#richatstructure

[dimitaralekseevdimitrov]

A 100 million years old city?!

At the western edge of the Sahara desert, in today’s country of Mauritania, there is an object that is so strange that every time scientists try to explain it, they cannot find any reasonable arguments and sound ridiculous. The so-called Eye of the Sahara, or Richat Structure, is apparently an extremely ancient city, built of rock massifs in concentric shapes, just as Plato described Atlantis.…

[picnotesknowledge]

Richat Structure, more formally known as The Eye of the Sahara, located in the western Sahara Desert in Mauritania. The Richat Structure, a geologic wonder viewable from space, it is a prominent circular feature in the Sahara desert. It is believed that the Richat Structure was created by an asteroid impact. The Richat Structure has a diameter of approximately 48 kilometers.

Image Credit: NASA

[lunchtimespecialpodcast]

Atlantis | Episode 16

[earth2io]

The @eyeofthesaharacity has been built on the famous Eye of the Sahara. One of the first megacity of E2 and probably the bigger one. Have a tile in there is a must! DM FOR LOCATION LINK ❤️ Follow @earth2io_official for more goodies! 😊 Consider using our code for your next purchase: XD4G2G1OLQ (O=letter, NOT a zero). 🗣 Want to sell your property? Send us a DM and we will add it in our link in bio for FREE . . . . . . . . . #eyeofthesahara #richatstructure #adar #mauritiana #earth2io #earth2iomegacity #earth2megacity #earth2ioincome #earth2iorealestate #earth2ioinvesting #vrgaming #vrgamer #vrgamers #virtualreality https://www.instagram.com/p/CLnUbWIHCuc/?igshid=1czm7s7ap5d0a

[indiaimagine]

Mysterious and Thrilling Secrets of Richat Structure in Mauritania

Read More at: https://bit.ly/2XGhLtL

[profittrek]

There is ancient city grid all over northern Africa #mauritania #atlantis #richatstructure (at Nouakchott, Mauritania) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9bO8xuDpg8/?igshid=6ripe3r8zvtd

[resdaynian]

If the 2000s had unfurled the way that we thought it would be in the 70s and 80s I would have been a Blade Runner by now.

[plantparenthood]

richatstructure replied to your post: richatstructure replied to your photoset: ...

Holy fuck have we really been pals that long!? IT CAN’T BE

oh yeah, a little bit longer than that even, probably like late 2009, early 2010

[dreamofhircine]

How do you feel about ZenitCo furniture?

I don’t fuck w/ AKs so I don’t have an experience w/ them.

[lucamilan]

#new-project #planetearth #googleearthview #instadaily #landscape_captures #richatstructure #ouadane #mauritania https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq2SVOCAmrb/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=feww3xb2fc0x

[transcendentaleclipse]

richatstructure replied to your post: One of my clear quartz dropped from a candle...

I had a stone statuette of Odin about the size of my fist and it fell off of my shelf and fractured in two places. That same week I bombed one of my tests.

Oh shit! I literally felt some pain from that.

[2nacheki]

Welcome to the Mysteries of Africa series where we take a look at some of the mysterious sights and sounds of our beautiful continent of Africa. Today we are looking at the Giant eye of Africa which is found in Mauritania. Not a lot is known about this mysterious sight and many theories are out there but what exactly formed it? #AfricanMysteries #RichatStructure You can support 2nacheki on Patreon here https://ift.tt/2OaL7gA -~-~~-~~~-~~-~- For more African News, Lists, Entertainment and Pop Culture Visit http://2nacheki.tv/ by 2nacheki

[resdaynian]

Consequence: A Quick DA:I Fic

It was dim, and damp. The traitor felt wet cobblestone scratching his knees, and the fact that it bothered him was even more bothersome than the sensation itself. His eye stung, and it took all of his will to open it to glance at the half-dead candle flickering a dozen feet away. It was plastered to a barrel, casting a brief shadow in the traitor’s direction. It wasn’t bright enough to reveal anything but a vague silhouette. The traitor coughed blood.

“Who are you,” he rasped, and the words were followed with concussive hacking and even more blood. He had never been this exhausted in his life. It was a tiredness that laughed in mockery at all of the opportunities to die he had rejected. It was intimidating.

There was no response.

“Where ish the Viddishala,” he rasped again. A deep burn in his throat muddied his enunciation, an emulsion of saliva and blood pooled between his lower lip and teeth. “I-I kin jushtify my ashionsh if I kin shimply shpeak wish hir...”

A gasp broke the silence, but was hushed before it could breathe. Quiet commanded the room once more. The chains binding the traitor’s arms jingled as he sunk, and he remained depressed for what felt like hours. Droplets from the moldy ceiling rebounded off his shoulders.

Languid and oblivious, he hadn’t realized the figure behind the flame had come close.

“Bull.”

The Iron Bull’s response was so violent that the following inhale echoed up the staircase behind, and provoked more blood out of his throat. He met a darkened but familiar face and wilted again. It was a bad dream, a nightmare, a hangover-induced fever perhaps. No rationale could explain this, he thought. A Ben-Hassrath agent is no stranger to interrogations, this just was another test of will. A soft, small-handed grip lifted both of his horns skyward and he met their eyes again. The only motion the Qunari could make was a frown.

The Inquisitor Lavellan sighed in his face.

“I’m… very disappointed in you, Bull.”

Disappointment was not a word the traitor was accustomed to, and he tossed his arms back and forth in an effort to retch himself away from her. The steely cuffs cut at the veins protruding fiercely beneath them with each thrashing. About half an hour of mania had passed before the racket died, and the Inquisitor hadn’t moved an inch. No progress had been made. The Iron Bull had exhausted his reserves for the time being.

“You know,” he whispered. “I shought I had you good dow’there.. I guesh Shera ishn’t the only elf withsh a --”

Lavellan crossed his cheek with a full fist of gauntlet, and the subsequent burgundy splash painted the wall a wraith-like shape. Before a second wind could arrive she crossed him again on the same cheek. Any other time a blow from a whelpling elf would have been laughable, but the exhaustion had cut into his stamina. This wasn’t like their sparring sessions in Skyhold’s yard. He was hurting, and she was hurting him far worse than he could have imagined. This was real, and her strikes were not in good humor. They felt hateful.

“We used to spar, Bull. At the end of the week after returning from the field for the first several months following our establishment at Skyhold. Remember that?” Another strike, this one in the gut. The air in his lungs evacuated with haste. The next one was a knee, to the same place. The report of two ribs cracking sent a wave of delusion over the Qunari as Lavellan’s plated knee caught them.

“You used to tease me so I would hit you harder, we would laugh about it over lunch. Then you attacked me at the Darvaarad and I handed you and your Ben-Hassrath friends your sorry asses.” His lips twitched purposelessly, words dribbled out like the saliva being poured onto the floor from his ruined mouth. The Inquisitor snatched his jaw and snapped it upwards, the vallaslin on her face was long gone but the ire in it turned it red. Trying even more fervently he managed a pathetic ‘shorry’ before she bashed him again.

“Sorry!? You’re sorry!? I’m sorry! I’m sorry for having hired you, I’m sorry for having trusted you! I should have never taken your matter-of-factness as truth, you’re just another fucking spy! Another fucking liar in my ranks!”

Two more to the right cheek, a backhand to the left, another knee. Each assault spoke of the same betrayal over and over and over again. It was like being battered by waves on the Storm Coast. Pain, swelling, sorrow, repeat. It singed his nerves. Eventually the view of his commander’s bloodied neck was a tire and he closed his eye. He would wake up back in Par-Vollen, crisp and well-clothed and healthy, or in a tavern bed with a troupe of local women. The blows, over time, became less vigorous and then stopped altogether. There was muffled sobbing.

“You... y-you were my friend, and you abandoned m-me when I needed you most.”

Or perhaps he was in a wet, cold dungeon being shamed to death. Death, he hoped, may be the plausible conclusion to this. An exasperated moan fell out.

“You abandoned us when we needed you most.”

The voice wasn’t the Inquisitor’s. It was too masculine, too gruff, gravely. The enunciation was all wrong. It was someone he knew, someone close. The Iron Bull jerked his head up and felt a stone so heavy in his soul that he could have been dragged to the depths.

It was Rocky, standing but a few feet behind the Inquisitor.

“Rocky… no..”

Then it was Stitches who came out of the shadows next to Rocky, his arms folded. His eyes were low. Bull began to choke, and then Grim arrived to the far left of Stitches. His throat began to close.

“No… no, no! No!”

A blond-haired elf hesitantly stepped forward, leaning on Stitches. She shook her head, then looked back to usher Skinner to her side, who dragged her feet into the light. Neither could look at him as he melted into intense bawling, shaking the restraints with the remainder of his strength. Grim turned away, almost whimpering.

“Krem… Krem didn’t want to see you like this,” Rocky muttered, morose and dry. Dalish relinquished out a sharp inhale before melting into Skinner, crying herself. “It upset him too much. He departed for Kirkwall this morning. As for the rest of us… we’re done. The Chargers are done. This was the absolute last thing that we wanted to do, but you forced our hand. You cheated us out of a great opportunity, out of a chance for a wonderful life… for all of us. Together. Damn you, Iron Bull. Just…. damn you.”

The traitor crooked his neck for but an instant to eye his crew before drooping again.

“Kill me… by wh’ever fuckin’ godsh kill me!” The Iron Bull shouted, and his voice shook the very brick and mortar of the dungeon itself. The Chargers collectively winced and nearly cowered at the act. “I’m worthlish! I’m lesh shan worthlish!”

The Inquisitor, having regained herself, dragged an edge of her tunic over her flushed cheeks and sniffled.

“The Iron Bull, by the power invested in me as.... Inquisitor, commander of the Inquisition of the Dragon Age, I hereby sentence… sentence you to exile to the Anderfels. You will never return to Orlais or Ferelden... under threat of immediate execution. You will be transported to the Orlais-Anderfels border in three days time..”

At the declaration, the Qunari found himself inflamed by explosive guilt, and screamed. The Chargers, one by one, filed out of the door as quick as possible. “Comback! I’m sho shorry, I’ll do anythin’ t’make it right! Rocky! Shkinner! No! I’m shorry!” He bellowed, and began to rock aggressively. The Inquisitor followed suit, slowing her pace to catch one last glimpse of the defeated traitor.

“Ebasaam, Bull. Ebasaam.”

[plantparenthood]

richatstructure replied to your photoset: i think i’ll keep the red, eh?

HOLY SHITTTT IT’S BEEN FOREVER

bringing it back laufen circa 2011

[resdaynian]

If anybody in the Southeastern Michigan area knows of a reputable doctor that practices informed consent in regards to HRT I would appreciate any information that you can share. Thank you.