Palace - Heaven Up There MP3
The Iris Palace is the final destination of the player character in Rosenkreuzstilette and is the home of Iris Zeppelin, who has turned out to be a reincarnation of none other than Rosenkreuz who instigated the RKS Rebellion for her own amusement. It is the setting for the Iris Stages as well as the Last Stage, which starts out at the pinnacle of the palace and moves up into the the sky above the palace itself.
Palace - Heaven Up There MP3
The main hazard for Iris Stage 1 is the water that becomes electrified when the Elecmines are dropped into it, damaging the player character if she stays in there for too long by the time they are done so. It also features moving platforms that can carry the player into the spikes if she's not quick enough to maneuver past them, as well as disappearing blocks and the electric traps from Liebea Palesch's stage.
Palace put on an ethereal performance. From belting out fan favourites like bitter and live well, to reducing the crowd to a murmur for more intimate songs, the entire gig was spellbinding. The accompaniment of the string section for emotive songs such as bones and face in the crowd was perfectly suited to the stunning surroundings of the Roundhouse. Overall it was beautiful and hypnotic, watching people pour themselves into a heartfelt and sincere performance. The crowd was excellent, and it was wonderful to hear the thousands of people joining in for the last verse of holy smoke. Palace really did themselves proud, and i think it will be remembered as a landmark performance.
Several factors caused the eventual extinction of the tradition of amphitheatre construction. Gladiatorial munera began to disappear from public life during the 3rd century, due to economic pressure, philosophical disapproval and opposition by the increasingly predominant new religion of Christianity, whose adherents considered such games an abomination and a waste of money.[10] Spectacles involving animals, venationes, survived until the sixth century, but became costlier and rarer. The spread of Christianity also changed the patterns of public beneficence: where a pagan Roman would often have seen himself as a homo civicus, who gave benefits to the public in exchange for status and honor, a Christian would more often be a new type of citizen, a homo interior, who sought to attain a divine reward in heaven and directed his beneficence to alms and charity rather than public works and games.[11]
These changes meant that there were ever fewer uses for amphitheatres, and ever fewer funds to build and maintain them. The last construction of an amphitheatre is recorded in 523 in Pavia under Theoderic.[12] After the end of venationes, the only remaining purpose of amphitheatres was to be the place of public executions and punishments. After even this purpose dwindled away, many amphitheatres fell into disrepair and were gradually dismantled for building material, razed to make way for newer buildings, or vandalized.[13] Others were transformed into fortifications or fortified settlements, such as at Leptis Magna, Sabratha, Arles and Pola, and in the 12th century the Frangipani fortified even the Colosseum to help them in Roman power struggles.[14] Yet others were repurposed as Christian churches, including the arenas at Arles, Nîmes, Tarragona and Salona; the Colosseum became a Christian shrine in the 18th century.[14]
While we were in drydock, we got one of the few installations of the new fire-control radar. We got out just after the tremendous defeat at Guadalcanal, when the QUINCY, VINCENNES, and the ASTORIA were sunk by the Japs. The aircraft carriers were deployed somewhere else. Practically the entire U.S. fleet in the Pacific was sent down to try to stop the Japs--to reinforce Guadalcanal. We were part of that Fleet. We got down there and engaged in four night battles--battles I will never forget.
6-inch-guns took off. Looking through the periscope, the tracers from fifteen guns looked like a swarm of bees heading for a target you couldn't see. Suddenly, they disappeared, and within a half a second there was an explosion. We had hit a cruiser and sunk it. Then we shifted targets, and then the battle started. We didn't get a scratch. We stopped them from unloading and reinforcing the Jap forces on the island that night.
During one of the four night battles, we were shooting and there was a lull in the firing. Three guns were loaded. We were on automatic control, meaning I had no button to press, they were pressing them in command forward. All of a sudden, we started firing. As they were loading the second round, there was a terrific explosion. We got hit directly in the faceplate of the turret, which was six inches of casehardened steel. You couldn't draw the center any closer. It blew the leather protector off of the center gun. It had scarred the bronze chase of the gun so that it could not retract. The guns were loaded again, which meant there was a live round in this center gun, but I couldn't fire it. We had to eject it. In ejecting the gun, the ammunition hit the deck. All the powder spewed over and started a fire. People had to come up on deck to put out the fire.
They were accurate and there were no duds when they hit. I had qualified as officer of deck underway before December 7. During the last night battle, the SAN FRANCISCO had taken a terrific beating. The admirals aboard the SAN FRANCISCO had taken a direct salvo on the bridge that just wiped it out. It was Sunday morning. There was a clear cloudless sky, blue as blue could be. The water was like a mirror. We were steaming south, out of the area. We were the flagship now. The SAN FRANCISCO was off on our port quarter and the JUNEAU was off on our starboard quarter. She was down eight feet by the bow, because she had taken a torpedo hit. All of our destroyers had used their depth charges the night before; so, they were useless against any sub attack. I remember looking through my binoculars at the SAN FRANCISCO and seeing naked bodies being dumped over the side. There wasn't time to wrap them up. They would tie a five-inch shell to their leg and dump the body over the side. There were dozens of bodies. They would put them on a slab, say a prayer, and slide them over the side. While this was going on, we were
No, we couldn't do anything. They were within a hundred yards. The torpedo passed right under us, without ever touching. The next thing I knew, the JUNEAU had completely disappeared. Her five-inch-mount blew over our ship and she just disappeared in a cloud of smoke. There wasn't anything left to see--no debris, nothing. We were left with the SAN FRANCISCO, destroyers without depth charges, and a submarine that was out there waiting to kill us.
There was an army B-17 overhead. I signaled and sent them a message, "JUNEAU torpedoed. Possible survivors in the water." I got an answer, acknowledging they received my message. They never reported anything. Going full steam, we got out of there as fast as we could. During an interview, later on, the Japanese skipper of the sub said his intention was exactly what happened. He shot under us to get the JUNEAU, because he knew it was down by the bow. He could see the damn thing down. The torpedo hit their depth charge magazine. He was going to hit us next. By going full speed ahead, we got out of there in time.
No, it was very maneuverable. The old B-24, with the twin-tail, was a very sluggish airplane; but with a single-tail, it was much more maneuverable. We would fly it at very low altitudes, search for six-thousand, eight-thousand-, and nine-thousand-ton cargo/tankers, pickle off one or two bombs, and there she went.
Some of the experiences with this squadron were unbelievable. When they went into Okinawa, we took over the Japanese airstrip, which was made out of dead coral. Usually, they were not long enough for a large airplane to take off. They would try to extend it with more coral, as best they could. We would immediately start flying patrols off those old airstrips. I remember one time, at the end of one of these airstrips, there was something that looked like an old oak tree. I had a full crew and a full load of nine 500-pound bombs. It had rained for days, and that dead coral didn't drain away that well. My wingman and I always took off as close together as possible. My wingman took off first. We taxied out and the wheels sunk in, almost up to the middle of the wheel. I added power and we started to roll, but we just couldn't get any airspeed, due to the soggy, wet runway. We had passed the point where we just couldn't stop anymore; I pulled that son-of-a-bitch off the ground and glanced off the top of the tree. Branches were scattered all over the place. Fortunately, the hill sloped away, down towards the bay. The plane was handling absolutely mushy. I nosed it over the best I could and gained enough air speed going down the hill, that I roared out over our Fleet. This was about the time of the kamikaze attacks. It scared the living beJesus out of them.
Iwo Jima at about 8,000 feet. I figured I had better get a little altitude, so I added power. The airplane was climbing in a level altitude. Suddenly, my forward gunner yells, "Zero, dead ahead." Sure enough, I looked up and about 2,000 feet above us is a Zero diving in on us. This guy dropped an air-to-air phosphorus bomb that exploded about fifty feet below us. We flew through the streamers of this thing. If the phosphorus bomb had hit us, the plane would have disintegrated. As he passed us, we turned into him and I had twelve guns on that son-of-a-bitch. He went away burning. I figured they would send somebody else up after me now, so I headed back. Sure enough, there was a brand new, what they called a "Jack," a new development after the Zero. I looked at that guy and I could see his wings blinking. He was firing everything he had at me. He never hit us. I pulled under the clouds and headed back to the base. I wasn't about to tempt fate anymore. We got away with that one. 041b061a72