A portrait of the twilight years of Isarism by Count Sergei Witte (1849-1915), the man who built modern Russia. Witte presents incisive and often piquant portraits of the mighty and those around thempowerful Alexander III, the weak-willed Nicholas II, and the neurasthenic Empress Alexandra, along with his own notorious cousin, Madam blavatsky, the "priestess of the occult".
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Storytelling is an ancient practice known in all civilizations throughout history. Characters, tales, techniques, oral traditions, motifs, and tale types transcend individual cultures - elements and names change, but the stories are remarkably similar with each rendition, highlighting the values and concerns of the host culture. Examining the stories and the oral traditions associated with different cultures offers a unique view of practices and traditions."Storytelling: An Encyclopedia of Mythology and Folklore" brings past and present cultures of the world to life through their stories, oral traditions, and performance styles. It combines folklore and mythology, traditional arts, history, literature, and festivals to present an overview of world cultures through their liveliest and most fascinating mode of expression. This appealing resource includes specific storytelling techniques as well as retellings of stories from various cultures and traditions.
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Awesome!! I love it! How long have you bee writing? You are really good at it. You make reading fun. :~)
[Herro! Mosspelt, my RP name is Thorne. c: Thankses you guys, for all the nice comments! *huggles all of you.* ] <p> Sniff. Sniff. <br> Oona felt as if tears were forbidden, even when alone. She wanted to scold herself for being so dramatic, but she was then suddenly aware of the fact that she could've died. Correction - she could've died because of her father. Father, no. He would go by Cole, and Cole only. The title of Father was only for those who truly were good ones. <p> Oona stretched her neck to look at her twisted leg. It was simply crumpled under her hip, the pads unused, the fur patchy. <br> It was ugly. Very ugly. <p> The little shecat stood, and her leg dangled helplessly a few inches off the ground. She forced herself not to stare at it. <p> "Are you troubled, young'un?" <br> It was Yuki, the old shecat. 'She must've followed my scent,' Oona thought with irritation. 'Guess who's gonna hafta sit through another badger story.' She didn't mind the tall tales, but now was not the time. <p> "Are you troubled?" The old cat repeated. <br> "You wouldn't understand. You, you . . . you've always told me about the great times you had as a kit. Me, however . . . I just -" <p> Yuki was silent for a moment. "I was in 'ur place at a similar age." <p> "Y - huh?" <p> "I used to be one of the prettiest apprentices in RockClan, y'know." <br> "Oh, o - you, you were?" Oona looked Yuki up and down. The elder's once-white pelt was yellowing, her teeth were snaggled, and her muzzle was ragged with scars. "Too pretty." The elder rasped. "Uh, d'ya know - you've been told where kits come from, I presume." <p> Oona was mortified. "Yes. Er, why?!" <br> Yuki's eyes narrowed. "Well. There was a very 'andsome tom. He was much older than I. At first, it was a harmless crush, but it soon turned into a little bit more. Nobody knew of our relationship." <br> Oona's whiskers twitched with embarassment; she could begin to see where this was going. It was very awkward in general, talking about such a subject one-on-one. <br> "I was very young to have kits. Closer to a kit myself than a warrior." <p> "You had . . . kits?" <p> Yuki looked down. "Two. I almost went to StarClan that day. After they were born, I was shamed. It was terrible. They falled me crude names I c'not even repeat." <p> Oona felt a sharp pang near her heart. "They did?" <p> The elder touched her tail to Oona's shoulder. "I left for a while, leaving my two kits in the paws of my good friend Lina. I do know what it's like." <p> "Who were the kits?" <br> "One of them died. The other is Norse. She hasn't forgiven me for the way she came about." <p> The medicine cat? Maybe that explained her bitterness towards Oona. She had problems herself. <br> Yuki shook her head. "But that doesn't matter now. Young'un, I must forewarn you. You are in danger at this time. If I were you, I would depart. For now." <p> "I can't do that." <br> "Your choice." Yuki touched her muzzle to Oona's jaw. "I don't want to interfere with your father and cause more trouble. Please, though. Stay safe." <p> Oona nodded, the harsh reality rushing back to her. "Thanks, Yuki. I appreciate it." <p> As the elder padded off, Oona lay down in the dry leaves, making a small nest. She would rest here for the night, then decide what to do. Yuki's words rang in her ears. <p> You are in danger.