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Velen: Prophet's Lesson is a short story in the "Leaders of the Alliance" series by Marc Hutcheson that covers experiences surrounding Velen as he teaches the young Anduin Wrynn during the aftermath of the Cataclysm.
- Vindicator Maraad
- Med'an
- Velen
- Anduin Wrynn
- Stephanos
- Triumvirate of the Hand: Vindicator Boros, Vindicator Kuros, and Vindicator Aesom
- Vindicator Romnar
Velen: Prophet's Lesson
The Seat of the Naaru's soaring energies inspired inner peace from the most bloodthirsty of warrior pilgrims, awe from even the most jaded of Azeroth's inhabitants. The figure floating before the Seat had long taken comfort from this column of Light. Velen looked out from his meditation chamber, seeking insight... in all the connections, great and small, where he might perceive the lines of the future. For the past several months, those lines had increasingly felt fragmented.
As the Prophet of the draenei meditated—his legs crossed beneath him, his hands resting on his ancient knees—the crystals that reflected his energies glowed and pulsed and swirled around him, not in patterns but in chaos. And the visions, the endless possibilities of tomorrows, assaulted him.
A weary, bedraggled gnome pulled a strange contraption through the dusts of Outland, leaving twin ruts that snaked endlessly in the dunes behind her. Ethereals, their energies wrapped in cloth, simply watched her struggle, neither helping nor impeding the gnome's hard-fought progress.
Vindicator Maraad battled an unseen foe with his gargantuan crystalline hammer and then fell to his knees, a lance of blackest darkness thrust through his chest, oily, diseased smoke trailing the weapon's edge.
The sky-filling, armored form of Deathwing flew across a burned world and landed on a charred, broken tree so vast it could only be Nordrassil, while supplicants draped in dark-purple robes lined up and threw themselves into a volcanic crack in the earth.
Med'an—the Guardian of Tirisfal—wept, the tears out of place on his orc-tinged features, his eyes so vulnerable and hurt that the sight of them would have broken the heart of any other.
But not Velen.
The Prophet had long ago learned detachment from his visions lest they drive him mad. The third eye of prophecy had been with him so long that having premonitions was like breathing. The ata'mal crystal shards had transformed him into a sentinel of alternate universes without end, sometimes down to their very eclipses in darkness, or ice, or fire. Velen didn't sorrow for these futures or mourn their extinctions or shout in exaltation at their triumphs. He merely read them, watched their woven tapestries, looking for the roads that led to ultimate triumph, where life and the Light battled back the dark and saved everything from annihilation. What mattered the minor events prized by most mortals—even his own draenei—measured against the awesome responsibility of ensuring the survival of creation?
Velen searched among the debris of the rapidly moving images, trying to seize onto something, find a marker for the path. But it eluded him.
Anduin Wrynn knelt in the soft earth, his hands resting on a lasher, one of the few remaining mutations resulting from the Exodar's crash on Azeroth. Two draenei flanked the creature, restraining it for the prince, their gentle might keeping it from wriggling free and fleeing the channeled Light in the young boy's hands. The draenei had once made it their mission to mend the damage their destructive appearance in the world had wrought, but when the majority of the work had been completed, they'd found their powers were needed elsewhere—first in the war against the Burning Legion, then in the march on the Lich King's icy domain, and now... in the aftermath of the Cataclysm.
Some of the twisted monstrosities had been overlooked in the confusion, tragically wandering in madness and pain, diverted from their original purpose by a terrible accident. The first time Anduin had glimpsed one, he'd felt not disgust but sorrow. I have to help. I have to try. At the first break in his lessons with Velen, the prince had raced off into the wilds of Azuremyst Isle, his draenei escorts rushing in his wake. Now they served as crude bonds while he beseeched the Light to heal the mutant, to calm its madness. Anduin didn't understand what was wrong with the thing. He didn't need to.
The Light knew. Its power moved through the young prince, using him as its channel to set aright the creature writhing under his hands. The act of healing always made Anduin feel like the key in a lock, the tool applied to its proper use, and he'd proven his talents to himself in his time with the draenei. His confidence had waxed under the tutelage of the ancient race, particularly under the instruction of the Ageless One, the Prophet. Whether or not you see it, Father, I was right. Magni was right. This is my calling.
The thought saddened him. He loved his father, but the gulf between Varian and Anduin, both in temperament and experience, was too great. Why can't you see, Father? I'm not like you. And what's wrong with that? Isn't there something to be learned from our differences? From me?
For his part, Anduin regretted their falling-out. His father insisted on treating him like a child, when the Prophet, Magni, and others clearly saw him differently, acknowledged his budding worth. Anduin and his father had argued during the Alliance summit at Darnassus, and Varian had laid hands on him, hurting his arm with a vice-like grip. The proudest moment of Anduin's life had followed when, in the aftermath of that argument, the Prophet had spoken to him in his soft preternatural tones, inviting him to study at the Exodar as his ward.
Why couldn't you see I had to go, Father? Why didn't you see the honor in this invitation?
Anduin wrenched his attention back to the present, away from distracting self-pity and toward the need of the lasher. He made a vow to himself in the next heartbeat that he'd never lose his awe of this experience. Healing was too often seen as a commonplace thing, a miracle made mundane, but Anduin knew the Light, healing's source, didn't see it that way. Every life, every life, a miracle.
Before the prince now was a beautiful, broad-petaled plant-creature, purple and green, upright and strong. The draenei released their hold on it. One of them bowed in recognition of what the boy had done.
Anduin heard a disturbance behind him and started, awakening fully from the healing trance to realize he was sitting on his royal behind in the mud. Very dignified, Anduin thought. Father'd be thrilled.
The prince sprang to his feet. Facing him was a heavily armored, tall draenei—a Shield, one of Velen's personal guards. "The Prophet has asked to see you, Prince Anduin," was all he said.
The refugees had arrived in lost humility at first, in ones and twos, by leaky boat and makeshift raft, risking the unknown to flee the horribly known. Rumor had spread that the draenei withstood the breaking of the world, that refuge could be found on Azuremyst Isle. And rumor was better than the reality most of these exiles faced. In the beginning, the draenei had aided as they could, giving the refugees a place outside the Exodar, healing them, and sharing food and water. But then the outcasts had begun sending out word to find their friends and families, and the call echoed throughout Kalimdor: The Prophet holds Azuremyst safe. The Prophet foresaw the Cataclysm and will make everything right. The ones and twos became tens and twenties... and then hundreds. Now, the refugee camp boasted a thousand exiles, and the draenei found that the need had outgrown their will and capacity to provide.
The whispers in the camp eventually took a darker tone. The Prophet won't see us. The draenei keep him hidden in the vaults of their ship. They look like hoofed demons, do they not?
Anduin had spent time among the refugees, healing as he could, encouraging faith in the eternal Light, counseling and leading in quiet ways that often left adults astounded in his presence... and a little disturbed when he wasn't around. The prince had asked many times why these wayward souls failed to seek the protection of his father, of the strength of Stormwind. They would answer with sideways eyes, naming his father a great and true king but saying he lacked the Prophet's ability to see the future. No offense intended, their tone said, but your father's just a man. The Prophet is more than that. After a while, by piecing together many discussions as if he were solving a puzzle, Anduin realized the refugees' actions were not simply predicated on reverence for a prophet they'd never met. These people were from the edges of society. For them, the rightful order of government was something to be feared rather than sought as a protector. Eventually, the prince stopped asking questions.
And so, he was a familiar face as he was escorted through the camp to his audience with Velen. Familiar and yet not one of them. He felt the distance, a gap born of his royal blood, his strength in the Light, and the trauma of his childhood. Sometimes, he was a little wistful that he wasn't more... normal. But he was beginning to sense, as he rushed toward the challenges and strange energies of puberty, that the differences were necessary. He had a unique role to fill, that of leading and protecting his people, and it was neither a privilege nor a font of personal power. It was a duty.
The refugees were all human. Undoubtedly, the dwarves were too proud to forsake their homelands; the night elves were undaunted even by Deathwing's rage; and the gnomes were... well, gnomes . What fear could they have of molten fire and earthquakes when an explosion was always just a malfunction away?
The refugees were afraid, hungry, and sick. Fevers raged among them with regularity, and the young prince would use his talents when epidemics swept the camp. Given his efforts, he found it impossible not to be stung by the comments he heard as he passed a group of refugees sitting in a circle, doing nothing useful beyond idle conversation. "Alien's pet," one said. "The Prophet sees the boy but refuses us?" was the reply. The rest of the exchange was lost as he walked past. Anduin spent a lot of time observing people, quietly watching the movements of their souls in their faces. And in many of the exiles' eyes, he saw the same accusation he'd heard aloud just moments before. The talk of the camp was against him, and it was difficult to suppress his resentment. I've done nothing but help, the prince thought.
But then, an unwelcome doubt came. Why doesn't Velen see them?
The memories of frosted air and the dead north gradually lost their grip on the gryphon rider as he flew through the warm climes of Kalimdor. The gryphon's burden was both heavier and quieter than what the beast was accustomed to. Usually, the earthbound were either awed by the new perspective of flight or frightened by the soaring and maneuvers that were commonplace among those who flew. Even if the typical traveler said little aloud, small noises and tension in the legs spoke volumes to the sensitive, observant gryphon. In contrast, serenity and stillness... these were the nature of his current rider.
Someone who had seen scores of worlds and warred against the Burning Legion in an endless conflict would find nothing noteworthy in flight across Azeroth. Vindicator Maraad had preoccupations that overshadowed the beauty of the view. The north was secure; the darkness of the Lich King, vanquished; and now it was time to turn his energy elsewhere. He'd heard of the return of the Destroyer, of the devastation Azeroth faced, but he was draenei; what did a threat to a single world mean to him? The Legion stalked the Twisting Nether, was still presumably destroying any life the demonic army encountered.
As he flew over Azuremyst by moonslight, he was shocked to see myriad tiny lights mirroring, poorly, the stars above. For just a moment, in a strange fancy of thought, Maraad saw the lights as their own little worlds before he corrected himself and glanced upward. The heavens were his concern. Always.
Was this an army camped near the Exodar ? Why hadn't he been told?
The gryphon flew through a metal portal in the Exodar's hull and was taken in hand by the hippogryph master Stephanos. Stephanos bowed slightly.
"Congratulations on the victory in the north, Vindicator. It is good to see you home."
"Home? There is no home for us, brother. Not truly. We are the wanderers of the universe, the exiles of lost Argus. We should never forget that. What are the campfires I witnessed on the way here? Has an army dared our isle?"
"No, Vindicator. They are refugees fleeing the horrors of the Cataclysm. They hope the Prophet will deliver them."
Maraad frowned, an expression that sat strangely on his features. "As do we all, brother."
The vindicator didn't wait for a response. He moved quickly and with purpose straight toward the Seat and then, without pausing, in the direction of Velen's chambers. His hooves echoed on the crystalline floor with each step, and as he passed the two Shields standing guard before the entranceway, Maraad looked for anything suggesting a lack of vigilance. Never again, he thought. Draenor was enough.
It wasn't until he reached the doorway to the Prophet's receiving room that one of the Shields broke his statuelike pose. The guard stepped forward, blocking the way. This was not unexpected.
"I am Vindicator Maraad, formerly of the Alliance command in Northrend," Maraad ritually uttered. "I seek audience with the Prophet."
"The Prophet is seeing no one, Vindicator Maraad. I am sorry I must deny you after your long journey."
Now this was unexpected.
"It is still early in the eve. You are saying the Prophet refuses to see me? I have come all the way from Northrend, and you have not even asked him."
The Shield was clearly uncomfortable. "Again, my apologies, Vindicator. He is seeing no one at the moment."
"Should I return in the morning?"
"I advise against it, Vindicator. The Prophet has granted audience to no one but the human prince for many weeks. I will take note of your visit and summon you when his mandate changes."
Maraad regarded the Shield for several moments, the vindicator's thoughts inscrutable, before returning the way he'd come.
Anduin stood before his mentor in contemplative silence. It was impossible to truly understand the age and wisdom of Velen, so in the manner of the young, the prince simply accepted him as a given force of nature—like the sun or moons. The Prophet's back was turned to him, and Velen levitated in a meditative pose the boy had seen many times in the previous weeks.
"Why didn't you warn the world about the Cataclysm?" Anduin blurted out.
The turned back didn't shift position. There was neither a twitch nor a slouch to betray the thoughts of Velen, but something hung in the quiet following the question, something heavy.
"I watch for the path, for the Light to illumine our way past the Legion and its destructive mission. I alone can see the path. I alone can reveal it to the forces of the Light."
Anduin reflected on what he'd just heard. "It seems a terrible burden."
The Prophet spun slowly in the air to face the prince. "That is why I travel the paths of tomorrow. The Legion and the Old Gods burn holes in the fabric of the future, and if I can see them, can prepare the mortal races, we may yet avert disaster."
"What if you fail?"
Velen's ageless serenity cracked for a moment, replaced for a fleeting instant with pain and sorrow in overwhelming measure, made all the more frightening by the calm before and after.
"Let me show you something," the ancient draenei whispered. He unfolded himself and drifted closer to the ground. Still floating a few inches above the metal flooring of the Exodar, the Prophet closed the distance and placed his hand on the prince's brow.
"I am sorry. But it is necessary," the Prophet said.
The Exodar fell away, and there were only vast stretches of darkness punctuated by lights and mystic energies. Then, a sudden rush, and Anduin stood on strange ground under an unfamiliar sky. There were four prominent moons competing for his attention, an amber atmosphere, and rock formations made from the blue-tinted ground twisting in a thousand different ways. Anduin couldn't see any water, but the colored rock gave the impression of warring waves suddenly frozen at the whim of some godlike artist. There were creatures scattered over the terrain and swirling through the sky, so varied and other that they defied description. Colors and different means of locomotion and patterns formed from dance or play or war... little of it made any sense, and Anduin was simply left struggling to grasp the wonderful abstract chaos of it all.
And the Light! He could feel it surrounding him, as strong as anywhere in Azeroth, pulsing and shining through the alien creatures.
The sky darkened. First to an angry red that invaded the amber skies like a premonition of doom. After a few moments, the color began to shift to an ever-more-nauseating shade of green. Flaring comets screamed from the diseased heavens and struck the earth, sending all the poor creatures scattering in panic. The comets stood up from their craters, towering and terrible, and began to rain down death with ruthless efficiency. A rip opened in the air near the prince, and a flood of horror spilled out: winged demons and alluring succubi wielding greenish-yellow fire and powerful magic, destroying everything in their path. After the dark army had finished its deployment, a gigantic form walked through the rift, and it looked too much like the draenei for the prince not to notice.
This last being leveled the rock sculptures around him, clearing a space where he could kneel in the dust made from his destruction and draw symbols of dread power with his clawed finger. When he finished, there was a moment of perfect quiet as the slaughter halted and the entire world waited in horrified stillness.
And then, an explosion.
The unleashed energies ripped the world's surface apart, and Anduin found himself crying out and throwing his arms up in terror, but the magics moved right through him without harm. The Legion marched back into the portal, returning to the dark nexus of the demons' dwelling, and in their wake was left... nothing. Nothing alive, at any rate. Even the wondrous rock formations—Anduin would never know if they were natural or carved by the alien life he'd witnessed—were no more. There was only ash and broken matter. Even the sky was clouded, no longer allowing a clear view of the four moons.
Then, mercifully, the vision ended.
Anduin stood before the Prophet once again, and although he fought the impulse and was angry with himself, he wept.
"There is no shame in mourning so much lost," Velen said gently.
"What world was it? When did this happen?" the prince asked through his tears.
"I do not know its name. Its inhabitants did not speak in ways we understand, and none of the mortal races from this world ever walked there. I call it Fanlin'Deskor: Amber Skies over Wondrous Rock. Given that I doubt the Legion records its victims—or even deigns to recall them—we are likely the only ones in the universe who know it existed at all."
"How sad," Anduin said.
"Yes. Light willing, when the last victory is won, I will sit in a tower built on one of the lost worlds, and I will record them all as my penance."
"Penance? For what? What have you done but help, Velen?"
"I failed long ago to turn my brothers from their course. And creation has paid the price." Velen waved that line of discussion away, returning to the purpose of showing Anduin the vision. "But my intent was to illustrate for you the consequences of defeat. As terrible as the Cataclysm has proven, as formidable an enemy as Deathwing may be, our war is a far greater struggle. It is not just a single world we defend, but them all."
Anduin always knew his lessons were at an end when the Prophet resumed his meditative posture and stared out at the energies of the Seat. As the prince opened the chamber's door and began to slide out, one final pronouncement from the Prophet followed him from the room.
"And, young one, it is a terrible burden."
The matter-of-fact tone of those last words haunted Anduin through the rest of the day and well into the night. He tossed and turned, fighting the sleep that he usually found easy to come by. When he finally succumbed, his dreams were sharply seen, vividly witnessed.
Demonic fires and broken worlds hurtled through a black sky devoid of suns or moons. All the lights of the universe were dark, as if a sanctuary's candles had been blown out by the cold kiss of the wind. And yet—more than the absence of light—it was the silence that disturbed Anduin. A living universe should not—could not—be so quiet.
The first thought that entered his mind as he observed the end of days was that he would never see his father again... or have the chance to reconcile the chasm that now stood between them. And then, extending that idea with the empathy ingrained in his nature, Anduin considered that no son anywhere in the universe would ever be able to tell a father that he was loved, or say the healing words "I'm sorry." Beyond the silence and the snuffed-out stars, it was the death of possibility, of hope, that was the deepest horror.
And then, a sound. At first it was merely a vibration in the night, yet even that slight disturbance of the air was pure and strong and clean. A glow began, then several; the vibration became many, all in different tones, and the sights and sounds coalesced into an ascending tide of rainbow and melody. Beings of Light surrounded Anduin, rescuing him from the dark and singing to him of hope in a chorus that restored the universe.
In the midst of it all, the face of one of the refugees appeared, a man the prince had seen many times but whose name he did not know. The beings around Anduin said (sang), "Each life, a universe."
He awoke, sweating, his hair matted from the intensity of the dream (Vision, it was a vision...), and yet he was comforted by what he'd seen. He fell asleep again, to mercifully unremarkable dreams.
Maraad stood in a large circular room with glowing runes carved into the curved walls. Three ancient (though unbowed) draenei dominated the center of the chamber, their graceful, beautiful armor polished to a bright sheen. Surrounding them were several paladins and vindicators, all deferring to the three in subtle ways, their obedience derived from a pyramid of authority that tolerated no ego at either its top or its base.
These three were the Triumvirate of the Hand—Boros, Kuros, and Aesom—and the others in the room were the draenei elite: the Hand of Argus. Maraad had learned since his arrival that the Triumvirate had returned to the Exodar, just as he had, in an effort to reconnect with their brethren on Azeroth, to determine the next course of their race in the wake of recent events.
It had been far too long since Maraad had appeared before the Triumvirate, had sat in council with the leadership of the draenei. He had forgotten how ordered and measured the discourse was among them, how comforting the conversation in its reasonable ebb and flow—without the verbal games and unpredictable reactions of the other races of the Alliance. The contrast was driven home full force when the lengthy discussion of the refugees and their plight was quietly interrupted by Vindicator Romnar. Romnar headed the efforts to repair the draenei's dimension-faring ship, the Exodar, and as the debate wound in a polite but indecisive circle around how to deal with the growing influx of foreigners to the isle, he said:
"All this may prove moot soon enough. The Exodar is nearly repaired."
An announcement that momentous, had it been stated aboard the Skybreaker among the Alliance leadership in Northrend, would've landed like a lightning bolt, and everyone would've started verbally jostling at once. Instead, the news was greeted with pleased smiles, and a single hand was laid on Romnar's shoulder. Well done, the mood in the room spoke.
"'Nearly' means when?" Maraad questioned.
"A week. We have already repaired all the key systems. Now we are just cleaning up and bolstering any areas of apparent weakness."
"We could awaken our ship within the week? What does the Prophet say to this?" Maraad asked.
Uncomfortable silence reigned.
"He does not know?" Maraad said, incredulous.
"He refuses to see any of us," Aesom responded. "A message was left with the Shields, but we have heard no return word."
"Am I the only one disturbed by this?" Maraad asked, silently wanting to take the words back even as he said them. I have been too long away from the Exodar, he thought. Of course they were all disturbed. Their quiet signaled not approval, but worry.
What does one do when it seems the Prophet has gone astray?
Before anyone could speak, a draenei whose name was unknown to Maraad interrupted.
"The refugees are at our gates. They demand to see the Prophet."
As do we all, Maraad thought in sour humor.
Why didn't you warn the world about the Cataclysm? The simple, logical question of a mortal child echoed accusingly throughout the silent chamber, distracting the Prophet from his contemplation of the Light. Velen had evaded rather than answered, obscured instead of illuminating. He was surprised at himself. Am I still capable of deception? Even after all this time? Both within and without?
Why would a prophet not warn of calamity?
He had seen it. The armored shadow of night looming over Azeroth, darkening the world with fire and pain. He'd also seen the end of Azeroth in a dozen apocalypses, glimpsed a thousand smaller victories and failings throughout the winding futures. And the Light—the lodestone, the compass, the sense that helped him navigate the uncertain seas of his visions—had not pointed directly to the Cataclysm, had left Deathwing's destructive return a possibility among many. What good was a prophet who saw no difference between the true vision and the false?
Velen did his best to push the child's question from his mind and return his thoughts to recovering his ability to pick the truth from his endless visions... before he was driven mad or it simply became too late. When the Shield who served as sentinel to his chambers begged an audience, yet again, for the Triumvirate, Velen didn't answer.
He'd seen the Exodar repaired and heading into the Nether, swallowed by darkness and never to return.
He'd seen the Exodar seemingly repaired and exploding upon its launch, killing most of the draenei and laying waste to Azuremyst.
He'd seen the Exodar landing in Outland, the draenei healing their former home in exile.
He'd seen the draenei repair their dimensional vessel, only to leave it moored on Azeroth. Sometimes that led to shadow, and sometimes not.
Velen wouldn't trade in educated guesses. Without the Light to point the way, he felt frozen. Let the Triumvirate decide, he thought.
When there were no further outward distractions, he returned to the inward, desperately seeking the path.
Maraad stood by and did his best to hide his disgust. Most of his dealings with humans to this point had been with the sometimes impetuous but always courageous Alliance heroes in Northrend. It was hard to believe these ragged creatures—many of them missing teeth, all missing courtesy and the intellect expected of a sentient—were of the same race as those humans he'd marched beside.
"We wants to see the Prophet," one of them gurgled from a malformed face in barely recognizable Common. "He'll sets it all aright."
"This is your appointed spokesman?" Maraad couldn't help asking aloud. His thinly veiled insult went unheard, unremarked upon.
"The Prophet is seeing no one, friend. We also seek his wise counsel in these dark times. He will speak when he chooses to," an Exodar peacekeeper said.
"A lie. He sees the Stormwind prince!"
"Prince Anduin is studying the ways of the Light under the Prophet's tutelage. You should be honored—humbled, even—that the Ageless One teaches one of your kind. Who knows what great boon to your people may come of it?"
"Ar'gance! Who're ya to tell us we needs be humbled, eh? Who're ya?, Hoofed demon, says I!"
There could be no worse insult than to remind the draenei of their kinship to the eredar of the Legion. The peacekeeper's eyes narrowed dangerously, and his hand moved to the glowing crystalline sword at his side. At the gesture, Maraad found himself reaching for the handle of his great hammer, and several other draenei drew themselves up and leaned toward the ragtag "delegation." Maraad saw the humans instinctively draw back. Even if what passed for their conscious minds was fool enough, the animal in them sensed better.
The peacekeeper visibly relaxed and withdrew his hand, recognizing the refugees' fright. "I know you are far from your homes. You are hungry and the future is uncertain. In such straits, you are wise to seek the counsel of our prophet. Believe me, friend, when I say I would like nothing better than for him to address your concerns. But understand this: his ways are infinite. He will come to you, or not, as he will, but he will not be compelled. I advise you to return to your homes in the encampment."
"What homes? These not'r homes," came the sullen reply. The contingent slinked off, muttering and with dark expressions. The humans had nearly come to blows with their hosts, and they all knew it.
"What right have they to speak of exile to us?" the peacekeeper said in quiet awe.
"What right, indeed?" Maraad answered.
Surrounded by the Hand of Argus and its leadership, Maraad was outspoken with his opinion.
"The Prophet will not share his wisdom with us. The decision is ours. Let us take the war to the Legion! Or, failing that, return to poor, tortured Outland and complete the work to set it aright. Our second home needs us, as do the Lost Ones still wandering the wastes."
Maraad was met with silence from the Triumvirate, but he could sense agreement in the minute movements of face and body, which betrayed the leaders' thoughts. There was a sense of uneasiness, though, and the vindicator knew its origin... because he shared it. The Prophet should speak, should bless our resolve.
"In one week's time we will test the phase pistons of the Exodar. And if the Prophet has not spoken by then, we will leave Azeroth behind!"
"How go your lessons, Anduin? Is your understanding progressing?"
For months, the prince had been gratified by the attention afforded him, thrilled at the chance to learn from the being closest to the Light in all of Azeroth. But now, with Velen's unhurried, quiet questions echoing in his head, resentment flared up.
"Don't you know what's happening out there?" Anduin asked.
"There is always something happening out there," returned the soft voice. It was gently said, but its undertones held an edge nonetheless. "My concern is with the path."
"What is the path? A distant war on some far-flung world? You're needed here. Needed now. Is that why you never warned of the Cataclysm? Was it just beneath your notice? Are we all insects to you? Or, worse, chess pieces?"
It'd been an age since someone dared rebuke the Prophet. He spun to face the prince, surprised, as he often was when it came to humans, by how quickly the child seemed to be becoming a man, by the adult in the words hurled at him. And as soon as Anduin came into view, the world changed.
Instead of the prince, an armored warrior stood before him, his plate helm and breastplate shining with the essence of the Light itself. The warrior wielded a sword forged from the same material as the armor, held it aloft as he perched on an outcropping... Whether it was on another world or Azeroth, Velen couldn't quite tell. And suddenly the dark sky above erupted with the combined chivalry of Azeroth's races. The blood elves, orcs, trolls, tauren, and even the accursed undead and scheming goblins rode flying mounts of every sort and description. They were armored and armed in magical weaponry glowing with so much power it hurt Velen's eyes to look at them. Beside the legions of the Horde, the ancient night elves charged with humans, dwarves, and gnomes, whose ancestors formed the original Alliance, and the shape-changing worgen were united with them. Velen's own draenei bolstered the army, their ranks adorned in otherworldly metals and bearing crystalline maces and swords.
The Alliance and Horde were not alone.
Dragons swooped and soared in formations that made the sky resemble a giant multicolored, reptilian wing. They blanketed the horizon with their physical size and numbers, and when they roared a challenge, it shook not just the earth Velen stood on, but the universe as well.
And yet, for all this, the greatest shock to Velen's senses came as he saw those that flew just beyond the army of dragons. The naaru had taken the field, so many that Velen didn't understand how creation could contain them. The power of these beings of Light filled Velen's heart with hope, swept away the lonely centuries, and left him in wonder that he could ever despair, that the dark, no matter how terrible, could ever truly reign.
And then a shadow fell.
It was vast and empty and swallowed all light that entered it. Velen knew it would be all consuming until, at last, it would turn and devour itself, endlessly gnawing on nothing in the Great Dark Beyond, removing all meaning from the universe, from the most heart-breaking sonata to the most arresting sunset. It was too terrible to see, to comprehend, and yet the army headed straight for it. And the light began to fade...
Standing before the Prophet was only a human man-child, eyes wide and passionate, saying something unintelligible to him.
The Prophet turned his back on Anduin, his mind clawing toward the Light, reaching for the thread of the vision he'd witnessed, trying to see the path amid the fractured possibilities. He was forcefully reminded of the weeks leading up to the Cataclysm. He didn't notice when the prince left his chambers.
The week passed in tension for the refugees. The draenei were occupied with their own concerns, preparing to test their beloved ship and worrying over the silence of the Prophet. The exiles noted the increased activity and could feel something in the air. Their ignorance of the whys only fed their darker thoughts and rumormongering. There were a few voices that reminded the others of the kindnesses done for them by the draenei, but it was ever the nature of mortals to suspect and fear what was not understood, and the hooves and blue skin of their patrons ultimately counted far more than the supplies and healing they'd lent. Very few refugees asked themselves, even in the quiet dark as they lay safely within the protection of Azuremyst Isle, how the draenei might've been treated had they fled to other Alliance shores, seeking aid.
And so, when the enormous structure named Exodar began to hum and vibrate, when the very air turned electric around them, the refugees' instincts told them what their intelligence couldn't: the ship was working.
The draenei are leaving! enough of them thought for panic to infect the camp. They take the Prophet with them!
The unseen had become a savior to the refugees, the Prophet a talisman against the horrors of the Cataclysm. Like most mobs, this one had no single leader, and there was no moment that could be pointed to when fear and worry boiled over into action. And yet, almost the entire camp found itself surging recklessly toward the Exodar.
How did one answer the call of centuries, the challenge to see each day anew and not as a repetition of banality that could only end in sorrow? The heaviest burden for the being who had been only Velen and was now the Prophet—a force, a myth, an abstraction—was the loneliness of higher comprehension. He could not unsee the seen. And he knew this weariness, this lack of daily conviction, was his once brethren's greatest weapon against him.
Have you tired of the death you bring worlds? Velen wondered of his lost friend Kil'jaeden. Do you ever doubt, in the blackness of your soul, the choices you have made?
Yet these were old worries, ancient musings.
In one possible future, he'd seen a successive Lich King rise from the Frozen Throne, even more terrible than Arthas or Ner'zhul, and sweep across the land with thousands of skeletal warriors in his wake. When the Legion returned, it was to a world already dead, and the demons laughed and played with the unnaturally risen draenei—all to spite Velen for the chase he'd led across the universe.
He'd seen the maddened Earth-Warder, the Destroyer, burn the world and then begin to contemplate the deaths of his own children, the black dragonflight, to slake his psychopathic need to end things.
Please, he begged of the Light. Show me the path.
The mob had lost all intelligence because of its numbers, all reason in the crowd's passions. The draenei tried to parley, but to no avail, and when the alarm sounded and the paladins, vindicators, priests, and magi took the field against the rabble, the tragically predictable happened. The defenders were faced with an impossible choice: fight only to subdue and push back, risking death at the hands of a lesser foe; or slay allies they had no wish to kill. War was a thing to be engaged in completely or not at all, and the draenei were reminded of this when Vindicator Romnar fell beneath the surge as he made his way to the gates to investigate what disturbance his tests had caused. The vindicator was grievously wounded by the mob before the other draenei were able to pull him behind their lines to safety.
Seeing Romnar go down brought back memories to Maraad of battling the undead, and his crystalline hammer no longer merely parried but began to come down with crushing force on the invaders. Once he had cut loose the bonds of mercy, the rest of the draenei followed, and the beginnings of a slaughter were writ in the blood of the refugees.
"Prophet! You must come! You must!" Anduin cried out to Velen's levitating back. The panic in the boy's voice cut through the visions, and Velen wrenched his attention to the present, spun to face his charge.
"What has happened?" Velen asked in his ageless tone.
"The refugees are mobbing the Exodar. Your people are attacking them! Attacking innocents."
Velen felt it. The path. There were two forks, and he could see the child leading him down one. At the end of the other was shadow. Such a burden, that so much could turn on small choices. Was this, then, the meaning of his earlier vision? That the marker to lead Velen out from the wilderness, back to the Light's road, lay with the child?
"What does your war matter to those fighting outside?" the boy yelled. And then, recalling his dream, he said, "Every life is a universe!"
Have I lost myself so much? Velen wondered. I must be taught by a mortal child?
And then the answer came from the depths of his soul: The Light's lessons are a boon no matter their origin.
"I will come," Velen said.
The adversaries were locked in a desperate struggle that blotted out all other concerns. The refugees knew they had made a terrible error, and it was too late to undo it. They fought from a need to survive, to rectify their mistake. For the draenei, their understanding of what they were doing, the horror of slaying not just allies but also those weaker than themselves, lent the defenders a tragic, self-hating fury. It would take no small thing to halt the carnage.
Velen was no small thing.
The world erupted in Light, blinding the mob and defenders alike, a runic, geometric sunburst that illuminated rather than obscured the figure suspended in its midst. The Prophet's crystal blazed beside him, and his voice roared, forcing some of the combatants to their knees.
The draenei stopped, most of them relieved, several of them dropping their weapons to the earth in horror. The refugees froze at the sight of the mythic Prophet in the flesh before them.
Velen descended until he hovered among them mere inches from the blood-soaked soil of Azuremyst.
"This is how we treat our brethren?" Velen asked his people in sorrow. Many of the draenei wept in shame when they heard his disappointment. Maraad was unmoved. "And you, who enjoy our aid, our hospitality, strike your friends without provocation?" How could any of the combatants stand before the accusation in those forever eyes?
The Prophet lowered himself to the muddied, trampled, bloodied ground, his hooves touching down.
There was a collective gasp from the other draenei as the muck stained the end of the Prophet's robes. Velen walked to one of the fallen, knelt in the filth, and reached out to hold the broken body. Light issued from one of his hands as he plunged it into the caved chest, sorrowing for a moment over the familiar mark of a crystalline hammer, and channeled the Light to clear the wound. The human opened his eyes, healed of the potentially mortal injury.
Anduin was right. What hope was there for the universe if Velen failed to guard every life as best he could? Would the draenei not win their war at the cost of everything that mattered?
Velen stood, his dirtied robes speaking volumes. He addressed his brethren, his children.
"We will go forth among the mortals of Azeroth, our pledged allies, and serve and aid their quest to heal the world from the Cataclysm."
It was Maraad who spoke up. Only he would dare.
"The Exodar at long last is repaired, Prophet. We should take the war to the Legion. Or perhaps return to Outland and heal our home in exile."
"Each to your own conscience," the Prophet replied. "But I tell you this: our war is everywhere. In every deed and breath. We must prepare the people of this world to stand together. We must be their example to rally against evil. In service we will awaken them all to form the ultimate alliance against the dark. Go among the people, save them from the Cataclysm's hurts, and make them strong for the future."
The other draenei were deeply affected by their Prophet's words, and they went to the wounded refugees. Anduin lent his own blossoming talents to the effort, and even as Velen healed and offered comfort, he couldn't help but watch the prince, impressed by the man he was already becoming.
The Exodar wasn't merely a machine to the draenei, but a living thing, a brother in a sense that the other races would never understand. And its pain had been righted, its essence healed. The Prophet rejoiced with his entire race at the triumph.
The refugees had met in council, assembled in ever-widening, concentric rings across the hills near Ammen Vale, and ultimately decided their place lay with their own kind. Caught in the fiery emotion of Velen's dramatic appearance, many of the humans sought the priesthood, and nearly all lent themselves to the might of Stormwind to repair Deathwing's destruction. To a man, when asked about their experience with the draenei, the refugees would claim for the rest of their lives that they'd had the right of things all along—that the Prophet had given them the answer to the Cataclysm.
Yet the people most affected by the tragic refugee assault were the Ageless One himself and the human who would someday be king. When Anduin next appeared before his mentor, he found the Prophet facing him, his cloven hooves on the ground.
"Thank you for awakening me to the path. You asked me why I did not warn of the Cataclysm. I failed to recognize the threat it represented because my focus was too inward and... in some ways, too outward. I had lost sight of the individuals in the present world—of their need—and that was why the Light's beacon dimmed for me. If I am unconnected to the living beings of the now, how can I ever navigate all the connections of their futures?
"You will be a powerful priest someday, Prince Anduin. And a wise king."
Anduin wished only that his father could hear those words.
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Don't Mess With Texas... Or, Well, Don't Use That Slogan As A Book Title Or Texas Will Sue
from the moron-in-a-hurry deptYou've probably heard the phrase "don't mess with texas." It's pretty widely known in general, but what you might not know is that the phrase is actually trademarked by the Texas Department of Transportation as a part of an anti-litter campaign. I had no idea. Anyway, the state is quite upset that anyone might think of the phrase in any context other than combating litter. Stephen S. Power alerts us to the news that the state has sued over a romance novel with the phrase as its title. And they're going all in. They've sued the publisher of the book, Hachette Book Group, and the author, Christie Craig, and they're even going after Barnes & Noble for daring to stock the book.
"The book," TxDOT's suit says, "contains numerous graphic references to sexual acts, states of sexual arousal, etc."They're afraid that this will harm their ability to keep the streets clean of litter. I'm not quite sure how. Of course, if you look, it appears that TxDOT does, in fact, have a number of federal registered trademarks on the phrase. I went through them all and not a single one appears to be for books, however. There are things like clothing, signs, luggage tags, beverage holders, garbage bags, "plastic squeeze flashlights," etc. But nothing about books.
Here's hoping the defendants do decide to "mess with Texas" and teach them a little something about trademark law.
Filed Under: don't mess with texas, texas, trademark, txdot

subset: commoncrawl


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Illini lose 21 turnovers and blow 13-point lead in second half.
Grab something for that nervous stomach. You'll probably need it during the Big Ten Conference season.
Favored in the Big Ten Conference opener, Illinois survived for an 81-72 double-overtime victory over Minnesota Tuesday, when it seemed every half-court possession down the stretch was an adventure.
"I said since the beginning of the season, we're not going to win every game, but every game we'll come out and fight,'' said Illini guard Brandon Paul, who had 21 points, seven rebounds and six assists but also lost five turnovers. "After we lost the lead, we made some plays. We kept grinding it out. A lot of guys kept making plays. We kept fighting.''
Despite losing 21 turnovers and blowing a 13-point lead in the second half, the Illini avoided a bad loss to start conference play.
"We pieced it together and found a way to win,'' Illinois coach Bruce Weber said. "I hope the next 17 aren't like this, cause I can't take it.''
He's probably not the only one.
Illinois still has plenty of room to grow with decision-making and half-court offense, but the Illini were exhaling rather than explaining a fortunate win against the Gophers, who had a chance finish off the Illini in regulation. Guard Julian Welch, an 87.5-percent free-throw shooter, missed the front end of a one-and-bonus with 15.9 seconds left with Minnesota up by two.
Center Meyers Leonard hit two free throws to force overtime. After guard Sam Maniscalco missed a 3-pointer and Minnesota couldn't convert in the closing seconds of the first overtime, Paul and Leonard took over.
Paul sank a free throw, then scored on a breakaway dunk after Leonard poked at Minnesota center Ralph Sampson III. Leonard's two free throws moments later made it 75-70. Leonard's spinning finger roll moved the lead to 78-72, and the Illini were finally able to finish it off.
"I'm proud of our guys,'' Weber said. "We grinded it out. The first half, we played as well as we've played since Gonzaga. We just can't turn the ball over like that.
"It's huge. You've got to protect home court. You've got to anticipate a lot of close games. I don't know if this should have been close, but it was, to (the Gophers') credit.''
Illinois (12-2 overall, 1-0 in the Big Ten) plays at Purdue Saturday (3 p.m., ESPN2).
Leonard finished with 20 points, 11 rebounds and five blocks but also lost five turnovers. Guards D.J. Richardson and Joe Bertrand scored 13 points apiece while Maniscalco had 10 points.
The half-court offense left everyone in orange squirming in their seats in the second half, because the Illini must improve on decision-making while making plays and taking shots, Weber said.
"It's not really elementary,'' Leonard said. "It's high level stuff, but you have to put it all together, get good chemistry, know what guys like to do, know what side of the court guys like to be on. We're going to keep working in practice. We'll be all right in the end.''
This game looked like a good chance for Illinois to start the conference season off with a win, despite entering Big Ten play by losing two of its last three games. The Gophers were playing without Trevor Mbakwe, a preseason all-Big Ten pick who suffered a season-ending knee injury in November.
The Illini were 5.5-point favorites by the Vegas oddsmakers, but Illinois end it in regulation after leading 48-35 in the second half.
Minnesota (12-2) lost for the first time in seven games despite 22 points and nine rebounds from Sampson.
"That was a real bad missed opportunity,'' Smith said. "It's hard to get a win on the road in the Big Ten.''With Illinois searching for the right combinations, Weber went with some small ball and found a spark from Bertrand, who made his first four shots and ran his streak of field goals made to 13 over the last two games. The Illini also used the Twin Towers of Leonard and power forward Nnanna Egwu.
The biggest loser in playing time was Tyler Griffey, who started the first 13 games but hasn't been overly productive, so Weber didn't hesitate 4 minutes into the game to make a change.
John Supinie can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.com. Follow him on Twitter @JohnSupinie.Illinois report card Front court -- B Meyers Leonard had a big finish but also lost five turnovers. The Illini went with four guards when Tyler Griffey had another slow start against an athletic power forward.
Back court -- BBrandon Paul wants to be a playmaker, but he's still learning how to do it. D.J. Richardson was solid again.
Bench -- AJoe Bertrand ran his streak to 13 consecutive field goals made over the last two games before a miss. He finished with 13 points, making a strong case to start against Purdue Saturday.
Overall -- BThe half-court offense was gut-wrenching. Where's the Pepto? With so many tight games expected, this might lead to some ulcers among the Illini-heads.


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A Green Light for Renewables
The state of California is often seen as a leader in the Green sector. This month, California Governor Jerry Brown introduced a mandate requiring 33 percent of the state's electricity to come from renewable sources by 2020.
Known as the Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS), this mandate aims to define a clear path for the future of renewable energies in California and will apply to investor-owned utilities like Southern California Edison and municipal utilities like the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power.
Bernadette Del Chiaro, clean energy advocate with Environment California, said, "California can power itself entirely on clean energy resources. Mandating that the state generate a third of its electricity from renewable energy is a big down payment toward that ultimate goal."
Ideally, California's increased renewable energy standards will boost alternative energy developments and will help solidify renewable energy's role in today's energy mix. Previous initiatives had only short-term goals and were not focused on how they could encourage renewable energy for the long term. This created inconsistencies and weakened regulatory stability.
In addition to providing a cleaner future, RPS hopes to stimulate job growth as new renewable energy facilities are built to address increased demand. Ranging from wind and solar to hydro developments, the energy industry has experienced a rise in alternative options. A new solar panel manufacturing facility in Milpitas, CA is estimated to generate 100 jobs.
California isn't alone in trying to reduce its carbon footprint – a green energy future has become a popular Utopian ideal across the globe as the emphasis on sustainable energy grows. Worldwide, as safety incidents and dwindling traditional energy resources join to make other options more appealing, alternative energy sources are gaining notice.
A green energy future is within reach, but will not be achieved without regulatory consistency and a commitment by operators and regulators. To learn more about RPS, please visit the California Energy Commission's website.
For more information on green energy initiatives in the United States, please see the U.S. Bureau of Land Management's portfolio of public renewable energy projects on its website here.


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Book Review: Zen and the Art of IT Management
IT projects have earned a reputation over the past 30 years of being expensive, time-consuming and prone to fail. Countless research studies have documented that this conventional wisdom is correct.
Revolutionizing IT: The Art of Using Information Technology Effectively
By David Andrews and Kenneth Johnson
John Wiley & Sons Inc., September 2002
272 pages, $29.95
It is always good to begin with the basics: "IT projects have earned a reputation over the past 30 years of being expensive, time-consuming and prone to fail. Countless research studies have documented that this conventional wisdom is correct. Half or more IT projects do fail."
You can quibble with the definition of failure. Indeed, the authors—long-time, large-company IT veterans turned consultants—concede that those studies define failure in part by missed schedules and the delivery of less benefit than expected, as well as the abandonment of projects before they're successfully implemented. But no one will argue with IT's reputation for not coming in on time or on budget: It almost never happens. No lesser light than Larry Bossidy, former chairman and CEO of Honeywell International, said that IT has a terrible track record when it comes to execution (CIO Insight, June 2002).
In painstaking detail, the authors set out to determine why this is the case. And they come up with a list of the usual suspects:
• The mandate given to IT project teams is vague and often contradictory.
• People with the necessary skills and knowledge are unavailable.
• The nature of the problems being worked on changes before a solution can be put into place.
• Senior management input is hard to come by until it is too late.
But instead of addressing each evil and suggesting wholesale organizational changes that are unlikely to be adopted, the authors attack the problem from the point of view of what's actually within IT's control. They begin their logical approach by noting: "IT projects create value through business process improvements." So you need to ask at the very beginning: "Exactly how will this project change the ways the organization functions, what benefits will the change bring, and are other options available to achieve the same benefit?"
The point of this exercise is to answer a simple question about every potential project: Is it necessary? If it isn't, the CIO's time should be spent arguing against ever beginning it. If the project is necessary, then IT needs to control the project by ensuring that the time available to do the project determines its scope, instead of allowing the scope to determine the time frame. Similarly, instead of announcing a sweeping mandate—"Let's create the paperless office," for example—it is incumbent on CIOs to battle for breaking complex problems into incremental improvements that can be accomplished with as little pain as possible: "Let's see if we can get accounting to close its books faster."
This is not a project management book; such books deal with tactics. This is a strategy book—what you should think about before implementing a project. And one of the overarching things you should think about is that organizations are unlikely to change to fit IT's needs. Instead of lamenting that fact, embrace it.
An old golf joke: A hacker keeps mishitting everything, so he goes to the local golf pro pleading for help. "I hit every shot to the left," he tells the pro. "How can I fix the problem?"
The pro smiles and says: "Aim right."
There is a lot to be said for that kind of approach to IT.
Reviewed by Paul B. Brown, the author of 13 business books, including the international bestseller Customers for Life. Doubleday has just published an updated version of the book, which was written with Carl Sewell.
This article was originally published on 10-02-2002


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Every weekday I post a set of poetry prompts on poetrywritinggroup.wordpress.com and a set of story prompts on the script, novel and short story blogs.
*** If you love these prompts (or are looking to improve your writing or submit a manuscript), do take a look at my online courses… currently £1 / $1-2 using coupon codes! ***
Following on from this, here are some exercises, one per day (or you could mix them!) to write non-fiction (or fictional) pieces about…
- Monday 28th December: denying being in love
- Tuesday 29th December: who is she?
- Wednesday 30th December: looking forward to spring
- Thursday 31st December: this picture
- Friday 1st January: disagreeing with him
- Saturday 2nd January: a lost purse / wallet
- Sunday 3rd January: pick an item from this week's news
- Don't forget your five senses: sight, sound, touch, taste, smell
- Colours: Include at least one colour in your story. It does add depth.
- Use strong verbs and avoid adverbs: have someone striding instead of walking confidently.
- Only use repetition to emphasise.
- When you've finished the first draft, read the piece aloud. It's surprising how many 'mistakes' leap out at you when you read out loud… assuming you have any of course! You could then submit your piece to somewhere listed on Submissions – non-fiction.
- And there are loads more writing tips on https://morgenbailey.wordpress.com/writing-101.
Picture above courtesy of morguefile.com
You can subscribe to my main blog on your Kindle / Kindle app via Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com. Alternatively, you can sign up to receive these blog posts daily or weekly so you don't miss anything (see the main blog's right-hand vertical menu).
You can contact me and find me on the internet, view my books (including my debut novel The Serial Dater's Shopping List, various short story collections and writer's block workbooks) and if you like the blogs, you can help me keep it running by donating. Thank you.
I now run online courses – details on Courses – and for anyone looking for an editor, do take a look at Editing and Critique.
If you would like to send me a book review of another author's books or like your book reviewed (short stories, contemporary crime / women's novels or writing guides), see book-reviews for the guidelines. Other options listed on opportunities-on-this-blog. And I post writing exercises every weekday on four other online writing groups.


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It seems like only yesterday that director Guillermo del Toro released the first viral video for his mecha vs. kaiju flick Pacific Rim, possibly because it was. But it's a brand new day, and with it comes a new viral video of shaky-cam "news" footage of a giant monster actually attacking San Francisco. You can only see a few bits and pieces of the monster in question - and some teeth near the end - but hey, a kaiju is a kaiju, right?
I was trying to figure out why the TV footage was so shitty - I mean, I understand why the camera footage of the monster might cut in and out, but technically CNN should be broadcasting without problems, right? Then I decided whoever is trying to watch this simply has Comcast. Poor bastard. Like a giant monster attack wasn't awful enough.
[Via Blastr]


text: Excellent lighting starts with an expert plan. To help you make an informed decision, Philips will begin by assessing how well your current lighting equipment matches your lighting needs. We'll perform a detailed audit of your organization, facility or project. The data collected on-site will inform an optimized lighting design to meet your requirements – now and in the future.


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Moderator: Van Canna
How prepared is the average martial artist for REAL contact? Whether it be on the tournament floor, on the street, or even in a drill with a partner, a practitioner had better be prepared for contact just about anywhere on his body. If he is not, even those incidental bangs while executing the finest technique, can be damaging.
It does not seem logical to spend one's time and energy getting "beat upon" during Karate training but that is the very thing that brings a heightened awareness in the individual of the frailties of the unconditioned flesh. The fear of blows to untoughened body areas instills a fear which in turn activates an instant withdrawal reflex. Proper conditioning results in the direct ability to absorb or deflect incoming strikes and to meet a confrontation with a much greater degree of confidence.
The theory of conditioning is simple. By gradually working parts of the body with pressure or impact exercises, the body reacts by desensitizing, strengthening, and toughening the tissues in those areas. A classic example would be the carpenters' or masons' hands versus the clerks', or consider a baby's feet as compared to an adults feet after years of walking, running and jumping on them.
Your training is not complete until your conditioning is done. The purpose of conditioning is to strengthen, harden, tone, and desensitize specific areas of the body that may be required to endure contact in a physical confrontation.
Conditioning is a process of consistent, gradually accumulated training.
Complications of Over Training:
Bruised bones take a very long time to heal due to the almost non-existent blood supply. This can lead to some very potentially serious complications. The most unusual and worst these complications being Osteosarcoma or Bone cancer.
This is where the regenerative properties of the bone go haywire. In Osteosarcoma the cells change and go mad, proliferating at such a rate they destroy the bone they are supposed to be repairing. This very serious illness is often, but by no means always, set off by a severe bone bruise. Like all cancers, if it is not caught in time, it can be fatal and anyway it is always serious.
In young people it is more difficult to catch as it develops at an even faster rate than adults. The other serious complication of bone conditioning is infected bones, osteomyelitis.
This is where an infection sets into the body of the bone. Its main non-surgical cause is almost always trauma. The infection will eventually ulcerate out through the skin. It too can be life threatening because it can cause blood toxicity complications and very high fevers. It is always quite difficult to cure and will often break out again as the infection slowly smolders, undetected, through the bone.
Bad bone bruises can leave areas where there is too much calcium deposited or the deposits are wrongly laid down, which may have health implications in old age.
Tendons, Nerves and Other:
To avoid serious injuries it is of course prudent to avoid damaging blood vessels and nerves, however, these are mostly well placed to avoid damage except, maybe around joints, e.g., around the wrist and elbow.
It goes without saying that joints of any kind can never be strengthened by conditioning. The last major complication to be concerned about in body conditioning is in the fascia of the tendon sheaths, tendons, and ligaments.
These do not have a direct blood supply and like periosteum they collect their nutriments from the thin fluid that passes between the cells. It is called the interstitial fluid. Therefore, without a blood supply they will not bruise.
Fascia, tendons, and ligaments don't really bruise anyway because they are made of inelastic, tightly bonded molecules of collagen. These are so inelastic that they tear instead of bruising. Small tears are not very serious or complicated and will usually clear up with some rest.
Sudden impact onto a highly stressed tendon or ligament can often cause complete separation that will require surgical repair.
Major tears, whether complete or not, will weaken a ligament or tendon and the resultant scarring will leave it susceptible to more tears. This weakening can become chronic and cause the cessation of training.
Tendons run in a protective sheath. Bruise this and you run the risk of having the smooth slippery surface of the sheath roughening, the tendon will then grate every time it moves causing acute pain
This can be seen in the knuckles of people over doing the Makiwara and punching hard objects like bricks as in Tamashiwara training. This condition, tenosynovitis, is not normally serious although it may be become chronic and require the cessation of karate training.
Why if there are so many dangers to over-zealous body conditioning do we do it at all? And indeed aren't these dangers the reason why most systems practiced today don't do it anyway? Well, the complications found in body conditioning are present in everyday practice when doing forms of fighting and sparring. What karate practitioner has never had a major bruise? If you are going to become bruised — and every one is — then it is best to prepare the body for the eventuality. A forceful punch that is wrongly blocked or not blocked at all will connect.
When it strikes the blocking surface it will hurt and could injure. This is such a regular occurrence that it is not even considered or thought about in most karate circles. A potentially stronger danger can come from actions such as leg sweeps and especially from poorly prepared demonstrations involving breaking techniques. Because conditioning can protect the body from inevitable contacts it should be started with the first lesson and kept up through out a karate practitioner's life. They will then always be well protected. Protecting oneself from injury is surely the raison d'être" of karate training.
~George ChaplinConclusion:
All in all, conditioning is a useful adjunct to martial arts training, giving participants an opportunity to strengthen their techniques, and offensive and defensive natural weapons. It will enable the students to come face to face with the fear of being struck and to learn to accept and overcome this fear. It will also help to avoid, in their daily training, the potentially life threatening injuries that rarely but unavoidably do happen.
Lesser amounts of conditioning in other areas that also occasional become hit, such as, the stomach, pectorals, and the latissimus dorsii muscles, is also undertaken. In Okinawa conditioning of the frontal lower throat area has been observed, the resistance being provided by forceful contraction of the neck muscles. This practice the author considers doubtful.
This and other extreme methods of conditioning seems to be a recent introduction to Uechi Ryu.
In conditioning the pectoral region of women care must be taken to avoid the breast tissue as bruising can cause fat necrosis. Besides the undisireablibity of necrosis, these post trauma, necrotic, lumps may potentially lead to a cancerous lump being missed or confused in manual breast examination.
Severe bruising is a sign of over vigorous application, if it continues with a lower intensity of conditioning bruising needs to be investigated as it could be indicative of blood or other medical disorders.
The bruising appears to be more common in students of poor physical condition and weak muscle tone. Younger students frequently achieve conditioning more quickly. Once it has been achieved, conditioning seems to last for a period of years after the cessation of active training.
The muscle tone and resistance to depression in actively conditioned areas appears to be very high. There is no sign of obvious damage and no changes in skin texture or coloration were observable.
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Each week I record a short podcast for Geni and the topics cover some aspect of genealogy and family history.
In this week's podcast entitled Genealogy Research Logs, I discuss why every genealogist – beginner, intermediate and advanced – really needs a genealogy research log and how to create one that works for you and your research.
You can find all my past podcasts on the Geni blog by clicking here.
©2011, copyright Thomas MacEntee


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Consult doctors from the comfort of your home
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Click here to book an appointment with a top in Karachi. Or, you can also call at 02138140600 from 9AM to 11PM to book your appointment.
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Traditional Chinese Veterinary Medicine (TCVM), although relatively new to the Western world, is a medical system that has been used in China to treat animals for thousands of years. It is an adaptation and extension of Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) used to treat humans. Speaking broadly, Chinese Medicine is a complete body of thought and practice grounded in Chinese Daoist philosophy. Though it can be traced back over two millennia in recorded history, it, like any medical system, continues to evolve today, and current research on acupuncture and herbal medicine is beginning to shed light on its mechanism of action.There are four branches of TCVM: acupuncture, Chinese herbal Medicine, Food therapy and Tui-na
Acupuncture is a treatment that involves the stimulation of points, typically achieved through the insertion of specialized needles into the body. Acupuncture points typically lie along the body's Meridian Channels along which Qi flows. Most veterinary acupuncture points and Meridian lines are transposed to animals from humans, though knowledge of some "classical points" defined on particular species have been retained and are used to this day. To learn about our acupuncture course click here!
Herbal Medicine utilizes herbal ingredients listed within the Chinese Herbal Materia Medica in particular combinations or formulas to treat particular disease patterns. Herbal formulas are administered orally and are typically given in powder form to horses and other large animals and in tea pill or capsule form to cats and dogs.
Food Therapy is the use of diet to treat and prevent imbalance within the body. It utilizes knowledge of the energetics of food ingredients to tailor diets for individual animals.
Tui-na is a form of Chinese medical massage in which different manipulations are applied to acupoints and Meridians to promote the circulation of Qi and correct imbalances within the organ systems.
The Chi Institute believes that the best veterinary health care is the integration of TCVM and conventional veterinary medical care, as unique advantages exist in both systems. Thus, the Chi Institute provides a high quality curriculum that will enable veterinarians to effectively apply the TCVM approach as an integral part of their practice.
Already taken the basic acupuncture course? Take the next step with advanced courses offered through Chi USA!
Advanced TCVM Diagnostics and Acupuncture is a wet lab workshop offered to veterinary acupuncturists to expand their technical knowledge of acupuncture and to strengthen their TCVM diagnostic skills.
Chinese Herbal Medicine, a major branch of Chinese Medicine, is an all-natural treatment option that is generally safe and effective when prescribed correctly.
Food therapy is the branch of Chinese medicine that utilizes the energetic properties of food to correct and prevent imbalance in the body.
Tui-na is a manual therapy
similar to chiropractics and
massage that is a branch
of TCVM.


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The Spring 20 collection takes it back to 2002 – the year HUF was founded – paying tribute to the brands beginnings with a fresh take on classic HUF. The collection pulls in some of our favorite graphics, prints, and motifs from the archives and reinterprets them across a range of modern pieces.
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An undated photo provided by the FBI shows Wade Michael Page, who went on a killing rampage in a Sikh temple in Oak Creek, Wis.
The gunman who killed six people and wounded four others at a Sikh temple in Wisconsin before being shot by an officer died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, the FBI said Wednesday.
Wade Michael Page, 40, died at the scene of Sunday's mass shooting at the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin in Oak Creek.
Authorities originally said Page was fatally shot by an officer responding to the scene. At a press conference Wednesday, Milwaukee FBI Special Agent in Charge Teresa Carlson said investigators have since determined that Page shot himself in the head after wounding one officer and being shot in the stomach by a second officer.
Teresa Carlson, the lead FBI investigator in the probe of the Sikh temple shooting in Wisconsin, tells the media that suspected gunman Wade Michael Page died from a self-inflicted gunshot.
"The evidence indicates that the second responding officer who shot Page in the stomach, thereby neutralizing the threat -- and by the way, I've seen the video, it is an amazing shot. And thank goodness. Subsequent to that wound, it appears that Page died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head," Carlson said.
Authorities reiterated Wednesday that it appears Page, who reportedly had ties to white supremacist groups, acted alone and that they still have not determined his motive.
Carlson said investigators have conducted more than 100 interviews nationwide of family members, associates, employers and neighbors. They are also analyzing Page's computer, email and telephone records.
The video surveillance system inside the temple was not turned on Sunday so there's no recorded view of what happened inside the 16,000-square-foot building, Carlson said.
Page's ex-girlfriend, Misty Cook, 31, was arrested Sunday night after police found an illegal gun in the home she once shared with Page. Carlson said Wednesday neither the gun nor Cook was connected to the shooting at the temple.
Authorities said Page, a former Army sergeant, entered the gurdwara shortly before services were to begin and opened fire with a 9mm semiautomatic handgun.
Among the wounded was a police officer, Oak Creek Police Lt. Brian Murphy, who was shot multiple times.
"He was up walking yesterday," Police Chief John Edwards said at Wednesday's press conference.
"He's progressing amazingly and we're very, very thankful for that."
John Gress / Reuters
Sikhs attend a vigil in Oak Creek, Wis., on Aug. 7, to honor the victims of a shooting spree at a Sikh temple.
On Tuesday night, hundreds of residents attended the annual "Night Out" in Oak Creek, transforming the neighborhood event about public safety into a poignant quasi-vigil for the victims of the mass shooting. Attendees held candles and prayed for the victims, remembering them as peaceful individuals dedicated to their families and faith.
President Barack Obama called Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh on Wednesday to express his condolences over the shooting, the White House said.
"The two leaders spoke about their shared commitment to tolerance and religious freedom, and the president again reiterated his appreciation for the significant contribution that Sikhs make to the broader American community," White House spokesman Jay Carney told reporters aboard Air Force One.
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Follow US News from NBCNews.com on Twitter and Facebook


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"I want you to cry, because you're worthless!" —Laurel
"This is the worst case scenario for the mob because somebody's going up against ME. The mob is going to have to vote against each other and that is going to be good… This is going to be so good." —C.T.
I knew this episode of Rivals was going to be good almost instantly. As soon as it opened with a series of slow motion close ups on the cast's excited yet apprehensive faces—not unlike the piano scene at the end of Act I of The Deer Hunter—it was clear that MTV was setting up something big.
Instead of shipping off to Vietnam, though, the contestants were shipping off to Buenos Aires, trading their Costa Rican paradise for one farther south. Once in Argentina, their behavior veered from hedonistic bacchanalia to inmates-running-the-asylum type madness. There was screaming and nudity and violence, all to no apparent end, like some Nietzschen dystopia. Continue reading


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Wonderful Hostel in the city centre of Buenos Aires!!
Portal del Sur is run with passion by young professionals since 2003.
Portal del Sur is the perfect option for a unique experience.
Portal del Sur is a great Hostel located right in the city centre of Buenos Aires which means: it's really easy to get around!
Portal del Sur Hostel is set in a XIX century building which has been carefully refurbished and decorated to keep the historical charm of its architecture.
The 4 stories high building has a rooftop terrace with an incredible view of the city.
Our hostel is recognized as one of the most chosen hostels by travelers of all ages and nationalities.
Portal del Sur is also recommended by international guides and magazines as Lonely Planet, Le Routard, Petit Fute, Trip Advisor, Foot Print, Traveler's Guru, Time Out amongst others.
How's that?
Beautiful refurbished old building;
Central location;
Hotel-like service quality for hostel-like rates;
Rooftop Bar opened every night;
Travel agency to help you upgrade your experience.
Daily FREE activities;
Tourist assistance;
In- and outdoor common areas;
Security staff taking care of you.
Comfy beds and great showers.
And the most important of all, knowledgeable and passionate staff that will go out of their way to make an unique experience out of your stay and to make Portal del Sur become your home away from home!!
Our rooms?
Private rooms (single/double/Triple/Quadruples) include: private bathroom, air conditioning, maid service, telephone, linen and towels, internet access and cable TV.
Shared rooms with or without private bathroom accommodate 4 to 6 people and include: heat, air conditioning or fan, maid service, linen, telephone and individual lockers.
Plus, Portal del Sur Hostel will also help you expand your experience through Free activities everyday!:
Free Tango Lessons
Free Spanish Lessons
Free Walking Tour guided by professionals.
Free Mate Tasting with Torta Fritas
Free Jam Session
Services (Included in the rate)
Buffet Continental Breakfast, Wi-Fi (all over the hostel), Computers available, Maid service, Safe-boxes, Luggage storage, Tourist assistance, 24 hs. Reception.
And there's even more!
Common areas/Meeting points:
Cable TV, DVD player, couches, Tables where you could enjoy your meal as well as read, watch TV, plug your notebook and chat with friends, or just to meet other fellow travelers!
Fully equipped Kitchen with microwave and fridge where you can cook your favorite food.
Rooftop Terrace with Barbecue Grill. Give the typical Argentine barbecue a try while surrounded by an incredible view of Buenos Aires!
Rooftop Bar. Pretty much as good as it gets: Great staff + tasty food + many options when it comes to drinks + metegol + activities + prizes + promotions + good music + new people to meet.
Computer Room with Broadband Internet.
Tourist Assistance Office.
We'll help you get the most out of the city, day and night. Sports, city tours, discos, tango, bike rental, car rental and many more of what this city has in store for you! Then, get to know the whole country. South to North. We can help you plan, organize and book tickets, accommodation, excursions, and more at real budget-prices.
Come and join us!! Let's find out together what the next step is!
Min rate:
Max rate:
14986 Hostels in Buenos Aires (Argentina)
starting from €
Our team is your service to help you with your booking issues or answer any related questions


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** Everyone participating in an Oxford Gun Club shooting sport must have completed and signed a valid Oxford Gun Club Waiver and Release Agreement. Those under 18 must have it signed/completed by their parent, legal guardian, or someone with power of attorney.**
Events for December 30, 2019
Events Search and Views Navigation
6:30 pm
Young Guns 4 – H Practice
4 - H practice Mondays and Fridays 6:30 - meet at the OGC clubhouse. For further information see the links below: https://extension.umd.edu/cecil-county https://www.facebook.com/Cecil-Young-Guns-4H-Maryland-Shooting-Sports-730982503591999/Find out more »


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St. Brigid's Parish, Kildare Town, is set in the heart of Co. Kildare, Ireland. It is approximately forty miles from Dublin and is a parish that is growing rapidly with its proximity to Ireland's Capital city. Kildare Town is also well known for its association with Ireland's famous Horse Racing Industry.
The Christian tradition is very strong in Kildare, going right back to St. Brigid (icon above and also see our history section). Her Christian vision and Gospel based values are what we try to nurture and maintain in our Parish Community.
We are delighted that you have visited our website! Feel free to browse through the articles. If you would like to contact us then you can do so at:
Aras Bhride, Parish Centre, Kildare Town.
Phone: 045 521352


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Democratic Governor Jerry Brown can't get a break when it comes to the state budget.
Last year Brown spent an inordinate amount of energy wooing legislative Republicans for support of a ballot proposal to temporarily raise state taxes.
They resisted his entreaty and a jilted Brown had to delay his increased revenue plan for a year. Had the issue been placed on the ballot and passed by the voters, the state would have received about $5 billion in badly needed revenue for the rest of the current year.
Instead we have to wait until November--half way into the next fiscal year--for the voters to decide on a temporary tax increase.
Fast forward to the present and the governor is once again wooing legislators, but this time it's members of his own party to make $4 billion more worth of cuts to an already decimated budget.
U.S. & World
News from around the country and around the globe
So far, the Democrats have been unwilling to play ball, claiming that the governor's demands are premature. They're hoping for revenue that just isn't there.
One side doesn't want to raise revenue; the other side doesn't want to make cuts.
It may be Brown who can't catch a break, but it's the people of California who are about to pay the price.
Over the past year, the state has spent about $3 billion more than it expected and collected about $3 billion less.
That means we'll end fiscal year in another hole. Forecasts for the 2012-13 are not better, with analysts suggesting that the new fiscal year will begin with a deficit in the neighborhood of an additional $10 billion.
With Republicans and Democrats going in two different directions, the state is on a collision course with disaster.
But administrators of programs dependent upon state funds have to act on the money they have, not the money they hope to get.
Operating in an environment poisoned with uncertainty, public officials are planning for the worst and making cuts now.
More than 20,000 teachers have received layoff notices and the state university system has issued a directive that will cut admissions to reduce its student population by at least 16,000.
These changes in themselves might not be so bad except for the fact that they are occuring for the third straight year.
The consequences are real. Already California has the highest student-to-teacher ratio in the nation, a ratio that will grow even more.
Drastically reduced state university budgets mean fewer people able to be trained for good jobs, while those lucky enough to be in the system will need more time to graduate because of fewer classes available to them.
All this because of the budget stalemate that won't go away. All this because of legislators who won't face reality.
Whether the stalemate ends this election year remains to be seen. In the meantime, California is in a hole that only grows deeper each day.
Let us know what you think. Comment below, send us your thoughts via Twitter @PropZero or add your comment to our Facebook page.


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An instant animated classic, some art-house cinema, an epic dud, a year-old comedy and one of George Clooney's best are all out this week. Let's take a look...
Daniel & Ana (2010)
Daniel and Ana, brother and sister, best friends. Both are at pivotal, defining moments in their contented lives. Ana is about to be married, Daniel is a gregarious teenager discovering his personal and sexual identity. Yet their harmony is instantly shattered when they are kidnapped and are forced to engage in an unforgettable act for their freedom. Their old lives become a distant memory and nothing will ever be the same again. Now available on DVD, watch the trailer.
How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Set on the island of Berk, where daily combat with dragons is the way of life, a young boy meets and befriends the enemy, hoping to turn his community from dragon-slayers into dragon lovers. Available Friday on Blu-ray, DVD and Double DVD pack, read our full review and watch the trailer.
I Am Love (2010)
Starring Tilda Swinton at the top of her game, the film is a beautifully shot soap opera about an insular and wealthy Italian family and the tragedies that befall them. Now available on Blu-ray and DVD, read our full review and watch the trailer
Jonah Hex (2010)
The lone dud in an otherwise great year for Josh Brolin, this film based on the classic Western/supernatural comic book co-stars Megan Fox. One of the great duds of 2010. Now available on Blu-ray and DVD, watch the trailer
The Hangover (Extreme Edition) (2009)
In case you didn't get enough of the original film's brilliant lowbrow humor, here comes a new version loaded with extras. Now available on Blu-ray and DVD, watch the trailer
Kimjongilia (2009)
A documentary look at the tragedies and horrors of Kim Jong Il's Hermit Kingdom from producer Mike Figgis ("Leaving Las Vegas"). Now available on DVD, watch the trailer.
Leaves of Grass (2010)
Ed Norton stars as a pair of twins--one a Harvard philosophy professor, the other a pot-growing hillbily--who get cuaght in a messy situation involving a Southern meth gang, from writer-director-co-star Tim Blake Nelson. Now available on Blu-ray and DVD, watch the trailer
Peepli Live (2010)
A Hindi comedy about farmers who are in danger of lsoing their land because of past due loans, until they cook up a scheme to take advantage of a law that promises large sums of money to the families of famrers who committ suicide. Now available on DVD, watch the trailer.
Three Kings (1999)
David O. Russell directs George Clooney, Mark Whalberg, Ice Cube and Spike Jonze in this hilarlious and sad film about a small band of U.S. troops who come across a small fortune of gold while stationed in Iraq. Now available on Blu-ray, watch the trailer
Smokey & The Bandit: The 7-Movie Outlaw Collection (1977)
The original BUrt Reynolds trilogy abou ta fast-driving man appaernntly spawned four TV films no one has ever seen, so naturally they've pakcaged all svene moives together in one epic collection. Now available on DVD, watch the trailer for the original.


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John & Julius Jackson victorious
ST. THOMAS, USVI — In front of a nearly sold-out crowd at Antilles School's Mark C. Marin Center Saturday, 340 Boxing's John Jackson, Julius Jackson and Samuel Rogers dominated in the "Boxing in Paradise VI" ring — posting big wins in what could be their final fight together in the territory.
Two knockouts and a harrowing eight-round fight to the finish for John Jackson is what the crowd left with, but for the boxers, Saturday's event was nothing short of heroic, as each had to push through everything from injuries to last minute opponent changes.
When the fight was first announced in July, Rogers (14-0 with 8 KOs) was set to take on Missouri's Bryan Baue, but a switch in the card had him facing off Saturday against Puerto Rico's Eduardo Adorno with little-to-no time left to learn more about his opponent's fighting style.
But that appeared to make no difference in the ring Saturday. Rogers', who climbed in around 10:19 p.m., had time to knock Adorno out (making him fall four times in two rounds), give a speech and complete media interviews by 10:36 p.m. According to the judges' decision, Rogers won by way of knock out 1:26 into the second round.
"I didn't know who I would be fighting until the very last minute," Rogers said after the fight. "He even told me in the locker room tonight that he was going to knock me out — but that didn't matter. I came out mentally prepared for anything — this is what I've been training for and there wasn't anyone in the world that could have beaten me tonight."
For Julius "The Chef" Jackson, Saturday's fight was more about showing his home crowd how much he has grown as a fighter over the past few months. Jackson's opponent also changed recently, switching from Trinidad and Tobago's Joel McRae (9-3-1 with 4 KOs) to North Carolina's Julius Fogle (17-8 with 11 KOs).
Jackson landed some early shots during the bout and knocked his opponent to the knees right before the end of the first round. The bout was called shortly after, leaving Jackson the winner by way of knockout.
"I felt good, strong and fast, and I wanted to show all of our fans out there that I've taken it to the next level," Jackson said after the fight. "I didn't go wild — I stayed calm and kept my composure. We knocked heads for a minute, and usually after someone gets hurt, I go after them hard, but tonight, I waited until the time was right."
When the fight was announced months ago, John Jackson was the only 340 boxer without an opponent, but he appeared as the main event Saturday against journeyman Tony Hirsch — sparring partner for international boxing champion Andre Ward. Jackson had a medical issue that couldn't be taken care of before the fight, but his coaches said afterward that he was able to push through successfully.
The bout went the full eight rounds, but when the dust cleared, Jackson was declared the winner by unanimous decision: 79-73, 77-75, 78-74.
"He was a good fighter, but I was able to use my jab, and after I got him good a couple of times, I started to gain power," Jackson said after the fight. "I feel good that we pulled through and I thank God for the win."
340 Boxing Manager Jose Rosario said later that Saturday's fight spoke volumes about how each boxer has continued to develop and grow, both physically and mentally.
"I'm very proud of how all three performed," Rosario said. "Our boxers continue to move up the ladder, showing the world what they are made of and exactly what kind of talent we have here in the Virgin Islands."
Saturday's fight also paid tribute to boxing legend Emile Griffith, who passed away late last month. 340 Boxing was presented with Griffith's fighting robe and gloves by Griffith's son Luis R. Griffith, who said he hoped the gift would help inspire local boxers to reach for their hopes and dreams and "find achievement in boxing."
More Boxing News:
- Frank Warren: A Message To Matchroom Boxing And Sky
- Natasha Jonas vs Terri Harper on Aug. 7, LIVE on DAZN and Sky
- Fiaz vs. Baker on August 7, Live on Sky
- Jono Carroll vs. Maxi Hughes on August 12, Live on ESPN+
- WBC: Mike Tyson's Return
- Dillian Whyte previews Alexander Povetkin clash
- Eddie Hearn hoping to reach deal on Ryan Garcia vs. Luke Campbell this week
- Wladimir Klitschko coming back? promoter Tom Loeffler wants him to
- Vasily Lomachenko vs. Teofimo Lopez not looking good for Oct.3
- Erislandy Lara fights on August 29 on FOX in Los Angeles


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NRSV The Go-Anywhere Thinline Bonded-Burgundy
- Format :Paperback
- Pricing Attribute :Normal
- Page Count :1040
- Publication Date :7-Dec-10
- Publisher :Harper Collins Publishers-US
Description :The Ideal On-the-Go Portable BibleThe Go-Anywhere(TM) Thinline Bible is the perfect size to go with you anywhere--whether you take it to church or small group or put it in your carry-on luggage for travel. One touch will tell you why this distinctive Bible will be your constant companion. Features IncludeLess than 1 inch thickEasy-to-read 9-point type in a double-column settingBonded leather with craft-sewn binding for added strength and long lifeFine Bible paper to maximize readability and portabilityConcordance for finding key versesGilded edges and a ribbon markerPresentation page and mapsThe New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) is recognized in scholarly circles as the most accurate translation to English from the original Hebrew and Greek texts. In the tradition of its predecessors, the King James Version and the Revised Standard Version, the NRSV was designed to be the standard version for English-speaking people across all denominations. None of the new, more sectarian translations has approached its standard of elegance and accuracy.