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itsalwayswellattheworldsend · 9 months

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Chapter 8 - Ralph Cometh to the Wood Perilous. An Adventure Therein

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Synopsis:

Ralph ignores some reasonable advice and encounters strangers in the Wood Perilous.

Summary:

"I am of Upmeads beyond the down country; and I pray thee let me be gone on mine errands. It is meet that thou deal with thine own robbers and reivers, but not with me."

As he came clear of the town, the road took him out of the dale, and as he came over the top of the hill he saw the land ahead of him different from that which lay behind. Here the road went through a rough stretch of uncultivated land with no animals except for mountain sheep or goats, and with few bushes scattered around it., and beyond this the land rose into a long ridge, and on that ridge was a thick forest of trees. So he rode on and passed through the wild land—which was dry and hot in the afternoon sun—and when he came into the shadow of the thick trees (which at first were all beech trees), he was relieved because it was the hottest part of the day. There was a trodden path between the trees, not very wide but still a highway. So he followed it at a soft pace to give Falcon a rest, and he thought very little about the dangers he had been told about here, and quite a lot about the fair maiden whom he had left behind in the village.

After a while the thick beech trees dwindled and there were oak trees around, tall and beautiful, as though some lord’s overseer had made sure that they would not grow too close together, and between them the grassy spaces were fine, thick, and flowery. And as he went, he saw deer—both buck and doe—and other wild animals, but for a long time he saw no people.

The afternoon wore on and he still rode through the oak trees, and he thought that this forest would be suitable for the greatest king on earth. At last he came to a crossroads, and around it the land was more clear of trees, although beyond it the trees were even thicker and there were holly and thorny underbrush as the land sloped down as though into a little dale.

Ralph stopped there because he did not know which road led to the Burg of the Four Friths; so he dismounted and waited a little while to see if someone might come by. He noted on the road that crossed the one he had been following, there were signs of a number of horses having gone down it and on the grass beside it, and thought they had passed only a little while before he came to it. So he lay on the ground to rest while his horse wandered around to eat grass, for the animal loved him and would come if he called or whistled.

Ralph was drowsy when he laid down, and though he told himself that he would not sleep, he could not resist and soon he relaxed, his head falling to one side, sleeping quietly. When he woke up a short time later, he knew at once that something had awoken him, for he heard the trampling of hooves and the clashing of weapons and loud voices talking. So he leapt up quickly and while he was still barely awake, whistled to Falcon. But by then the men were on him, and two came up to grab hold of him, and when he asked who they were they told him to be quiet.

When his eyes cleared, he saw that the men were well-armed and wearing armor of steel plates or hard leather. They had long spears and had good swords in their belts, and they also had a pennant which was green with a golden tower on it, standing at the point where four roads met, and this sign was also on many of the coats and sleeves of the men. He was brought by his captors to the pennant and riding beneath it was a Knight on a white horse, fully armed and with the Tower and Four Ways on his green tabard, and beside him was an old warrior with an oak wreath on his bare head and a white beard hanging over his coat, and behind these two was a tall young man, also on a white horse and brightly clothed, holding the pennant. Beside these three were five men, unarmed and wearing green coats embroidered in gold with a leafless tree. They were strong men, bearded and fierce-looking. Their hands were bound behind their backs and their feet were tied together beneath the underside of their horses. The group of those around the Knight, Ralph thought, numbered two hundred.

So when Ralph was brought before the Knight, he turned to the old man and said:

“It is no use to ask whether or not he is one of the, for he would only say ‘no.’ But what do you think, Oliver?”

The old man drew closer to Ralph and looked him up and down and all over, for the two men holding him turned him around as if he had been a piece of meat on a roasting spit. At last he said:

“His beard is sprouting, or else I would have thought he was one of their women, one whom we don’t know yet. But in truth I say that I seem to know the style of his equipment, just as Duke Jacob recognized Joseph’s tabard. So ask him where he comes from, and if he lies, then I say bind him and lead him away so that we can get the truth out of him. Otherwise, let him go so that we do not waste our resources on him.

The Knight looked hard at Ralph and said somewhat politely:

“Where are you from, fair Sir, and what is your name? We have many enemies in this wood.”

Ralph reddened as he answered: “I am from Upmeads beyond the hill country, and I ask that you leave me to my business. It is proper for you to take your robbers and thieves, but not me.”

Then one of the bound men said: “He’s lying, boy, we are not robbers!” But the man of the Knight’s group who stood nearby hit him on the mouth and said “Shut up, you outlaw! You can speak tomorrow when the hangman has you in his hands.”

The Knight paid no attention to this, but looked to the old warrior and said: “Is he telling the truth so far?”

“Yes, Sir Aymer,” said Oliver; “and now I think I know him better than he knows me.” Then he turned to Ralph and said: “How is Long Nicholas doing, my lord?”

Ralph reddened again and said: “He is well.”

Then the Knight said: “Is this young man from a powerful house, Oliver?”

But before the old man could speak, Ralph broke in and said: “Old sir, I ask that you do not tell him my name, for Nicholas’ sake.”

Old Oliver laughed and said: “Well, Nicholas and I have been friends as well as foes, and for the sake of the old days I will help you, young lord.” Then he said to the Knight: “Yes, Sir Aymer, he is of a good and ancient house, but you see what he asks of me. Do not ask for his name.”

The Knight looked at Ralph in silence for a while, then said: “Will you come with us to the Burg of the Four Friths, fair Sir? Aren’t you going that way? Or what else would you be doing in the Wood Perilous?”

Ralph thought about this, and though he saw no reason why he should not join them, something in his heart kept him from going too quickly, so he said: “I am seeking adventures, fair lord.”

The Knight smiled: “Then you will have all the adventures you could want, if you go with us.” Now Ralph did not know how he would go against the wishes of so many armed men in the long run, though he was scarcely willing to go. So he did not rush to answer, and as he paused a man came running through the woods up from the dale; a tall, thin man with a runner’s build, wearing low-heeled shoes and a shirt; the group parted in front of him so he came up to the Knight, as though they had been waiting for him, and when he was there, the Knight leaned down to speak with him softly while the others backed away out of earshot. And when the man had given his message, the Knight straightened up in his saddle and lifted up a hand, yelling out: “Oliver! Oliver! Lead us on! Hurry, everyone!”

Then he blew one blast on a horn which hung from his saddle and the runner leapt up behind old Oliver, and the whole group went off quickly to the south-east, diagonally across the crossroads, where the the wood was not filled with undergrowth; and shortly they were all completely gone, and no one else took note of Ralph.

Notes:

Not sure why there are mountain sheep/goats hanging out between some hills and a forest; we’re like two days from the nearest mountains that have been mentioned.

Historically, “highway” meant a road which was slightly raised and had ditches dug on both sides (for drainage). I think I was changing this word before but I will not be doing so in the future.

The text originally mentions that Ralph saw “both buck and hart and roe”. “Roe” is an old term for “doe” (a deer; a female deer), while “buck” and “hart” both refer to male deer. I tried to find out what the difference between bucks and harts is, but couldn’t find anything definitive (and didn’t look all that hard). Best explanation I could find is a buck is an older male deer, and harts are younger/not fully-grown.

Oh hey look, the sign of the Leafless Tree!

So, the text says “The company of those about the Knight, Ralph deemed, would number ten score men” which seems like a frankly ridiculous number. I don’t know if that’s talking about the Tower Knights, the Leafless Tree prisoners, or all of them together, but I can’t help but feel the number was supposed to be “one score and ten” (30) and not 200 which is so many people. There are blatant mistakes in this book, so I wouldn’t be surprised if this is one of them.

Okay, so Duke Jacob and Joseph: the best I can guess is this is an allusion to the book of Genesis, where Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery in Egypt because they were jealous of him, and they take his distinctive, brightly colored coat (which their father had given him), cover it in blood and bring it back, saying that he had been killed by wild animals. I don’t know why Jacob is referred to as a “Duke” here, though.

The runner is described “with brogues on his feet, and nought else but a shirt”, although I do not think he is meant to be naked between his brogues (low-heeled leather shoes) and his shirt; more likely he is wearing hose (tights) as would be fitting to the time-period. The “nought else” probably refers to the fact that he is unarmed and unarmored, unlike his allies.

We get a little bit of characterization of the Burg of the Four Friths here: they are at odds with the men who wear the sign of the Leafless Tree and patrol the Wood Perilous looking for thieves and outlaws. However, the prisoner who speaks up claims to not be a robber. But who is going to believe a condemned prisoner?

More weirdness about certain characters having names. Also, Sir Aymer is referred to by name in Oliver’s dialog, but the narration always calls him “the Knight.”

Map:

#the well at the world's end #william morris #The Well - Book 1 Chapter 8

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scotianostra · 2 years

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Happy Birthday to ex Scottish Rugby Player Doddie Weir..

Born George Wilson Weir on this day 1970 in Edinburgh, Doddie was educated at Daniel Stewart’s and Melville College and given the school’s heritage with the sport, and Doddie’s size, it was only natural he would take up the rugby.

After his education finished he played for Stewart’s Melville FP, the FP stands for former pupil, he then went on to play for Melrose in the Scottish Borders, and was part of the team that won six Scottish club championships.

He later moved to England in 1995 to join the Newcastle Falcons, helping them win the Premiership in 1998.

Lock Weir was capped 61 times by Scotland, and was part of the victorious Lions tour to South Africa in 1997.

He moved back to Scotland to join the newly reformed Borders team in 2002 where he remained until his retirement from professional rugby. He finished his playing career together with Gary Armstrong at Borders Reivers in 2004.

In 2016 Doddie was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND) in 2016 and made his diagnosis public the following summer. Although the average life expectancy is between one and three years, he has defied the odds to keep battling and his charity, the My Name'5 Doddie Foundation, has raised more than £4million for research into a cure. Doddie was also told that a year later he would not be able to walk, he is still walking to this day, a testament to the determination and fighting spirit of this remarkable man.

And while it put a stop to Doddie’s usually hectic schedule of appearances and dinners, the 61-times capped Scotland internationalist has enjoyed spending time at home with his family.

A big favourite with the Murrayfield crowd, the 6ft 6in lock was famously described by the late ommentator Bill McLaren as as being “on the charge like a mad giraffe”.

In 2018 The Doddie Weir Cup was inaugurated, a perputual Rugby Union trophy to be played between Scotland and Wales, the first match in Cardiff in November that year was won by Wales, as was the second match, of course this years match has not been played due to the pandemic.

Speaking on the most recent My Name’5 Doddie Foundation Dodcast, hosted by foundation CEO Jill Douglas, Doddie said: “This lockdown I’ve quite enjoyed because it’s allowed me to spend time with the family.

“It’s been quite good to re-charge the batteries. There’s no doubt about it, I’m fighting MND a bit more than I was a year ago. We’re fighting it hard, but the farm has been unbelievable. It’s allowed me to get out for a bit of fresh air, with friends and family, and we’ve got an outside gym that I use once or twice a week.“I still think I’m doing quite well – I’m still getting up and down the stairs unaided and enjoying a wee bit drink at night.”

Doddie explained “As a bloke you just think ‘I’m fine’, but with this that’s not quite the case. Basically it’s a muscle wasting disease and that’s how in the later life of MND it’s horrific because you need help everywhere.

"Basically your muscles in your legs disappear so you can’t walk; you can’t really eat, and then your muscles within your speech disappear so you can’t speak; you can’t swallow and can’t breath so it’s horrific what happens.

”….“But it’s such a debilitating condition and there’s nothing out there that can help any patient with MND.

He has signed a “Do not resuscitate” (DNR) over two years ago.

In February 2020 Doddie said his decision to refuse potentially lifesaving CPR came after a tough chat with his sons Hamish, 18, Angus, 17, and Ben, 15. "I’ve had to talk to them about DNR. We’ve just signed a document for that at the moment, which isn’t easy.”

He added: “You just have to be honest and open and they took it really well.”

The remarkable Doddie Weir continues to fight his affliction, more than 50 people joined him in the event last Tuesday to raise funds to support research into the causes of MND. The occasion was to celebrate Mr Weir’s annual My Name’5 Doddie Foundation (MNDF) Scotland Golf Day and earned the charity a five figure sum.

Doddie currently lives with his family on a farm which he bought in the Scottish Borders

You can read more about and donate to Doddie’s charity foundation here https://www.myname5doddie.co.uk/about

#Scotland #scottish #rugby #motor neurone disease #mnd #ALS #Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis #happy birhtday

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segersgia · 4 years

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Looking back: Part 1 - Primaris Space Marines - Infantry

The excitement for 9th edition has been growing and growing. People are happy with the upcoming units for Space marines, and Xenos fans are rejoicing at the return of the Silent King and the introduction of new Necron units.

What I want to do is take a long and hard look at what 8th edition gave us in terms of miniatures.

To start of this series, we have to begin with Games Workshop’s favorite poster-boys; The Primaris Space Marines

The Primaris debacle:

If you didn’t already know, Games Workshop is somewhat obsessed with Space Marines. This hasn’t changed at all in 8th edition. In fact, it kind of got worse.

8th edition introduced us to the new and improved Primaris Space Marines - Extra cool Space Marines.

For a lot of people, these were just a lame excuse to resell you an army that most of their costumers had already bought. Lore-wise, they came out of nowhere, and for some they were an affront to what the Imperium stood for: an autocratic, dogmatic and fascist regime that saw innovation and progress as something evil and dangerous.

Fortunately, the Primaris have begun to become a little more fleshed out, and hopefully, this will continue for the better in 9th edition.

Before I start my overview, I have to explain my main gripe that I have with the ENTIRE range.

The Helmets:

With their redesign, the Space Marines gained a new pattern of Power Armour. This included a new design for their helmets, and I absolutely hate it. Gone is the iconic respirator, and instead we get a return of the Mark IV helmet, A.K.A. my least favorite pattern of the range.

Kitbashers prove my point. The Mark VII is so much better looking on the new range. They look proper evil and merciless.

So always keep in mind that with every model in this range, I will have the same complaint; I don’t like the design of their helmet.

Intercessors:

The Primaris line was a way for the design team to re-imagine the space marines in a new way. Their size got updated to what might be considered “Tru-scale” and lore-wise, they gained a better crafted kit than their predecessors. Though what they gained in upgrades, they lost in group flexibility.

Intercessors are equipped with Bolt rifles, which are basically slightly upgraded Boltguns. These can be retrofitted in the usual way with scopes or under-slung grenade launchers.

Lore-wise, Intercessors take a surprisingly defensive role, mostly described as using suppressive fire to slowly advance to a position or hold the line.

Their design, specifically their proportions, is what many expected the actual proportions of a space marine to be. They are hulking masses of power armour that should dwarf humans easily. The original Space Marines were a little “ill-proportioned” and the new Primaris have fixed that issue very well.

One complaint I’ve seen appear is the fact that Intercessors lack the ornateness and religious aspects that the old marines had. If you’d actually compare them with Tactical Marines, it kind of shows that this isn’t the case.

In fact, it just shows that normal Space Marines aren’t that ornate to begin with.

Intercessors are a good re-imagining of the Tactical Marines and share the same feel that their predecessors have. What the Intercessors lack is just their weapon options.

7/10

Hellblasters:

The Primaris doctrine seems to hark back to the olden days before the Horus Heresy. Instead of the highly adaptable formations that we see in the Tactical Squads or the Devastator Squads, the Primaris decide instead to have specialized squads.

So while the Intercessors favor trusty bolt weapons, the Hellblasters make use of the the Plasma Incinerator: an improved version of the Plasma Gun that doesn’t overheat unless its fired in its overcharged setting. Hellblasters have the role of providing covering fire, similar to Devastators.

The Plasma Incinerator is what makes this my favorite unit from the mainline army. It is such an improvement in design over that of the Plasma Gun. It makes for a great silhouette and the miniature looks more powerful because of it.

9/10

Reivers:

Reivers are part of the Vanguard line of Primaris troops; units specifically designed for long covert and stealth operations.

(The rest of the Vanguard will be looked at in a future post.)

Reivers themselves act like terror troops; sneaking into combat before yelling “OOGA BOOGA” and murdering everyone in the room like an Eversor Assassin.

Primaris power armour has a very interesting quirk. It comes in different variants that can be mixed and matched to serve a certain role. Reivers and most of the vanguard line use Phobos Armour; a pattern that is lighter, more lightly armoured and features servos that allow it to be almost silent in combat. It features Grav-Chutes, which allows Reivers to safely descend from heights, similar as to what Elysian Drop-Troopers utilize.

They go into battle with Bolters and over-sized knives. They can also take a Grapling Hook, so they can cosplay as their favourite DC hero. The skull helmet they wear has an in built voice amplifier, allowing their battle chants to turn into a police sound cannon. They basically stole the idea from Eldar Howling Banshees.

The poses from the “Easy-to-build” kit are just ugly, but their other kit fixes that issue. I still am not sure about the skull helmet, and would’ve preferred a better way to visualize their voice-amplifiers. I kind of like the Phobos pattern, but I do have some gripes with it, such as the exposed metal abs(?) they have.

6/10

Aggressors:

I really don’t hope this is what will replace Terminators.

Aggressors are a fire support unit that slowly advances while providing covering fire from mid to close range. They wear Gravis Armour, which is the more heavily reinforced variant of the Mark X. They have Power Fists that have either Flamers or Bolters attached to them, and some are equipped with shoulder mounted grenade launchers.

Gravis Armour is my least favourite of the three patterns and Aggressors are my main reason for it. They look very clunky and are way too cluttered with weapons. I don’t like the rounded design as well. It looks like they would take one step and then fall face first into the dirt. Even the artwork doesn’t do them justice and makes their over-sized armaments even more over-sized. A wider belly and smaller gauntlets would’ve fixed this unit’s design.

4/10

Inceptors:

Remember the intro of the Space Marine video game? Captain Titus leaping off a Thunderhawk and flying through an air battle to land on an Ork ship? Inceptors do just that, landing in the thick of the battle, with guns in both hands like B.J. Blazkowicz.

They are equipped with either Plasma Guns or Assault Bolters, and fly through the air with an over-sized jump-pack. To soften their landing, they have these funny looking boot plates, so that they don’t die during the impact.

If the boot plates weren’t a thing, I would have no qualms with this unit. Their version of the Gravis Armour is what I would’ve preferred the Aggressors to have. They also look like they would actually do well in low gravity environments, such as space battles. What I like most about them is the fact that they seemingly resemble Assault Marines from the artwork of Rogue Trader.

Games Workshop has kind of gone back to looking at Rogue Trader, and figuring out how certain aspects of it could fit back into 40k. I’m 100% behind that trend and want more of it.

7/10

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The Primaris range is already massive and I’m separating the range into different parts. So far though, it has been a varied bag of good and meh. I do want to keep these varied, so next up, I’m going to tackle a different army; the Death Guard...

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #Space Marines #Review #8th edition #Range overview #Primaris Space Marines #Primaris #infantry #warhammer #rating #Adeptus Astartes

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imspardagus · 3 years

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A Scottish Fantasy

My mother was the eldest child of a poor family in Sheffield. There are shades of poverty and theirs was not the deepest but they were decidedly working class and short of every material comfort. A factor in this was her father, who was a Victorian and a socialist, and who loved children, it is said, so much that he foisted 8 of them onto his second wife, who didn’t. He is the subject of my story.

Grandad was already an old man when, as a small boy, I first knew him. He had long retired from the railways. Back in the fifties, having made the eight-hour journey up the A1 from Essex (through the centre of every market town on the way), we would walk in to the Sheffield council house through a door that was never locked and there he would be, sitting always close to the big kitchen range in the back room, nursing a gouty foot swathed in bandages and thick socks (which must have been agonising). Being a fairly normally clumsy child, I would manage to bang into his foot at least once during our visits, to the intense embarrassment of my parents. It was the only time I heard Grandad react with any fierceness. Now that I have personal experience of gout I understand why.

I will tell the story as Mum told it to my sister and me when we were children. Mind, she never sat us down and told it in one go. It came out in little sparkling nuggets. Which, paradoxically, made it all the more compelling. Gold, or fool’s gold, many have confused the two, and we always will, because we all want to believe.

Mum was born in 1922. As her brothers and sisters followed each other into life, and things became increasingly difficult for the Lawford household, she was sent away to live with a maiden aunt in Nottingham. This physical distance had several effects. The first and most obvious was that she became remote from her own family. They never forgave her for “talking posh” and a thinly veiled animosity stuck with her for the rest of her life. But, perhaps more importantly, it changed her expectations. Auntie Lizzie was a modern woman (for the 1920s), with a career and thoughts of her own. Her home was, by all accounts, an Aladdin’s cave of eccentrically accumulated drapes and artefacts. And her home seems to have been a mirror of her mind. She dabbled in religions, cults and philosophies and encouraged my mother to do the same. Mum became an avid reader of books, and a good pupil. Had the Second World War not intervened, she was bound for teacher training college. Instead, she was conscripted into the Admiralty and spent what she guiltily described as a gloriously happy war in Bath.

According to Mum, what we saw of Lawford home life in Sheffield was very different from how it had once been. Grandad had once been a qualified accountant but an illness took him to the doctor who advised him that if he wished to survive he needed an outdoor job. So Grandad became an engine driver. (even as a child I always wanted to pause at this point to allow my brain to assimilate the strangeness of this transition). She said he drove the express trains that ran down the East Coast line to London.

Grandad, Mum told us, was a Fabian Socialist, a founder member. He had spoken on a platform with the great George Lansbury and had been asked on more than one occasion to stand as Mayor of Sheffield but had had to decline it because his wife was not happy with the thought of public life.

Grandad, she said, was also a soft touch. Many were the times he would arrive home on payday with little or nothing in his packet because men, knowing his kind heart, would accost him on the way home, with sob stories and he could not refuse them.

But this is a mere prelude to the Big Story. Apparently, Grandad was the legitimate heir to an Earldom in Scotland. The Lawfords were, as anyone knew (so my mother said), Scottish reivers – border bandits – and this was our ancestry. The story went that Grandad had been approached by a solicitor who had told him that if he could produce a certain decorated wooden box his claim to the Earldom would be proved. But he, being an avowed socialist, could not be bothered with such trivialities as personal wealth and title, and declined to pursue his birthright.

The Earldom was that of the Kerrs, on the Scottish side of the Border.

A romantic story. And apparently a total fiction. And one that, though I can see the funny side, left me feeling bereft as it unravelled.

For a number of years, whenever I visited Scotland, I would scour books about the clans, wondering why the Lawford name never figured.

Then my sister spent some time tracing our family tree and I got my answer. Lawford is not a reiver name, not a Scottish name, not even a Northern English name. It harks from Essex. On our mother’s side, Sheffield was the furthest north the Lawfords had achieved in three centuries. Until our generation, the highest social status of any related Lawford was a publican in Guildford in the 17th Century. There is more.

Grandad did indeed work on the railways. But he was a porter, not a train driver, still less an express train driver. His father had also worked the railways. That fine copperplate handwriting that seemed so out of place in a working man’s fist, and thereby lent credence to a romance of a different upbringing, seems most likely to have been the result of a book-keeping course that the railway union put him through in order that he could be a treasurer for the local branch.

Do I feel cheated? Yes, a bit. Not by the lack of status (as a soft middle class southerner, I am in fact a little proud of this gritty heritage and loved the blackened hardness of Sheffield before the planners ruined it). But more by the want of romance on a grand scale. On a walk with a friend I passed the Kerrs’ family seat and thought, at one and the same time, this could have been mine and this never was mine. Mine has been such a small and mundane life.

But the effect is also more subtle, more undermining. I was born in Ilford, Essex and never felt it was my home. I visited Yorkshire, and Sheffield, but felt no affinity. When I first crossed the border into Scotland, however, I felt I was coming home. And when I left it, I felt the lowering of growing distance from where you ought to be. And it continues. I suffer from depression and, when it is bad, walking in Scotland or in the Northumbrian border country will pull me back from despair as no drug can. Yet, as far as I can tell, I have no family connection with it. So I feel diminished by the lack of any Celtic link and I now have no reason to support the effect Scotland has on me.

Should it matter? Of course not. I am what I am. I feel what I feel. Scotland is a sublimely beautiful country and its people have a sense of cultural integrity that those of us in the South East of England bartered long ago for a love of sophistication, bling and noisy ignorance. If I was not comfortable with the latter it is likely I would feel more comfortable with the former. And we all have our origins in distant vistas and wild trails rather than concrete canyons and brick boxes linked by tarmac tracks.

Why did she do it, though? Tell those stories, I mean. Weave those inventions? Is it so hard to understand? We have always been story tellers, hooked on language, driven by imagination that, apparently, no other creature on this planet possesses. And we have always striven to make, not a true rendition of reality, but a version of it that supports us with a sense of how things need to be if we are to keep going. Something to help us to survive in a hostile environment. I think my mother could not quite bear association with the poverty she had escaped from and needed something a bit more up-market to leaven her back-story.

Afternote: When going through the family history a couple of years back I made an interesting discovery. It involved, not Scotland, but Australia. Apparently, a distant relation of Grandad had emigrated there in “dubious” circumstances and rumour had it that he made a small fortune. When he died, without direct heirs, there was talk of the estate belonging to whomever could prove sufficient familial link. And Grandad had in his possession a box that contained letters which could have provided that proof. But Grandad wanted nothing to do with this man or his fortune.

So maybe Mum was not inventing quite as much as we assumed.

#stories #heritage

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nightbringer24 · 5 years

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+++ Thought for the day: Be strong in your ignorance. +++

To fight your enemy, you must first know your enemy. That is basic truth, and the purpose of the Inquisition.

Ever since my first sighting of the forces of the Children of Carrion, and my subsequent hunt for them across the Segmentums Pacificus and Tempestus, I have endeavored to learn all I can about my foe. Naturally, their leadership was the first choice.

And yet... I find myself stymied. This is not an admission of failing, but an admission of fact.

To explain; the leader of the warband has been identified and is known to me. He is known as Ephialtes, the Thrice-Cursed, the Carrion King, the Lord of Corpses and the Father. He is enigmatic; in the fashion of the followers of Nurgle, he is shown to have amassed a large following of those afflicted by the pestilence of the Chaos deity of plague. He openly refers to them as his ‘children’ for those who are, or were, human, mutants and abhumans included. To other fallen Astartes, he lauds them as ‘brothers’. In the dead warzones of Argollis, he was sighted to be present at every major breakthrough attempt by Militarum forces against the warband (although it be right to call them a ‘legion’ now, given their size), loudly extolling his followers to fight on in ‘Father Nurgle’s name’, and also, for him. Not him as a leader of men would, or an officer directing loyal troops, but like a father giving praise and support to a child.

But in combat, even wearing what can only be called a decrepit suit of ancient Cataphractii Tactical Dreadnought armour, the Traitor Astartes identified as Ephialtes is akin to a Leman Russ. He’s slow, loud and ungainly in his approach, especially when accompanied by his retinue of fell Terminators, but once engaged in combat, using his large Plaguereaper-class scythe (See appendix: Weapons and Wargear of Warband ident. Children of Carrion), he is a monster, to use no small a term. Plasteel, adamantium, ceramite, flak armour. He will cut through all. The last pict recording I was privy to showed him felling a trio of Primaris Reivers from the Blood Angels Adeptus Astartes chapter alone. The Astartes gave a good accounting of themselves, as I said so in the missive I sent to their respective chapter command, but they were but wheat before the reaper’s scythe.

But, while his wargear marks him as one of the Traitors that laud themselves as ‘Veterans of the Long War’... I feel that may not be the case. Through my own study and several proxies acting on my behalf studying restricted archives on Holy Terra on the subject, I cannot find any Legionnaire of the Death Guard legion that used the name ‘Ephialtes’, either Terran-born or born of Barbarus. Several names come close, but due to the fragmentary nature of the information from the Heresy, it is hard to verify whether any of those names are in fact connected to the warlord calling himself Ephialtes. Which raises several questions: is this a legionnaire from the days of the Heresy who affected a name change to destroy an old connection of the Imperium, or is this traitor from a Renegade chapter and became lord? Does the name belong to another warlord and is simply passed from successor to successor?

I don’t feel that I will know until the traitor is brought to heel.

In any case: I judge the Traitor Astartes identified as Ephialtes be judged as ‘PRIMARIS LEVEL THREAT - VERMILION’. Use extreme caution when engaging.

Lo and behold! He is finally done!

TWO YEARS! TWO fucking years this guy has been sitting on my shelf in various stages of painting and now he’s finally done. And he looks glorious!

I really do like the Lord of Contagion model, since to me, it really encapsulates the ‘decaying knight’ aesthetic the Death Guard have about them. Like this guy could have easily been something noble and inspiring to see back in his heyday, but now, all he brings is fear, disease and death.

I mainly used a washes over drybrushed layers for the armour (Steel Legion Drab base, then Flayed One Flesh drycoat, wash with Biel-Tan Green). The bronze and metal bits were regular paint jobs, although I did use Vallejo Mecha Light Rust Wash to rust up the Leadbelcher bits, and the censors were done with a Deepkin Flesh (I think?) basecoat, then a wash of Biel-Tran Green, and I went over that with Hexwraith Flame technical paint. The cloak was Rakarth Flesh base, then a wash of Agrax Earthshade and a layer of Ulthuan Grey.

The helmet is an ode to the first battle I used him in against a force of Blood Angels. He did kill three Primaris Reivers by himself, but I don’t have any Primaris Reiver helmets, so I had to go with a regular Primaris Marine head instead.

So fucking glad this model is finally finished. Now I just have to do the other 200+ models...

#ciaran paints #warhammer 40k #chaos #nurgle #chaos space marines #death guard #lord of contagion #the children of carrion #children of carrion #my models

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babbelcause · 5 years

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I’ve been tagged by @barentsz to show 9 albums I’ve been listening to lately, oh boy...

I’ve been doing a lot of DIY lately and decided to dig deeper into my current Mark Knopfler thing and listened to his post-Dire Straits music in the background. So...

The recording of his concert in Antwerp on 22/06/2019, which I attended

Sailing to Philadelphia (not just the song but the full album)

Get Lucky (Border Reiver <3)

Golden Heart

The Ragpicker’s Dream (of which I liked Why Aye Man)

Privateering

Down the Road Wherever

... Then the half album of the Best of Bowie I had on my phone

... And probably the half album of Franz Ferdinand’s Tonight I also happen to have on my phone?

My conclusion so far is that Knopfler does his thing and he does it well. Not every song is unforgetable, but I’d be hard-pressed to find one I really don’t like.

#thank you dear #also dear users in the comment section of the videos I linked :#nobody cares what you think of what you think of ''today's music''

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roxsannel · 3 years

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Thunder On The Moor by Andrea Matthews.

This is a tale of Scotland vs England in the 16th Century but with a 20th Century twist, Maggie Armstrong is a strong willed young woman, she takes after her dad for that one, it isn’t surprising because she was brought up on tales of his past, of the Border Reivers and their adventures, including an old picture of a portrait from the time, without knowing exactly how long ago his past actually was. It is summertime and Maggie wants to go to a dig in the USA, but her dad feels that it is time to go to Scotland with her, he says it is to meet his family, but she thinks it is just another archeological dig, but she can’t understand why she has to dress the part as well when they get to their destination. That is until he says that they are going back to the 16th Century and when all hell breaks loose with wind, sparks of light and then a calm which is broken by some scottish voices hailing them from a distance on horseback with an Englishman thrown over one of their saddles.

As the riders approach them, one of the recognises her father and dismounts to give him a bear hug and then she is introduced to them, in all the excitement the Englishman escapes the groups clutches, but he is allowed to go for now, there is more excitement to be had with the prodigal son returning after all this time and as they set off to her dad's ancestral home, it finally sinks in that Maggie is indeed in the 16th Century and so far, it is just like her father described, the deciding fact is that she sees the spitting image of the man from the portrait in her fathers book, she almost goes to where she has spotted him until her father pulls her back and reminds her of the dangers surrounding her.

As Maggie becomes more acquainted with the immediate family, it is decided that a celebration is in order and the whole of the family is invited and there are a lot of them there, but one in particular catches Maggie’s eye and she catches his at the same time, so they are introduced by a cousin as Ian Rutherford and they spend the evening talking to each other and spending time together, but this doesn’t go unnoticed by her father or her uncle. As time passes, they seem keen on each other and as the time dictates, Ian asks for permission to court Maggie and also to begin the process for a betrothal, this is a bit much for Maggie and she starts to protest as her 20th Century independence balks at the idea of it, however, as time goes on, she slowly comes to the realisation that these two worlds are making it hard to respect the families decisions and this is made even harder when she runs into the dashing Englishman and he introduces himself as Bonnie Will Foster.

As time progresses, Maggie is torn between her feelings for Ian and Will and as the Reiver life throws a tragic event into her life, she is overcome with grief and is pulled every which way she could be as she encounters lies, betrayal and blood feuds rage, but will she be able to overcome the events of border life and make the choices she needs to, or will her heart be broken again and again? This is a tale filled with passion, grief, revelations and danger at every turn, but a page turner for sure.

#journey of a lifetime #chronic illness #invisible illness #cvid #common variable immunodeficiency #zebra #zebra strong #fibromyalgia #spoonie #spoonie life #spoonie reads

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serialstudentkiller-blog · 6 years

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Writers of Literature

Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde (16 October 1854 – 30 November 1900) was an Irish poet and playwright. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, he became one of London's most popular playwrights in the early 1890s. He is best remembered for his epigrams and plays, his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, as well as the circumstances of his imprisonment and early death.

Wilde's parents were successful Anglo-Irish intellectuals in Dublin. Their son became fluent in French and German early in life. At university, Wilde read Greats; he proved himself to be an outstanding classicist, first at Dublin, then at Oxford. He became known for his involvement in the rising philosophy of aestheticism, led by two of his tutors, Walter Pater and John Ruskin. After university, Wilde moved to London into fashionable cultural and social circles.

As a spokesman for aestheticism, he tried his hand at various literary activities: he published a book of poems, lectured in the United States and Canada on the new "English Renaissance in Art", and then returned to London where he worked prolifically as a journalist. Known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress and glittering conversational skill, Wilde became one of the best-known personalities of his day. At the turn of the 1890s, he refined his ideas about the supremacy of art in a series of dialogues and essays, and incorporated themes of decadence, duplicity, and beauty into what would be his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890). The opportunity to construct aesthetic details precisely, and combine them with larger social themes, drew Wilde to write drama. He wrote Salome (1891) in French while in Paris but it was refused a licence for England due to an absolute prohibition on the portrayal of Biblical subjects on the English stage. Unperturbed, Wilde produced four society comedies in the early 1890s, which made him one of the most successful playwrights of late-Victorian London.

At the height of his fame and success, while The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) was still being performed in London, Wilde had the Marquess of Queensberry prosecuted for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel trial unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and trial for gross indecency with men. After two more trials he was convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labour, the maximum penalty, and was jailed from 1895 to 1897. During his last year in prison, he wrote De Profundis (published posthumously in 1905), a long letter which discusses his spiritual journey through his trials, forming a dark counterpoint to his earlier philosophy of pleasure. Upon his release, he left immediately for France, never to return to Ireland or Britain. There he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a long poem commemorating the harsh rhythms of prison life. He died destitute in Paris at the age of 46.

Eric Arthur Blair (25 June 1903 – 21 January 1950), better known by his pen name George Orwell, was an English novelist, essayist, journalist, and critic. His work is marked by lucid prose, awareness of social injustice, opposition to totalitarianism, and outspoken support of democratic socialism.

Orwell wrote literary criticism, poetry, fiction, and polemical journalism. He is best known for the allegorical novella Animal Farm (1945) and the dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949). His non-fiction works, including The Road to Wigan Pier (1937), documenting his experience of working class life in the north of England, and Homage to Catalonia (1938), an account of his experiences in the Spanish Civil War, are widely acclaimed, as are his essays on politics, literature, language, and culture. In 2008, The Times ranked him second on a list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".

Orwell's work continues to influence popular and political culture, and the term Orwellian – descriptive of totalitarian or authoritarian social practices – has entered the language together with many of his neologisms, including Big Brother, Thought Police, Room 101, memory hole, newspeak, doublethink, proles, unperson, and thoughtcrime.

William Cuthbert Faulkner September 25, 1897 – July 6, 1962) was an American writer and Nobel Prizelaureate from Oxford, Mississippi. Faulkner wrote novels, short stories, a play, poetry, essays, and screenplays. He is primarily known for his novels and short stories set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County, based on Lafayette County, Mississippi, where he spent most of his life.

Faulkner is one of the most celebrated writers in American literature generally and Southern literature specifically. Though his work was published as early as 1919, and largely during the 1920s and 1930s, Faulkner was not widely known until receiving the 1949 Nobel Prize in Literature, for which he became the only Mississippi-born Nobel winner. Two of his works, A Fable (1954) and his last novel The Reivers (1962), won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. In 1998, the Modern Library ranked his 1929 novel The Sound and the Fury sixth on its list of the 100 best English-language novels of the 20th century; also on the list were As I Lay Dying (1930) and Light in August (1932). Absalom, Absalom! (1936) appears on similar lists. His first published story, "A Rose for Emily", is one of the most famous an American has written.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910), better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American writer, humorist, entrepreneur, publisher, and lecturer. Among his novels are The Adventures of Tom Sawyer(1876) and its sequel, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885), the latter often called "The Great American Novel".

Twain was raised in Hannibal, Missouri, which later provided the setting for Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. He served an apprenticeship with a printer and then worked as a typesetter, contributing articles to the newspaper of his older brother Orion Clemens. He later became a riverboat pilot on the Mississippi River before heading west to join Orion in Nevada. He referred humorously to his lack of success at mining, turning to journalism for the Virginia City Territorial Enterprise. His humorous story, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County", was published in 1865, based on a story that he heard at Angels Hotel in Angels Camp, California where he had spent some time as a miner. The short story brought international attention and was even translated into French.His wit and satire, in prose and in speech, earned praise from critics and peers, and he was a friend to presidents, artists, industrialists, and European royalty.

Twain earned a great deal of money from his writings and lectures, but he invested in ventures that lost most of it—notably the Paige Compositor, a mechanical typesetter that failed because of its complexity and imprecision. He filed for bankruptcy in the wake of these financial setbacks, but he eventually overcame his financial troubles with the help of Henry Huttleston Rogers. He chose to pay all his pre-bankruptcy creditors in full, even after he had no legal responsibility to do so.

Twain was born shortly after an appearance of Halley's Comet, and he predicted that he would "go out with it" as well; he died the day after the comet returned. He was lauded as the "greatest humorist this country has produced",and William Faulkner called him "the father of American literature".

Joseph Conrad Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski; 3 December 1857 – 3 August 1924) was a Polish-British writer regarded as one of the greatest novelists to write in the English language. He joined the British merchant marine in 1878, and was granted British citizenship in 1886. Though he did not speak English fluently until his twenties, he was a master prose stylist who brought a non-English sensibility into English literature.He wrote stories and novels, many with a nautical setting, that depict trials of the human spirit in the midst of an impassive, inscrutable universe.

Conrad is considered an early modernist, though his works still contain elements of 19th-century realism.His narrative style and anti-heroic characters have influenced numerous authors, and many films have been adapted from, or inspired by, his works.

Writing in the heyday of the British Empire, Conrad drew on, among other things, his native Poland's national experiences and his own experiences in the French and British merchant navies, to create short stories and novels that reflect aspects of a European-dominated world —including imperialism and colonialism —and that profoundly explore the human psyche. @maamdoralakwatsera

#homework

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40k-stats-for-everything · 7 years

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(Image source: http://metroid.wikia.com/wiki/File:3DS_MetroidSamusReturns_char_01.png)

Up next is the galaxy’s greatest bounty hunter – well, her galaxy’s greatest, at any rate, and a strong contender in the others – Metroid’s Samus Aran! This build represents a late-game Samus at the height of her power; as such, she’s a relatively low-cost Lord of War, both to represent her status as a one-woman army and to make her relatively simple to slot into a Battle-forged army. (If you’re interested in a lower-power version of Samus, let me know, and I’ll post a version of her in her regular Power Suit and go through how the various upgrades she has boost her up to her current stats.)

Samus’s primary weapon is the cannon mounted on her right arm. Its variety of firing modes lets her take on pretty much any target: spazer beams for light infantry hordes, wave beams for cover-hugging medium infantry, plasma beams for multi-wound heavy infantry and light vehicles, homing missiles for flyers and other hard-to-hit targets, and charge beams and super missiles for heavy armor. She also has a really nasty trick that synergizes with the rest of your army’s heavy hitters in the form of her ice beam – successfully tag a big multi-wound model with this, and you’ll paint a massive target on it, as the FROSTBITTEN keyword makes it much easier for the rest of your army to hurt. And if it somehow survives your shooting and melee, the FROZEN keyword renders it locked down and harmless until the start of your next turn! Samus is definitely a ranged fighter first and foremost, but she’s no slouch in melee either: her bombs let her take on hordes almost as well as the spazer beam, while her screw attack is essentially a melee version of her plasma beam.

Because Samus is carting around a planet’s worth of Chozo artifacts, she’s got an impressively long list of Abilities. Varia Suit and Energy Absorption help Samus’s Primarch-level nine Wounds stretch even further, making her cussedly hard to put down (especially given the CHARACTER targeting rules that she just barely qualifies for). Scan Visor helps ensure the effectiveness of her attacks, while Gunship Teleporter lets you put her exactly where you want to maximize her firepower. Grapple Beam, Space Jump and Speed Booster grant her huge mobility; the first lets her ignore vertical distance when moving, the second lets her jump over models and leave melee without consequence at her discretion (while protecting her from anti-air fire during turns she isn’t actively bouncing around), and the third lets her reliably cross 12” of battlefield while still keeping up a relatively-accurate stream of fire from the suite of Assault weapons that makes up her arm cannon. Finally, Power Bomb dumps a one-shot pile of mortal wounds on anything within 6”, for those times when you really just need to take a bite out of the enemy’s battle line.

MODELING SUGGESTIONS: Unfortunately, Nintendo doesn’t make any Metroid-related Micro Land or Monopoly Gamer figures (though maybe that will change after Samus Returns comes out?), so you’re going to have to get creative if you want a Samus miniature. (Personally, I found something on Thingiverse and 3D printed it: https://www.thingiverse.com/thing:1057520) Combining parts from the new Primaris Reiver and Intercessor kits could give you a decent starting point, if you don’t mind your Samus being a bit on the tall side. Some of the various power armored models from Infinity could also provide a nice base to work from.

MATCHED PLAY:

#wh40k8e #metroid #lord of war #unaligned #samus aran

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isolationshepherd-blog · 7 years

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CHAPTER ONE – AN ENCOUNTER

September 1574, The Scottish Borders

Darkness had fallen and the temperature of the early autumn day had dropped quickly. A cold, dank mist rose from the burn they were following and shrouded the carriage, its ghostly fingers reaching in through the open windows, caressing the occupants huddled inside. Lady Abigail Griffin shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The mist had penetrated the core of her being; it was like being embraced by the dead. She was annoyed because they shouldn’t have been out on this road so late into the evening. One of their horses had slipped its shoe and it had taken the groomsman two hours to find it and re-shoe the beast. As a consequence, when she should have been safe in the relative warmth of Arkholm tower, she was quivering with the cold, and her husband refused to sit near her to warm her. He was seated opposite, deep in conversation with her father about cattle or grain or she didn’t know what. Their heads were close together and they were whispering. Clearly, they either didn’t want her to know what they were talking about, or they thought it above her head. She was forty years old, but she might as well have been sixteen the way they treated her. Not that she should expect anything less, it was the way of the world, and she should accept her place in it. Unfortunately, accepting things without questioning was not the way Abigail Griffin went about life, and that had got her into a deal of trouble in the past. She supposed that was how she had ended up married to Lord Alasdair Griffin of Arkholm, the infamous head of Clan Griffin, ruthless businessman, feared Laird, Lord of everything, including her. She had got the husband she deserved, or so her late mother had delighted in telling her. It hadn’t always been like that. This was Abigail’s second marriage, her first being to Alasdair’s older brother, Jacob, but he had died only four years into their marriage, and the younger brother had inherited his estate and all that came with it, including his widow.

They were on their way south to Arkholm from the market in Edinburgh, where they’d sold fifty head of cattle and bought a new bullock and ten heifers, young cows to be used for breeding. The trip was near eighty miles there and back, and had required an overnight stay. Alasdair had tempted her to attend with him by promising a gathering, and a chance to meet the wives of other clansmen allied with the Griffin clan. She should have known better than to trust him. He’d wanted her there purely to distract the other Heidsmen, eleven clan heads, mostly old and rheumy-eyed. She was to wear her low-cut gown that pushed her breasts together and left little to the imagination, and flirt with them so they didn’t realise that he was shafting them on the price until it was too late. It had worked, of course, because she still had a good body, and she could turn on the charm if she had to. She didn’t like it, but she had no choice. A wife does not go against her husband in sixteenth century Scotland. Would there ever be a time when a woman could be mistress of her own home, with no man to control her? Not in her lifetime, or even that of her only child, Clarke, a girl as wilful as Abigail but cleverer about it. She was Jacob’s child, and had his looks but not his gentle temperament. In that, she was all Abigail’s daughter. Somehow, she had managed to charm Alasdair and was the apple of his eye, although Abigail knew the true spirit of the girl behind the golden hair, blue eyes and innocent smile, and she celebrated it, even though it meant that she and Clarke had a difficult relationship. They were too alike for peace to reign for long.

The road they were on, Dere Street, was the only road between Edinburgh and England that was wide enough to take a carriage and four horses. It was an old Roman road, and as straight as Alasdair was crooked. The road lay close to Arkholm, the ancestral seat of the Griffin family, and was right in the middle of the disputed border territory between Scotland and England, land that had been fought over for two centuries. Dere Street was also a notorious target for Reivers - raiders and thieves who roamed the countryside of the border, stealing cattle and anything else they could get their hands on, raping women, killing anyone who got in their way. Being out after dark on such a road was not to be recommended, and Abigail was shivering not just with cold, but also fear. She didn’t frighten easily, but the reivers were lawless, cruel and brutal. They might not be content with stealing her jewels and the cattle.

She looked out of the window as the carriage rumbled along the poorly-surfaced road. There was nothing to see except the dark night and the pale mist. She breathed it in, let it penetrate her lungs and numb her senses, not that it would make much difference. She was cold inside anyway, as Alasdair always said. Stiff, frigid, lifeless. Lady Abigail Griffin, colder than the north wind that blew over the bleak moors and made life so hard. Would she ever be warm again?

Outside the carriage, and unseen by its occupants or the clansmen who accompanied their journey back to Arkholm, shapes were forming and then disappearing, like wisps of the cold air. They moved silently, creeping, bent low to the ground, hidden by the rushes and tussocks of heather that flanked the road. As a sliver of moon appeared briefly from behind a cloud, it illuminated the shapes and revealed them to be men, many with faces blackened by mud. Other shapes took form, quivers of bright-feathered arrows, swords with polished blades glinting in the moonlight. Behind them, a row of ponies, no more than fourteen hands high, with copper brown coats and black legs, stood patiently, chewing at the heather and blaeberry. They were silent too; only the breath from their nostrils gave their presence away as it mingled in the air. They were bred for this, they knew what to do.

The carriage trundled on, its wheels slowly turning, taking it closer and closer to its fate. At a sign from one of the men, a sword lifted high into the air so that the moonlight reflected from it like a beacon, the men ran forward, near twenty of them, shouting and crying into the night. The carriage horses were startled, and reared up. The procession of carriage, cattle and men came to a shuddering halt.

Inside, Lady Abigail, her husband, and father held on to the wooden sides of the vehicle, fear on all their faces. Abigail knew instantly what it meant. Her worst fears were coming true. The shouts of the men outside were so loud it sounded like there were hundreds of them. She looked across to Alasdair and her father. They were gathering papers and coin. Alasdair opened a hidden compartment in the floor and stuffed the treasure inside.

“What about my jewellery?” She started to take off the gold necklace Jacob had given her on their wedding day but Alasdair held a hand out towards her.

“No. We need to give them something.”

“And it has to be what belongs to me?”

“It is not worth so much as the money and the deeds.”

Abigail looked at him. “It is to me.”

Alasdair dismissed her concerns with a turn of his back, and faced the carriage door, no doubt preparing himself for whatever was to come.

Abigail fingered the necklace, turning the cross over and over in her hand, feeling its pointed edges, the smooth pearls and sharp gemstones that dotted the four corners. She’d worn this for twenty years. It was a symbol of everything she’d been through, her hopes and dreams as a young woman newly married, the all-consuming love she felt when Clarke was born, the sadness when there could never be another child, and the despair that had crept over her as the years went on. It was her life, and her husband, the brother of the man who had given it to her, had turned his back on it all. The thought of losing it brought tears to her eyes, but she fought them back. She would not let Alasdair see her crying.

From outside the carriage came the sounds of fighting, the clash of swords, the cries of men, the moans of the dying. Abigail threw off her cloak. She still had on the gown she’d worn at the gathering, as the party had lasted until the early hours and they’d left for home straight after. It was a pale blue silk, with gold and silver thread woven within it so that it shimmered as she walked. The bodice was cut low to reveal the firm swell of her breasts. It was a dress designed to bring attention to its wearer. She realised this was probably not a good thing in this situation, but she wanted her arms to be free to fight, to the death if necessary. The reivers weren’t going to take her easily.

The door to the carriage was ripped open and an arm reached in and grabbed the nearest person which was Alasdair, dragging him out so that he was sprawled on the road. Her father was next, and Abigail suppressed a cry as he landed hard on the dirt. He was old, and frail, and as cruel as he could sometimes be, she loved him. She took a deep breath as the arm reached for her. A large hand closed easily around her small wrist, and then hesitated. A face appeared in the doorway, dark hair, dark eyes, scruffy beard. The man looked her up and down.

“Ye’re a woman,” he said, in the soft Scottish lilt of the Borderers.

“Last time I looked, yes.” Abigail berated herself internally for that quip. She couldn’t help herself, never learned to just keep quiet. Well, what will be, will be, she thought.

The man frowned, soft lines appearing in his dirty forehead, and then he laughed.

“Look often do ye?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Perhaps not.” He rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip as he contemplated her. “I’m going to have to ask ye to come outside.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“That depends on whether ye give me what I want.”

Abigail shuddered. His words were threatening, but his voice was gentle, amused almost. It confused her, but she didn’t trust him.

“Kane!” A rough voice rang through the night. “What are ye playing at, man, bring him out.”

“It’s not a man, it’s a lass,” said the dark-haired man, and he held his hand out to Abigail, to help her down the steps of the carriage.

She emerged into a scene from hell. Two of her guardsmen lay dead on the ground. The rest were on their knees along with her father and Alasdair. Five huge men, with blackened faces and shining eyes, were standing over the captured men, swords held aloft, as though at the apex of a downstroke that could take the heads off the men in one fell swoop.

Abigail cried out. “Don’t hurt my father!”

A smaller man with sharp eyes, and brown hair slicked back from his forehead, stepped forward. He seemed so young, barely out of his teens. He looked Abigail up and down and then leaned in close to her.

“Ye’re in no position to tell us what to do,” he whispered in a cold voice. He touched Abigail’s necklace, cold fingers grazing her chest deliberately. She felt Kane’s hand tighten on her arm. The younger man turned the necklace over, examining it. He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin.

“I think I’ll have this,” he said and ripped the necklace from her. Abigail looked despairingly at Alasdair, to gain his help, but he had his head bowed and wasn’t looking at her.

“And this,” continued the young man, indicating Abigail with a nod of his head. “Maybe I’ll have this as well.”

He turned to Kane. “She’s a little on the old side, but I’m sure I can get it up, if I think of someone else.”

He took hold of Abigail’s other arm and pulled her towards him. Kane pulled her back and for a moment she was caught in a tug of war between the two men.

“I’m sure ye could, Murphy,” said Kane, “but ye’re not going to get the chance.”

“Fancy her yourself, do ye? I suppose she is more your age.”

“That’s right,” replied Kane. “I found her. She’s mine. Prepare the cattle and fetch the horses while I am gone.”

He pulled Abigail roughly over to the side of the road, and into the tall rushes beyond, where they were hidden from the men’s view. She stumbled on the uneven ground, her stomach lurching when she thought she was going to fall but Kane still had hold of her arm and he kept her upright, for the moment.

As they moved further into the brush she could hear the burn bubbling close by. She wondered how quickly she could get to it; she’d rather drown than let this man and no doubt all the others have their way with her. They reached a small clearing of tussock grass and ferns. Kane stopped, and let go of her arm.

“Lie down.” His voice was firm, commanding.

“I’m not going to help you defile me. If you want me, you’ll have to push me down.” Abigail was biding time while she thought of an escape route. If she could get a head start on him, she could disappear into the dark, maybe swim across the burn, hide in the tall reedmace that flanked its western side. She started to turn in that direction, her body poised to run. Kane was quicker than her, though. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist again, pulling her in so fast she ended up pressed hard against him. She could smell him, an earthy scent, as smoky and rich as the peat that surrounded them. With his wild beard and unkempt hair he seemed untamed, like the wolves that roamed the moors, but his eyes were different, a deep brown, and sparkling with intelligence. They bored into her now as he spoke.

“I’m not going to defile ye. But we need to make the others think I have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ye need tae lie down and get yer skirts dirty, otherwise they won’t believe I had ye.”

Abigail was confused; was this some kind of ruse? But why would he bother? If he wanted her, he could just push her down and take her; he was certainly strong enough to do it.

“Are you one of those men?” She knew of men who lay only with men. There were a couple of them in her household. No one talked about it, but it wasn’t forbidden.

Kane laughed. “Nae, lass. I just don’t get my thrills from taking women against their will.” He leaned in close to her. “I don’t need to.”

“What about the other men? Won’t they want their turn?”

“The men will listen to me. I’ve said ye’re mine, and they’ll respect that.”

“Are you the Heid of this clan?”

“I’m not the Heid, but I’m the second in command. The men will do as I say. Trust me. Now lie down, wiggle about some.”

Abigail did as he asked, feeling ridiculous as she rolled around in the earth while he stood, arms folded, watching her.

“Is this amusing you?”

He smiled. “Aye. It is. That’s enough now.”

He pulled her back to her feet. She looked down at herself. Her skirts were filthy, her stockings black and caked with mud.

“Two more things,” said Kane, and before she knew what was happening he’d ripped her bodice open, sending the tiny pearl buttons flying in all directions. She gasped and scrambled to hold the dress back together.

“I’m known to be a breast man,” he said, and then he kissed her, hard on the lips, a bruising kiss that sucked all the breath out of her body. After a few seconds that felt like hours, he broke away. He stepped back to look at her, then leaned in to wipe a bead of saliva off her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Now ye look like ye’ve been taken by the Grey Wolf of the Borders.” He laughed, and took her hand, leading her back to the road and the waiting men.

“Wait!”

Kane stopped. “What?”

“Wouldn’t you be dirty as well, if you’d really lain with me?”

Kane frowned. “How do ye mean?”

“Your knees. Your knees would be dirty, from straddling me.” She didn’t know why, but a frisson of excitement ran through her as she said those words.

Kane’s eyes darkened. He looked at her. “Do it, then.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dirty me.”

Abigail hesitated, and then realised that since she had brought this idea up, she had to go through with it. She knelt on the ground before him, and gathered mud in her hands; it was cold and silky between her fingers. She lifted his kilt up a little and smeared his bare knees with the dirt. She looked up at him, her heart beating fast for some reason. He was watching her, his thin lips slightly parted. He didn’t look as cocky as he had a moment before. He held out his hand and helped her stand. She wiped her hands on her already filthy skirt.

“Now you look like you’ve been taken by the Lady of Arkholm,” she said, and ran ahead of him, making sure to stumble and look distressed as she burst through the rushes.

Kane followed behind, a broad smile on his face.

The clouds had parted and the moon was shining fully on the scene. Alasdair and her father were sitting in the road, back to back with their hands tied. The bullock and the heifers they had bought in Edinburgh were in the hands of Kane’s men. Murphy was sat atop a bay-coloured pony, the reins of another horse in his hands.

“That was quick,” he said to Kane.

Kane laughed. “She put up a struggle, ye know how I like that.”

He pushed Abigail forward so that she was in the middle of the road.

Despite the crudeness of his words, Abigail felt grateful to him. He could have made her seem willing, and that would have destroyed her life. Her husband would kill her for dishonouring his name, she had no doubt about that. It had happened to other women.

Kane mounted his horse, a beast with a rich chestnut brown coat and long, dark mane. “Wait until we’re gone before ye release the men,” he directed her.

“You’ll regret this,” shouted Alasdair, as Kane and the men started to move off down the road in the direction of Edinburgh, although she doubted they were going there. They would veer off across the moors at some point, to wherever their camp was.

Kane looked back, and smiled. “I never have so far,” he said, and then he urged his horse forward with a kick of his heels. Abigail watched him go until the darkness swallowed him up.

“Abigail. Get these bonds off us.” Alasdair’s shout brought her back to the present, and she untied the men, checking on her father first. He was dazed and bruised from his fall, but was otherwise unhurt. The carriage had not been damaged and the reivers had left the horses. They had only been interested in the cattle. The three of them resumed their positions in the carriage. Abigail put her cloak on and pulled it tight around her, to hide her bare chest and ripped clothes. She looked at her husband. Alasdair’s mouth was set in a thin line. She considered whether to tell him the truth, that nothing had happened, she had not been defiled. The headstrong, rebellious part of her nature came to the fore, however. Alasdair had done nothing to help her. He didn’t deserve to know the truth, and maybe if he thought she was now spoiled goods he would leave her alone at night. Her decision made, she stared out into the night as the party made its way back to Arkholm, minus four men and their cattle. The bullock in particular had cost a lot of money in addition to what they had made selling their cows. Alasdair would be fuming about the loss. She had no doubt that the reivers would come to regret what they’d done tonight, despite Kane’s arrogant confidence.

After an hour’s travel, with nothing but the clip of the horses’ hooves and the clatter of the wooden wheels to break the silence, Arkholm Tower appeared out of the gloom, perched on the rock it was hewn from, its pale stone walls shining in the moonlight. Arkholm village, which lay a half mile from the tower itself was quiet as they trooped through it, smoke from the chimneys the only sign that the village was occupied. Abigail watched as the tower grew closer. She couldn’t wait to be inside, to get warm and be safe. Looking up, she could just make out the watchmen on the battlements that surrounded the top of the four-storey tower. From their viewpoint, they could see for miles across the moors, south to England, and north to Scotland. Enemies of any kind would be seen long before they could climb the rock and attack the tower. The carriage passed through the barmkin and Abigail was never more relieved to be behind the thick stone walls that protected them from the very types of men they had just encountered on the road. Her head guardsman, Sinclair, came out to greet the carriage. He was shocked to see the state of the occupants.

“What has happened?”

Alasdair alighted, and marched towards the door. “Bloody reivers,” he said and disappeared inside.

Sinclair helped her father down from the carriage and then held out his hand to Abigail. She took it with her left hand; she was trying to hold her cloak together with her right hand to hide the worst of her dress from Sinclair. It did not work; he noticed her disarray immediately. His face darkened.

“Oh.”

Abigail put her hand on his chest for a brief second. “I’m fine, Sinclair. Really. Please don’t worry. Let’s get inside.”

She entered the tower, and a feeling of overwhelming relief washed over her when the heavy wooden door was closed and the yett fastened behind it. The inner iron gate and the outer wooden door were designed to be impenetrable to enemies of all kinds, of which there were many, be they other clans who wanted their land, or reivers, who wanted their cattle and horses. Despite this, Abigail had felt safe all her life until that night. They had suffered raids before but she had never been personally involved, hadn’t understood the terror her men must have felt as they were attacked.

“I’ll get Harper to fetch ye some hot water, Mistress,” said Sinclair.

“Thank you.” The man turned to go down to the cellar. “Oh, Sinclair.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“The reivers who attacked us tonight. They did not seem to be of one clan. Their kilts were of many different plaids and colours.”

“Ah. That sounds like The Hundred.”

“The Hundred? That’s not a clan name. I have never heard of them.”

“They’re a band of outcasts and misfits, My Lady. A more lawless and cruel group of men you could not find. To come away from an encounter with them and have only two dead and…” He hesitated and gestured to her dress. Abigail nodded to show she understood. “Well, we can count ourselves fortunate, My Lady.”

“Thank you. What do you know of their leader?”

“A dark-skinned man? He goes by the name Jaha but it is perhaps not his real name. No one knows what clan he is from.”

“No, he had dark hair and a beard. He was tall, maybe six foot, and slim. His name was Kane.”

Sinclair nodded in recognition of the description. “So, ye met the Grey Wolf of the Borders? He is a legend, Mistress. Marcus Kane, second son of Lord Robert Kane of Weatherton in Dumfriesshire. There are many tales of him.”

“He’s a clansman?” Abigail was astonished. “What is he doing with the reivers?”

“He was cast out, My Lady. No one knows why, though there are rumours it was over a woman, his brother’s wife. Was he the one who did this to you?”

Abigail wrapped her cloak tighter around her. “No. It was not him.”

“Very good. Harper will bring yer hot water when it is ready.”

“Thank you.”

Half an hour later and Abigail was in her bedchamber at the top of the tower. A fire had been lit and she sat in an armchair in front of it as her maid, Harper, washed the worst of the mud from her arms and legs.

“Your dress is ruined, mistress. I dinnae think I can repair it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It was yer favourite.”

“It was Lord Alasdair’s favourite. I brought some cloth back from Edinburgh. The reivers didn’t take it. You can make me a new one.”

The warmth of the fire, and Harper’s gentle caressing of Abigail’s limbs as she ran the cloth over her was lulling her into a reverie. She thought over the events of the night. Why had the man, Kane, saved her? Did he do that to all the women his group encountered, or was it just her? Maybe he didn’t find her attractive and his high breeding made him too polite to say. But then he would have let the other men have her. It was all very confusing. How did a man who had been the equal of her husband in society become a lawless reiver? Why did he choose that path amongst all that must have been available to him?

There were so many questions, and Abigail supposed she would have to be content with never knowing. There was no one she felt safe asking about The Hundred, except Sinclair, and he had told her all he knew. She couldn’t question him too closely about Kane, it would raise his suspicions, and as much as she trusted him, he was her husband’s right hand man, not hers. It wasn’t worth the risk.

The door to her chamber banged open, making Harper and Abigail jump. Alasdair strode in.

“Leave us,” he said to Harper. The girl gathered up the cloth and water bucket and fled the room.

Abigail began to speak. “Alasdair.”

He held up his hand. His green eyes were blazing with anger. “I’m having difficulty looking at you as it is. I don’t want to hear you speak.”

He pulled her towards the bed and shoved her down on it. “I don’t want to have to do this tonight.” He pushed her nightclothes up and spread her legs apart. “I have meetings to hold, deals to be struck. But you have lain with another man, and I must take you back.” He entered her roughly and she stifled a cry. She wasn’t ready; she was never ready. “You are mine.” His thrusts were hard, and fast.

“You are mine.” Another man had said that to her tonight, a man who wasn’t her husband, but who had treated her better than the man who was. She lay back and thought about Marcus Kane, his dark intelligent eyes boring into hers, the roughness of his kiss, which had bruised her lips, the way his fingers had accidentally brushed her breasts when he ripped her bodice open. She closed her eyes to picture him, and felt a small tremor go through her body, like the ones she had sometimes had during her marriage to Jacob, before everything went wrong. Alasdair did not seem to notice, so intent was he on his own pleasure, and for once she was grateful for that. She waited for him to finish, all the time thinking about another man, and realising that she didn’t feel guilty about that at all. Not for a single moment.

Notes

There are extra notes and a lexicon of unusual words on my AO3 site http://archiveofourown.org/works/11014005/chapters/24541341

#kabby #the 100 #marcus kane #abby griffin #smut #fanfic #ff #kabby fanfic #writing #scotland #kilts

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scotianostra · 4 years

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Let's start the day by sending massive 50th birthday wishes to ex Scottish Rugby Player Doddie Weir..

Born George Wilson Weir on this day 1970 in Edinburgh, Doddie was educated at Daniel Stewart's and Melville College and given the school's heritage with the sport, and Doddie's size, it was only natural he would take up the rugby.

After his education finished he played for Stewart's Melville FP, the FP stands for former pupil, he then went on to play for Melrose in the Scottish Borders, and was part of the team that won six Scottish club championships.

He later moved to England in 1995 to join the Newcastle Falcons, helping them win the Premiership in 1998.

Lock Weir was capped 61 times by Scotland, and was part of the victorious Lions tour to South Africa in 1997.

And while it put a stop to Doddie’s usually hectic schedule of appearances and dinners, the 61-times capped Scotland internationalist has enjoyed spending time at home with his family.

A big favourite with the Murrayfield crowd, the 6ft 6in lock was famously described by the late ommentator Bill McLaren as as being "on the charge like a mad giraffe".

Scottish Rugby today have inducted into Scottish Rugby's Hall of Fame. I just watched Doddie being interviewed on Breakfast TV and he is looking a lot better than his last few appearances, so this lock down is certainly been good for him, raking through the many articles about him though has brought a tear of sadness as he prepares for the inevitable Doddie has signed a "Do Not Resuscitate" document.

Doddie explained "As a bloke you just think 'I'm fine', but with this that's not quite the case. Basically it's a muscle wasting disease and that's how in the later life of MND it's horrific because you need help everywhere.

"Basically your muscles in your legs disappear so you can't walk; you can't really eat, and then your muscles within your speech disappear so you can't speak; you can't swallow and can't breath so it's horrific what happens.

"...."But it's such a debilitating condition and there's nothing out there that can help any patient with MND.

In February this year Doddie said his decision to refuse potentially lifesaving CPR came after a tough chat with his sons Hamish, 18, Angus, 17, and Ben, 15. "I’ve had to talk to them about DNR. We’ve just signed a document for that at the moment, which isn’t easy.”

He added: “You just have to be honest and open and they took it really well.”

You can read more about and donate to Doddie's charity foundation here https://www.myname5doddie.co.uk/about

#scotland #scottish #sportsman #gentleman #birthday #rugby union

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mrcoreymonroe · 5 years

Text

2019 Minor League Roster Predictions

Every year I do this, and every year it’s hard. Still, the exercise is fun and I can’t wait to see where all of these players end up to start the season in 2019. Cheers!

Triple-A Scranton Wilkes-Barre

C: Kyle Higashioka 1B: Mike Ford 2B: Thairo Estrada SS: Tyler Wade 3B: Mandy Alvarez LF: Zack Zehner RF: Clint Frazier CF: Trey Amburgey DH: Ryan McBroom UTIL: Billy Fleming

SP1: Chance Adams SP2: Michael King SP3: Jonathan Loaisiga SP4: Domingo Acevedo SP5: Brian Keller SP6/Swingman: Nestor Cortes RP: J.P. Feyereisen RP: Raynel Espinal RP: Joe Harvey RP: David Sosebee RP: James Reeves

Double-A Trenton

C: Jorge Saez 1B: Chris Gittens 2B: Diego Castillo SS: Kyle Holder 3B: Hoy Jun Park LF: Ben Ruta CF: Estevan Florial RF: Alexander Palma DH/UTIL: Brandon Wagner UTIL: Gosuke Katoh UTIL: Angel Aguilar OF: Isiah Gilliam

SP1: Garrett Whitlock SP2: Nick Nelson SP3: Albert Abreu SP4: Trevor Stephen SP5: Adonis Rosa RP: Phillip Diehl RP: Will Carter RP: Trevor Lane RP: Andrew Schwaab RP: Matt Wivinis RP: Matt Frawley

High-A Tampa

C: Donny Sands C: Jason Lopez 1B: Steven Sensley 2B: Oswaldo Cabrera SS: Wilkerman Garcia 3B: Dermis Garcia LF: Leonardo Molina CF: Pablo Olivares RF: Carlos Vidal DH: Chris Hess UTIL: Ricky Surum UTIL: David Metzgar

SP1: Deivi Garcia SP2: Rony Garcia SP3: Clarke Schmidt SP4: Janson Junk SP5: JP Sears SP6/Swingman: Reiver Sanmartin RP: Kyle Zurak RP: Daniel Ramos RP: Austin DeCarr RP: Luis Cedeno RP: Braden Bristo RP: Dalton Higgins RP: Anderson Severino RP: Daniel Alvarez

Low-A Charleston

C: Josh Breaux C: Anthony Siegler 1B: Mickey Gasper 2B: Ezequiel Duran SS: Eduardo Torrealba 3B: Nelson Gomez LF: Antonio Cabello CF: Everson Perreira RF: Canaan Smith DH: Miguel Flames SS/2B: Jesus Bastidas 3B/1B: Andres Chaparro 1B/3B: Eric Wagaman OF: Evan Alexander OF: Frederick Cuevas OF: Juan De Leon

SP1: Roansy Contreras SP2: Glenn Otto SP3: Harold Cortijo SP4: Frank German SP5: Rodney Hutchinson SP6/Swingman: Miguel Yajure First man up with callup: Alex Mauricio Second man up with callup: Matt Sauer RP: Shawn Semple RP: Jio Orozco RP: Nolan Martinez RP: Daniel Bies RP: Brooks Kriske RP: Garrett Mundell RP: Ron Marinaccio RP: Kyle Johnson RP: Austin Gardner RP: Aaron McGarity

Short Season Low-A Staten Island – NOTE: Many of these guys will end up being call-ups to Low-A Charleston prior to the short season leagues starting. Also, the draft will happen prior to the short season leagues starting, so inevitably that will change who goes where. For now, I’m listing them here as a placeholder. Therefore, I’m also listing seven SP here.

C: Saul Torres C: Carlos Narvaez 1B: Carlos Tatis 2B: Kyle Gray SS: Oswald Peraza 3B: Jose Villa LF: Robert Javier CF: Raimfer Salinas RF: Brandon Lockridge UTIL: Jesus Graterol UTIL: Matt Pita UTIL: Mitchell Robinson UTIL: Daniel Barrios OF: Jordan Scott OF Junior Soto OF: Alex Junior

SP1: Tanner Myatt SP2: Luis Gil SP3: Luis Medina SP4: Yoendrys Gomez SP5: Juan Then SP6: Pedro Barrios SP7: Barrett Loseke RP: Abel Duarte RP: Josh Maciejewski RP: Wellington Diaz RP: Brett Morales RP: Jhonatan Munoz RP: Marcus Evey RP: Justin Wilson RP: Yoiber Marquina RP: Tony Hernandez

Pulaski Yankees

C Antonio Gomez C Alex Guerrero 1B: Gabriel Mora 2B: Angel Rojas SS: Roberto Chirinos 3B: Jose Martinez LF: Ryder Green CF: Kevin Alcantara RF: Anthony Garcia DH/OF: Jesus Severino OF: Alexander Santana OF: Stanley Rosario UTIL: Borinquen Mendez UTIL: Asdrubal Herrera UTIL: Brayan Jimenez

SP1: Osiel Rodriguez SP2: Denny Larrondo SP3: Alexander Vizcaino SP4: Pedro Espinola SP5: Deivi Diaz SP6/Swingman: Carlos D. Rodriguez RP: Nelvin Correa RP: Abismael Villaman RP: Luis Ojeda RP: Jairo Garcia RP: Alex Mejia RP: Edward Paredes RP: Tyler Johnson RP: Keegan Curtis RP: Kyle Johnson RP: Charlie Ruegger

GCL Yankees

C: Enyerberth Ascanio C: Juan Crisp C: Hemmanuel Rosario C: Augustine Ramirez 1B: Sandy Mota 1B: Starlin Paulino 1B: Carlos Moreno 2B: Luis Santos 2B: Matt McGarry 2B: Carlos Verdecia SS: Sincere Smith SS: Miguel Marte SS: Ronny Rojas SS: Alexander Vargas 3B: Deivi Munoz 3B: Dionys Vallejo 3B: Griffin Garabito OF: Alan Mejia OF: Madison Santos OF: Anthony Valenzuela OF: Nelson Medina OF: Isaiah Pasteur OF: Mauro Bonifacio

SP: Elvis Peguero SP: Nestor Oronel SP: Kenily Montas SP: Leonardo Pestana SP: Anyelo Luna SP: Denny Larrondo SP: Juan Carela SP: Blas Castano SP: Alfred Vega SP: Yon Castro SP: Angel Obando SP: Carlos Gomez SP: Cristian Sumoza SP: Thowar Martinez SP: Anderson Munoz RP: Randy Vazquez RP: Nick Ernst RP: Derek Craft RP: Mick Vorhof RP: Connor Van Hoose RP: Blakely Brown RP: Sean Boyle RP: Jackson Bertsch RP: Reid Anderson RP: Felix Alonzo RP: Diego Cordero

from Bronx Baseball Daily https://ift.tt/2QZa3rz

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mrcoreymonroe · 5 years

Text

2019 Minor League Roster Predictions

Every year I do this, and every year it’s hard. Still, the exercise is fun and I can’t wait to see where all of these players end up to start the season in 2019. Cheers!

Triple-A Scranton Wilkes-Barre

C: Kyle Higashioka 1B: Mike Ford 2B: Thairo Estrada SS: Tyler Wade 3B: Mandy Alvarez LF: Zack Zehner RF: Clint Frazier CF: Trey Amburgey DH: Ryan McBroom UTIL: Billy Fleming

Double-A Trenton

SP1: Garrett Whitlock SP2: Nick Nelson SP3: Albert Abreu SP4: Trevor Stephen SP5: Adonis Rosa RP: Phillip Diehl RP: Will Carter RP: Trevor Lane RP: Andrew Schwaab RP: Matt Wivinis RP: Matt Frawley

High-A Tampa

Low-A Charleston

Pulaski Yankees

GCL Yankees

from Bronx Baseball Daily https://ift.tt/2QZa3rz

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mrcoreymonroe · 6 years

Text

The not top 50

Here’s a list of the guys who missed the top 50 by varying degrees. Don’t take the actual number rankings to heart, as there is very little difference between 51 and 100. Most of these guys will be in the top 50 with one big season next year.

In particular, there are a ton of pitchers on this list who would normally be a shoe-in for the top 50 list, but given the depth they just missed the cut. It’s going to be a fun year in 2019.

51. Pedro Espinola – RHP, 6-foot-4, 207-pounds, 22-years-old – Espinola had a good year in Pulaski, with a 3.77 ERA and 58 K : 32 BB in 45.1 innings. The control is still not where it needs to be, but he’s progressing nicely. Being a 22-year-old in the rookie leagues means that he will have to prove himself at higher levels, but Espinola has the stuff to make that happen. What Espinola lacks in control he makes up for with a nasty two pitch repertoire. He has a 93-96 mph fastball with a low ¾ arm angle. He also has a nasty curveball. The spin rates on both pitches are elite (2500 RPM and 3000 RPM respectively). If he can learn to control these and develop a third pitch, he could bust onto the scene.

52. Jose Villa – 3B, 6-foot-1, 170-pounds, RHB, 19-years-old – Jose Villa had an unbelievable year statistically for the GCL Yankees. In the GCL, he had a .371/.397/.543/.940 line with two homeruns, eight doubles, and three triples in 33 games. He also played six games in the DSL. Villa is a guy who hits the ball hard all around the field and can play multiple positions. The Yankees are keeping him at third for now because he has done well there, but anything could happen going forward. Villa was not a highly touted signing, and despite his nice size, he doesn’t have crazy tools other than his ability to barrel the baseball and make consistent contact. If he keeps hitting like he has, however, none of that is going to matter much longer.

53. Daniel Ramos – RHP, 5-foot-10, 169-pounds, 23-years-old – I thought Ramos would be in line for more innings this year since he threw 52 last year. Alas, he only got 67.2 innings, although his appearances were generally spaced apart by five days, which means the Yankees still may view him as a starter. He finished the year with a 3.72 ERA and 64 K : 27 BB in 67.2 innings. He has a 92-95 mph fastball with developing secondary pitches. It’s not clear what the Yankees have planned for him next year, but he may be ready for a bigger workload.

54. Alexander Vizcaino – RHP, 6-foot-2, 160-pounds, 21-years-old – Vizcaino has an electric arm but struggles greatly with command and control. He had a 5.12 ERA and 57 K : 23 BB in 58 innings this year. With a mid-90’s fastball that has reached 97 mph, and a curveball/changeup that have plus potential, he’s a guy who could make an impact down the line. For now he is still raw. This is one of those guys who could become a household name if something clicks.

55. Deivi Diaz – LHP, 5-foot-10, 197-pounds, 19-years-old – He’s a lefty who can dial it up to the low-90’s with a curveball and changeup that are developing. He had a nice year in the GCL and DSL, with a 3.63 ERA and 52 K : 16 BB in 39.2 innings. He’s another guy with a nice repertoire and good performance in the low minors. He also still has youth on his side. He could develop into a Nestor Cortes type with more velocity.

56. Ryder Green – CF, 6-foot-0, 200-pounds, RHB, 18-years-old – Green made his debut this year and showed some promise in the GCL. He hit .203/.316/.392/.708 which is not great. On the other hand, he also hit three homeruns, two triples, and two doubles in 2018. He is known for having big power and impressive batting practice displays. Let’s see what the Yankees can do to develop these tools.

57. Alex Mauricio – RHP, 6-foot-0, 180-pounds, 21-years-old – The Yankees rolled him out as a starter this year after giving him relief work in his career debut. They may have gotten him in the 27th round, but he has much more value than that now. He started 11 games this year, and had a 3.86 ERA and 49 K : 18 BB in 58.1 innings between Staten Island and Low-A. He has a mid-90’s fastball and as of last year, questionable secondary stuff. It seems like he has improved some of the secondary pitches and we will see where he goes from here. He has been up to 99 mph in the past, so there may be even more left in the tank.

58. Rodney Hutchison – RHP, 6-foot-5, 225-pounds, 22-years-old – The Yankees picked up Hutchison I the sixth round and they got a power arm. He’ll get up to the high-90’s on the radar gun and the Yankees feel they can develop him as a starter. He had 31 K : 6 BB and a 1.97 ERA in 32 innings for Staten Island this year. I suspect he’ll start with Low-A next year and be a part of their rotation.

59. Austin DeCarr – RHP, 6-foot-3, 218-pounds, 23-years-old – DeCarr seems to have found a niche in the bullpen and had a nice year pitching for Charleston. He threw 36 innings, had 39 K : 25 BB, and a 3.5 ERA. The biggest blemish is the walks, and he will need to get much better if he wants to continue to rise. In the past, he had a mid-90’s fastball and nasty curveball.

60. Evan Alexander – OF, 6-foot-2, 175-pounds, LHB, 20-years-old – Alexander is an athletic kid who had a nice statistical season for Pulaski this year. He hit .278/.399/.503/.902 with five homeruns, one double, and nine triples. He also had 10 SB in 47 games. This was a nice little breakout for him, and it will be interesting to see where this puts him next year. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him start in Charleston, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if they held him back one more year and put him in Staten Island. Either way, he is developing some power to a game that already includes speed. With time, he could turn into a good one.

61. Mickey Gasper – 1B, 5-foot-10, 205-pounds, RHB, 22-years-old – Another 27th round draft pick, Mickey Gasper is a crowd favorite at Pulaski. He had nine homeruns and six doubles with a .257/.393/.493/.886 line. This is what he should be doing in the rookie leagues at his age, but you can’t fault him for doing just that. He is pretty maxed out physically, but as you can see by the numbers he generates a ton of power from his relatively short stature. He’s most likely an organization guy but you never know when one of these guys can turn into something more.

62. Isaiah Pasteur – CF, 6-foot-2, 182-pounds, RHB, 22-years-old – Yankees got Pasteur in the 13th round this year out of GWU. He transferred there this year and the Yankees took the opportunity to draft him given his great tools. He finished with a .295/.347/.568/.915 line between the GCL and Pulaski this year. He had six homeruns, six doubles, and six stolen bases. Pasteur is another athletic kid with a power and speed combo. He played 3B in college but the Yankees love his athleticism so much they put him in CF. His career merits watching closely.

63. Shawn Semple – RHP, 6-foot-1, 220-pounds, 22-years-old – He was the 11th round draft pick in 2017 and he’s a hometown boy from Voorhees, NJ. He has a low-90’s fastball, along with a curveball and a changeup that he has a good feel for. He pitched 61 innings between Staten Island, Low-A, and one start in High-A this year. Semple had a 2.95 ERA and 62 K : 14 BB on the season. Overall these are excellent stats and hopefully he can expand on his first full season in the minors in 2019.

64. Reiver Sanmartin – LHP, 6-foot-2, 160-pounds, 22-years-old – Reiver came to the Yankees in the Ronald Herrera trade, and his performance has been great. He has an 88-90 mph fastball, so he’s not gonna light up the radar gun, but he has pinpoint control and a nice curveball that he can locate at will. He pitched over four levels this year from Staten Island to Trenton, and had a 2.81 ERA in 67.1 innings, with a 58 : 4 strikeout to walk ratio.

65. Carlos D. Rodriguez – RHP, 5-foot-10, 155-pounds, 19-years-old –Rodriguez apparently has some pretty good stuff for his size. It seems to be showing up in the numbers too. He had 49.2 innings pitched in the DSL and GCL this year, and finished with a 3.08 ERA, 51 K, and 12 BB. In time we will find out if he becomes a true prospect or not.

66. Alexander Palma – RF, 6-foot-0, 201-pounds, 22-years-old – Palma was well on his way to his best career season when he went down with an injury that ended his season. He hit .299/.348/.459/.806 with seven homeruns, eight doubles, and one triple in 52 games this season. Palma has a great hit tool and some burgeoning power. He’s a long shot to stick in right field in the majors but he took a big step in the right direction this year.

67. James Reeves – LHP, 6-foot-3, 215-pounds, 25-years-old – Reeves had another successful season with a 2.88 ERA, 56.1 IP, and a 72 : 34 K : BB ratio. He has a low-90’s fastball he locates with the best of them, and a nasty slider/changeup combo. He’s one of a few upper level lefties who might be able to help the major league team next season.

68. Nestor Cortes – LHP, 5-foot-11, 205-pounds, 23-years-old – It was another fine year for Cortes, with a 3.68 ERA and 99 K : 38 BB in 115 innings. He also turned in 4.2 major league innings, and an 8 innings shutout performance in the playoffs, giving him a total of 127.2 innings overall this season, with 106 K. His fastball is high-80’s, low-90’s, and he has a curveball, changeup, and slider. He is tough to hit, at least for minor leaguers. I think there’s no doubt at this point he will get a chance to pitch in the majors for an extended period. The question becomes in what role, and for how long? Only time will tell, but for now it’s clear the Yankees do have a major league asset.

69. Oswald Peraza – SS, 6-foot-0, 176-pounds, RHB, 18-years-old – Peraza had a “hold your own” kind of year in Pulaski, with a .250/.333/.321/.655 line. He had one homer, three doubles, and two triples, while stealing eight bases. It was his first time playing under the lights, and he did hold his own. Peraza has above average speed and a good hit tool. Scouts feel he will have gap power but could develop more in the future. He’s a solid defender at shortstop and should stick there long term.

70. Zack Zehner – OF, 6-foot-4, 220-pounds, RHB, 26-years-old – The only thing preventing Zehner from being higher on the list is his age. He has good power with solid exit velocity, and he’s good in the outfield. He’s pretty good at everything, but not great at anything yet. He had a .270/.339/.459/.798 line this year between Double-A and Triple-A, with 14 homeruns, 25 doubles, and six triples. Overall it was a successful season for Zehner. He should be rule five eligible after this year, so some team might grab him there and give him a shot to play every day. If not, he’s gonna have a tough time finding playing time with the Yankees.

71. Phillip Diehl – LHP, 6-foot-2, 180-pounds, 24-years-old – Diehl has had nothing but success since signing with the Yankees in 2016. This year, between High-A and Double-A, he threw 75.1 innings and struck out 108, while walking 23. He had a 2.51 ERA. His fastball sits in the low 90’s, and he has slider and changeup to go along with it. The strikeout numbers are profound, so he has a real shot at the major leagues.

72. Alexander Vargas – RHP, 6-foot-4, 203-pounds, 21-years-old – Vargas has a low-90’s fastball that tops out at 93 with hard sink that causes batters to pound the ball into the ground. He also has a curveball and changeup. This season he had a 4.01 ERA with 50 K : 16 BB in 83 innings. Sinkerball pitchers tend to be better in the upper minors because the defense behind them improves, so don’t be surprised if this is the observed pattern with Vargas.

73. JP Sears – LHP, 5-foot-11, 180-pounds, 22-years-old – Sears has a 92-93 mph fastball, which is fine for a lefty. What’s best about his fastball though, is the deception and spin rate (2350). He also has a curveball and changeup which are average pitches. JP only managed to pitch 54 innings this year but was excellent. He had 54 K : 11 BB, a .191 average against, and a 2.67 ERA. He was placed on the disabled list after his 6/21 start and hasn’t been back since, which is disconcerting. The best thing you can hope for next year is a full, healthy season where he is back to his old self.

74. Oswaldo Cabrera – 2B/SS, 5-foot-10, 145-pounds, 19-years-old – You could say that Cabrera had a disappointing season and you wouldn’t be wrong. Especially given the fact that he had a career low OPS at .592. That said, he is just 19-years-old in Low-A, which means he has plenty of time to right the ship. He has great tools, including a plus hit tool, smooth fielding, a good arm, and above average speed. The Yankees are high on him, but he clearly has a few adjustments to make for next season. He finished the year with a .229/.379/.320/.529 line with six homeruns, 24 doubles, and one triple.

75. Wilkerman Garcia – SS, 6-foot-0, 176-pounds, SH, 20-years-old – Speaking of disappointing seasons, Wilkerman Garcia finished with a similarly bad line of .218/.274/.305/.580 with six homeruns, 20 doubles, and two triples. Garcia has a ton of talent and good long-term power projection, but he will have to start making big strides soon if he ever wants to be a legitimate major league shortstop.

76. Daniel Alvarez – RHP, 6-foot-3, 228-pounds, 22-years-old – Now that he has been moved into the bullpen, Alvarez could become a fast mover of the Giovanny Gallegos ilk. In his first season as a reliever he had a 1.3 ERA and 53 K : 8 BB in 34.2 innings. He had a .194 average against. Prior to this season, he was in the 90-93 range with his fastball as a starter. I’d wager a guess that he throws harder now. He also has an above average curveball and an average changeup.

77. Mike Ford – 1B, 6-foot-0, 225-pounds, LHB, 26-years-old – Ford had a decent season, but after the year he had in 2017 it has to be viewed as a disappointment. He finished with a .251/.326/.433/.759 line with 16 homeruns and 22 doubles in 108 games. Ford has excellent patience and decent power, although for a first baseman it’s not as impressive. At this point Ford has been passed over for several marginal prospects for a major league promotion, and I have a hard time believing the Yankees will keep him much longer. I hope he catches on with another organization.

78. Anyelo Gomez – RHP, 6-foot-1, 185-pounds, 25-years-old – Gomez went out with a mystery injury in May and has been out ever since. He only threw 7.1 innings this year and struck out eight while walking three. He finished with a 2.45 ERA. Gomez had an excellent season in 2017 though, and he has a low to mid-90’s fastball with secondary offerings that get the job done. He was taken in the rule 5 draft last year by the Braves and returned to the Yankees. If he can get back to being fully healthy he’s probably a major league caliber reliever soon.

79. Gosuke Katoh – 2B, 6-foot-2, 200-pounds, LHB, 23-years-old – Katoh had a disappointing year with a .229/.327/.335/.662 line, five homeruns, 27 doubles, and two triples. He also stole 11 bases. After a somewhat breakout year in 2017, this is a letdown. Next year is the last year of team control for Katoh. It’s looking unlikely that the Yankees will get anything out of drafting him. In the words of Yogi Berra, “It’s getting late early” for Katoh.

80. Canaan Smith – OF, 6-foot-0, 215-pounds, LHB, 19-years-old – Smith had a rough year, finishing with a .191/.281/.316/.596 line. He was generating a ton of buzz in the offseason with some huge exit velocities and dropping quite a few bombs. While the statistics weren’t there, the potential is still there for Smith to make a couple of adjustments and has a monster year in 2019. This wasn’t his breakout, but next year could be.

81. Ryan McBroom �� 1B, 6-foot-3, 235-pounds, RHB, 26-years-old – McBroom catapulted himself ahead of Mike Ford on the depth chart this year with an excellent season, but now he’ll have a long way to go to catch Luke Voit. He finished with a .302/.348/.458/.806 line. He launched 15 homeruns with 23 doubles and two triples. He will serve as nice depth to Voit and Bird next year if he doesn’t get taken in the rule five draft.

82. Raynel Espinal – RHP, 6-foot-3, 199-pounds, 26-years-old – Espinal had another nice year, with a 3.09 ERA and 95 K : 26 BB in 67 innings. That’s an impressive K-rate, and it’s backed up by a low-to-mid-90’s fastball and a good slider. I’d like to see what he can do against major leaguers.

83. Joe Harvey – RHP, 6-foot-2, 235-pounds, 26-years-old – Harvey owns a career ERA of 1.75 in the minors over 144 innings, all in relief. This year, he had a 1.67 ERA and 68 K : 25 BB in 59.1 innings mostly in Triple-A. Over the years he has increased his velocity and improved his stuff, and at this point he is knocking on the doors to the majors. There is little doubt that he will pitch in the majors at some point, and when he does there’s an outside shot he could stick and carve out a nice career. His fastball is now in the mid-90’s.

84. Mandy Alvarez – 3B, 6-foot-1, 195-pounds, RHB, 24-years-old – Alvarez was also drafted in 2016, but he was in the 17th round. He had his best season as a pro this year. Alvarez finished with a .256/.314/.458/.751 line with 13 HR, 25 doubles, and three triples. Alvarez has power and can play the hot corner. If he can learn to either be more patient or hit for better average, we could be looking at a major leaguer.

85. Chris Gittens – 1B, 6-foot-4, 250-pounds, RHB, 24-years-old – It was a rough year for Gittens. When he wasn’t injured, he was ineffective. He finished the year with a .193/.294/.330/.624 line with six homeruns and nine doubles in 57 games. There’s a significant possibility that Gittens’ season was only bad because he was injured the whole year. It is possible he will return to form next year when fully healthy. At his best, he has a ton of power and patience.

86. David Sosebee – RHP, 6-foot-2, 220-pounds, 25-years-old – Sosebee had success at the highest level of the minors this year. He had a 2.3 ERA and 75 K : 24 BB in 62.2 innings this year between High-A, Double-A, and Triple-A. He’s always been a softer tossing guy but has great control and movement with his pitchers. As his strikeout total suggests, he does a nice job of missing bats. He’ll need the right set of circumstances to get a real shot in the majors, but I wouldn’t count him out.

87. Trevor Lane – LHP, 5-foot-11, 185-pounds, 24-years-old – Lane had a decent year between High-A and Double-A, with a 3.97 ERA and 82 K : 20 BB in 68 innings. He has a low-90’s fastball, a slider, and a changeup, and he too has a knack for missing bats. Lane has done a nice job climbing up the ladder for the Yankees and is getting close to being able to contribute in the majors.

88. Matt Wivinis – RHP, 6-foot-0, 170-pounds, 25-years-old – Wivinis had an excellent statistical season this year. He had a 2.41 ERA and 77 K : 15 BB in 56 IP. He has a .184 average against. He’ll sit low-90’s with his fastball, which is deceptive and gets swings and misses. He also has one of the best sliders in the system, and that’s coming from a nondrafted free agent. Looks like he was a good find.

89. Jio Orozco – RHP, 6-foot-1, 210-pounds, 21-years-old – Orozco had a down year, and the stuff is not coming around like the Yankees had hoped just yet. He had a 4.5 ERA and 36 K : 13 BB in 46 innings this year in Low-A. He has a 92-95 mph fastball with sinking movement, a curveball, and a changeup. He is still incredibly young and has a great arm, so there’s time for improvement.

90. Andres Chaparro – 3B, 6-foot-1, 200-pounds, RHB, 19-years-old – Chaparro had a rough season but he did show that he can do one thing well, and that is hit for power. He had a .191/.249/.348/.597 line with seven homeruns and 11 doubles. He’ll need major work on his hit tool and making hard contact going forward if he wants to start succeeding. He’s got some tools though, so time will tell if he can develop into something more.

91. Kyle Gray – 2B, 5-foot-10, 175-pounds, LHB, 21-years-old – Gray is a patient, power hitting second baseman. He hit .374/.462/.677 with 15 homeruns and 10 SB this year for West Virginia. He didn’t hit nearly as well for the Staten Island Yankees, but he did show his power. He hit seven homeruns and six doubles in 48 games but hit just .170/.281/.346/.627 on the season. I believe he’s better than that, and we will see more from him next year.

92. Roberto Chirinos – SS, 5-foot-11, 172-pounds, RHB, 18-years-old – He’s a toolsy shortstop with a plus arm, above average speed, and high makeup by all accounts. He struggled in his debut, with a .238/.289/.337/.626 line, but he has a ton of potential and is a guy to look out for next year.

93. Aaron McGarity – RHP, 6-foot-3, 185-pounds, 23-years-old – McGarity didn’t get many innings this season, but he made the most of them. He had 32 K : 3 BB and a 0.35 ERA in 25.2 innings for Staten Island. McGarity had a mid-90’s fastball in the past and the Yankees are hoping they can get him to return to that. Time will tell.

94. Daniel Bies – RHP, 6-foot-8, 245-pounds, 22-years-old – The Yankees took Bies in the 7th round out of Gonzaga. He fared pretty well in his first taste of professional baseball, finishing with a 3.3 ERA and 43 K : 7 BB in 30 innings. He already hits the mid-90’s with his fastball and has an average curveball. With the Yankees development team I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in the upper 90’s by the time he’s done developing. Another power arm in a system full of them.

95. Tanner Myatt – RHP, 6-foot-7, 220-pounds, 20-years-old – Myatt struggled in his debut, with a 5.4 ERA and 22 K : 9 BB in 18.1 innings. Myatt has already pitched up to 100 mph this past year. He also has a loopy curveball and struggles with control. This is not surprising given his size, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Yankees development team turned him into a monster.

96. Austin Gardner – RHP, 6-foot-2, 215-pounds, 23-years-old – The Yankees took Gardner in the 9th round last year, and he has done nothing but perform since then. This year he finished with a 1.27 ERA and 48 K : 8 BB in 35.1 innings in Staten Island. He’ll throw in the low 90’s with the fastball, and merits following as he advances.

97. Jesus Severino – RF, 6-foot-0, 186-pounds, RHB, 18-years-old – In his first year in the states, Severino made an impression. He hit .248/.368/.394/.762 with three homeruns, five doubles, and three triples. He also stole 18 bases. Severino has a ton of athleticism and some surprising pop.

98. Alexander Santana – OF, 6-foot-0, 175-pounds, RHB, 18-years-old – He had a tough time in his first year stateside, but he has power to spare. He hit .195/.272/.278/.550 with nine doubles and on triple. It’s always an adjustment to come to the United States for the first time, and he is extremely young.

99. Raimfer Salinas – CF, 6-foot-0, 175-pounds, RHB, 17-years-old – Salinas is one of the most talented players from the 2018 International free agent class. He’s athletic and scouts believe he will develop power over time. Salinas struggled in limited action this year, with a .108 average and one double in 11 games. He did steal four bases in a short period of time though. We will have to wait until next year to get an extended look at him.

100. Barrett Loseke – RHP, 6-foot-0, 170-pounds, 21-years-old – The Yankees got Loseke in the 17th round and he could end up being one of the big draft sleepers. He pitched really well in the college world series this year. Loseke is what you would call a gamer. He got into 10 games as a reliever for the Yankees in the GCL, and finished with 10 K : 4 BB and a 3.6 ERA in 10 innings. He also threw 53.2 innings with a 2.68 ERA for Arkansas. He has a low-mid 90’s fastball in relief.

from Bronx Baseball Daily https://ift.tt/2yRFdqA

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