Kit $430 pics
- KP06 2mags $230 pics
- 1911 Kit $300 pics
- KP07 Kit $400 pics
- G23 Kit $320 pics
- M9 CO2 $160 pics
- M9A1 Kit $300 pics
- M9 4mags $280 pics
- KP09 Kit $250 pics
- P09 BK $170 pics
- P09 Kit $320 pics
- P09 TAN $200 pics
- KP05 $190 pics
- KP05 Kit $260 pics
- SP01 UGSR $180 pics
- SP01 ACCU Kit $350 pics
- KP01 Kit $350 pics
- KP01 Kit2 $290 pics
- - - -
KWC MAKAROV $160 pics
- SW40 $130 pics
- 1911 TAC DT 2mags $180 pics
- 1911B $170 pics
- 1911 L.E. $200 pics
- 1911 w/3mags $220 pics
- 1911 $160 pics
- MEU $180 pics
- P08 $140 pics
- 24/7 $160 pics
- DEAGLE BK $150 pics
- DEAGLE SV $190 pics
- KCB89 $150 pics
- M712 $150 pics
- SW40 $120 pics
- M17 $180 pics
- PT99 $120 pics
- - - -
AW NE3002 $250 pics
- 5.1 Custom $280 pics
- HX1005 $200 pics
- HX1101 2mags $280 pics
- HX1102 $200 pics
- HX1105 $180 pics
- HX2003 Kit $320 pics
- NE2002 $230 pics
- HX2302 $250 pics
- HX2402 $250 pics
- HX2601 $290 pics
- VX0111 $250 pics
- - - -
EMG STI/ TTI JW3 $400 pics
- SAI 4.3 BK $260 pics
- SAI 5.1 SV $280 pics
- SAI BLU $300 pics
- SAI 5.1 BK $250 pics
- - - -
KSC Auto9 $340 pics
Marushin FN 5-7 $250 pics
KWA MK23 $320 pics
- USP MATCH $390 pics
- MK23 Kit $450 pics
- HK45 w/2mags $340 pics
G&G GTP9 TAN $210 pics
- GPM92 Kit $450 pics
Umarex SAA Antique $390 pics
AEGS (Collectors Pieces/Wall Hangers)
Brand Product Price Pictures
G&G AR15 SBR8 $630 pics
- M14 EBR-L $700 pics
- TR-418 $630 pics
- Wildhog 9" $330 pics
- SRL TAN $330 pics
- GC Predator BK $450 pics
- - - -
VFC HK416 $750 pics
- HK416 Kit $900 pics
- HK417 Kit $800 pics
- 416CQB Kit $600 pics
- HK416 Calibur $650 pics
- MK18 $630 pics
- VR16 RISII $630 pics
- SABER MOD1 Kit $600 pics
- Avalon Calibur Carbine DT Kit $780 pics
- Calibur CQC $440 pics
- AVALON Calibur CQC $560 pics
- Calibur Carbine Kit $500 pics
- VR16 Kit #2 $360 pics
- MK12 MOD1(SPR) $670 pics
- Fighter MK2 Kit2 $460 pics
- Fighter MK2 Kit3 $500 pics
- VR16 Saber CQB $380 pics
- VR16 RIS $330 pics
- M4A1 $350 pics
- M4 SOPMOD $440 pics
- XCR-C Metal $400 pics
- SCAR-H CQC $600 pics
- SCAR-L $550 pics
- SCAR-L TAN $560 pics
- - - -
Krytac PDW FG Kit $600 pics
- SPR BK $300 pics
- Vector LE $1050 pics
- LVOA-S BK Kit $600 pics
- VECTOR BK Kit $1200 pics
- LVOA-C CG $600 pics
- LMG PDW $1100 pics
- PDW Kit $420 pics
- SPR-M FDE $620 pics
- Vector DT Kit $1100 pics
- LVOA SBR DT $500 pics
- SPR MK2 FG $550 pics
- PDW FDE Kit $580 pics
- SPPDW $500 pics
- TR47 $600 pics
- REC7 BK $630 pics
- LVOA-S BK PKG $600 pics
- LVOA-S FG $560 pics
- LVOA-S FDE $600 pics
- LMG-E $850 pics
- - - -
G&P Sentry DE $600 pics
- TMR 10" $450 pics
- Rapid Fire $600 pics
- Defender $580 pics
- M4 Ball Medium $400 pics
- QRF $480 pics
- MOE Carbine $570 pics
- - - -
ASG Scorpion Evo 3A1 $600 pics
- - - -
KWA SR10 Kit $520 pics
- KR12 $330 pics
- KM4 RIS $400 pics
- SR12 $500 pics
- SR10 $500 pics
- - - -
KA COLT MK18 $400 pics
- B.R.O. 15" $500 pics
- M7 $400 pics
- CAA M4 $400 pics
- - - -
ARES M4 DMR Kit $500 pics
- AM014 Kit $500 pics
- OCTAARMS KM03 $430 pics
- AM014 BK $420 pics
Magpul PTS PDR-C $1300 pics

USED Guns

The guns below are used. They are tested for functionality and leaks.
GAS Rifles
Brand Product Price Pictures
WE 416 Kit $550 pics
- SCARL Kit $480 pics
- M4A1 RIS Kit $720 pics
- M4 LVOA w/4mags $560 pics
GAS Pistols(+SHIPPING $$)
Brand Product Price Pictures
TM+KWC G17+PT99 Kit $560 pics
- - - -
TM G17G3 Kit2 $300 pics
- G18C Kit $520 pics
- PX4 w/2 mags $330 pics
- P226E2 w/2 mags $250 pics
- G17G3 $280 pics
- G17G3 4mags $460 pics
- G17G3 Kit $420 pics
- - - -
WE G18C Kit $280 pics
- G17G3 Kit3 $350 pics
- G17G3 Kit2 $280 pics
- G17G3 Kit $380 pics
- 1911 BK Kit $300 pics
- MEU TAN kit $250 pics
- 1911 7mags $260 pics
- M9 Navy Kit $260 pics
- M9 Navy 3mags $200 pics
- F229 Kit $250 pics
- F226E2 Kit#1 $300 pics
- F226E2 3mags $240 pics
- xDm Kit $200 pics
- xDm Comp 2mags $230 pics
- - - -
VFC G17 Kit3 $250 pics
- FNX45BK $220 pics
- G19G3 Kit $270 pics
- G17G4 Kit2 $250 pics
- G17G4 Kit $340 pics
- G17G4 3mags $300 pics
- FNX45TAN $325 pics
- - - -
KJW 1911 OD w/2mags $160 pics
- M9 $150 pics
- M9 Elite $150 pics
- KP-01 $150 pics
- - - -
KWC M&P9 $140 pics
- PT99 3mags $150 pics
- PT99 w/2 lowers $160 pics
- 1911 4mags $200 pics
- 1911 4mags $180 pics
- 1911 2mags $130 pics
- 1911 2mags $160 pics
- M92 $130 pics
- M92 4mags #2 $200 pics
- M92 4mags $180 pics
- Luger $150 pics
- Deagle 4mags $200 pics
- Deagle Kit $270 pics
- M17 2mags #2 $150 pics
- M17 $130 pics
- M&P9 Kit $250 pics
- SW40 $120 pics
- - - -
AW HX1004 Kit $220 pics
- HX2502 Kit $350 pics
- HX1002 Kit $300 pics
- HX1004 kit $240 pics
- - - -
KWA HK45 $220 pics
AEGS
Brand Product Price Pictures
Krytac LVOA-C $330 pics
- LVOA-S Kit $550 pics
- LVOA-C FG Kit $520 pics
- LVOA w/3 mags $350 pics
- CRB MK2 Kit $540 pics
- SPR MK2 DT Kit $450 pics
- SPR MK2 Kit $420 pics
- Vector PKG $950 pics
- GPR CC $500 pics
- LMG $750 pics
- - - -
G&P LMT Kit $350 pics
VFC VR16 TE1 Kit $420 pics
- XCR-C(Metal) Kit $380 pics
KA BRO 15" Kit $350 pics
- VIS CQB $360 pics
G&G SRL DST Kit $340 pics
ARES M4 15" KeyMod $290 pics
- OCTA ARMS KM15 Kit $320 pics
E&C EC106 $350 pics

Parts

(USED)(+SHIPPING $$)
Brand Product Price Pictures
GHK G5 Barrel+Hop up $60 pics
VFC G17G4 Lower $130 pics
- G17G4 Externals $150 pics
WE Apache Mag $30 pics
- M4 Lower $150 pics
- SCAR-L Barrel+Sight $45 pics
- G18C Parts $60 pics
- G17 Slide/Barrel $95 pics
- 1911 Silver Frame $50 pics
TM 5.1 Midframe $120 pics
- G17 BBU w/Nozzle $65 pics
- - - -
AEG PARTS - - -
ASG Scorpion Internals $60 pics
- Scorpion GB $65 pics
G&G V2 GB $60 pics
- V2 GB#2 $50 pics
G&P V2 GB $65 pics
Krytac PDW FG Upper $110 pics
- 5" Barrel $40 pics
(NEW)(+SHIPPING $$)
Brand Product Price Pictures
AW 5.1 Lower $120 pics
Ratech WE NPAS $25 pics
TNT H.L.R. Bucking 60 $30 pics
SI AR Enhanced Grip $40 pics
DP GhostRing2(TMG17) $30 pics
SLR 2x VFC G17 EXT Baseplates $100 pics
G&P 870 Piston Set 150% $40 pics
SPEED 5.1 Comp Trigger Gold $40 pics
AIP G17 Spring Guide $22 pics
WE G17 Upper $100 pics
- G17 Lower $85 pics
- Apache Lower $220 pics
- G18C Slide $50 pics
- 5.1 Parts $40 pics
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submitted by Cdn_citizen to u/Cdn_citizen [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 18:05 JohannGoethe The Al-Ge-B-Ra or algebra (الجبر) or 𓆄 𓅬 𓇯 𓍢 (H6-G38-N1–V1) cipher seems to indicate that the "foot" 𓃀 [D58] of 𓅬𓃀 [G38-D58], aka Geb {carto-phonetics}, the earth 🌎 god, does NOT render as the /B/ phonetic?

The Al-Ge-B-Ra or algebra (الجبر) or 𓆄 𓅬 𓇯 𓍢 (H6-G38-N1–V1) cipher seems to indicate that the
Abstract
Research to figure out who first rendered the following hiero-names, believed to the glyph-names versions of the Egyptian earth 🌍 god, into the word GEB:
  1. 𓅬𓃀
  2. 𓅬𓃀𓀭
  3. 𓆇𓃀𓀭
  4. 𓆇𓃀𓊹
  5. 𓈅𓃀𓀭
  6. 𓇼𓊹
  7. 𓏾𓀭
  8. 𓀭 (king) with 𓅬 (goose) on his head
  9. 𓀿 (man on back) with 𓂸 erection (𐤂)
Data gathered thus far:
  • Κὴβ (KHB) {Keb} [30] τοῦ Ἡλίου 🌞, ἤτοι Κρόνος John Antioch (1310A/+645)
  • Sév, Siv, Sèv, Kèb, Kev Jean Champollion (132A/1823)
  • Qeb (𝔔𝔢𝔟) or Geb [?] Brugsch (69A/1886)
  • Seb, Qeb or GEB Renouf (2 Nov 69A/1886)
  • Qeb (𝔔𝔢𝔟) = Sebet (𝔖𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔱); 𝔔𝔢𝔟 (Qeb) {Monuments}, 𝔎𝔢𝔟 (Keb) {tradition} Brugsch (64A/1891)
  • Keb or Seb Wiedemann (58A/1897)
  • Seb, Geb, Gebb, Keb, Kebb Budge (51A/1904)
Antioch
In 1310A (+645), John Antioch, in his Chronological History (Historia chronike), cited by Carl Lepsius (pg. 14) and Peter Renouf (pg. 83), spoke about a Keb (Κηβ) [30] of Helios (Ηλιον) 🌞 being defined as the Greek god Cronos (Κρονος) [510], the last child born of Gaia, the earth 🌍 goddess, and Uranos, sky god:
Greek Phonetics Google
Αἰγύπτιοι φασιν, ὡς Ηφαιστος αὐτῶν ἐβασίλευσεν ἀπείρους τινὰς χρόνους· μετὰ τοῦτον Ἥλιος ὁ Ἡφαίστου ἔτη ζψοξ (1. ζψος), μετ' αὐτὸν Σῶς, ἤτοι "Αρης, μεθ ̓ ὃν Κὴβ [30] τοῦ Ἡλίου 🌞, ἤτοι Κρόνος Aigýptioi fasin, os Ifaistos aftón evasílefsen apeírous tinás chrónous: metá toúton Ílios o Ifaístou éti zpsox (1. zpsos), met' aftón Sós, ítoi "Aris, meth ón Kív toú Ilíou 🌞, ítoi Krónos Egyptians, like their Hephaestus, reigned for an infinite number of times; after this Sun, Hephaestus year zpsox (1. zpsos), with him Sos, i.e. "Mars", with the Sun's 🌞 Cube, i.e. Saturn
Strange that Google renders ”Κὴβ τοῦ Ἡλίου 🌞” as “Sun’s cube”.
That Κὴβ (KHB) = 30 here makes sense, firstly, as the base of 30 is 3, which is letter G, the bottom 3rd column letter. Secondly, because it has eta (H) in the name, which is based the 𓐁 [Z15G] proto-type, i.e. numeral 8 or eight digits in Egyptian numerals.
The following is the Wiktionary entry on Keb (Κῆβ), presumably derived from the Lepsius citation of the Greek choreographer:
https://preview.redd.it/zkbd4yp4bjzc1.jpg?width=1200&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=44b6b3d5cdcdaa64b290829a07bb68019c4a8075
Champollion
In 132A (1823), Jean Champollion, in his Egyptian Panthéon: Collection of Mythological Characters from Ancient Egypt after the Monuments (27:1), cited by Peter Renouf (pg. 83), said the following:
French English
Le Saturne Egyptien ... prenait le nom de Sév, Siv ou Sèv et celui de Kèb ou Ke Saturn of Egypt ... preceded the name of Sév, Siv or Sèv and that of Kèb or Kev
Lepsius
In 104A (1851), Carl Lepsius, in his About the First Egyptian Gods and Their Historical-mythological Origins (pg. 14), citing John Antioch (1310A/+645), equated Keb (Κηβ) of Helion (Helion) to Seb, as follows:
https://preview.redd.it/eidu3v5j9jzc1.jpg?width=1096&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5aefd1f550634bb2196382547ccf7d94f618248d
Brugsch
In circa Jan 69A (1886), Heinrich Brugsch, in an article in the Zeitschrift für Aegyptische Sprache, had rendered the Egyptian earth 🌍 god, formerly called Seb, by the new name Keb or Seb? [N2] His later (64A/1891) works used the German Qeb (𝔔𝔢𝔟) = Sebet (𝔖𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔱); 𝔔𝔢𝔟 (Qeb) {Monuments}, 𝔎𝔢𝔟 (Keb) {tradition}. We will have to check on this?
Renouf
On 2 Nov 69A (1886), Peter Renouf, in his 14-page “The Name of the Egyptian god Seb”, opened to the following:
“This year's first number of the Zeitschrift für Aegyptische Sprache begins with an extremely interesting article by Heinrich Brugsch, in which that eminent scholar produces the evidence on which he bases his new reading, Qeb or Geb [see: Appendix on the Transcription of Egyptian Words], of the god's name which has hitherto been read Seb.
The new reading has been taken up by scholars like Dr. Dümichen and Dr. von Bergmann, and is now authoritatively recognised in the Catalogue of the Egyptian Antiquities of the Museum in Berlin. I fear my learned colleagues in Egyptology have been somewhat precipitate in this matter, for the evidence which has until now been put before them, however strong it may appear to them, is essentially one-sided, and, as I shall presently show, it is even incomplete on the side which they have espoused.”
Renouf talks about the views of Antoich, Champollion, and Lepsius, commenting:
”The exchange between Keb and Seb, as Lepsius well observes, is difficult to explain?”
Then says:
”The first point I must insist on is that the old orthodox reading of Seb as:
  1. 𓅬𓃀
  2. 𓆇𓃀𓊹
is not an erroneous one.
He then jumps into standard CartoPhonetics (CP):
Sebastos [𓊃𓊸𓏏𓆇𓊃] and sebasta [𓅬𓃀𓋴𓂪𓂣] are the Egyptian transcriptions of Roman imperial titles, and ⲥⲓⲕⲉⲧ {Coptic} and ⲤⲒⲤⲢⲰ {Coptic}, as Brugsch says, are the Greek transcriptions of decans: 𓅬𓊧𓏏𓇼 (or 𓏤𓆇𓊧𓏏𓇼) and 𓅬𓊃𓂋𓏏𓇼 (or 𓏤𓆇𓊃𓂋𓏏𓇼).”
Shown below:
https://preview.redd.it/a8hmrw7ivkzc1.jpg?width=1184&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=db5b5eca13d18f6ab2864a00c0e83ab0af2d4914
In his CP-rendered term sebasta [𓅬𓃀𓋴𓂪𓂣], we see:
  • 𓅬𓃀 = /seb/ or se [𓅬] b [𓃀]
  • 𓋴 = /s/
  • 𓂪 = /šsp/, meaning: “palm”
  • 𓂣 = /mḥ/, meaning: Cubit
Not really sure how he is getting the “-ta” suffix out of this? Possibly, he is assuming the bread bread 🥯 /t/ sound from his previous CP-term: Sebastos [𓊃𓊸𓏏𓆇𓊃] or Se [𓊃] ba [𓊸] t [𓏏] 𓆇 {egg} s [𓊃]?
Appendix On the Transcription of Egyptian Words
Geb cannot possibly be the right name of an Egyptian god. The texts in the Etruscan language, though perfectly legible, defy as yet all attempts at translation or grammatical analysis. Yet if it were asserted that Geb was the name of an Etruscan god we could at once pronounce an unhesitating verdict against such a statement. We know this at least, that the Etruscan language is defective in certain letters. It has no medial sounds. Geb therefore cannot be the name of a god in this language. And the same truth holds good with regard to the Egyptian language.
It is deeply to be lamented that Egyptologists have not adhered to the system of transliteration adopted at the Oriental Congress held in London in the year 81A/1874. That system had been most carefully devised by Lepsius (who among the older Egyptologists was the only competent scholar), and agreed upon with him by M. de Rougé, who had not indeed the advantage of the splendid philological training which Lepsius had gone through, but was guided by a highly refined instinct and reason, which enabled him to see the right path whenever fairly presented to him. The system of transliteration agreed upon was certainly not perfect, but it was far better than any which has since been devised. It did not, as others do, completely misrepresent the entire character of the Egyptianlanguage.
When alphabets of different languages are compared together it is seen at once that each is incomplete. Each language has its peculiar sounds and is defective in all the rest. Mohawk and other American languages have no labials. Some languages have no gutturals. Sanskrit, though so rich in sounds, has no ƒ or soft sibilants. Latin has neither soft sibilants nor aspirated consonants. Greek has no sound corresponding to , and is generally averse to spirants. Those who only know Greek without reference to kindred languages can have no notion of the extent to which the letter s has been suppressed in it. The digamma is chiefly known through Aeolic and Doric forms, but the Jod which once formed an essential part of an immense number of words in the vocabulary has entirely disappeared. The Cypriote syllabary though used for the purpose of writing a Greek dialect, has no means of indicating a medial sound or an aspirated consonant.
It is evident that any mode of transcription which ignores characteristic facts of this nature must be radically wrong.
The Egyptian language, like the Etruscan and others, had no medial consonants. [N3] When the Greek alphabet was borrowed for the purpose of writing Coptic, the letters, 2, and 3, were used for foreign words only; and these words are often found written in such a way as to show that the writer did not understand the right sound. If the Egyptians at one time used and in the transcription of the Semitic and 2, this does not prove that these signs had exactly the same sounds as the Semitic ones. The signs were only conventional representations of sounds which did not exist in the Egyptian language. The Greeks were reduced to the same strait when they had to transcribe Y, Y, and . But we have no excuse for such transcriptions from the Egyptian as Geb, gabu, du, didi, Dad, Zaru.
Post-script
Renouf also gives the following post-script:
POSTSCRIPT.-It has occurred to me that Brugsch, who most certainly knows of the only text which offers a direct proof of the existence of the god kab, may have good reasons for not attaching importance to it.
The fact is, this inscription, like many others, is carelessly and ignorantly written, and glaring blunders may be pointed out in it.
Screen shot of rest:
https://preview.redd.it/k0wps64hiizc1.jpg?width=752&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e5f3f92c9aea6f2cf3e63c5d26f6013b9a90a108
https://preview.redd.it/35pxv4ooiizc1.jpg?width=745&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=be98d7d8e48cb4867b634e740ffd25902641fd05
Brugsch Religion and Mythology of the Ancient Egyptians
In 64A (1891), Heinrich Brugsch, in his Religion and Mythology of the Ancient Egyptians (pg. 383), made the following earth 🌍 god, was rendered in German as Qeb (𝔔𝔢𝔟) = Sebet (𝔖𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔱)
https://preview.redd.it/rm8z8esxy9zc1.png?width=410&format=png&auto=webp&s=d80bacdb8dc27b96c41c40273208a3f6ded20ae5
Then (pg. 417) he gives the following 7-god Egyptian to Greek rescript table, wherein renders the earth god as Geb or Keb:
https://preview.redd.it/2oecg22uz9zc1.png?width=609&format=png&auto=webp&s=1e552aeac6d2a78fe4f8a10652aaf40d45308c8a
The A43 (1912) German alphabet characters:
https://preview.redd.it/vb0yxw0bkazc1.jpg?width=1020&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=34cb5c3ac341e6697dcc4dbf1261a2418f2576ce
The Fraktur type (442A/1513) German alphabet:
Upper case:
𝔄 𝔅 ℭ 𝔇 𝔈 𝔉 𝔊 ℌ ℑ 𝔍 𝔎 𝔏 𝔐 𝔑 𝔒 𝔓 𝔔 ℜ 𝔖 𝔗 𝔘 𝔙 𝔚 𝔛 𝔜 ℨ
Lower case:
𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷
Upper case (bold):
𝕬 𝕭 𝕮 𝕯 𝕰 𝕱 𝕲 𝕳 𝕴 𝕵 𝕶 𝕷 𝕸 𝕹 𝕺 𝕻 𝕼 𝕽 𝕾 𝕿 𝖀 𝖁 𝖂 𝖃 𝖄 𝖅
Lower case (bold):
𝖆 𝖇 𝖈 𝖉 𝖊 𝖋 𝖌 𝖍 𝖎 𝖏 𝖐 𝖑 𝖒 𝖓 𝖔 𝖕 𝖖 𝖗 𝖘 𝖙 𝖚 𝖛 𝖜 𝖝 𝖞 𝖟
Note: the long s ("ſ") is not included in this Unicode font set.
German text:
Nach den Denkmälern Nach den Ueberlieferungen
1. Ptah Hephaistos, Vulcanus, Ptah
2. Ra, Sohn des Ptah Helios, Sol, Sohn des vorigen.
3. 𝔖c𝔥𝔲 (Shu) Ares (Mars), Sos, Sosis
4. 𝔔𝔢𝔟 (Qeb) Cronos, Saturnus, 𝔎𝔢𝔟 (Keb)
5. Osiris und Isis Osiris, Osiris und Isis
6. Set Typhon, Bruder des Osiris
7. Horus Horus, Sohn der Isis und des Osiris
English translation:
After the monuments According to tradition
1. Ptah Hephaestus, Vulcan, Ptah
2. Ra, sun of Ptah Helios, Sol, son of Ptah
3. Schu Ares (Mars), Sos, Sosis [?]
4. Qeb Cronos, Saturn, Keb
5. Osiris & Isis Osiris, Osiris & Isis
6. Set Typhon, brother of Set
7. Horus Horus, son of Isis and Osiris
Wiedemann
In 58A (1897), Alfred Wiedemann (58A/1897), in his Religion of the Ancient Egyptians (pg. 231), gave the following image:
https://preview.redd.it/w5ygw5u0cizc1.jpg?width=642&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=4edf63cfac421767b6efd4d207577feabbbea5dc
With the following text, citing Brugsch and Renouf:
SEB, or, as his name was also written, KEB [N2] was god of the earth, for which his name was used as an equivalent in expressions such as "on the back of Seb." The Greeks identified him with Kronos, probably only because as father of Osiris he might be considered as senior among the gods. Shû was supposed to be his father, and Nût his wife. According to the lists of the divine dynasties in Memphis and Thebes, he was the fourth king of Egypt, and therefore to be reckoned as one of the younger gods. But the mention of him in the texts does not seem to favour this view, for there he is called, not king, but nomarch (erpå) of the gods, as if at the time when his worship arose there had as yet been no king in Egypt. His sacred animal was the goose, and sometimes he is supposed to be connected or even identical with the goose which laid the egg whence issued the world. In the Legend of the Destruction of Mankind he is installed as king in immediate succession to Râ. His connexion with the cult of the dead is very slight; nevertheless he is often named incidentally in, the texts.
Budge
The following are my notes, from today (8 May A69/2024), from The Gods of Egypt, Volume Two (pg. 94) of Wallis Budge (51A/1904):
https://preview.redd.it/tuqgc9ke38zc1.jpg?width=3268&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e75dc3cc3283b331f5bbfdc5f107698c8dc1a0f2
Here Budge lists the following names:
  1. 𓅬𓃀𓀭 = Seb
  2. 𓆇𓃀𓀭 = Seb
  3. 𓈅𓃀𓀭 = Seb
  4. 𓇼𓊹 = Seb
  5. 𓏾𓀭 = Seb
On version #2 (𓆇𓃀𓀭), Budge says:
Seb and an his female counter part Nut, at Heliopolis, produced the great egg 🥚 whereout sprang the sun 🌞 god under the form of the phoenix 🐦‍🔥 (Brugsch, Religion, pg. 577).”
— Wallis Budge (56A/1904), The Gods of the Egyptians, Volume Two (pgs. 95-96) [N1]
On version #5 (𓏾𓀭), we will note that this has been decoded as the 5 (𓏾) epagomenal children that Geb and Bet make, see: earth 🌍 and heaven heaven ✨ having sex, once Thoth wins the 5-days of moon 🌖 light from Khonsu, the moon god, during a game of Senet 𓏠, aka the Egyptian afterlife game:
https://preview.redd.it/q9xipavrhbzc1.jpg?width=1641&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=0fa05f24a768d61009704c9afa0645224b209569
Gardiner
In A2 (1957), Alan Gardiner, in his Egyptian Grammar, lists 𓃀 [D58] or the foot heiro-type as follows, showing it defined as meaning “place or position”, with a /b/ phonetic:
https://preview.redd.it/0xwcpuztkjzc1.jpg?width=1691&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=36e9fac3523ed17ca25c3dd9518c5c983a5bf457
Letter E?
This Geb god form of: 𓏾𓀭, seems to be the proto-form of letter E, the 5th alphabet letter, prior to becoming the Osiris triple phallus (𓂺 𓏥) version of letter E, in the LunarScript mechanism, which we see in the Phoenician E (𐤄) and early Greek/Etruscan E (𐌄) triple erection angled letters, including the 4-barred epsilon variety:
https://preview.redd.it/3cv0k83urbzc1.jpg?width=1128&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2661c1580631385928f796189a10aacb1d9653fa
Letter E, 5th letter, value: 5️⃣
Geb (𓏾𓀭), symbols: 𓏾, meaning: 5️⃣, + 𓀭, meaning: ”god”, the Egyptian earth 🌍 god, fathers the 5 (𓏾) epagomenal children: Osiris 𓀲, Horus (elder) 𓅃, Set 𓁣, Isis 𓊨, and Nephthys 𓉠, via the Heliopolis ΓΔE or 3-4-5 perfect birth theorem triangle 📐, formula: Γ² + ▽ (𓉾)² = 𐌄² or 3² + 4² = 5² (Plato, Republic [§:546B-C]; Plutarch, Isis and Osiris [§:56]), which equals 25, the number main characters in the Egyptian LunarScript alphabet or up the years of Serapis bull (age 27) or the age when Osiris 🌱 dies (age 28) (Plutarch, Isis and Osiris [§13, §:56]) the number or cubit units; Osiris is 1st born; the sacred Osiris triple phallus 𓂺 𓏥, shown in Egyptian triple (𓏥) phallus holiday parades and in the form of pharaoh Russian doll style triple (𓏥) layered golden coffin ⚰️, with mummified erection 𓂺, becomes the triple-erection Phoenician E (𐤄), thematic of three sowing 𓁅 oats E character “erection bars”, angled at 70º degrees, the average male erection angle; this becomes the Greek E (𐌄), including the four-barred epsilon, meaning: “naked E”, varieties; three of which (EEE) are hung at Delphi Temple 🏛️ (Plutarch, On the E at Delphi); later the Etruscan E (𐌄), Latin E, Syriac E (ܗ), Gothic E (𐌴), German E (𝔈); and in some way the double-phallus like Aramaic E (𐡄) and Hebrew E (ה).
Letter E type evolution:
𓏾𓀭 » 𓂺 𓏥 » 𐤄 » 𐌄,ε » Ε,e » 𐡄 » 𐌴 » ה » ܗ » 𝔈,𝔢 » ه
Τime solved ✅: 11:11PM 8 May A69 (2024)!
Noting the Budge 3-house 🏠 style division of things, we glean, from what I wrote in the margins, the following crude division behind the complex 1-11-111-1111 cipher:
Egyptian Glyphs Arabic Greek Hebrew Budge
𓏤 𓆄𓅱𓀭, 𓆄𓈚𓅱, 𓆄𓏲𓏲𓇶𓀭, 𓍷𓍷𓀭 1 A House 🏠 of Shu 💨
𓎆𓏤 𓅬𓃀𓀭 11 ΓΗ (Ge) House 🏠𓉐 of Geb 🌍
𓍢𓎆𓏤 𓁜 111 ΙΡΑ (Ira), ΠΑΙΔΕΙΑ (Paideia) Alep (אָלֶף)‎ House 🏠 of Ra ☀️
𓆼𓍢𓎆𓏤 𓀲 1111 ΙΩΤΑ (Iota) House 🏠 of Osiris 𓉥🌌
The so-called value 11 god or “Ge god”, as rendered in Greek in this new table, yields, renders, in status-quo translation, aka CartoPhonetics based, as Geb, shown below:
𓅬𓃀 𓀭 [G38-D58-A40] = GeB
New data obtained via EAN, however, seems to point to the conclusion that 𓃀 [D58] does not render as the /b/ phonetic, as presently believed in standard Egyptology.
Algebra
In short, given the recent al-Ge-B-Ra (algebra) cipher decoding:
https://preview.redd.it/toktxsm558zc1.png?width=685&format=png&auto=webp&s=28d1ee42c2422797239a2b5e15939d2752e063df
It seems to be highly-unlikely that the Egyptians used a B-phonetic in the name of the Egyptian earth god, when we know know that the B-sound is is made by the stars of space goddess 𓇯 [N1] symbol, aka "Bet", or letter B, as this is now rendered, based on a synthesis of the names for letter B in the languages we know: beta {Greek}, beth {Hebrew}, and ba (ا) {Arabic}.
We know that earth in Greek is ΓΗ [11] (ge). We know that letter G in Greek is gamma and that G in Hebrew is gimel.
Budge also says the Egyptian goose was a "seb" goose? I found the name sebastopol goose in Wikipedia so far?
Presumably, then, the correct original Egyptian phonetic for the name of their earth 🌍 god 𓀭, symbolized by the goose 𓅬, would be:
𓅬𓃀 𓀭 [G38-D58-A40] = G-something?
The “foot” 𓃀, accordingly, seems, therefore, not to be a “phonetic”, but rather a symbol for distance 📏, as in “feet length“, which is 16 Cubits. Compare the new GodGeometry sub image, which shows a goose 🪿 and geometry 📐 triangle emoji, both of which having no B-phonetic in them:
https://preview.redd.it/zquoq6zia8zc1.jpg?width=1138&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=597908c8a64e63d9a8354f45fc13a099db25ab6c
Whence the meaning of “measure”, as in feet 👣 walked to measure the earth 🌍 diameter, or how the Greeks measure temple lengths in feet 🦶.
Letter G Decoding history
I added the following to the letter G decoding history section:
  1. Plutarch (1850A/+105), in: Moralia, Volume Five (56A); via citation of Plato (2330A/-375) Republic (§:546B-C) & Plato (2315A/-360) Timaeus (§50C-D), said that: the Egyptian triangle, with three in the upright position and four in the base and five in the hypotenuse, is equal to the contained dynamene, i.e. 5² (or the 25 Egyptian letters), where: “the upright [→Γ], therefore, may be likened to the male 👨🏼, the base [↑Γ] to the female 👩🏼, and the hypotenuse [◣] to the child 👶🏻 of both.”
  2. Heinrich Brugsch (64A/1891), in his Religion and Mythology of the Ancient Egyptians (pg. 383), in his Theban-Heliopolis god family tree (pg. 383) and “after the monuments vs after tradition“ table (pg. 417) was rendering the Egyptian earth 🌍 god, generally defined by the following: 𓅬𓃀 𓀭 [G38-D58-A40], presently, as the word: 𝔔𝔢𝔟 (Qeb) {monuments}, 𝔎𝔢𝔟 (Keb) {tradition}, or 𝔔𝔢𝔟 (Qeb) = 𝔖𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔱 (Sebet) {family tree}.
  3. Budge (51A/1904), in his Gods of Egypt, Volume Two (pg. 94) renders the name of the Egyptian earth 🌍 god 𓆄𓅱𓀭 as Seb, but says that Brugsch recommends the names: Geb, Keb, Gebb, or Kebb.
Notes Cited
  • [N1] I will note that a while back I tried to post the etymo of “phoenix” to Phoenix, but got post-removed. The irony? I wonder 💭 how they like the new phoenix 🐦‍🔥 emoji?
  • [N2] Cf. BRUGSCH, Aeg. Zeit., 1886, pp. 1 et seq.; RENOUF, Proc. Soc. Bib. Arch., ix., pp. 83 et seq; also Aeg. Zeit., 1893, pp. 125 et seq.; Rec. de Trav., xvii., pp. 94 et seq.
  • [N3] “There is not the same objection to the use of b, because in many languages this is not pronounced as a medial consonant.”
Notes
  1. Stubbed this page to letter G decoding history.
  2. We will have to come back to this? This was just a quick mental note post.
Posts
  • Egyptian algebra (الجبر) or 𓆄 𓅬 𓇯 𓍢 (H6-G38-N1–V1)
  • Need help translating some of the words in the god tables and family trees in Brugsch’s Religion und Mythologie der alten Aegypter - German.
  • Who first rendered the name of the Egyptian earth 🌍 god as GEB? - Egyptian Hieroglyphs
References
  • Antoich, John. (1310A/+645). Chronological History (Historia chronike). Publisher.
  • Champollion, Jean. (132A/1823). Egyptian Panthéon: Collection of Mythological Characters from Ancient Egypt after the Monuments (Panthéon égyptien: collection des personnages mythologiques de l'ancienne Egypte d'après les monuments) (27:1). Publisher.
  • Lepsius, Carl. (104A/1851). About the First Egyptian Gods and Their Historical-mythological Origins (Über den ersten Ägyptischen Götterkreis und seine geschichtlich-mythologische Entstehung) (Κηβ [Keb], pg. 14). Publisher.
  • Brugsch, Heinrich. (69A/1886). ”article”, Zeitschrift für Aegyptische Sprache, Jan [?]
  • Renouf, Peter. (69A/1886). “The Name of the Egyptian god Seb”, Nov 2; in: Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, Volume 9, Society of Biblical Archæology (pgs. 83-97). London.
  • Brugsch, Heinrich. (64A/1891). Religion and Mythology of the Ancient Egyptians (Religion und Mythologie der alten Aegypter) (Geb, 8+ pgs, Geb+Nut family tree, pg. 383; Keb, 6+ pgs; 7-god Egyptian to Greek table, pg. 417). Hinrichs.
  • Wiedemann, Alfred. (58A/1897). Religion of the Ancient Egyptians (Keb, pg. 231). Publisher.
  • Budge, Wallis. (51A/1904). The Gods of the Egyptians, Volume One. Dover, A14/1969.
  • Budge, Wallis. (51A/1904). The Gods of the Egyptians, Volume Two. Dover, A14/1969.
  • Gardiner, Alan. (A2/1957). Egyptian Grammar: Being an Introduction to the Study of Hieroglyphs (Arch) (pdf-file). Oxford.
submitted by JohannGoethe to Alphanumerics [link] [comments]


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submitted by Cdn_citizen to airsoftmarketcanada [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 17:29 APCleriot Onion Skins

By lunchtime, the payroll office had revolted.
Three administrators sat in the hallway of the ancient hydro building, pissed off, and waiting for me to arrive.
Within a few metres of their door, I could already smell what this was about.
It'd happened again, a dead thing above the ceiling tiles. The guy I'd replaced as union rep, a custodian named Charles, had told me the story of a dead squirrel the managers refused to believe existed above the payroll office, going so far as to deny the foul stench making everybody sick.
"They gave in, eventually," the previous rep told me on his last day. "But it was awkward. The custodians, including me, refused to do it. Managers probably didn't want to piss them off. Never piss off a custodian, brother, or man…"
He didn't have to tell me. I'd been in elementary school the last time the custodians in Bridal Veil Lake public service went on strike. Little ten-year-old me was up to my ankles in trash by the end of the week.
But I digress. Charles had retired, and the ladies of payroll were the union members that needed my help.
"We're not going back in there, Hal," Cristi said. She'd worked with hydro since her teenage years and could retire anytime or take a year off sick with all her banked days. She was also the only one who understood the complexity of the antiquated system hydro used to pay everyone. In other words, she was bulletproof to the managers, all younger than her.
I went to her direct manager next. I was new to the union rep job. I wasn't new to hydro. I'd been with the company as a training specialist going on fifteen years.
Basically, I spent most of my day writing instructions and delivering programs to employees. I knew everybody and felt pretty comfortable.
"Payroll is in the hallway again," I said, seated opposite the project manager, Geoff, and, surprisingly, Fred, the head custodian. "There’s a smell. Again."
The two of them exchanged a glance.
"Hal," Geoff eventually said, "there's no smell in there. It's…" He looked to Fred, who nodded.
"Cristi hates me," Fred said with a shrug. "I would never refuse something like that. It's an easy fix. I just don't want to deal with her. She thinks she rules the place, and-"
Geoff raised his hand. "It's a conflict of personalities."
"And a smell," I added. "There’s definitely a smell, Geoff. I smelled it. Everyone can smell it."
"It's an old building," Fred said. "Probably a water leak has gone stagnant in the tiles. I sent JJ to look, and he couldn't find anything. There’s no dead animal."
"It really smells like there is?"
He wasn't wrong about the building though. It's super old. Nikola Tesla helped design it after he'd finished in Niagara Falls and turned the lights on in Hamilton. That was in 1898.
Bridal Veil Lake got their mini version of hydroelectric AC power the following year. The only older building that I know of is Buchner Collegiate, the high school, which served as a barracks and hospital during the War of 1812.
And that building has been renovated and updated so many times, you'd only know its age by the clues in the few remaining fragments still standing.
The Westinghouse Power Station, on the other hand, looks like a castle, inside and out. All of the modern equipment looks out of place, and the drop ceilings are comical. Why put cheap garbage overtop of supposedly amazing stone masonry?
Maybe to catch all the leaks and piss off Cristi in payroll, I guess.
"We can replace the tiles, Hal," Geoff said, a little exhausted. "But it won't fix Cristi."
"Does Cristi need fixing?"
He quickly shook his head. "No, I mean, the thing with the custodians. She always seems to have a problem they can't fix fast enough."
It wasn't my job to comment or care about his opinion of Cristi. "When will the tiles be replaced?"
Fred appeared to awaken from slumber. "This evening?"
"And in the meantime?"
The manager sighed. "Payroll can work from home this afternoon."
I thanked them and brought the good news to Cristi and the others. She didn't seem as happy as her younger colleagues, but didn't comment. They held their breath to retrieve their things and went home.
It felt like a victory until Cristi's brief and concerned look on her way out of the giant, ponderous doors to the parking lot. She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it, I guess, and smiled and waved at me in farewell.
Job done. Or so I thought.
The smell persisted. Geoff said Fred was waiting on some replacement tiles. He'd taken out the ones above the door, which were the apparent source of the issue. Yet, it still stank like death.
Geoff could only shrug. I think he was happy with Cristi working from home for a few more days. She could be pushy and authoritative, but I liked her. Plus, she had earned her unofficial leadership role through pure grit.
Most of the managers, on the other hand, have nice last names and relatives in high places around town. Geoff's dad served as city manager. Everyone knew hydro was just the waiting room for a shithead like Geoff.
By Friday, the awful odour had spread, moving down the steps to the purchasing department. No argument was required this time. They were all sent home early for the weekend. A bunch of people began wishing the stink would somehow flow their way.
Fred viewed the spread as confirmation of his foul water theory. After another rainy day, the leak had overrun whatever cavity it'd filled in the ceiling. Gravity, he reasoned, and demonstrated with his hands representing the ceiling for some reason, had pulled the excess water to the ceiling above purchasing.
"Wouldn't the water have to breach the second floor, uh, floor?" I asked.
"It's an old building," he affirmed for me again.
"Yes."
"Water gets into a place, it's gonna travel down if it can." He scratched his grizzled beard, and I recognized the beginning of a pointless conversation.
"See ya Fred."
More tiles were ordered, and he'd get JJ up on the roof Monday.
Case closed.
I'd spent too much time with this issue, and found the need to clock some overtime on Saturday. I didn't mind because I got paid for it. When I rolled into the parking lot around ten AM, I was surprised to see Cristi's car.
The lights were on in payroll. I had a lot to catch up on, so avoided going to visit with her first. She'd come to me, for sure, once she realized I was in, and another tirade about Fred and Geoff and the state of the power station would raise the unasked question: Why not retire?
Around 11, she finally passed by the window of my office. She waved and smiled but didn't stop to chat and seemed in an uncharacteristic hurry. Usually, Cristi approached everything, quite literally, with quiet resolve and certainty. It was weird to see her nervously wringing her hands.
I peeked into the wide hallway as her echoing footsteps ceased by the elevator. She pressed the call button going up. No official reason to be going to the second floor, where a bunch of crap no one knew what to do with was stored.
Old equipment and boxes of work orders filled those rooms, and all of it smelled like dirt because some genius thought it'd be cool to carpet over the stone hallways. Rather than rip up the carpets, the next genius decided to relocate the executive offices downtown.
After the elevator elevated away, I snuck up the stairs, thinking I'd give her a surprise. She'd be pissed but not for long.
Cristi was serious most of the time, and yet not above the odd prank. She'd engineered a jump scare on the other payroll folks last Halloween with a huge, remote control tarantula.
I stopped at the final step to the second floor when I heard her talking. "This is stupid. This is stupid. I should just… oh god, it's definitely coming from…"
The rest of her words were lost beneath the heavy chonk of an old tumbler lock. I crouched before I peeked around the edge of the stairwell wall. Cristi held a large, brass key, and braced herself against the room ahead. She held her nose against the back of her hand, and after a moment, I smelt why.
The awful smell came from that room. There could be no doubt. Fred's theory about stagnant water flowing from the roof on down through the floors was wrong. Something had died up ahead. It was so bad. I gagged, and the odour filled my mouth with a rancid taste.
Despite my extreme revulsion, Cristi went in. I tried to call out for her to wait but the words died in my constricted throat. Silence followed her entry. The urge to leave persisted. Nobody should enter such a room without serious PPE.
But I couldn't leave Cristi on her own. That would be wrong. I was the rep.
So I followed, against every instinct telling me to run. The fear prickling my skin, driving cold sweat through my pores, was about more than a bad smell. There were too many irregularities. Something bad had happened in that room.
Cristi had activated the flashlight app on her phone. In her other hand, she held a bloodied knife.
A yelp escaped between the fingers of my hand as I covered my mouth. Cristi turned and the light blinded me to everything but the knife.
"Hal," she whispered, only mildly surprised. "What are you doing here?"
I couldn't answer. I watched the blood drip from the tip of the knife into the dark and smelly carpet.
"Hal? Hal?"
I started to back away before I decided to run.
"What are you doing, Hal?"
I bolted. Cristi shouted something. I leapt to the first landing of the stairs. I'm not a jogger but Cristi's old and wore heels, the worst shoes imaginable for a murderous pursuit.
Her shrieks echoed in the stairwell, chasing me out into the first floor corridor. I needed my phone. The door to my office was closed and locked. I don't remember if I shut it or not but the handle is always locked.
I didn't fuck around with keys. Cristi was coming, slowly, and if she had already killed somebody, even an animal - hopefully an animal - she had one more notch in her belt than I. I hadn't even been in a fight since I was a kid, and I certainly lost that one.
Away from the hallway, toward payroll in fact, I didn't notice the puddle beneath the exposed ceiling tiles. Glass from the office window shattered from the impact of my shoulder as I slipped wildly.
"Holy shit, Hal. Are you okay?" Fred asked, suddenly there with Geoff. They were walking out of Geoff's office together. Half-embedded in the window, I declined to answer. "Why were you running? What the hell is all over the floor?"
"It's blood," I said, completely out of breath from the run and panic. "Cristi, she's right behind me. She…" Should have caught up by now.
"Jesus, what’s going on, Hal?" Geoff stepped carefully around the pool of blood growing steadily beneath a steady drip from the ceiling. He looked where I'd been running. "Is Cristi with you?"
"No, no, you don't understand," I said as Fred helped dislodge me from the window. "She's done something awful upstairs. I think."
Except that didn't make much sense. Why draw attention to the smell with complaints if she caused the smell in the first place? The blood on the knife had been fresh.
Fred and Geoff exchanged a look.
"Why are you guys here?" I asked.
"Overtime," they said in unison.
"Why are you here, Hal?" Geoff asked. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Same reason as you."
A moment of awkward silence and cleared throats followed.
Cristi finally stepped out of the stairwell where she'd been hiding. She still held the knife.
"Cristi!" Geoff said. "What the hell are you doing?" He gestured vaguely at the knife and smirked.
Fred appeared more incredulous. "I knew you were crazy."
"It's Hal," Cristi said. "I caught him on the second floor, going to the room above payroll."
"Caught me?" I said. "I followed you there, and you already had that bloody knife! That literally bloody knife! Caught me? Caught you!" I was surprised by my anger, and still scared. It was weird how Fred and Geoff just happened to be there. Cristi too.
"Is that true, Cristi? Did you go up first?" Geoff had taken on a typical paternalistic manager voice nobody loved. He's younger than all of us.
"I did," she admitted. "I wanted to see what the hell stank so bad. Well, there's something there alright. I couldn't find out what exactly before Hal surprised me."
"I was trying to surprise you," I said. "I thought it'd be a funny prank."
She stared me down. I looked away.
"Hold on," Geoff said, "Fred, didn’t you check up there last week when it started smelling again?"
Fred's already ruddy skin turned a deeper shade of red. "I was going to send JJ up Monday, remember? Why are you here, Geoff?" Fred tapped his barrel chest. "I have a reason to be here."
"Which is?" I asked. Cristi chose that moment as some kind of invitation to come closer. I leveled a finger at her. "Don’t fucking move."
She froze. "Fuck you, Hal."
Geoff sighed and looked at Fred. "Which is?"
"I bought some tiles for the ceiling," he said, "on my own time, with my own money. I wanted to replace the tiles now, so none of the custodians had to deal with Cristi."
"And fuck you, Fred," Cristi said.
"I was here to catch up on work," I offered, "because the goddamn smell issue took up so much time. We're still waiting for Geoff's reason."
He shrugged. "And you'll keep waiting. I don't have to explain anything to you. I'm the boss, remember?"
Cristi laughed and mimed a curtsy, waving the knife around too casually for my liking. "My liege."
"This is fucked up," I said. "Time to call the police."
"Whoa," Geoff said, "wait a second. We don't even know what's up there. Cristi didn’t see anything."
I pointed to the knife in her hands.
"I found it there, Hal. I only picked it up in case there were any lurkers around." She crossed her arms, expertly folding the tip of the knife through the crook of her elbow to avoid cutting herself. "And there was, so…"
Geoff showed some guts and stepped in the path between me and Cristi. "Just stop. We're probably squabbling over nothing. Let's all take a breath. And then go upstairs and see what we're actually dealing with before we execute someone for murder."
He didn't want the police involved. Anything that got in the way of his progress in daddy's footsteps must be avoided.
Fred chimed in. "He's right. Let's just go upstairs, and see."
Cristi tipped the scale completely. "Fine."
"But you leave the knife here." I didn't want to go. There had to be something in our contract excusing workers from walking into possibly criminal circumstances.
If I didn’t follow the group, however, I felt like I'd be drawing suspicion from the others. Cristi seemed to think I was guilty of whatever occurred on the second floor.
I knew it wasn't me. All of us at work on a Saturday was too convenient. Geoff had given no reason for his attendance. Fred had a reason, a fairly plausible one - avoiding Cristi - but was a little too quick to agree to go upstairs. Cristi had literally been caught with the murder weapon, if indeed a murder had taken place.
"I want my phone," I said.
"Sure," Geoff said, "let's get it together. All of us. Cristi, the knife?" He held out his hand and took a few steps toward her.
She chuckled. "Fat chance, nepo baby." The knife slid surprisingly far on the smooth stone floor with what seemed like a gentle toss by Cristi. It sailed across access to the stairwell, our proposed destination, inviting the guilty party to go and retrieve it.
Nobody moved. We hesitated. Why? We all suspected the others. I knew, especially, the chances of something upstairs being fucked up, even if it was dead animal, were high. I admit I was afraid.
They all watched through the open blinds of my office while I retrieved my cell phone. I dropped my keys when I tried to unlock the door, and felt their scrutiny heat up the corridor. I hadn't done anything. I had nothing to do with the rot on the second floor. Yet, I took a share of the doubt equally.
I guess that was fair. As we mounted the steps in stiff pairs, moving slowly, trying to watch each other and up ahead, I wondered how well I knew any of them. Not well enough to be certain they weren't capable of horrible things.
Cristi's perfume mixed with Geoff's liberal use of Axe body spray. Fred bore a layer of sweat that accentuated a normally subdued body odour. The melange caused a sting in my nostrils, early signs of a headache to come.
But I missed the olfactory mixture the second we stepped onto the second floor. The pungent stench of death made us flinch and hesitate. We covered our faces and breathed through our mouths.
The dark room exuded silence in addition to dread.
"I do not want to go in there," I said, mouthing the words through my fingers.
"Me neither," Fred agreed.
Cristi kept her thoughts to herself, and I noticed she had allowed us to move ahead while she lingered closest to the exit.
"It sucks," Geoff agreed, "but we need to do this."
"Do we?" I asked. I had my phone ready.
He saw it and became alarmed. "Please, don't. Look, you're all right about me, okay? I'm a… what Cristi said."
"Nepo baby," she reminded him.
Geoff grimaced. "But I still care about my career, and my family. If this is nothing, and we call the police, my dad will find out. You know how small Bridal Veil Lake is. Everyone knows everyone. I'll look like a fool if I let something dumb slide… something I should have been on top of, you know? My dad already thinks I'm…" He let us fill in the blank.
"A chump," Cristi filled in.
"He's not," Fred intervened, "and you know what, Cristi?"
Cristi waited calmly for the answer.
But Fred balked and wilted the same as Geoff. "Enough," he said, "I'll look."
To their credit, both Fred and Geoff entered the room. I'd gotten closer than I had on my first visit to the second floor. The carpet squished softly beneath their steps.
A trail of blood had already been tracked out by Cristi from before. I only noticed it then, however, while Fred cursed about the light switch not being beside the door.
"What are we walking through?" Geoff asked. Neither had turned on a flashlight. They searched blindly, an idea that frankly scared the hell out of me.
They weren't scared, however, because maybe they already knew what to expect.
Sudden illumination painted the horror with clinical track light precision. A flood of red dyed the tacky carpet. Swells of blood gathered around Geoff's feet.
"No!" Fred shouted. I couldn't see him. "No! I didn't! I didn't!"
Geoff rapidly tapped on the screen of his phone. I reached instinctively for Cristi, afraid, and forgetting about the bloody knife. She stepped ahead; she held another weapon: an exacto blade, extended.
"Come on, coward," she ordered me.
Fred grunted and whimpered inside the room.
"Jesus fuck," Cristi said when she stepped in. She lowered the exacto knife and waited.
"What is it?" I asked her. "What?!"
She ignored me and continued to watch a still unseen Fred as he laboured desperately over something.
Stepping into there, onto that, felt like trespassing. I didn't belong there. None of us did, and now that we had there was no returning to the normal world.
Dried onion skins littered the floor by the wall where Fred stood. They crushed and flattened beneath his boots as he desperately attempted to wipe the wall with his hands.
Written in blood, his name, Fred. Not Frederick. No surname. Just F-r-E-D in large print.
"Yes, that's right," Geoff said to a 911 operator. "Westinghouse."
"No!" Fred rounded on us with wild eyes and red hands. "It wasn't. I didn't. I…" His ass splashed in the sodden carpet as he sat down.
He saw the strips of onion surrounding him. We were all so stunned, we looked at them more closely too. Aside from the massive amount of blood and the name on the wall, the crisped bits were the only remaining objects of interest.
Cristi picked up a piece and squinted. "What is it?"
"Put it down," Geoff said, still on the phone. "Yes, we will," he said to the operator before addressing us again. "Out. Everyone out. Stop touching everything."
"It's skin," Cristi said, ignoring Geoff, letting the paperthin flesh drift gently to the floor. "Someone's been cooking up here." Why did she seem fascinated?
I turned away and saw the clump of bloodied hair before the scalp it was attached too. "Oh god." I started vomiting. On my hands and knees, sucking in the stink, knowing its origin, an infinite retch held me captive.
I crawled out into the hallway.
I had to get away.
One of them had done something awful to a human being. Geoff and Cristi followed shortly after. I hardly noticed. Fred remained inside the room until sirens could be heard. Then he sprang from the doorway and darted into the hall.
"Hold your horses!" Cristi shouted, stepping into his path. She brandished the exacto blade but to no purpose. Fred clocked her straight between the eyes, and the old lady dropped cold, a bag of bones.
Geoff and I made no effort to prevent Fred's escape. I was in no condition to even stand up. Geoff is just a prick.
The first constables found us as Cristi began to awaken. None of us could explain what had happened, and certainly not what had transpired in the bloody room.
So they told us, eventually.
Someone had been murdered there.
That much would be confirmed later when I was taken into custody and questioned. The amount of blood suggested to me multiple victims but the body apparently contains an astonishing amount.
Only one person had died there: Charles, the retired custodian, the rep I had replaced.
Or so the police assumed. Further investigation discovered Charles missing long enough that the food in his fridge had spoiled. They never found his remains but the blood in the room, and leaking below, belonged to him. No one can lose that much blood and still be alive.
"He was peeled slowly," a particularly cruel detective told me, trying to get me to admit to killing Charles, I guess. "It must have been fucking horrible, watching your skin come off, and cooked too. We think they used a lighter. There were bite marks in some of the pieces, Hal. Grotesque stuff."
That was my last interview and then they abruptly told me to leave.
Fred had been found. He'd run to the gorge and hung himself from a tree with his belt a few hours after running from the power station. In his blood, the tip of his finger opened with a sharp stick, he wrote a simple confession on a receipt: I did it.
The paper was found in his rotting hand. It had taken the police an embarrassing amount of time to find him. Their excuse was he'd gone to a remote part of the forest, a nature preserve, where there were no maintained paths.
Now do you believe Fred's confession? No? Well, you'll be shocked to know the case effectively closed after his death. Officially, Fred wasn't charged. No trial followed. But the cruel detective I mentioned earlier was pretty candid about the continuance of the investigation.
"Not bloody likely," he said.
I actually ran into him by chance at a bar. Not a slim chance either. I visited all the bars after this incident. So did Geoff. I ran into him too.
We drank together for a few days and then ended up in a fistfight that saw us banned from the Lucky Snail off Tour Hill. He accused me. I accused him. Neither of us could look at each other once we had no choice but to return to Westinghouse.
Cristi was back before either of us but didn't seem the same. She chose to gradually retire, winding down her hours while she trained a replacement. When I did see her, which was rare, we didn't speak or make eye contact.
Mostly, I sat in my office and drank, watching the door.
Fred hadn't done it. Were we meant to believe he signed his name in the victim's blood on the wall? Or that the victim had somehow written it before dying? Fred would have then removed the remains but somehow missed the clumsy accusation.
"Not bloody likely," I say like the cruel detective, a lot, to my braced office door. The killer wanders these halls. I'm sure of it.
I pee in a bucket because I refuse to go out of my office except to leave the building.
I carry a knife.
Geoff never got his promotion. I still don't really know why he'd been in the building that Saturday. Pulling some bullshit overtime for the extra money? Cleaning up his horror show? Both? Fucking psychopath on the public dime.
Or maybe not.
JJ became the new head custodian and the rep. He never found the tiles Fred had purchased.
That's about the state of things now. I wait for the neat bow to end this ordeal but that's rarely how life works out.
Things happen to us. We continue living.
The villains get away.
We pretend they didn't.
There's a room of horrors waiting somewhere for you and everyone.
It's only a matter of time before you're shaken out of everyday life by it.
The best anyone can hope for is to not be peeled, cooked, and eaten.
submitted by APCleriot to nosleep [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 17:17 maximusaemilius Empyrean Iris: 2-179 Approaching countdown! (by Charlie Star)

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
Dun dun DUUUUN!!!
O.o
Damn you, fucking bitch!
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
The GA chairwoman stood in the oppressive muggy heat of Earth.
What a planet!
She really hated it, it made her skin itch and her eyes sting, there wasn't enough water in their atmosphere to actually cause her any harm, but there was definitely enough of it to make her very very uncomfortable.
A part of her had hoped that it might rain, forcing her to stay off world for the weather formation, but these humans knew what they were doing and had scheduled the launch for a cloudless day.
She looked up at the yellow earth sun and sighed.
The humans had been very excited to invite the GA delegations to view the launch. Humans were generally very excited to show anyone they could their dangerous past, and looking at the thing that was passing for a spaceship, she could not see how it would get more than a few inches off the ground, much less out of orbit. Supposedly they had dipped into very rare rocket fuel reserves to even do this, as it required something they called “fossil fuel”.
Fossil Fuel!?!
Let that sink in for a moment!
Fuel… from fossils.
Leave it to the humans to leave earth by the power of long dead animals!
!?
Fuel, made out of liquified dead plant and animal remains mixed with liquid oxygen and some sort of oxidizer!
She wasn't sure what that last part meant, she wasn't a rocket scientist.
She sighed again, personally she wished she didn't have to be here, for she doubted…no she knew the launch was going to go as the humans expected.
In all reality her nerves were short, and she wished that she could just pass out for the next few hours and forget where she was. Everything was out of her hands now anyway. Her orders had been given and now all she could do was wait.
She stood in the heat not too distant from her array of human bodyguards, dressed in dark suits and wearing dark glasses to cover their eyes. Somehow, they managed to look more intimidating than normal humans did frowning, missing the characteristic toothy smile she had grown to associate with humans.
She had spent far too much time with Admiral Vir it seemed.
She sighed at the thought of him and shook her head.
Every time she tried to think about something else, it just circled back around to him. She tried not to think about it, taking a very deep breath.
She had done what she needed to, and tried what she could. Now it was time to find out if her plans would work.
There was some shuffling behind her, and she turned slowly on her knuckles feeling the concrete grinding below her hands as she did. Two Tesraki and one other Rundi stood behind her, having been let through by the human guards, who still eyed them with some measure of suspicion.
"Everything is in place, Chancellor."
She nodded her head once.
"How many?"
“There are at least thirty patrolling the borders of the trajectory zone. They will know as soon as he breaches orbit, and should be able to act instantly.”
"And our engineers?"
"We are having trouble gaining access, but we are still working on it."
"You better hope that we can."
She lifted her head towards the sky where she could see the faint line of the moon against the blueness of the sky.
"We better hope we succeed."
She said longingly, as she thought to herself:
The outcome of this day will decide the fate of the GA, and the known universe.
[…]
Captain Richard's palms were very sweaty. He tried to wipe them discreetly on his pants or more accurately a onesie the scientists were calling a "Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment”. So, like a Onesie with tubes in it. He glanced sidelong over to where Admiral Vir was sitting, staring at the antique space suit equipment laid out before them.
He tried not to make it look like he was staring, but he totally was.
Admiral Vir wasn't much older than him, maybe by a year or two, but that was part of what made being in the same room with him so strange. Every time he, or probably anyone, though of an admiral, they generally thought of some stuffy grey haired fat guy who sat behind a desk and gave orders. But.... this guy...
Well, he was nothing like that at all.
He was young and stupidly fit, and sure he had some white hair appearing at his temples, but his hair was blond enough you only noticed it in certain light.
And he was very personable, that was the first thing Richards had noticed.
The man knew how to work a room. He was funny, and despite being intimidated by his status, he found himself forgetting constantly that this guy wasn't someone cool he had just met out at the bar.
As if he could sense someone looking at him, Admiral Vir turned around, the aperture of his mechanical eye adjusting slightly. He grinned in a very un-admiral way,
"This is so friggin awesome."
The man looked like he was about to jump out of his boots,
"Just look at this stuff-"
He grinned some more, dancing from one foot to the other,
"Happiest damn day of my life and I'm wearing a diaper."
That got the rest of the shuttle crew laughing which then devolved into a discussion about the pros and cons of diapers versus the new suit catheters. There was a surprising split on the discussion as the group of men talked, a conversation that was only broken as a group of scientists stepped in to help them with their suits. The process was rather tedious, the suits were bulky and cumbersome, nothing like the neat, sleek and comfortable suits used on regular ships.
Stepping into the pants of the suit they had to hold their arms up as the upper portion was lowered into place over their heads while others hurried in to pull on their arms and then help them fit into the gloves. He ducked his head as the communications cap was placed over his head. They would be wearing the full suit into orbit, though they would be allowed to take it off on the journey over. A journey which would take roughly three days or more to complete. One of them would stay in orbit while Admiral Vir and Richards himself took the lunar module down to the surface.
It was all supposed to go very smoothly from here.
Once suited up he couldn't help but be reminded of when he was a child ready to go sledding with his siblings, in his massive snow pants and puffy jacket, waddling across the floor with his arms held out to either side.
He honestly hoped he looked cooler than he felt.
Admiral Vir might have been able to pull it off, if he wasn't nearly skipping, which seemed pretty improbable in the massive ass snowman suit.
Glancing out the long windows and into the horizon, he could see crowds of people set up in the distance. He remembered when he was a teenager, and as the Enterprise launched, he was standing in an awed crowd as the massive behemoth hauled herself into the sky. He remembered the thrill, and he remembered the fear as he watched it go higher and higher and higher.
He remembered that day as one that led him to where he was now, and couldn't believe it.
[…]
The UN president stood at her lectern, feeling a soft breeze blow through her hair. Today was a good day, or at least it was shaping up to be a good day. She had two folders sitting under the lectern like she always did during times like this. One of them was green and one of them was red.
The green one was sitting on top.
She glanced over to where the GA president-thing stood and scowled slightly. She had always thought the little creature was kind of ugly, looking like an ant. She had never liked bugs, or bug like things of any kind, which she found to be a common trait among aliens, Drev, Vrul, Gibb, Rundi, Burg.
She looked up at the sky, neck stretched out sunning herself in the bright morning.
She could see the rocket in the distance held up on its platform. Admiral Vir would be moving into place now. Most people would see this only as some sort of historical recreation act, but PR analytics suggested that, if the Admiral succeeded, approval rating in the GA would go up almost 3 percent. Human and alien relations had been rockier than most people would like to admit. If Admiral Vir were to fail, the failure would likely shock the aliens senseless, and if he died… It could completely break down human/alien relations for the foreseeable future.
They were on the cusp of cooperation or war, and any single event could push them in any direction.
Relations might have already broken down if it wasn't for Admiral Vir.
The president reached down a hand, brushing the tips of her fingers over the red folder.
She was hoping for the best, thinking: They better make it, the outcome of this event decides the fate of humanity.
[…]
Jade examined the rocket from the inside of her decontaminated engineer's suit. She was busy going over final checks before the craft was launched. Personally, she thought it was a bad idea.
There was no reason to go and do something so dumb when they had perfectly viable technologies available at their fingertips. Of course, she understood the value and importance of major historical events, but that didn't mean they had to reenact them.
I mean it's not like anyone ever wanted to reenact the titanic or the Berlin wall, or burning down the library of Alexandria, but for some reason some yahoos wanted to strap themselves to a rocket inside a tin can and fly into space.
Using the same EXACT design from TWO THOUSAND years ago!!!
Might as well start using steam locomotives to get around! That was unthinkable and would never happen!
She inched her way along the scaffolding catwalk, just a few hundred feet in the air. She didn't mind heights, but she wasn't stupid, and would never risk herself unnecessarily. She examined the bolts holding the ship together, passing a critical eye over each and every one of them. If just a single one of them got loose, it might potentially pull the whole panel off. If that happened, the launch trajectory might destabilize, and they could begin to spin into the ground and explode.
Off in the distance she heard an alarm, calling her down from above.
She would need to leave soon, and so tucked her clipboard under one arm and began to climb down one of the ladders towards the distant ground.
It was then that she noticed something strange…
She didn't know why she noticed it, it was so small, and she was in a hurry but...
There was something...
Strange?
She glanced over and squinted towards the strange reflection.
The siren continued to blare.
She should really go.
She started to descend but then…
"You might want to check that again."
She nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice turning on the spot and pitching backwards, with wide open eyes nearly falling over the rail as she came face to face with a porcelain white face and wide black eyes like pools of onyx. For a second, she almost screamed, assuming she had gone insane, but then paused as she saw the figure floating before her, a gravity belt around its waist, and hundreds of white ribbons streaming from its back.
A starborn!
She had seen a documentary mentioning them, even with a few images, so she knew who it was. She also knew that they could read minds.
It wasn't supposed to be able to speak, but this one was wearing translation gloves, and spoke sign language rather fluently.
"You might want to check again."
It repeated,
"But I-"
”You might want to check again or I might want to push you down this ladder.”
”What!?”
"The Admiral is expecting an attempt on his life, and the best way to do it would be to sabotage the shuttle. You will want to help me because if the Admiral dies, my daughter will be very upset. And if my daughter will be upset I will be VERY furious… and if I’m furious… oh trust me you don’t want to know…"
She opened her mouth then closed it, not sure how to respond but eventually turned back to the shuttle and leaned forward, pointing to the side of the rocket,
"That, right there, can you float over and take a look?”
The creature floated past her, billowing like smoke as he eased over.
He pointed,
"This?"
"Yes."
He touched it.
"Can you feel it?"
She wondered.
"It doesn't feel like the rest of the ship, though I cannot say how."
"Keep looking around, I need to call in-"
"NO!"
She frowned, hand halfway to her mic.
"Don't tell them, we don't want them to know that we have found anything!”
She wasn't so sure about that, but she didn't feel like pissing this thing off, so reached to her mic,
"Mission control this is Engineering, I’ll need a postpone on the launch while I finish off my checklist. This is taking longer than we anticipated."
"Roger that."
Mission control responded.
The sirens stopped a moment later as she urged the starborn forward to prod at the spot. There was a soft peeling noise, and after a moment, she watched as the creature came away with a strip of tape.
He floated over to her, and she examined it.
That shouldn't have been there, this was not the heat resistant sort of tape they used, and it certainly wasn't something they would have bothered to put on the outside of a ship!?
The only thing it seemed to do was match the paint color.
She leaned forward, glancing at the side of the ship.
If this had gone up to atmosphere, during exit it would have burned off, and that would reveal…
The loose bolt underneath…
Just like she feared.
She could fix it and ordered the starborn to do so, following the instructions in her head. After that she ordered him to take her vest camera and fly around the outside of the rocket. She had noticed based on the way the light interacted with the tape, as compared to the finish of the rocket's exterior.
If only she had someone who was good at distinguishing subtle color…


And then she remembered.
She called the starborn back.
"Go, get a Drev and hurry back here! I'll try to stall them as much as I can!"
Previous First Next
Want to find a specific one, see the whole list or check fanart?
Here is the link to the master-post.
Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
Patreon of the author
Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.
submitted by maximusaemilius to HFY [link] [comments]


2024.05.08 17:06 OnionIndependent4455 I noticed.

I remember the diagram of the cross knit or Coptic stitch patterns,for the right over left,I think there might be some little mistakes. Apparently,it seems that the yarn goes over when making knit,purl,increases and decreases. Increases are actually F or front while left over right on the other hand goes under the needle yarn and for increases,basically it appears to B or back. i traditionally use the right over left because I find it much more easier and simple. In the video by neulakinntaat or samato09,it appears to be right over left which in turn the needle yarn goes under. If there’s any suggestions or some other information that I could be mistaken,let me know in the comments.
submitted by OnionIndependent4455 to Nalbinding [link] [comments]


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