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The following continues the new serialized tale from Ari Marmell—author of Agents of Artifice. Be sure to check back each week for the next chapter in this ongoing tale of Ravenloft!
While the majority of the details portrayed over the course of Chapters One through Three are purely fictionalized, the background circumstances are, alas, entirely factual.
On July 15, 1099, the "pilgrims" of the First Crusade—led by, among others, the Duke Godefroy de Bouillon of France—collapsed portions of the defensive walls of Jerusalem, putting an end to the siege of the city. The next twenty-four hours were among the bloodiest in the history of the Crusades, as seemingly-maddened knights and soldiers slaughtered an enormous portion of the Holy City's population: Muslims, Jews, and even some Christians; men, women, and children. Nobody was spared the violence and anger of the crusaders; and while historical accounts claiming the soldiers waded in blood up to their ankles are almost certainly exaggerations, they still represent a chilling view of what happened that day.
This is not fiction, much as we might wish it were. This is history.
And if there are Dark Powers, scouring the many worlds for those "worthy" of their embrace, surely such horrors committed in the name of God would be exactly what they sought.
It had no name.
Oh, there was one recorded somewhere. Nobody would build a fortress of this size without naming it, and that information could likely be found buried in the Empyrean Church archives, deep beneath the Holy Basilica in the heart of Caercaelum. But whatever name the fortress might have borne was long forgotten, lost in the infamy of the ground on which it stood.
To turnkey and prisoner alike, it was Perdition Hill. The fortress was unimportant; it was the man-made hell beneath that mattered.
Leona Talliers crouched stiffly beside an underground pool, up to her elbows in lukewarm, gritty water. With hands rubbed raw from constant scouring and pocked by exposure to splashing lye, she hauled a soggy, cream-colored robe from the pool. It was tattered and worn, but now, at least, moderately cleansed of dust, sweat, and blood. With hardly a glance, she passed the robe along. Savah would beat it dry with heavy sticks before passing it, in her turn, to another woman; she would attempt, with hands as abused as Leona's own, to mend the garment without leaving new bloodstains that would necessitate a second washing.
Daring the displeasure of the pacing guards, ever alert for signs of slacking, Leona paused to wipe the perspiration from her brow, moistening a sleeve already yellowed through constant similar use. Although she wished desperately for a respite from the heat, she knew better than to splash any of the water from the pool across her parched face. She had done that once, and the diluted lye accumulated within the water had irritated her eyes for a week.
The heat beneath the hill was oppressive—a weight that bound the prisoners as thoroughly as any chain. It was not the sharp burn of the flame but the slow sweltering of the oven; it baked the miasma of sweat, smoke, human waste, and despair into a nigh-tangible mass that plugged the corridors. The slightest effort was exhausting, yet sleep came reluctantly and fitfully at best. Robes were washed regularly, to prevent the accumulation of vermin, but as for the men and women themselves, they had long since forgotten what it was to be clean, to be free of the sticky film of sweat and dirt that each wore as a second skin. The furnaces in the lower levels, and the torches that were the only source of illumination, kept the heat constant regardless of time or season. Night and day were not the province of sun and moon down here, but simply the whim of the guards.
Ignoring the ache in her back and neck, Leona bent forward again to begin laboring on the next of the filthy robes. A brief glimpse of her reflection took her aback, as it always did. Her hair had once been fiery red, her skin a healthy bronze, but a year and more beneath the earth had dulled the former, and paled the latter almost white where it was not gray from filth or ruddy from the heat. Leona stared at her reflection, and a stranger met her gaze.
She flinched as a scourge cracked behind her, so near that she felt the wind of its passing in her hair. She glanced behind at the mail hauberk and crimson tabard, traditional to the guard, and bowed her head once in apology before scrubbing at the robe. She knew better than to look to her companions for sympathy. Were she to taste the lash directly, it would simply mean more work for others to clean and mend the robe she now wore.
Hours passed, each one an eternity. The water in the pool now mixed not merely with lye, but with blood from shredded skin, and the foul secretions of blisters formed and torn in quick succession. Finally, however, Leona felt the grip of a guard upon her shoulder, pulling her from the pool and directing her to stand.
"Get a whole load ready," he informed her, not even bothering to look her in the face. "Gather it up, and come with me."
Her back protesting strenuously as she bent, her arms quivering beneath her burden, Leona gathered a sizable heap of the garments and followed as the guard led her from the chamber and into a gently sloping passage.
As she passed beneath the arch, her eyes darted upward, taking in the inscription on the stone mantle above.
"Predicants 15:5." Of all the Septateuchal passages inscribed in the halls of Perdition Hill, this was the one most often repeated, and one she had long since learned by heart.
"Suffer among you no man who is slothful, but ensure he labors as is equitable for his due. If he worketh not, offer unto him no charity, but allow him to falter."
And work for their due the prisoners did, if they wanted to eat. Arduous and painful as it was, Leona gave thanks for laundry duty. In Perdition Hill there were tasks aplenty that were far more odious.
Unwilling to offer the guard any cause for anger, Leona struggled to keep up, ignoring the bone-deep weariness that was as constant a companion to her as hunger. Her calloused feet, though bare, beat like heavy boots upon the floor. On they walked, onward and upward, through passageways of ruddy stone that writhed through the Hill, the tentacles of some shapeless beast from before the coming of man.
Another archway, beyond which opened a side passage leading to one of the many chapels scattered throughout the catacomb. Within the chapel, an Empyrean priest waxed philosophic about the wages of sin and the virtues of cooperation to a literal captive audience. Leona herself had not yet attended her mandatory daily allotment of mass, but she rather doubted her dour companion would excuse her long enough to do so. She would have to sit through the nightly prayers before dinner, then.
It seemed they had walked forever—an illusion that, though familiar to Leona as her own breathing, she could not shake. It was indeed a lengthy trek from the washing pool; then, it was a long way from anywhere to anywhere in this thrice-damned place.
Finally, when her calluses threatened to split upon the stone floor, and her arms visibly shook beneath their heavy load, they were there.
The main hall was enormous, unbelievably so. Arched ceilings rose high unto the very top of the hill, supported by buttresses ornately carved with warlike angels glaring down upon the prisoners. A great chandelier, in which burned a thousand candles, illuminated the chamber, reflecting off the reddish stone and a series of stained glass windows high upon the walls. There were seven windows in total: one for each of the Sixfold Scions, and a seventh that showed only sunrise. The windows led nowhere of course, and the only light ever to fall upon them was cast by those many candles.
And above every door from the hall, in large ornate letters, was the same inscription, the mantra of Perdition Hill: Honesty is a song sung only by the righteous. Speak truth, and let thyself be made worthy.
Now that it was evening, or what the guards proclaimed and the prisoners accepted to be evening, the hall filled with the slow shuffle of feet and the rustling of cloth. Men and women returned from their daily labors, battered, exhausted, and oftentimes injured, and the guards strode alongside them, mail hauberks clanking in counterpoint. The acrid stench of sweat and blood rode before the prisoners, and their whimpers and groans reverberated in the passageways.
With her guard looming behind her like a shadow, fingering the handle of his lash whenever she slowed, Leona stood between two large wicker baskets along one long wall. One by one, in a stream as endless as the tides, prisoners shuffled past. Each hauled a robe soiled by the day's toil over his or her head—modesty requires privacy, and privacy was nowhere to be had beneath the Hill—and dropped it in the first basket. Her movements mechanical, Leona drew a clean robe from the other basket and handed it on. Over and over, prisoner after prisoner, until by evening's end, she would be left with a full basket of dirty garments to be hauled back down to the pool come the morrow. This was her life, had been for some time, and would assuredly be until the day she died. She had had over a year to grow accustomed to that fact; it galled her still. For Leona Talliers, like many of those held in Perdition Hill and the other prisons of the Empyrean Inquisition, was largely innocent of the charges against her.
But then, others were not.
"They took him below some hours ago."
Leona started, might even have let loose a soft yelp. Lost in thought and the repetitive duties of her task, she had not expected anyone to speak with her. Fearfully she glanced behind, waiting for the overseer's lash, but he was gone, having moved away to discuss some matter with another guard.
When she looked back, Leona already knew whom she would see. Only one among the prisoners had the sort of timing, the sort of foresight, to appear at the precise moment the guard was absent.
The Vistana stood before her, dark eyes shadowed, somehow impressive despite being clad in the same tattered garment as everyone else. Like the fortress above, the Vistana doubtless had a true name, but none of the prisoners used it. Most refused even to associate with her. Everyone knew the Vistani practiced true witchcraft, and here proximity was as good as guilt. Leona would have had nothing to do with her, either, save that the two were joined by a mutual interest.
"Again?" Leona asked, voice hushed. "He has not recovered from the last time!"
"And yet."
The pale-skinned woman sighed. "He'll not be waiting his turn in line, then."
The Vistana nodded. "But neither will the guards forgive him tomorrow if he stinks of today's labors. Pass me two robes, Leona. I'll smuggle the extra to him."
Leona hesitated, but she had only seconds before the guard returned. With a nod, she slipped the Vistana two of the cream-hued garments, then watched as the slim, dark-haired woman slipped away into the crowd.
And indeed, when everyone's tasks for the evening were complete, and the prisoners herded like cattle and packed into the waiting cells for a meager dinner and a fitful night's sleep, not only the Vistana but also Leona herself found themselves sharing the stranger's cell. Leona shivered briefly at the Vistana's foresight, and wondered again what witchcrafts the gypsies truly practiced.
Filthy, louse-ridden straw crunched beneath her feet as Leona made her way to the rear of the cell, away from the rusty bars and the eyes of the crimson-clad guards. The other prisoners within the cell, several dozen in all, were too focused on their bowls of watery gruel to do more than grunt a protest as she squeezed between them. Taking care not to stain her newly cleaned robe with the eye-watering mildew that clung low to the wall and fed off the decaying straw, Leona crouched beside the Vistana, who gently tended to the stranger's wounds.
He had dwelt here for months—though without the passing of the seasons Leona could never have said precisely how many—yet "the stranger" was all they had to call him. His features, though similar to those of Malosians, were just different enough to suggest some other land of origin, and his words, on those rare occasions he spoke at all, carried a hint of an unknown accent. His face, unshaven even when he first arrived, was now covered in a wild growth of beard, the same sand-brown of his hair. He had the physique of a warrior, though weeks of insufficient gruel had left him bordering on gaunt. Most peculiar of all were his eyes, which seemed unwilling to focus, but instead stared beyond his surroundings at some world nobody else could see.
He responded little, if at all, to the words and actions of those around him. He answered no questions, engaged in no conversation. When he spoke at all, it was to utter strange and foreign words—names, -perhaps?—in the awed tone of a man lost in memories, or else in prayer.
Words like Jerusalem. Outremer. Lambrecht. Jesu.
And ever more frequently as the weeks and months went by: Purgatory.
It was frustrating to those few who had tried to befriend him, and most of the other prisoners had long since given up. The Vistana, however, had gazed in wide-eyed fascination the day he appeared in Perdition Hill, and had kept close watch on him ever since, seeing to those needs that he was unable, or unwilling, to meet for himself. Leona could not say what about him had fascinated her. Perhaps it was the Vistana's own interest that had piqued her curiosity. Or perhaps it was the rumors that swirled among the prisoners—rumors regarding the reasons for the stranger's imprisonment.
Who he was, where he was from, what he had done: these were all questions for which the prisoners had no answer. And to judge by the frequency with which the stranger was chosen for "questioning" by the guards, neither had the Inquisition.
And maybe that was what drew Leona's compassion. Not a man or woman present was a stranger to the torture chambers of the Inquisition's Truth Seekers, but the frequency of the stranger's sufferings vastly overshadowed anyone else's.
The Vistana gently pulled the old robe—soiled not only by sweat, but urine as well—from the stranger's body. Leona knelt to aid her in replacing it with the new robe, positioning herself as best as she could to block anyone else's view. She did not even want to imagine the consequences, should any of the guards decide something lewd was occurring in the cell.
Leona tore a strip from the hem of the robe—small enough that it should pass as normal wear—and moistened it with the last remaining drops of her allotted water. As Leona supported the stranger's head, the Vistana, clearly better versed in the healing arts than Leona herself, dabbed carefully at the man's few outward wounds.
Priests of the Empyrean Church were forbidden to shed blood, and even the most vicious of the Inquisitorial Truth Seekers could honestly claim not to have violated that precept. They didn't need to—not when they had plenty of bloodless options at hand.
Today, it appeared the treatment of choice had been suspension by various extremities, possibly with added weights for that extra bit of pressure on the joints. The stranger's wrists were badly chafed, made red and inflamed by the heavy ropes. Deep bruising suggested substantial damage within, particularly around the chest and shoulders, and one of his arms hung loosely at his side, dislocated. The Vistana bent forward and took a firm grip on that arm.
"Hold his shoulders," she whispered, and with hardly an instant's pause to allow Leona to brace herself, she yanked up and back. The wet snap of the bone slipping into place was inaudible beneath the stranger's agonized cry.
Ignoring the glares of those around them, the two women locked eyes. "We've not much time now," Leona observed. The Vistana merely nodded.
And indeed, she had spent only moments treating the stranger's lesser injuries when the whispered warning of "Redbreasts!" hissed through the crowded cell. Leona lowered the stranger's head to the straw and scooted aside. The Vistana simply folded her hands together, expertly sliding the moist cloth up one sleeve where it would be effectively invisible.
The guards that appeared before the bars glared menacingly into the cell, and offered up a few obligatory utterances along the lines of "What's all this?" and "What are you vermin doing in there?" But cries of pain were hardly a rarity in the nights of Perdition Hill, and when no immediate bloodshed, carnality, illness, or witchcraft presented itself, the soldiers were all too happy to continue on their rounds without so much as unlocking the cell door.
The stranger twitched and rolled over in the straw, his utterances limited to the occasional groan.
"Has he ever been so bad?" Leona asked, her voice barely louder than a breath, though the guards had gone.
"Once, when he first arrived—before you joined me in his upkeep. They fed him the pear."
Leona gagged. Perhaps the most diabolical of the Inquisition's tools, the pear was a metal device that widened as an attached screw was turned. Fully collapsed, it fit snugly within a person's mouth, but as it started to expand….
"They did not open it fully," the Vistana continued. "I suppose they wished him to be able to talk. But even so, he could hardly chew for weeks."
"Jesu, forgive me!" Both women started and stared down at their charge, but already he had subsided once more into agonized, restless slumber.
Leona, having completed the long morning walk down to the washing pool, was stunned to discover the stranger assigned to stand beside her this day. Men, particularly those of his physical acumen, normally found themselves assigned far more laborious tasks: assisting in the forges, digging new passages to interconnect the old, breaking rocks. The stranger's injured arm, swollen and weak despite the Vistana's treatment, rendered him unsuitable for such tasks. Yet his arm was hale enough to hold a robe, and he could wield a stick in the other to beat that robe dry.
Perhaps their keepers thought to humiliate him with woman's work—just another torture heaped upon him—but in this they were doomed to disappointment. The stranger carried out his tasks as ordered, as mechanically as a trained animal, and otherwise remained oblivious to his surroundings.
For many hours she worked beside him, handing him one water-sodden garment after another; if he recognized her at all, he gave no sign. Around noon, or so the keepers claimed, the lot of them ceased their labors. They were herded, single file and at spear-point, into the nearest chapel, where they were manacled to stone pews. It, like every chapel, had inscribed above the entryway the notation "Proclamations 9:17."
Or, as it meant to those who knew their scripture, "Prayer is the repast that sustains men's souls in misfortune."
Leona watched the priest stride in, accompanied by another pair of guards, and ceremonially dip his fingers in the stone font beside the entrance. Their crimson tabards each displayed the sixfold sun, holiest icon of the Empyrean Church, but the priest boasted the symbol in gold, rather than the guards' standard white. That, and the priest's lack of helm, were the only means of telling one from the other, until the man began to preach.
It was the same hour of her life she experienced every day. The priest read from the Septateuch; extolled the value of honesty, confession, and repentance; railed against the evils of heresy and witchcraft that afflicted the lands and the good people of Malosia; and otherwise said nothing new. Leona would long since have confessed the sin of witchcraft, if only to end her interminable days in Perdition Hill. Alas, the Inquisitors demanded sufficiently detailed confessions that false admissions were easily spotted.
It was after she and the stranger had filed back to their positions by the washing pool, but the guards had not completed escorting everyone else back to their duties, that Leona realized they had a few moments.
"Tell me, stranger," she whispered, barely audible over the water lapping against the edge of the pool. "Who is this 'Jesu' from whom you beg forgiveness?"
Never before had Leona felt the stranger's eyes directly, but now he turned an incredulous gaze upon her. It was apparently the sheer absurdity of her question that drew his attention.
"Jesu," he croaked in a voice unused to speech, as though simple repetition of the name should provide her an answer. "Our savior, son of the Lord our God."
"You know of the Sixfold Scions, then! But I am not familiar with the name you've offered. Which of God's sons is he?"
The stranger's jaw dropped as though it would fall completely from his face. Even as he drew breath to speak, however, one of the women down the line muttered a soft "Redbreasts coming!"
Beneath the eyes of the guards, Leona and the stranger had no more opportunity to speak that day. But as the hours passed, his eyes returned to her again and again, and if his expression was questioning, perplexed, even disbelieving, it was far steadier, and far more alert, than she had ever seen.
In the following days, though the stranger sought any means by which to continue their abbreviated conversation, such opportunities failed to present themselves. Someone else stood between them in the shuffling line to and from chapel. The ebb and flow of the crowd cast them in different cells when it came time to bed down for the night. It was maddening! To have such a brief, tantalizing glimpse into the true nature of this horrific realm in which he found himself, and then to be unable to pursue it further, was worse than having no notion at all.
On the fourth morning after their brief discussion, the guards declared the stranger fit to return to his previous duties. Along with dozens of other men, he was escorted not down to the washing pool, but across the length of Perdition Hill. Here, several small cul-de-sacs extended from the main passage, little more than blisters of open air within the stone. The job of the prisoners was to transform those dead ends into traversable passages by means of inadequate tools and exhaustive labor.
Dust poured from the walls, clogging and choking; the clatter of the heavy picks against the stone was deafening. Still, the stranger labored on. He ignored the agony that flared often through his injured arm, ignored the fountain-like rivulets of sweat that dripped without providing the slightest relief from the heat, and pondered.
This was Purgatory. While not miserable or agonizing enough for any Hell, it was certainly as far from Heaven as could be imagined…. Where else could he have found himself?
Yet the woman's question had shaken him from his horrified, despairing reverie. Even the most righteous of heathens were condemned to Hell, but here was a woman who had apparently never even heard of the son of God.
Or had heard of too many….
He shook his head, sending a cloud of rock dust cascading from his hair to the floor. He had questions, too many questions, and nobody from whom to seek his answers. He wanted to throw down his pick and go find this woman, demand that she explain.
He did not. Even in his prime, before months of deprivation had weakened him so, he could not have battled his way through so many guards. This duty was considered most dangerous for the prisoners, as accidents were not uncommon, but also for the guards, who must watch over men armed with picks and shovels that could easily serve as weapons. Twice as many of the—what had the other prisoners called them? Redbreasts—twice as many Redbreasts stood watch over the miners as over any other contingent of prisoners. One man with an old pickaxe, however determined, could never hope to win through the lot of them.
And so the stranger worked, pounding away at the stone even as he pounded away at his dilemma, and he grew frustrated at his lack of progress with either.
It was during his second week back in the tunnels that the cave-in occurred.
The stranger and three of his fellow prisoners chipped fiercely away at a stretch of wall. They knew that they were close to breaking through—had known for days, ever since the dull clang of their picks on stone had begun to echo hollowly. Even before they heard the barked orders from the guards, felt the sting of the lash on their backs, they had redoubled their efforts, working tirelessly through the following days. It was not a need to please their jailors that inspired them, but the knowledge that once the wall had fallen, the turnkeys would have to discuss with their engineers where next to dig. Breaking through this wall meant at least a day, possibly two, of respite—or at least of easier duties—before their efforts must resume once more.
Finally, some hours after midday mass, they were rewarded for their efforts by a loud crack, accompanied by a visible shifting of the rock. A ragged cheer, made hoarse by thirst and ambient dust, but heartfelt nonetheless, arose from the workers—a cheer that was cut short by the low, doleful groan that echoed from beneath them.
As though it had waited eons for just such an excuse, the wall collapsed into dozens of smaller stones, shattering like glass. Dust billowed outward as the rock impacted the floor, sending all four men into fits of coughing and retching, obscuring their vision like a thick smoke.
Or, the stranger could not help but note, like mist.
Even as they doubled over, hands outstretched blindly to locate one another in the rolling dust, a second groan, louder than the first, shook the floor beneath their feet.
And then, perhaps unable to bear the impact of the collapsing wall, that floor was gone. Unlike the wall, it did not go all at once. It was that fact alone that saved him. The stranger felt the stone shift and begin to slide away. Disoriented by the cloud of grit, unable to catch his breath for coughing, still he was able to leap aside, his body propelled by instincts honed through years upon years of battle. He felt the base of his heel part as he pushed off, split by the jagged edge of a breaking rock. He ignored the pain, ignored the warmth of his own blood, and could only hope as he took to the air that he had not, in his befuddlement, hurled himself at one of the other walls.
Thus the impact of the floor rising up to meet him, knocking both breath and no small amount of dust from his lungs, was a welcome pain. The stranger spun himself about, shredding his robe against the rocky floor, and lunged for a hand protruding from the cloud. He clenched it tight, shouting meaningless encouragements for the man on the other end to hold on. And for a moment, that man was saved.
But the weight was heavy, awkward, and the stranger felt the stones loosen and shift beneath him. Maybe, just maybe, he could save his fellow prisoner. And maybe, more likely, they would plummet to their deaths together.
With a whispered apology, the stranger opened his grip. Skin slipped from skin, and a brief, choked scream was silenced by a sodden thump.
There he lay, hands crossed above his head, as the tunnel shook and the earth itself seemed determined to collapse. Everything from the tiniest pebble to rocks larger than his head clattered to the floor around him, bounced off his upraised arms, his legs, his back. They bruised flesh and bone but thankfully inflicted no more serious injury.
Finally, the shuddering subsided, the dust began to settle. The stranger cautiously opened his eyes. Through the clouds that impaired his vision, he thought he made out a large perpendicular corridor, some ways up the passage. In that, at least, they had accomplished their objective.
Between him and it, however, lay a jagged gap in the floor, easily three paces across. The light of the dust-muted torches was insufficient to see what might lie below. All he could tell was that the open space below was no natural cavern, but a squared passage—as artificial, as manmade, as the one he currently occupied.
He could, however, clearly make out the form of one of his fellow prisoners crouched tightly against the wall, mere feet from the pit's edge. Of the third worker there was no sign, and the stranger could only assume that he shared the same fate as the man he had been unable to save.
Now that the falling stone had subsided, he could already hear the sound of running footsteps from back down the passage, and the shouts from the guards—not of concern but of anger. He and his surviving companion would taste the lash, and possibly far worse, before night had fallen; there was no help for it. Two prisoners dead, all the effort that had gone into carving out the connecting passage wasted, and the soldiers would be looking to cast the blame on someone. Since they could neither argue with their superiors, nor place responsibility on the engineers, the prisoners who labored at the actual digging would have to suffice.
But in the moments before the Redbreasts arrived, and in the slow, excruciating hours to follow, the stranger could not shake his ever-growing clutch of questions from his mind. It was time, by God, to have his answers!
"My name is Diederic de Wyndt."
Leona, halfway to dozing against the rear wall, started awake at the sound of the voice. She knew it could not possibly be, but it sounded like….
It was. The stranger sat in the next cell, slumped sideways against the bars. He had tied his evening's robe around his waist, rather than pulling it on as was proper—probably, she realized, to avoid staining it with the blood that ran from the whiplashes across his back. His head turned to the side, he gazed at her with a directness of which she had believed him incapable. Her eyes wide with wonder, she crawled nearer the bars so they could converse in a whisper.
"Did you—were you speaking to me?"
"I was. You tried to speak with me days ago, and I was rude. I apologize."
"There is no need. I am Leonera Talliers. Everyone calls me Leona."
"An honor, my lady. And your companion?"
Leona did not even bother to look behind her. God and Scions, did the woman know everything before it happened?
"We call her 'the Vistana.' She—"
"My name," the dark-skinned woman interrupted, her voice no less a whisper but sharp enough to demand attention, "is Violca Hanza. And the honor, Diederic de Wyndt, is mine. I have waited for you for a very long time."
For a long moment, both Diederic and Leona stared at the Vistana. The air around them grew heavy with the sounds of mutters, groans, and snores.
When it became clear that neither was entirely certain how to proceed, Violca asked, "You come from afar, do you not, Diederic?"
The gruff knight actually chuckled. "Farther, I think, than any of us—myself included—could believe."
"The rumors say you came from the Mists," Leona breathed, unable to keep from asking. "That you just appeared from nowhere!"
"And right into the arms of a squad of your Redbreasts," he confirmed. "As impossible as it sounds, no less to me than to you, that is precisely how I arrived here."
"True witchcraft!" Leona leaned away and made a strange gesture, touching first throat, then navel, then an X-pattern across her breast. It threw Diederic briefly, until he remembered her mention of the "Sixfold Scions," and the sun with six rays that adorned the tabards of the guard.
"Indeed, likely it was, though none of my doing," he acknowledged. "And the welcome they offered me suggests that such heresies are no more smiled upon here than they are back home."
"They are not," Violca confirmed. "Every man and woman here is accused of witchcraft, or some equal heresy, against the Empyrean Church."
"And are you witches, then?"
"I am not!" Leona protested. "Nor are many of us here! The Inquisition sees guilt where none exists."
"And you?"
Violca smiled softly. "I See in the manner of my people, giorgio. Some call that witchcraft."
Diederic's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. For now he was more interested in learning of this land—a land that he was becoming less and less convinced was Purgatory—than he was in directing suspicion at one of the few who had shown him any kindness.
"You know so little of your own circumstance," Leona said. "Is there no Inquisition in your own land?"
"There is not. My own Mother Church seeks out heresies, but she has no servants dedicated to such a task." He thought, bitterly, of Lambrecht, of the Laginate Grimoire. "Perhaps," he added, "she should, at that."
He raised his eyes. "At the entrance to the torture chambers, above the mantle, I saw an inscription." Sometimes, dwelling on that writing was all that had kept him sane. It, like the longer mantra in the main hall, was not quite Latin, but so near that he could interpret it easily. "It reads 'Malosians 8:6.'"
Leona dredged deep in her memory, and then nodded. "Only the faithful man sees. Only the faithful man hears. Only the faithful man knows. Trust ye in the faithful man, for no other is worth your trust," she quoted.
"It sounds very much like a Bible verse."
Even Violca seemed confused at that. "I know not of what you speak," Leona told him. "It is a verse from the Septateuch."
"Septateuch? Ah. Seven books, yes? One for each Scion, and the last for... God, their father?"
Leona smiled. "The first for the God Most High, not the last, but otherwise, yes. You learn swiftly, Diederic."
"So who were the 'Malosians,' then?"
"We all are, Diederic. That is, most of us. Not you, and perhaps not the Vist... Violca. This land is Malosia."
"Tell me of it."
It seemed a straightforward enough question. Diederic cocked his head in confusion when neither of the two women immediately answered.
"Which of us would you prefer to start?" Leona finally asked.
"Does it matter so much?"
"Rather," Violca told him.
"You see," Leona said, "I have lived here my whole life, nearly twenty summers. My parents lived here, and my grandparents before them, all in a small village called Birne. We have legends that tell of Birne's founding many generations ago. The Empyrean Church has reigned from Caercaelum for far longer, ever since it absorbed the authority of the Crown. Our histories go back centuries."
"I am Vistani," Violca interjected where Leona paused. "We know the lands within the Mists. We know the Mists themselves, at least so well as any mortal might hope. We See.
"I tell you that I witnessed the birth of this land from the Mists. I felt the pains of that childbirth. I, and several of my cousins, have wandered this land since its beginning, seeking to understand how it came about, and why, to this day, it appears so empty, so hollow, to our Sight.
"And I tell you, Diederic de Wyndt, that I have spent less than seven seasons in this land, the last two down here in this wretched prison. I cannot account for Leona's memories, or her people's history, save perhaps that they sprang whole from the Mists. But nonetheless, I know that I speak truth."
It was impossible, absolutely and utterly. A land, a people, a history could not appear fully formed, like Minerva from Jove's skull. But somehow, in the core of his soul, Diederic knew that Violca's words were fact, as thoroughly as he knew his name, or that his limbs would move if and as he willed them.
Either Diederic could no longer trust his own ears, his own eyes, his own mind, or God Himself—for who else could create a land?—had a hand in Malosia's birth. And in either case, the cruel, horrific nature of this land could mean only one thing.
This was Purgatory, after all.
Diederic folded in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest, and no matter how Leona and Violca tried to coax him, he spoke to them no more that night.
Yet Diederic's curiosity was well and truly piqued. Try though he might over the next few days to lose himself once more to reverie and despair—for they were so much easier than the exhaustion and torture that were now his lot in life—he could not. His mind refused to wrap itself once more in its protective fugue, and though he felt certain this Malosia was merely an aspect of his sentence to Purgatory, a portion of his soul was not convinced.
Still, he spoke no more with Leona or Violca. He feared they would pull him even farther from the emotional retreat he so desperately craved, or at least that they would confuse him further, when he had not made sense of what he already knew. And so he avoided them, doing his best when the prisoners were herded to their cells to note where they were going, and to go elsewhere.
He managed this for several days, before finally overhearing a conversation that demanded his attention. It seemed unlikely, even at the time: Violca happened to share her revelation on the one night that Diederic happened to be in the neighboring cell, forced near enough to the bars by the press of his fellow captives that he was able to overhear her whispers? Unlikely, indeed! Yet it only occurred to him later to wonder if the Vistani, using the Sight she claimed to possess, had planned it thus.
It had been a particularly loathsome day. Diederic and a dozen other men had been led to a cramped passage, its ceiling barely five feet off the floor, and commanded to expand it. The necessity of crouching had backs, legs, and necks aching within moments. Their overseer, displeased with their rate of progress and unwilling to accept the awkward position as an excuse, had been unusually free with the whip. That evening in the cell, Diederic reeked of stale sweat and dried blood, his body throbbing with pain to match one of his sessions with the Truth Seekers. He had all but fallen into a pained slumber (perhaps "passed out" would be nearer the truth) when he heard Violca's voice.
"…less empty with every passing dawn." Her tone was low, monotonous, entrancing—or perhaps entranced. "What was fluid becomes hard and unyielding. What Might Be becomes What Is. What Must Not Be becomes What May Be. It looks backward at us, shrieks its desire, fills the land with its malevolence; for above all else, it desires to be born."
Leona crouched beside the Vistana, who sat cross-legged, her back against the bars, her eyes rolled up in her skull. She glared as Diederic approached the bars from the other side, her jaw clenched in anger, and for a moment she seemed unwilling to speak to him. Finally, however, she spat, "Violca was worried, for the land and for you. I do not know what she means when she says the land is 'hollow,' but it disturbs her far more than she lets on. She hoped that if she meditated, if she Saw the state of Malosia, that she might again get through to you. I hope you're quite satisfied."
Any reply Diederic might have offered was overwhelmed by a sudden high moan. Violca shuddered, her eyelids fluttering over bloodshot whites, her fingers trembling. Her words, hesitant, sepulchral, seemed to come not from her throat, but from below, as though the world itself would utter them, and needed her only for her voice. "The land seeks a blackened soul to make itself complete! A darkness without to fill a darkness within.
"Malosia calls to him, and he must heed. He comes soon…"
With a wet gurgle that sounded disturbingly akin to a death rattle, Violca tensed, her arms clutching madly at the air. Her head flew back, ringing like a bell as it struck the bars, and blood trickled down her neck from deep within her hair. Even as Leona grabbed for her shoulders, Diederic reached through the bars to cradle the Vistana's head. He could not stop the spasms, dared not try lest he hold her so tightly he cause further damage, but he could at least ensure that she did not injure herself further against the unyielding iron.
At last the convulsions ceased, and not a moment too soon. Already they had attracted the attention of every other prisoner in both cells. Any more and the Redbreasts would be on their way, assuming they were not already. Crouching awkwardly with his hands through the bars, Diederic gently lowered Violca's head to the matted straw. Her breathing was shallow, but now at least it was steady.
For perhaps an hour, Leona and Diederic—so far as he could, through the bars—tended to the unconscious Vistana. Diederic held her head and washed her forehead with a dampened bit of cloth, while Leona looked her over for injuries she might have suffered during her fit. Their audience slowly drifted away and returned to sleep, as it became clear that nothing further of interest would occur.
Eventually, when even Diederic was contemplating lying back for the night and hoping to speak to the Vistana tomorrow, Violca bolted upright, wracked by an ugly coughing fit. The sounds were wet, rasping. She shook for perhaps half a minute, and then she slumped back against the bars, gasping for breath.
Relieved as he was that she seemed improved, Diederic found himself biting his lip in impatience as Leona made endless inquiries after Violca's well-being. How was she feeling? Was she in pain? Did she remember what she Saw? How was she feeling? Was her head all right? Would she like the wound cleaned? And again, how was she feeling? When he could finally stand no more, he rapped a knuckle on the bars. Flakes of rust drifted from the iron as the two women turned to look at him. "Violca," he said, voice gentle but firmly insistent, "you said the land called him, and he would answer. Who is 'he'? Whom did you See?"
Violca's eyes grew unfocused once more—not in trance this time but in the effort of remembrance. "I do not know his name," she said softly, her voice rough from her choking fit. "But I see him standing at the very edge of Malosia, at the horizon, casting his shadow over us all. He is giorgio…"
"Non-Vistani," Leona whispered, in answer to Diederic's puzzled look.
"Not short," Violca continued, "but not quite so tall as you would notice in a crowd. His features are fleshy, resting loose upon his face as though not held quite so tightly as yours or mine."
Diederic's breath caught in his chest as a horrible suspicion began to creep, spider-like, up the length of his spine.
"His hair was once the brown of youth, but now grows hoary from the frost of age, and his eyes are older still. They have sunken into his cheeks, fleeing from the horrors toward which he has turned them. His nose seeps blood when the wind blows cold, and his fingers are stained black with ink, and red, so red…."
She stopped, her eyes snapping back into focus, as the iron bars creaked audibly beneath Diederic's tightening grip. Rusty flecks bit into his skin, and his blood trickled faintly down the metal. He spoke, and his voice was the hissing of an angered snake.
"He's here…."
No more despair. No more doubt. No more fear. Be this some strange and foreign land, or Purgatory, or Hell itself, it no longer mattered. Diederic knew now what he must do, and let no man, no woman, no Scion, no God stand in his way!
"Leona," he said softly, crouching low once more, "Violca. I intend to leave this place.
"Will you help me?"
The first recorded escape from Perdition Hill occurred one night in early spring.
Ari Marmell was born in New York, moved to Houston when he was a year old, moved to Austin when he was 27, but has spent most of his life living in other worlds through a combination of writing and roleplaying games. He has been writing more or less constantly for the last dozen years, though he has only been paid for it the past five. He is the author of multiple roleplaying game supplements including work on Dungeons & Dragons. Ari lives in Austin with his wife, George, and two cats.
Look for Agents of Artifice, the new novel from Ari Marmell -- out now!


text:
Hi guys I have been informed by my dealer that my car is Build week 8. Can anybody tell me what this means.
Hi guys I have been informed by my dealer that my car is Build week 8. Can anybody tell me what this means.
Means your cars getting built next week sometime and you should get it approx. 2 weeks later.
hope the sun is shining on all those lovely Audi people. [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/dancing.gif[/img] [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/woohoo.gif[/img]
At least your build week is here! Mines next week.... and i'm becoming very impatient!
Hopefully there will be no delays!
Hope the guys that work at audi are having a good week and take care of my soon to be delivered A3
It's FRIDAY!! hope they've had a really good week building our cars, no delays I hope - the wait is becoming unbeareable, especially with all these people picking theirs up on March 1st.
Hey it's not build week 9 and that's me!!!!!!!
I hope they aren't tto hung-over after a weekend on the pop!
Hi guys anyone had a delivery date yet?
Haven't had a date yet, will chase my dealer today - should be next week sometime.
Mine was build wk 9 and I've just had confirmation that it's in Grimsby and will arrive at Dealer tomorrow and I'm picking it up on Monday 14th!!
I'd expect that if you push your dealer they'll be able to find out more info for you - mine has been really good!
I've just sorted out insurance etc... I can hardly concentrate on work I'm so excited!! BRING ON MONDAY 5PM!!! [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/groovy.gif[/img]

subset: commoncrawl


text:
The Vatican would like to be a religious concern when it wants to inflict its "moral teachings" on non-Catholics, control Cardinals and Bishops based on church teachings, and not pay taxes. On the other hand, the Vatican would like to be a country when the Pope is named in lawsuits or when they would like …
Category Archive: human rights
Apr 14 2012
Let's Treat them Like a Country
Nov 29 2007
Teddy-bear teacher gets 15 days, then deportation
Well, at least they're not going to flog the skin off her back. I guess that's what passes for "progress" and "human rights" in the Islamic world.
Aug 17 2007
Episode #512: Intolerance
I have gotten some requests for show notes on occasion. In response, I'm going to begin posting summary notes to the blog, so that when requests for notes come in, I can just point them here. Thanks, Martin. The word "tolerance" has two very distinct meanings that can, but do not always, overlap. One is …
Aug 07 2007
No need to think for yourself
I just finished watching this video, which shows the responses of anti-choice demonstrators in Libertyville, Illinois when asked what sort of punishment women should receive if they had an abortion after abortions became illegal. Go watch it…I'll wait… The responses speak for themselves. I don't want to get into the specifics about abortion (though I'll …
May 12 2007
I understand it's a "religion of peace"
Check this out. Pakistan, I am told, is our friend in the War on Terror. That's what they say. Bush says it, and we know what a stand-up guy he is, so it must be true. And we know the Bush administration takes a hard line against those Islamofascists, too, because they're always saying so …


text:
Blazers overcome Anthony's 45, spoil Amare's debut
NEW YORK (AP) — The Portland Trail Blazers overcame Carmelo Anthony's season high-tying 45 points and spoiled Amare Stoudemire's season debut, beating the New York Knicks 105-100 on Tuesday night.
Nicolas Batum (bah-TOOM') scored 26 points, Damian Lillard had 21 points, six assists and five rebounds, and LaMarcus Aldridge had 19 points and 14 rebounds for Portland.
Stoudemire finished with six points on 3-of-8 shooting and one rebound in 17 minutes off the bench in his return from knee surgery. Anthony shot 14 of 24 and nearly led the Knicks back from 19 points down after missing two games with a knee injury, but the Trail Blazers had too many options.
J.J. Hickson scored all of his 18 points in the first half as Portland won for the third time in four games.
Oregon coach Chip Kelly a top NFL target again
SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. (AP) — Since he arrived in Arizona for the Fiesta Bowl, Oregon coach Chip Kelly has been asked about coaching in the NFL every day.
The questions only figure to pick up after seven NFL coaches were fired on Monday.
As he has in the past, Kelly has deflected the speculation, saying his focus is on preparing the Ducks for their next game.
The 49-year-old coach has been the subject of NFL speculation the past few seasons and a year ago talked to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers before saying he had unfinished business in Eugene.
The fifth-ranked Ducks play No. 7 Kansas State in the Fiesta Bowl on Thursday night at University of Phoenix Stadium.
Kelly will likely have to make a decision about his future not long after it's over.
Seattle's playoff road history not a pretty view
RENTON, Wash. (AP) — While they are one of the hottest teams going into the postseason, there's a lot of past playoff futility for the Seattle Seahawks to overcome — nearly three decades worth.
Seemingly unbeatable at home, the road — especially in the postseason — has been a different tale for the Seahawks. It's been 29 years since Seattle last won a playoff game on the road. They've lost eight straight road playoff games since winning at Miami on Dec. 31, 1983, when only nine players on their current 53-man roster were even born.
On Sunday, Seattle (11-5) travels to the East Coast to take on another hot team, the Washington Redskins (10-6).
The Seahawks have won five in a row, and seven of their last eight; Washington brings a seven-game winning streak into the game.
Game time is 1:30 p.m. (PST) in Landover, Md.


text:
July 31, 2014
The effort to improve one Madison community continues Saturday, as residents break ground to begin building up their neighborhood.
The Boys and Girls Club of Dane County hosted a community celebration as the organization announced the construction of a new Boys and Girls Club Family Center for the Allied Drive neighborhood.
The move marks a new phase in the efforts of Allied community members, who seek to change the behaviors, attitudes, and lives of Allied residents.
Diane Shinall from the Madison Apprenticeship Program says, "Not just boys and girls, but also families. So that includes everyone cuz sometimes if you tap into the children and don't work with the adults, you still have issues."
Mary Burke is president of the Boys and Girls Club. "The dreams of our kids will only come true if we make even more changes. First of all, we really have to put aside our biases, our preconceived notions based on what has been, and focus on what can be."
The new family center's design is said to take the shape of the Boys and Girls Club logo, with two hands embracing. It will hold administration offices, classrooms, and a multi–purpose room.


text:
Current_Issue.tar.gz - When Underdogs Take Over the World
Programmers, network administrators, tech-support personnel and IT folks in general are rarely in the limelight. It's no secret, however, that the people behind the scenes are truly the ones running the world. As part of the geeky infrastructure that keeps the planet going, we all know the power of the underdog. Heck, we "save the day" on a regular basis, and most people never are the wiser. Can you imagine a world without any IT staff? Oh sure, that might seem a bit arrogant, but really, with little fanfare, we keep the end users happy. And, our operating system of choice? Linux, of course.
With its relatively small desktop market share, Linux often is considered an underdog. Here at Linux Journal, we prefer to think of it more along the lines of "Undiscovered Superhero", but however you look at it, Linux is the operating system that is easy to love. If you take off the wide-angle lens, however, and look strictly at software in the Open Source community, we have underdogs of our own. This month, we decided it would be nice to give the spotlight to those diamonds in the rough.
If you're reading this article on the Linux Journal Web site, chances are you're using the Firefox browser to do so. Firefox certainly isn't an underdog anymore, but James Gray gives us a play-by-play history of its evolution from the very beginning. Hopefully, the Firefox success story will be one we see repeated over and over. Will Xara Xtreme be the next application to offer some serious competition in its field? Well, switching to an open-source license for its core program certainly is a step in the right direction. Dan Sawyer shows us this graphics and illustration design program that is now available. If you're tired of running Adobe Illustrator via Wine, you'll love the new Linux native Xara Xtreme.
If indeed you are reading this on-line, you've probably correctly assumed that LinuxJournal.com is hosted with Apache. That should come as no surprise, but what might come as a bit of a shock is that Will Reese tells us Nginx might be a better alternative. Thankfully, it's still very much an open-source project, so we're at least willing to listen. Cory Wright tells us about a wonderful alternative to BIND as well. If security and configuration concerns about BIND have given you cause to worry, djbdns just might be the ticket. Cory walks us through the why, how and where of configuring this little-known DNS server.
What discussion regarding underdogs would be complete without talking about the command line? Love it or hate it, Linux is built around the terminal. Kyle Rankin tells us how to get the most out of our terminal by splitting it up. If you're not sure what you would put in a split-window xterm, a good place to start is with e-mail. Victor Gregorio tells us all about Mutt, a command-line e-mail client that has more features than many of its GUI counterparts.
Here at Linux Journal, however, we're all about choice. If the command line makes you nervous, there are plenty of GUI alternatives. Heck, we even have choices when it comes to the version of Linux distribution you want to run. Many of us use the "big dogs" of the Linux world when it comes to distros, but what about Gentoo? It's certainly not for the faint of heart, but Mike Diehl thinks it might be worth the time it takes to install. Perhaps after reading his article, you'll agree.
If you're just looking to cheer for the underdog or hoping to discover the Next Big Thing, this issue should educate, enlighten and entertain. As always, we have our full lineup of regular columns, helpful tech tips, and geek-friendly product reviews. So whether you stay up reading all night or start a stockpile of reading material for the analog television blackout in February (Doc Searls talks about that this month as well), this issue is bound to be a keeper.
Shawn Powers is the Associate Editor for Linux Journal. He's also the Gadget Guy for LinuxJournal.com, and he has an interesting collection of vintage Garfield coffee mugs. Don't let his silly hairdo fool you, he's a pretty ordinary guy and can be reached via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.com. Or, swing by the #linuxjournal IRC channel on Freenode.net.
Shawn Powers is an Associate Editor for Linux Journal. You might find him chatting on the IRC channel, or Twitter
Linux has become a key foundation for supporting today's rapidly growing IT environments. Linux is being used to deploy business applications and databases, trading on its reputation as a low-cost operating environment. For many IT organizations, Linux is a mainstay for deploying Web servers and has evolved from handling basic file, print, and utility workloads to running mission-critical applications and databases, physically, virtually, and in the cloud. As Linux grows in importance in terms of value to the business, managing Linux environments to high standards of service quality — availability, security, and performance — becomes an essential requirement for business success.
Sponsored by Red Hat
If you already use virtualized infrastructure, you are well on your way to leveraging the power of the cloud. Virtualization offers the promise of limitless resources, but how do you manage that scalability when your DevOps team doesn't scale? In today's hypercompetitive markets, fast results can make a difference between leading the pack vs. obsolescence. Organizations need more benefits from cloud computing than just raw resources. They need agility, flexibility, convenience, ROI, and control.
Stackato private Platform-as-a-Service technology from ActiveState extends your private cloud infrastructure by creating a private PaaS to provide on-demand availability, flexibility, control, and ultimately, faster time-to-market for your enterprise.
Sponsored by ActiveState
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text:
ATLANTA -- Many Georgia Tech fans will remember Vad Lees fourth-quarter interception that enabled Georgia to tie the game and force overtime. That glaring mistake was one of the few that the sophomore from North Carolina suffered through Saturday.
I thought he played well, Georgia Tech head coach Paul Johnson said. I thought he had a really good game. He made some plays.
Lee completed 11-of-23 passes for 232 yards and two touchdowns. He threw two interceptions; the first was a meaningless toss at the end of the first half, but the second one gave Georgia a lifeline that proved to be a game-changer.
With less than six minutes to play, Georgia Tech faced second-and-9 at its own 25. Lee dropped back under pressure and tried to find Robert Godhigh down the right sideline. But Lee couldnt get enough on the ball, and it was intercepted by Josh Harvey-Clemons, who returned it 18 yards to the Georgia Tech 35. That set up Georgias tying field goal.
The one possession that hurt us was the interception, Johnson said. But you had to play almost perfect on offense, and thats hard to do.
Lee got off to a great start. He threw a perfect long ball to Darren Waller, who caught it in stride and raced to the Georgia 6. The 68-yard completion was Lees longest of the season. He finished off the drive by running it in from the 3.
On the next possession, Lee completed a pass to Godhigh for 43 yards to set up a field goal. The next time out, Lee capped a scoring drive with a 15-yard scoring pass to DeAndre Smelter. Lee found Smelter again for a 7-yard touchdown in the fourth quarter.
We had a good game plan coming in, Lee said. We knew we were going to hit some deep pass plays in the beginning, and we did. It was there, and all I had to do was throw the receives the ball, and they made it happen.
Lee also kept the ball 14 times, most of them while running off tackle, and had 63 yards and two touchdowns. His 232 passing yards were a career best, surpassing the 189 he totaled against Elon in the season opener. It was his first game with two touchdown passes since Sept. 14 at Duke.
They threw the ball very well, Georgia head coach Mark Richt said. When youve got to stop the run the way they run it, you really dont have any free safety help. Its hard to put pressure on the quarterback if youre trying to stop the run. When you can throw and catch like they did, its a scary looking thing for our defense.
Despite the impressive personal performance, Lee was distraught after the game.
Im all about winning, Lee said. I wanted to win this game, especially for the seniors. I can imagine how they feel right now, not being able to beat Georgia. That game matters a lot here. The game was special. It was a great atmosphere. We really wanted to win.


text:
Gordon Wozniak, a city councilman in Berkeley, has been getting lots of unhappy emails recently. One called him "the epitome of a communist." Another said he is "making Berkeley look really silly."
The reason for the unpleasantness? Wozniak has said the government should tax e-mail.
Despite the backlash, George Skelton says in Monday's column that the retired nuclear scientist may be on to something.


text:
9.3-channel black networking home theater receiver
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text:
Shuffle shuffle fwoomp, ugh, sweater hair, straighten. Slip tie, slip tie, up we go. Shrug shr-, oh drat arm's stuck; I'll have to repair that sleeve hole, -ug, straighten, slip button slip button. Hoist, grunt, mmf, shift, check jacket collar, earbuds in, pull the handle, step, step, Step…
Push, check reflection in windows, push, step step and
It's overpowering. Crisp air, gray sky, fresh leaves, slight breeze, chilly fingers, stinging eyes.
It's autumn.
If you ask me what my favorite smell is I wouldn't be able to give you a direct answer. I would debate and question myself indeterminately for hours and it would still be tied between woodsmoke, old books, freshly fallen leaves, and sautéed onions.
Right now two out of four infiltrate my nostrils as I walk to classes and a third will be served with tonight's dinner. As I sit writing this at my dining room table, steam rises from the air vent outside, hits my window, and makes visible waves of moisture, reminding me of Jack Frost's fingers on a snowy window pane. It's getting me excited for November.
I can't wait for the crunch of leaves underfoot, the wooly happiness of snuggling into a scarf, the smell of hot apple cider, the
Oh. Wait. Cider.
Just thinking of it makes my mouth water and transports me back to second grade, staring at the giant wall of trees in the state park at home. My Girl Scout troop is tramping through the dew covered leaves, wiping away at bleary Saturday morning eyes and hungrily looking ahead to the trail-mix in our leader's backpack. Orienteering always meant an energy-zapping morning followed by hot cider stored in thermoses, PB&J sandwiches, and the previously mentioned trail mix. I'm pretty sure there was an early bedtime when I got home.
But that cider.
Sweet, spiced, and simple, the piping hot drink will always make me happy, no matter how busy or stressed I am.
I usually don't get homesick, but right now I have to admit that I kind of miss the fall rituals from home. Even though I've outgrown some of them, it's still nice to look back and bask in the memory of reading Harry Potter with my dad after a bike ride on the canal path, or frantically looking for a tissue after coming inside from raking leaves in the chilly October air.
Yeah, I'm definitely missing the pumpkin carving and corn mazes right now.
If I'm this psyched over fall, I hate to think about how I'll be come December.
Don't get me started on freshly chopped pine trees.


text:
2011 Year In Review
The Texas Rush Soccer Club throughout the course of 2011 had many club / team / individual accomplishments. Highlights include:
Team / Individual Success – Girls
- U11 Girls Fall W34-L7-T6 – 1st out of 42 teams
- U13 Nike Blue – Qualified for State Classic League & Premier League West Qualifying
- U13 Nike White – Qualified for State Classic League & Premier League West Qualifying
- And more (view article)
Team / Individual Success – Boys
- U12 Nike Boys Blue – Champions EDDOA Bracket A
- U12 Nike Boys White – Champions EDDOA Bracket B
- U13 Boys Swoosh Blue– Champions EDDOA Bracket C
- And more (view article)
ODP Selections
- Christopher Bell, Kamryn Bloh, Mollie Bond, Katelyn Bouthillette, Kelsey Brann, Lindsay Creasman, Caitlin Forrest, Abigal Janszen, Sonia Johnson, Jennifer Kotowych, Katie Lawrence, Alex Penn, Grace Piper, Sommer Stanley, Carmen Webster & Brianna Woodall
Events / Projects / Expansion / Awards
- Rush Night – 900 attendees along with Brian Ching, formerly Houston Dynamo & US MNT
- $45K given out in financial aid (Rush Cup 2011)
- Opened Lents Family Park ($2 million, northwest corner of FM 1960 and I-45)
- And more (view article)
Interview with Coach Don Gemmell, technical director
- Why does Rush Soccer keep growing at this very positive rate?
Answer: The Rush business model is very different from our local competitors. The technical and administrative staff operates and manages the club based on sound soccer decisions for each program. The collaboration of the board of directors and the technical/administrative staff has provided synergies that allow the club to achieve its yearly goals. Well-intended volunteers operate the majority of youth soccer clubs in South Texas with little to no soccer background. In addition, at Texas Rush we go to great lengths to eliminate conflict of interest within all aspects of the club.
Read article for additional highlights and to read full interview with Technical Director Don Gemmell.


text:
Prosecutors could seek the death penalty in the murder trial of an alleged Pasadena gang member accused of fatally shooting an innocent bystander and wounding another man in a shooting on Christmas Day.
Larry Darnell Bishop Jr., 20, was charged Wednesday with one count of murder with the special circumstances of discharging a firearm from a motor vehicle and murder to further a criminal street gang, according to a news release from the Los Angeles County District Attorney's Office. He also faces one count of attempted murder, two counts of shooting at an inhabited dwelling, and one count of possession of a firearm by a felon.
Prosecutors "will decide later" whether to seek the death penalty against Bishop, the release states.
Another 20-year-old man, Gary Aurthur, is also charged as an accessory to the crime, according to prosecutors.
A funeral will be held Saturday for Victor McClinton, the 49-year-old man Bishop allegedly gunned down near Newport Avenue and Wyoming Street in Pasadena on Christmas Day.


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The Norfolk Admirals have signed forward Rod Pelley to a professional tryout contract, assistant general manager Bob Ferguson announced today.
Pelley, 5-foot-11, 200-pounds, is a veteran of 407 career professional games. In 256 career NHL games between the Anaheim Ducks and New Jersey Devils, Pelley has scored nine goals and 29 points with 102 penalty minutes. Last season, Pelley was acquired by Anaheim along with Mark Fraser and a seventh-round draft pick in the 2012 NHL Entry Draft from New Jersey in exchange for Kurtis Foster and Timo Pielmeier.
Read on


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7th Annual Ethics Bowl Attracts Eight Contenders
Montgomery College and Anne Arundel Community College (AACC) placed first and second, respectively, in the 7th Annual Ethics Bowl recently hosted by the AACC Honors Program, Legal Studies Institute and Philosophy Department.
Eight teams from area colleges vied for the championship title. Howard Community College placed third in the event sponsored by the Hoffberger Center for Professional Ethics at the University of Baltimore.
Also competing were teams from Baltimore City Community College and each of the three campuses of Baltimore County Community College (Catonsville, Dundalk and Essex). The University of Baltimore sent a noncompetitive team to balance the roster for the event.
The Ethics Bowl challenges community college students to explore the same cases used in national competition by teams representing four-year colleges and universities. The cases often reflect current events and require students to identify moral and ethical dilemmas and justify opposing positions in their resolution.
The topics were: punishing teenager "sexting" as child pornography; testing virtue by deception; using cognitive enhancement drugs to get a higher LSAT score; refusing to certify a student teacher based on information found on a social networking site; publicly disclosing identities of those who contribute to support or oppose controversial ballot measures; reporting by the national press of "facts" from fraudulent news sources; using partnerships between charitable organizations and convicted professional athletes to improve and restore their reputations; charging women more for health insurance based on their greater use of and need for medical care; producing meat synthetically; and encouraging physicians to participate in military interrogations that arguably involve torture.
Teams received the cases in advance but did not know until the competition which cases they would address. No notes were allowed into the competition. Each team had three opportunities to initiate the discussion with a 10-minute presentation followed by a five-minute response from the opposing team and a five-minute concluding analysis by the presenting team. Panels of judges from educational institutions and the business community scored teams' performances.
Representing AACC were Tex Ellis of Annapolis, a first-year nursing major; Mercedes McCladdie of Baltimore City, a second-year English major; Oliver Minall of Bowie, a second-year engineering major; David Mueller of Glen Burnie, a second-year music major; and Marina Williams of Annapolis, a second-year philosophy and sculpture major.
Assisting AACC students with their preparation were head coach Kevin Murphy, assistant professor of philosophy, and Monna Clark, J.D., professor of legal studies. They also coached last year's team, which won the competition. Judges for AACC practice sessions were Rebecca Kajs, Ph.D., professor of English; Susan Wilson, adjunct professor of legal studies; and Katherine Voss, Honors assistant.
For information on the competition, contact Murphy at 410-777-7244 or Clark at 410-777-7270.


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Swan Lake Golf Course
Swan Lake is an 18-hole, 6,065-yard course located at beautiful Dunbar Cave State Natural Area. This par-71 course features Champion Ultradwarf Bermudadrass greens, hybrid 419 bermuda fairways and tees and features a dining facility and annual green fees.
Tennessee Vacation eGuide
The 2014 eGuide gives you instant access to Tennessee's irresistible attractions and destinations. Peruse venues online, then put in your order to get a free guide delivered to your doorstep.
From I-24 take exit 4
City: Clarksville, TN
Region: Middle Tennessee
Subregion: Nashville & Surrounding Areas
Admission Rates:
Weekday green fees are: $18.00 (18-holes) $10.00 (9-holes) Weekends and holidays green fees are: $25.00 (18-holes) $13.50 (9-holes) Cart rentals are: $12.00 per person (18-holes) $6.00 per person
Hours Open:
Open Year-round


text:
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(based on 3 reviews)
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glow in the dark watch
By wv.girl
from petersburg wv
About Me Modern, Practical, Stylish
Comments about Glow-in-the-Dark Watch:
it is a great watch for someone with poor eyesight and for night time.
Bottom Line Yes, I would recommend this to a friend
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By ms jill
from Michigan
About Me Classic, Practical, Stylish
The watch was a gift formy Grandson. He said he liked it and is wearing it daily.
Would buy again.
By roses
from S.C.
About Me Modern
Use every day.
If for any reason you are not 100% satisfied with a product, you may return it for a prompt refund.
Not a member yet? Join Today to Receive Immediate Savings!
For Only $9.99 a Year Members Enjoy:
Our Risk Free Guarantee - save less than the $9.99 annual fee and receive a credit to your account for the difference at the end of the year!
Questions? Call us at 1-800-345-5866
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PO Box 7823, Edison, NJ 08818-7821
Visit our other site: DrLeonards.com
At Carol Wright Gifts we feature a large selection of great gift ideas, including Women's Apparel,
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text:
MEMPHIS, Tenn. - Middle Tennessee played a strong offensive
game, but a pair of goals from Christabel Oduro gave Memphis a 3-2 win over the
Blue Raiders at the Mike Rose Soccer Complex Sunday afternoon.
MT (5-3-0) put together eight shots, four of which were on goal in the loss.
Memphis (4-3-0) responded with 19 shots in the victory. Middle Tennessee took
an early lead and tied the game in the second half, but Memphis used a second
half goal to stave off the Raiders.
Oduro gave UM a go-ahead goal in the first half. At the 67th
minute, she scored the game winner to give the Lady Tigers their second
consecutive win.
Middle Tennessee goalkeeper Kelsey Brouwer collected eight saves, just one
short of her career-high. Brouwer's valiant effort deflected several Memphis
shots away from the net, including two shots in the span of 20 seconds.
Freshman Emily Jorgenson tallied her first collegiate goal with a ball
driven inside the left box to put the Blue Raiders up 1-0 at the 17th
Memphis notched the equalizer when Kylie Davis scored off a UM corner kick
with 5:21 left in the first half.
The Lady Tigers took advantage of a pair of corner kicks. Oduro knocked in
the second goal for UM as she capitalized from a ball played from the corner
into the box.
At the half, Middle Tennessee had four shots against the Lady Tigers.
The Blue Raiders scored the equalizer at 51:29 when freshman Kate Loye
tallied her first collegiate goal from four yards out after a scramble inside
the box.
About 16 minutes later, Oduro responded once again for the Lady Tigers.
The junior connected on a goal from the left side to put Memphis up 3-2.
Middle Tennessee had a pair of shots in the final portion of the half, but
the Lady Tigers controlled possession as they sealed their third all-time
victory against MT.
Coach Aston Rhoden recognized his team's resilience, especially against a
formidable opponent like Memphis.
"We played good today, but it's about growth," said Rhoden.
"We've got to keep in mind that more than 50 percent of our players are
new. We played a team that was No. 6 in the country last year. We were able to
take the lead and tie the game when we were down. We are nowhere near where we
need to be. We have to clean up a couple of small things as we enter conference
The Blue Raiders open Sun Belt Conference action next weekend at the Dean A.
Hayes Track and Soccer Stadium. UALR visits MT on Friday evening at 7pm, with
Arkansas State coming to Murfreesboro on Sunday at 1pm.


text:
By SCOTT WILSON
Glasgow Daily Times
Tucked away in the small town of Horse Cave, the Caverna High School Colonels are quietly making a name for themselves on the basketball court.
After going 28-80 over the last four years, the Colonels, under the direction of head coach Blake Button, have turned the basketball program around and finished the first half of the 2012-13 season with an 11-3 overall ledger.
The Colonels have created a stir among Caverna fans.
"We set some high expectations for ourselves at the beginning of the season," Button said. "We set a goal of 20 wins for this year, so we needed to win early. Admittedly, we're surprised with some of the wins this year.
"But I don't know if I am surprised with the way we've been playing. I don't know if surprised is the right word. I certainly knew this team was capable of having this much success, but I didn't know this team would come together so quickly."
Caverna opened the season with five straight victories, including wins over Fort Knox, Cumberland County and District 18 foes Hart County and Green County. After a loss to District 15 favorite Barren County, the Colonels came back with back-to-back wins to push their record to 7-1.
For the full story, see the print or e-edition of the Jan. 3 Glasgow Daily Times.


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Bellamy Funeral Homes
No new announcements
Benson Funeral Home Inc.
Johnny Leon Little: March 17, 1941 - Nov. 12, 2012. A memorial service for the Dallas resident will be held Sunday, Nov. 18, at 3 p.m. from the New Beginnings Church in Dallas, with the Rev. Ken Pace officiating.
In lieu of flowers, the family wishes for donations to be made to the American Kidney Foundation.
Clark Funeral Home
No new announcements
Jeff Eberhart Funeral Home
No new announcements
West Cobb Funeral Home and Crematory
Sally Mae Thomas: Nov. 27, 1948 - Nov. 15, 2012. Funeral services will be held at 2 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 18, in the Chapel of West Cobb Funeral Home and Crematory in Marietta, with the Rev. Steve McEntyre and the Rev. Dennis McCoy officiating.The family will receive friends at the funeral home Saturday, Nov. 17, from 2 to 4 p.m. and 6 to 8 p.m.
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions can be made to the American Cancer Society, www.cancer.org.


text:
Staff Reports
Niagara Gazette
Cause of border officers' illness a mystery
Authorities say they still haven't determined what caused six U.S. border agents to require decontamination and medical attention after inspecting a vehicle at a crossing in northern New York.
Customs and Border Protection officials say two officers were examining a 2002 BMW around 6 a.m. Saturday at the Champlain crossing when they began to feel ill. Four other officers who went to help them didn't become sick.
State and local hazardous materials teams responded. Officials say all six officers were decontaminated on site and taken to the hospital in Plattsburgh. They were later released.
Clinton County emergency services officials say Monday they still don't know what caused the two officers to become ill. State police say a New Hampshire man who was driving the car faces minor marijuana and methamphetamine possession charges.
Large tree falls; causes $10K in damage
Soggy ground and strong winds helped knock over a large tree in the 2700 block of Caledonia Street, causing damage to three different Town of Lockport properties, Niagara County Sheriff's deputies said.
Deputies reported over the weekend, water buildup and high winds uprooted the tree over sometime on Friday.
The falling tree damaged pools, fences and decks at various properties, resulting in nearly $10,000 damage, according to reports.
Niagara Falls
• ARREST: A Falls man was arrested after starting a brawl in a Ferry Avenue tavern. Robert J. Ferguson, 30, 2495 Mackenna Ave., was charged with second-degree assault, disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. Police said they saw Ferguson fighting with another man in the front doorway of a bar in the 200 block of Ferry Avenue at 3 a.m. Sunday. When officers attempted to break up the fight, Ferguson fought with them before he was taken into custody. Ferguson is also accused of hitting a man inside the bar with a beer bottle.
• ARREST: A Falls man was arrested on weapons and other charges after a foot chase with police early Sunday morning. Lester "Manny" Florence Jr., 25, 1513 Center Ave., was charged with second-degree criminal possession of a weapon, fourth-degree criminal possession of stolen property, disorderly conduct and resisting arrest. Police said they responded to a call of a "man with a gun" in the 3700 block of Highland Avenue at 3:27 a.m, Sunday and spotted Florence, who matched the description of the suspect. Florence began running west on College Avenue and was pursued by officers. As he ran, police saw Florence throw an object on some nearby railroad tracks. Florence was ordered finally ordered to the ground at gunpoint and officers found that he had thrown a semi-automatic pistol and magazine, with six .25 caliber rounds in it, on the railroad tracks. Police said the handgun was reported stolen by New York State Police based in Amity.
• ARREST: A Falls man was arrested after police broke up an attack in front of a convenience store in the 1500 block of Pine Avenue at 12:54 a.m. Sunday. Jamone Marquise London, 24, 1005 17th St., was charged with third-degree assault. Police said they saw London and several other male suspects stomping and punching a 57-year-old man on the ground in front of the store, The victim said he had gone into the store to get something to eat and when he came out, he was attacked.
• THEFT: Officers are looking into a theft from the 1000 block of South Avenue. A 50-year-old man told police that sometime between 9 p.m. Saturday and 1 p.m. Sunday someone took a lawnmower out of the bed of his pickup truck.
• THEFT: Police are investigating a theft from the 2000 block of 80th Street. A 36-year-old man told officers that sometime between 12:01 and 9 a.m. Sunday someone cut a cable on a trailer behind his home and took an ATV.
North Tonawanda
• DWI: Barry A. Incorvia, 48, 160 Homestead Drive, was charged at 12:13 a.m. Monday at Oliver and Stenzil streets with DWI, consuming alcohol in a motor vehicle and refusing a blood test. He was held for court.
• ENDANGERMENT: Christopher L. Lacroix, 59, 384 Ward Road, was charged at 5:29 p.m. Sunday with second-degree reckless endangerment and fourth-degree criminal mischief. He was held for court.


text:
Building Impressive Presentations with impress.js
save 15%!
save 33%!
|Also available on:
- Create presentations inside the infinite canvas of modern web browsers
- Build presentations that work anywhere, any time, and on any device
- Build dynamic presentations with rotation, scaling, transforms, and 3D effects
Book DetailsLanguage : English
Paperback : 124 pages [ 235mm x 191mm ]
Release Date : March 2013
Author(s) : Rakhitha Nimesh Ratnayake
Topics and Technologies : All Books, Web Development, Open Source
Table of ContentsPreface
Chapter 1: Getting Started with Impressive Presentations
Chapter 2: Exploring Impress Visualization Effects
Chapter 3: Diving into the Core of impress.js
Chapter 4: Presenting on Different Viewports
Chapter 5: Creating Personal Websites
Chapter 6: Troubleshooting
Appendix: Impress Tools and Resources
- Chapter 1: Getting Started with Impressive Presentations
- What is impress.js?
- Built-in features
- Beyond presentations with impress.js
- Why is it important?
- Presentation outline
- Using bullet points
- Animations
- Using themes
- Downloading and configuring impress.js
- Creating your first presentation
- Designing the presentation
- Creating the presentation container
- Creating your first step
- Applying styles on steps
- Creating Step 1
- Creating Step 2
- Limiting the visibility of steps
- Presentation overview
- Summary
- Chapter 2: Exploring Impress Visualization Effects
- Introduction to CSS transformations
- Positioning effects
- Positioning on the x axis
- Positioning on the y axis
- Positioning on the z axis
- Rotating effects
- Rotation around the x axis
- Rotation around the y axis
- Rotation around the z axis
- Rotations in practice
- Scaling effects
- The importance of positioning in scaling
- Scaling in practice
- Planning the design
- Data perspective
- impress.js under the hood
- Summary
- Chapter 3: Diving into the Core of impress.js
- impress.js configuration
- Default configurations
- Customizing configurations
- Configuring the width and height
- Configuring the minScale and maxScale
- Configuring the perspective
- Configuring the transition duration
- Looking at configurations inside the core
- Understanding the impress API functions
- Inside the next function
- Inside the prev function
- Inside the goto function
- Automating presentations
- Creating custom transition timing
- impress.js step events
- How to use the step class
- Working with keyboard configurations
- Default keyboard configurations
- Inside the impress core
- Assigning custom keys for custom events
- Adding new keys for new events
- Handling the step click event
- Summary
- Chapter 4: Presenting on Different Viewports
- Fullscreen presentations
- Using impress.js inside a container
- Developing a content slider
- Planning the design
- Designing slides
- Wrapping the presentation inside a container
- Playing the slider automatically
- Creating navigation controls
- Creating the play/pause features
- Adding slide numbers
- Highlighting the active slide
- impress.js presentations on mobile devices
- Issues in designing for mobile devices
- Scenario 1
- Scenario 2
- Scenario 3
- Best design practices for mobiles devices
- Summary
- Chapter 5: Creating Personal Websites
- Planning the website structure
- Designing the header
- Creating the presentation wrapper
- Creating pages
- Designing the home page
- Designing the portfolio page
- Portfolio gallery
- Portfolio single
- Designing the timeline page
- Defining the timeline navigation
- Designing the services page
- Handling the navigation menu
- Creating the navigation hint
- Summary
- Chapter 6: Troubleshooting
- Browser compatibility
- Handling unsupported browsers
- Limitations and new features
- Positioning steps relative to other steps
- Defining the previous and next steps
- Transition duration for individual steps
- Adding and removing navigation keys
- Creating substeps
- Troubleshooting and support
- Summary
- Appendix: Impress Tools and Resources
- Impress presentation tools
- Strut
- Impressionist
- Impressive presentations
- impress.js demos from the book
Code Downloads
Download the code and support files for this book.
Submit Errata
Please let us know if you have found any errors not listed on this list by completing our errata submission form. Our editors will check them and add them to this list. Thank you.
Sorry, there are currently no downloads available for this title.
What you will learn from this book
- Create advanced presentations with Impress.js effects
- Understand Impress effects such as rotations, scaling, transformations, and 3D effects
- Extract the power of impress core API events and configurations to modify existing functionalities
- Integrate impress presentations on different browsers, viewports, and devices
- Extend the core library to create custom functionalities for different types of applications such as sliders, portfolios, and galleries
- Handle issues in designing and running presentations
- Use Impress tools to automate the slide creation process
In Detail
Everyone has had to present during their lifetime. We've all spent agonizing hours trying to make those PowerPoint presentations engaging. Well now there is a tool that will make those presentations look like child's play.
Impress.js is a powerful library that eases the task of creating presentations with smooth animations without depending on a software tool. You are no longer limited to desktop tools as these presentations run on any supported browser anywhere on the Internet.
"Building Impressive Presentations with impress.js" is a quick guide to creating professional presentations using the best aspects of CSS3. It will also guide you through several practical examples which go beyond the conventional slide-based presentations, covering each aspect of the Impress library.
From simple presentations to your own personal website this handy practical guide will ensure you get the most out of Impress.JS as quickly as you can. Starting with a simple slide-based presentation we move quickly on adding in sliders, galleries and portfolios to utilize this amazing tool. 3D transitions, rotations, scaling, and transforms are also covered to give your presentations that something extra. The final step is bringing all this together to create a personal website that is viewable on all impress supported browsers.
"Building Impressive Presentations with impress.js" gives you the chance to stand out from the competition and engage with audiences in a way you never have before.
This book gives you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. Using easy-to-follow practical examples, this guide takes you from simple presentations to complete websites in no time.
Who this book is for
If you want to engage your audience on a level not previously possible on software such as PowerPoint or Prezi, then this book is for you. With basic knowledge of HTML, CSS, and JavaScript you can start making presentations that truly Impress.


text:
By Keith Eddings
---- — LAWRENCE - All 31 firefighters facing layoffs next month will stay on the job at least until August after the federal government agreed to extend the city's deadline for spending the last of the $6.6 million grant that is paying their salaries.
Fire Chief Jack Bergeron said he was unable to spend the grant and rehire the firefighters fast enough because of civil service hiring procedures that he said are more rigorous in Massachusetts than in most other states. Adding to the delay, he said the grant from the Federal Emergency Management Agency was months late – and was backdated – when he received it in 2011.
If FEMA had not extended the two-year deadline for spending the grant, the 31 firefighters could have lost their jobs March 17, even as $830,000 of the grant remained on the table, Bergeron said.
Last week, FEMA gave Bergeron five months more to spend the grant, allowing him to keep the 31 firefighters until Aug, 24.
The 31 jobs include all 23 that were cut by Mayor William Lantigua in July 2010 and eight that were lost to attrition under former Mayor Michael Sullivan.
"Everybody that was laid off, we've restored," Bergeron said.
Bergeron also will hire another seven firefighters over the next few months, bringing the ranks to 120. That's still 16 short of what would be needed to reopen the Tower Hill firehouse, Bergeron said.
The news isn't all good: the added time to spend the grant means the city has nearly $1 million in unspent FEMA money in the bank as it competes with other fire departments across the United States for a second, ongoing round of grants, which could hobble the application.
Bergeron is asking for another $6 million-plus, which would keep the added firefighters on the job for at least two more years.
If the grant is not renewed after the funding runs out Aug. 24, Bergeron said the 38 newly hired firefighters – the 31 rehired over the last two years and the seven who will be hired this year - could be laid off, which he said would cause him to shut two companies and a firehouse and re-expose the city to the danger that caused the federal government to come to the rescue two years ago. The city reopened the Prospect Hill firehouse only a year ago, after closing it for more than a year.
If the FEMA grant is not renewed, Bergeron said the city would have to come up with $2 million to avoid another round of layoffs and keep the firefighters on the payroll through the end of the upcoming fiscal year. Although the grant doesn't expire until Aug. 24, the city would have to choose between raising the money or laying off the firefighters by June 30, when it must have a budget in place for the new fiscal year that begins the next day.
Lantigua is scheduled to propose a new budget in May.
When the grant runs out Aug. 24, Lantigua will be in the thick of his re-election campaign. Although he was willing to slash both the fire and police budgets at the start of his term four years ago to keep the budget he inherited from former Mayor Sullivan in the black, he may be less willing to do the same three weeks before the Sept. 17 preliminary election.
The choice may be made easier by the fact that the city has a reserve of about $5 million in the bank, left over from its 2011-12 budget.
Lantigua did not return a phone call last week. But in the State of the City address he delivered to the City Council on Tuesday, he reminded the city that he is hiring the seven new firefighters. He did not mention that the FEMA grant may run out, but suggested how he might react if it does.
"This progress will continue under my watch," Lantigua said about the new hires. "Our public safety budgets will not be compromised as long as I am in office."
City Councilor Daniel Rivera, who chairs the council's budget committee and is the only candidate besides Lantigua to announce so far, said it's too early to say how the city should react if the grant is renewed.
"The question right now is, is there a full court press to make sure the grant comes in?" Rivera said. "We can't just wait for Washington to say no."
Without city or state money, Bergeron said he would look for other savings before resorting to another round of layoffs.
"I would try to reduce my operational costs to bare bones to try to keep people employed," Bergeron said. "But you can only go so far with that."


text:
August 1, 2014
Stay up-to-date with KAKE News:
Friday, November 16, 2012
A deer hunter using a remote trail camera to scout for deer in Stafford County received quite a surprise last month when he found the camera had captured the image of a mountain lion.
The photograph -- similar to the file image shown with this article -- left no doubt about the identification of the animal and a wildlife biologist from the Kansas Department of Wildlife, Parks and Tourism visited the site Friday, confirming the photo's validity. The use of motion-triggered cameras by deer hunters has become common in recent years. The cameras have been responsible for five of nine Kansas mountain lion confirmations since 2007
The mountain lion in Stafford county is the first confirmed since January when tracks of a mountain lion were found in Washington County. KDWP says there is no evidence of a resident population of mountain lions in Kansas.
Mountain lions mostly eat medium-sized animals such as raccoons, raptors, coyotes and turkeys, according to KDWP. They also occasionally feed on deer.
KDWP did not make the picture of the Stafford County lion available Friday.