Ingtar set a fast pace for the beginning of along journey, fast enough that Rand worried a little about the horses. The animals could keep up the trot for hours, but there was still most of the day ahead, and likely days more beyond that. The way Ingtar’s face was set, though, Rand thought he might intend to catch those who had stolen the Horn in the first day, in the first hour. Remembering his voice when he swore his oath to the Amyrlin Seat, Rand would not have been surprised. He kept his mouth shut, though. It was Lord Ingtar’s command; as friendly as he had been to Rand, he still would not appreciate a shepherd giving advice.
Hurin rode a pace behind Ingtar, but it was the sniffer who led them south, pointing the way for Ingtar. The land was rolling, forested hills, thick with fir and leatherleaf and oak, but the path Hurin set led almost straight as an arrow, never wavering except to go around a few of the taller hills, where the way was clearly quicker around than over. The Gray Owl banner rippled in the wind.
Rand tried to ride with Mat and Perrin, but when Rand let his horse drop back to them, Mat nudged Perrin, and Perrin reluctantly galloped to the head of the column with Mat. Telling himself there was no point riding at the back by himself, Rand rode back to the front. They fell to the rear again, Mat again urging Perrin.
Burn them. I only want to apologize. He felt alone. It did not help that he knew it was his own fault.
Atop one hill, Uno dismounted to examine ground churned by hooves. He poked at some horse droppings and grunted. “Bloody well moving fast, my Lord.” He had a voice that sounded as if he were shouting when he was just speaking. “We’ve not made up an hour on them. Burn me, we may have lost a flaming hour.  He fingered a hoofed track. “No horse, that. Bloody Trolloc. Some flaming goat feet over there.”
“We will catch them,” Ingtar said grimly.
“Our horses, my Lord.   Mount, Uno.”
Uno looked at Rand with his one eye, then shrugged and climbed into his saddle. Ingtar took them down the far slope at a run, half sliding all the way to the bottom, and galloped up the next.
Why did he look at me that way, Rand wondered. Uno was one of those who had never shown much friendliness toward him. It was not like Masema’s open dislike; Uno was not friendly with anyone except a few veterans as grizzled as himself. Surely he doesn’t believe that tale about me being a lord.
Uno spent his time studying the country ahead, but when he caught Rand looking at him, he gave back stare for stare, and never said a word. It did not mean much. He would stare Ingtar in the eye, too. That was Uno’s way.
The path chosen by the Darkfriends—And what else, Rand wondered; Hurin kept muttering about “something worse”—who had stolen the Horn never came close to any village. Rand saw villages, from one hilltop to another, with a mile or more of up-and-down country between, but there was never one close enough to make out the people in the streets. Or close enough for those people to make out a party heading south. There were farms, too, with low-eaved houses and tall barns and smoking chimneys, on hilltops and on hillsides and in the bottoms, but never one close enough for the farmer to have seen their quarry.
Eventually even Ingtar had to realize that the horses could not keep on as they were going. Rand heard muttered curses, and Ingtar pounded his thigh with a gauntleted fist, but finally he ordered everyone to dismount. They trotted, leading their horses, uphill and down, for a mile, then mounted and rode again. Then it was down again and trot. Trot a mile, then ride a mile. Trot, then ride.
Rand was surprised to see Loial grinning when they were down on the ground, toiling up a hill. The Ogier had been uneasy about riding and horses when they first met, preferring to trust to his own feet, but Rand thought he had long gotten over that.
“Do you like to run, Rand?” Loial laughed. “I do. I was the fastest in Stedding Shangtai. I outran a horse, once.”
Rand only shook his head. He did not want to waste breath on talk. He looked for Mat and Perrin, but they were still at the back, too many men between for Rand to make them out. He wondered how the Shienarans could manage this in their armor. Not a one of them slowed or voiced a complaint. Uno did not even look as if he were breaking a sweat, and the bannerman never let the Gray Owl waver.
It was a quick pace, but twilight began to close without any sight of those they hunted except their tracks. At last, reluctantly, Ingtar called a halt to make camp for the night in the forest. The Shienarans went about getting fires started and setting picket-lines for the horses with a smooth economy of effort born of long experience. Ingtar posted six guards, in pairs, for the first watch.
Rand’s first order of business was finding his bundle in the wicker panniers from the packhorses. It was not hard—there were few personal bundles among the supplies—but when he had it open, he let out a shout that brought every man in the camp erect with sword in hand.
Ingtar came running. “What is it? Peace, did someone get through? I did not hear the guards.”
“It’s these coats,” Rand growled, still staring at what he had unpacked. One coat was black, embroidered with silver thread, the other white worked in gold. Both had herons on the collars, and both were at least as ornate as the scarlet coat he was wearing. “The servants told me I had two good, serviceable coats in here. Look at them!”
Ingtar sheathed his sword over his shoulder. The other men began to settle back down. “Well, they are serviceable.”
“I can’t wear these. I can’t go around dressed like this all the time.”
“You can wear them. A coat’s a coat. I understand Moiraine Sedai herself saw to your packing. Maybe Aes Sedai do not exactly understand what a man wears in the field.” Ingtar grinned. “After we catch these Trollocs, perhaps we’ll have a feast. You will be dressed for it, at least, even if the rest of us are not.” He strolled back to where the cook fires were already burning.
Rand had not moved since Ingtar mentioned Moiraine. He stared at the coats. What is she doing? Whatever it is, I will not be used. He bundled everything together again and stuffed the bundle back into the pannier. I can always go naked, he thought bitterly.
Shienarans took turns at the cooking when they were in the field, and Masema was stirring the kettle when Rand returned to the fires. The smell of a stew made from turnips, onions, and dried meat settled over the camp. Ingtar was served first, and then Uno, but everyone else stood in line however they happened to come. Masema slopped a big ladle of stew on Rand’s plate; Rand stepped back quickly to keep from getting the overflow on his coat, and made room for the next man while sucking a burned thumb. Masema stared at him, with a fixed grin that never reached his eyes. Until Uno stepped up and cuffed him.
 The one-eyed man looked at Rand and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed Rand.
Rand went to join Ingtar and Loial, sitting on the ground under a spreading oak. Ingtar had his helmet off, on the ground beside him, but otherwise he was fully armored. Mat and Perrin were already there, eating hungrily. Mat gave a broad sneer at Rand’s coat, but Perrin barely looked up, golden eyes shining in the half-light from the fires, before bending back to his plate.
At least they didn’t leave this time.
He sat cross-legged on the other side of Ingtar from them. “I wish I knew why Uno keeps looking at me.
Ingtar paused thoughtfully around a mouthful of stew. Finally he said, “Uno no doubt wonders if you are worthy of a heron-mark blade.” Mat snorted loudly, but Ingtar went on unperturbed. “Do not let Uno upset you. He would treat Lord Agelmar like a raw recruit if he could. Well, perhaps not Agelmar, but anyone else. He has a tongue like a file, but he gives good advice. He should; he’s been campaigning since before I was born. Listen to his advice, don’t mind his tongue, and you will do all right with Uno.”
“I thought he was like Masema.” Rand shoveled stew into his mouth. It was too hot, but he gulped it down. They had not eaten since leaving Fal Dara, and he had been too worried to eat that morning. His stomach rumbled, reminding him it was past time. He wondered if telling Masema he liked the food would help. “Masema acts like he hates me, and I don’t understand it.”
“Masema served three years in the Eastern Marches,” Ingtar said. “At Ankor Dail, against the Aiel.” He stirred his stew with his spoon, frowning. “I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can’t get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you . . . ” He shrugged. “I ask no questions.”
Rand dropped his spoon in the plate with a sigh. “Everybody thinks I’m somebody I am not. I am from the Two Rivers, Ingtar. I grew tabac with—with my father, and tended his sheep. That is what I am. A farmer and shepherd from the Two Rivers.”
“He’s from the Two Rivers,” Mat said scornfully. “I grew up with him, though you’d never know it now.  An Aiel lord, maybe.”
“No,” Loial said, “he has the look. You remember, Rand, I remarked on it once, though I thought it was just because I didn’t know you humans well enough then. Remember? ‘Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day.’ You remember, Rand.”
Rand stared at his plate. Wrap a shoufa around your head, and you would be the image of an Aielman. That had been Gawyn, brother to Elayne, the Daughter-Heir of Andor. Everybody thinks I’m somebody I’m not.
“What was that?” Mat asked. “About spitting in the Dark One’s eye.”
“That’s how long the Aiel say they’ll fight,” Ingtar said, “and I don’t doubt they will. Except for peddlers and gleemen, Aiel divide the world in two. Aiel, and enemies. They changed that for Cairhien five hundred years ago, for some reason no one but an Aiel could understand, but I do not think they will ever do so again.”
“I suppose not,” Loial sighed. “But they do let the Tuatha’an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don’t see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste. Aiel come to Stedding Shangtai sometimes to trade for sung wood. A hard people, though.”
Ingtar nodded. “I wish I had some as hard. Half as hard.”
“Is that a joke?” Mat laughed. “If I ran a mile wearing all the iron you’re wearing, I would fall down and sleep a week. You’ve done it mile after mile all day.”
“Aiel are hard,” Ingtar said. “Man and woman, hard. I’ve fought them, and I know. They will run fifty miles, and fight a battle at the end of it. They’re death walking, with any weapon or none. Except a sword. They will not touch a sword, for some reason. Or ride a horse, not that they need to. If you have a sword, and the Aielman has his bare hands, it is an even fight. If you’re good. They herd cattle and goats where you or I would die of thirst before the day was done. They dig their villages into huge rock spires out in the Waste. They’ve been there since the Breaking, near enough. Artur Hawkwing tried to dig them out and was bloodied, the only major defeats he ever suffered. By day the air in the Aiel Waste shimmers with heat, and by night it freezes.  He won’t be lying, either. If they ever tried to come out, we would be hard-pressed to stop them. The Aiel War lasted three years, and that was only four out of thirteen clans.”
“Gray eyes from his mother doesn’t make him an Aiel,” Mat said.
Ingtar shrugged. “As I said, I ask no questions.”
When Rand finally settled down for the night, his head hummed with unwanted thoughts. Image of an Aielman. Moiraine Sedai wants to say you’re from the Two Rivers. Aiel ravaged all the way to Tar Valon. Born on the slopes of Dragonmount. The Dragon Reborn.
“I will not be used,” he muttered, but sleep was a long time coming.
Ingtar broke camp before the sun was up in the morning. They had breakfasted and were riding south while the clouds in the east were still red with sunrise to come and dew still hung on the leaves. This time Ingtar put out scouts, and though the pace was hard, it was no longer horse-killing. Rand thought maybe Ingtar had realized they were not going to do it all in a day. The trail still led south, Hurin said. Until, two hours after the sun rose, one of the scouts came galloping back.
“Abandoned camp ahead, my Lord. Just on that hilltop there. Must have been at least thirty or forty of them there last night, my Lord.”
Ingtar put spurs to horse as if he had been told the Darkfriends were still there, and Rand had to keep pace or be trampled by the Shienarans who galloped up the hill behind him.
There was not much to see. The cold ashes of campfires, well hidden in the trees, with what looked like the remnants of a meal tossed in them. A refuse heap too near the fires and already buzzing with flies.
Ingtar kept the others back, and dismounted to walk through the campsite with Uno, examining the ground. Hurin rode the circumference of the site, sniffing. Rand sat his stallion with the other men; he had no desire for any closer look at a place where Trollocs and Darkfriends had camped. And a Fade. And something worse.
Mat scrambled up the hill afoot and stalked into the campsite. “Is this what a Darkfriend camp looks like? Smells a bit, but I can’t say it looks any different from anybody else’s.” He kicked at one of the ash heaps, knocking out a piece of burned bone, and stooped to pick it up. “What do Darkfriends eat?  He scrubbed at his nose with a kerchief. “Worse than murder.”’
“There were Trollocs here,” Ingtar said, looking straight at Mat. “I suppose they got hungry, and the Darkfriends were handy.” Mat dropped the blackened bone; he looked as if he were going to be sick.
“They are not going south any longer, my Lord,” Hurin said. That took everyone’s attention. He pointed back, to the northeast. “Maybe they’ve decided to break for the Blight after all. Go around us. Maybe they were just trying to put us off by coming south.” He did not sound as if he believed it. He sounded puzzled.
“Whatever they were trying,” Ingtar snarled, “I’ll have them now. Mount!”
Little more than an hour later, though, Hurin drew rein. “They changed again, my Lord. South again. And they killed someone else here.”
There were no ashes there, in the gap between two hills, but a few minutes’ search found the body. A man curled up and stuffed under some bushes.  No one recognized him, though he was wearing Shienaran clothes.
“We’ll waste no time burying Darkfriends,” Ingtar growled. “We ride south.” He suited his own words almost before they were out of his mouth.
The day was the same as the day before had been, though. Uno studied tracks and droppings, and said they had gained a little ground on their quarry. Twilight came with no sight of Trollocs or Darkfriends, and the next morning there was another abandoned camp—and another murder done, so Hurin said—and another change of direction, this time to the northwest. Less than two hours on that track found another body, a man with his skull split open by an axe, and another change of direction. South again. Again gaining ground, by Uno’s reading of the tracks. Again seeing nothing but distant farms until nightfall. And the next day was the same, changes in direction, murders and all. And the next.
Every day brought them a little closer behind their prey, but Ingtar fumed. He suggested cutting straight across when the trail changed direction of a morning—surely they would come on the trail heading south again, and gain more time—and before anyone could speak, he said it was a bad idea, in case this once the men they hunted did not turn south. He urged everyone to greater speed, to start earlier and ride till full dark. He reminded them of the charge the Amyrlin Seat had given them, to recover the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar their way. He spoke of the glory they would have, their names remembered in story and history, in gleemen’s tales and bards’ songs, the men who found the Horn. He talked as if he could not stop, and he stared down the trail they followed as if his hope of the Light lay at the end of it. Even Uno began to look at him askance.
And so they came to the River Erinin.
It could not properly be called a village at all, to Rand’s mind. He sat his horse among the trees, peering up at half a dozen small houses with wood-shingled roofs and eaves almost to the ground, on a hilltop overlooking the river beneath the morning sun. Few people passed this way. It was only a few hours since they had broken camp, but past time for them to have found the remains of the Darkfriends’ resting place if the pattern held. They had seen nothing of the sort, however.
The river itself was not much like the mighty Erinin of story, here so far toward its source in the Spine of the World. Perhaps sixty paces of swift water to the far bank, lined with trees, and a barge-like ferry on a thick rope spanning the distance. The ferry sat snugged against the other side.
For once the trail had led straight to human habitation. Straight to the houses on the hill. No one moved on the single dirt street around which the dwellings clustered.
“Ambush, my Lord?” Uno said softly.
Ingtar gave the necessary orders, and the Shienarans unlimbered their lances, sweeping around to encircle the houses. At a hand signal from Ingtar they galloped between the houses from four directions, thundering in with eyes searching, lances ready, dust rising under their hooves. Nothing moved but them. They drew rein, and the dust began to settle.
Rand returned to his quiver the arrow he had nocked, and slung his bow on his back again. Mat and Perrin did the same. Loial and Hurin had just waited there where Ingtar had left them, watching uneasily.
Ingtar waved, and Rand and the others rode up to join the Shienarans.
“I don’t like the smell of this place,” Perrin muttered as they came among the houses.  “It smells wrong.”
“Bloody Darkfriends and Trollocs went straight through, my Lord,” Uno said, pointing to a few tracks not chopped to pieces by the Shienarans. “Straight through to the goat-kissing ferry, which they bloody left on the other side.  We’re flaming lucky they didn’t cut it adrift.”
“Where are the people?” Loial asked.
Doors stood open, curtains flapped at open windows, but no one had come out for all the thunder of hooves.
“Search the houses,” Ingtar commanded. Men dismounted and ran to comply, but they came back shaking their heads.
“They’re just gone, my Lord,” Uno said.   He stopped suddenly, pointing urgently to a house behind Ingtar. “There’s a woman at that window.  ” He was running for the house before anyone else could move.
“Don’t frighten her!” Ingtar shouted. “Uno, we need information. The Light blind you, Uno, don’t frighten her!” The one-eyed man disappeared through the open door. Ingtar raised his voice again. “We will not harm you, good lady. We are Lord Agelmar’s oathmen, from Fal Dara. Do not be afraid! We will not harm you.”
A window at the top of the house flew up, and Uno stuck his head out, staring around wildly. With an oath he pulled back. Thumps and clatters marked his passage back, as if he were kicking things in frustration. Finally he appeared from the doorway.
“Gone, my Lord. But she was there. A woman in a white dress, at the window. I saw her. I even thought I saw her inside, for a moment, but then she was gone, and . . . ” He took a deep breath. “The house is empty, my Lord.” It was a measure of his agitation that he did not curse.
“Curtains,” Mat muttered.  Uno gave him a sharp look, then returned to his horse.
“Where did they go?” Rand asked Loial. “Do you think they ran off when the Darkfriends came?” And Trollocs, and a Myrddraal. And Hurin’s something worse. Smart people, if they ran as hard as they could.
“I fear the Darkfriends took them, Rand,” Loial said slowly. He grimaced, almost a snarl with his broad nose like a snout. “For the Trollocs.” Rand swallowed and wished he had not asked; it was never pleasant to think on how Trollocs fed.
“Whatever was done here,” Ingtar said, “our Darkfriends did it. Hurin, was there violence here? Killing? Hurin!”
The sniffer gave a start in his saddle and looked around wildly. He had been staring across the river. “Violence, my Lord? Yes: Killing, no. Or not exactly.” He glanced sideways at Perrin. “I’ve never smelled anything exactly like it before, my Lord. But there was hurting done.”
“Is there any doubt they crossed over? Have they doubled back again?”
“They crossed, my Lord.” Hurin looked uneasily at the far bank. “They crossed. What they did on the other side, though . . . ” He shrugged.
Ingtar nodded. “Uno, I want that ferry back on this side. And I want the other side scouted before we cross. Just because there was no ambush here doesn’t mean there will not be one when we are split by the river. That ferry does not look big enough to carry us all in one trip. See to it.”
Uno bowed, and in moments Ragan and Masema were helping each other out of their armor. Stripped down to breechclouts, with a dagger stuck behind in the small of the back, they trotted to the river on horsemen’s bowed legs and waded in, beginning to work their way hand over hand along the thick rope along which the ferry ran. The cable sagged enough in the middle to put them in the river to their waists, and the current was strong, pulling them downstream, yet in less time than Rand expected they were hauling themselves over the slatted sides of the ferry. Drawing their daggers, they disappeared into the trees.
After what seemed like forever, the two men reappeared and began pulling the ferry slowly across. The barge butted against the bank below the village, and Masema tied it off while Ragan trotted up to where Ingtar waited. His face was pale, the arrow scar on his cheek sharp, and he sounded shaken.
“The far bank . . . There is no ambush on the far bank, my Lord, but . . . ” He bowed deeply, still wet and shivering from his excursion. “My Lord, you must see for yourself. The big stoneoak, fifty paces south from the landing. I cannot say the words. You must see it yourself.”
Ingtar frowned, looking from Ragan to the other bank. Finally, he said, “You have done well, Ragan. Both of you have.” His voice became more brisk. “Find these men something to dry themselves on from the houses, Uno. And see if anybody left water on for tea. Put something hot into them, if you can. Then bring the second file and the pack animals over.” He turned to Rand. “Well, are you ready to see the south bank of the Erinin?” He did not wait for an answer, but rode down to the ferry with Hurin and half the lancers.
Rand hesitated only a moment before following. Loial went with him. To his surprise, Perrin rode down ahead of them, looking grim. Some of the lancers, making gruff jokes, dismounted to haul on the rope and walk the ferry over.
Mat waited until the last minute, when one of the Shienarans was untying the ferry, before he kicked his horse and crowded aboard. “I have to come sooner or later, don’t I?” he said, breathless, to no one in particular. “I have to find it.”
Rand shook his head. With Mat looking as healthy as he ever had, he had almost forgotten why he was along. To find the dagger. Let Ingtar have the Horn. I just want the dagger for Mat. “We will find it, Mat.”
Mat scowled at him—with a sneering glance for his fine red coat—and turned away. Rand sighed.
“It will all come right, Rand,” Loial said quietly. “Somehow, it will.”
The current took the ferry as it was hauled out from the bank, tugging it against the cable with a sharp creak. The lancers were odd ferrymen, walking the deck in helmets and armor, with swords on their backs, but they took the ferry out into the river well enough.
“This is how we left home,” Perrin said suddenly. “At Taren Ferry. The ferrymen’s boots clunking on the deck, and the water gurgling around the ferry. This is how we left. It will be worse, this time.”
“How can it be worse?” Rand asked. Perrin did not answer. He searched the far bank, and his golden eyes almost seemed to shine, but not with eagerness.
After a minute, Mat asked, “How can it be worse?”
“It will be. I can smell it,” was all Perrin would say. Hurin eyed him nervously, but then Hurin seemed to be eyeing everything nervously since they had left Fal Dara.
The ferry bumped against the south bank with a hollow thud of stout planks against hard clay, almost under overhanging trees, and the Shienarans who had been hauling on the rope mounted their horses, except for two Ingtar told to take the ferry back over for the others. The rest followed Ingtar up the bank.
“Fifty paces to a big stoneoak,” Ingtar said as they rode into the trees. He sounded too matter-of-fact. If Ragan could not speak of it . . . Some of the soldiers eased the swords on their backs, and held their lances ready.
At first Rand thought the figures hanging by their arms from the thick gray limbs of the stoneoak were scarecrows. Crimson scarecrows. Then he recognized the two faces. Changu, and the other man who had been on guard with him. Nidao. Eyes staring, teeth bared in a rictus of pain. They had lived a long time after it began.
Perrin made a sound in his throat, nearly a growl.
“As bad as ever I’ve seen, my Lord,” Hurin said faintly. “As bad as ever I’ve smelled, excepting the dungeon at Fal Dara that night.”
Frantically Rand sought the void. The flame seemed to get in the way, the queasy light fluttering in time with his convulsive swallows, but he pushed on until he had wrapped himself in emptiness. The queasiness pulsed in the void with him, though. Not outside, for once, but inside. No wonder, looking at this. The thought skittered across the void like a drop of water on a hot griddle. What happened to them?
“Skinned alive,” he heard someone behind him say, and the sounds of somebody else retching. He thought it was Mat, but it was all far away from him, inside the void. But that nauseous flickering was in there, too. He thought he might throw up himself.
“Cut them down,” Ingtar said harshly. He hesitated a moment, then added, “Bury them. We cannot be sure they were Darkfriends. They could have been taken prisoner. They could have been. Let them know the last embrace of the mother, at least.” Men rode forward gingerly with knives; even for battle-hardened Shienarans it was no easy task, cutting down the flayed corpses of men they knew.
“Are you all right, Rand?” Ingtar said. “I am not used to this either.”
“I . . . am all right, Ingtar.” Rand let the void vanish. He felt less sick without it; his stomach still curdled, but it was better. Ingtar nodded and turned his horse so he could watch the men working.
The burial was simple. Two holes dug in the ground, and the bodies laid in as the rest of the Shienarans watched in silence. The grave diggers began shoveling earth into the graves with no more ado.
Rand was shocked, but Loial explained softly. “Shienarans believe we all came from earth, and must return to earth. They never use coffins or shrouds, and the bodies are never clothed. The earth must hold the body. The last embrace of the mother, they call it. And there are never any words except ‘The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home.’ ” Loial sighed and shook his huge head. “I do not think anyone will say them this time. No matter what Ingtar says, Rand, there cannot be much doubt that Changu and Nidao slew the guards at the Dog Gate and let the Darkfriends into the keep. It had to be they who were responsible for all of it.”
“Then who shot the arrow at—at the Amyrlin?” Rand swallowed. Who shot at me? Loial said nothing.
Uno arrived with the rest of the men and the packhorses as the last earth was being shoveled onto the graves. Someone told him what they had found, and the one-eyed man spat. “Goat-kissing Trollocs do that along the Blight, sometimes. When they want to shake your bloody nerve, or flaming warn you not to follow. Burn me if it works here, either.”
Before they rode away, Ingtar paused on his horse beside the unmarked graves, two mounds of bare earth that looked too small to hold men. After a moment he said, “The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home.” When he raised his head, he looked at each man in turn. There was no expression on any face, least of all on Ingtar’s. “They saved Lord Agelmar at Tarwin’s Gap,” he said. Several of the lancers nodded. Ingtar turned his horse. “Which way, Hurin?”
“South, my Lord.”
“Take the trail! We hunt!”
The forest soon gave way to gently rolling flatland, sometimes crossed by a shallow stream that had dug itself a high-banked channel, with never more than a low rise or a squat hill that barely deserved the name. Perfect country for the horses. Ingtar took advantage of it, setting a steady, ground-covering pace. Occasionally Rand saw what might have been a farmhouse in the distance, and once what he thought was a village, with smoke rising from chimneys a few miles off and something flashing white in the sun, but the land near them stayed empty of human life, long swathes of grass dotted with brush and occasional trees, with now and again a small thicket, never more than a hundred paces across.
Ingtar put out scouts, two men riding ahead, in sight only when they topped an occasional rise. He had a silver whistle hanging around his neck to call them back if Hurin said the trail had veered, but it did not. South. Always south.
“We will reach the field of Talidar in three or four days at this rate,” Ingtar said as they rode. “Artur Hawkwing’s greatest single victory, when the Halfmen led the Trollocs out of the Blight against him. Six days and nights, it lasted, and when it was done, the Trollocs fled back into the Blight and never dared challenge him again. He raised a monument there to his victory, a spire a hundred spans high. He would not let them put his own name on it, but rather the names of every man who fell, and a golden sun at the top, symbol that there the Light had triumphed over the Shadow.”
“I would like to see that,” Loial said. “I have never heard of this monument.”
Ingtar was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. “It is not there any longer, Builder. When Hawkwing died, the ones who fought over his empire could not bear to leave a monument to a victory of his, even if it did not mention his name. There’s nothing left but the mound where it stood. In three or four days we can see that, at least.” His tone did not allow much conversation afterwards.
With the sun hanging golden overhead, they passed a structure, square and made of plastered brick, less than a mile from their path. It was not tall, no more than two stories still standing anywhere he saw, but it covered a good hide of ground. An air of long abandonment hung about it, roofs gone except for a few stretches of dark tile clinging to bits of rafter, most of the once-white plaster fallen to bare the dark, weathered brick beneath, walls fallen to show courtyards and decaying chambers inside. Brush, and even trees, grew in the cracks of what had once been courtyards.
“A manor house,” Ingtar explained. The little humor he had regained seemed to fade as he looked at the structure. “When Harad Dakar still stood, I expect the manorman farmed this land for a league around. Orchards, maybe. The Hardani loved their orchards.”
“Harad Dakar?” Rand said, and Ingtar snorted.
“Does no one learn history any longer? Harad Dakar, the capital city of Hardan, which nation this once was that we are riding across.”
“I’ve seen an old map,” Rand replied in a tight voice. “I know about the nations that aren’t there anymore. Maredo, and Goaban, and Carralain. But there wasn’t any Hardan on it.”
“There were once others that are gone now, too,” Loial said. “Mar Haddon, which is now Haddon Mirk, and Almoth. Kintara. The War of the Hundred Years cut Artur Hawkwing’s empire into many nations, large and small. The small were gobbled up by the large, or else united, like Altara and Murandy. Forced together would be a better word than united, I suppose.”
“So what happened to them?” Mat demanded. Rand had not noticed Perrin and Mat ride up to join them. They had been at the rear, as far from Rand al’Thor as they could get, the last he had seen.
“They could not hold together,” the Ogier replied. “Crops failed, or trade failed. People failed. Something failed in each case, and the nation dwindled. Often neighboring countries absorbed the land, when the nations were gone, but they never lasted, those annexations. In time, the land truly was abandoned. Some villages hang on here and there, but mostly they have all gone to wilderness. It is nearly three hundred years since Harad Dakar was finally abandoned, but even before that it was a shell, with a king who could not control what happened inside the city walls. Harad Dakar itself is completely gone now, I understand. All the towns and cities of Hardan are gone, the stone carted away by farmers and villagers for their own use. Most of the farms and villages made with it are gone, too. So I read, and I’ve seen nothing to change it.”
“It was quite a quarry, Harad Dakar, for almost a hundred years,” Ingtar said bitterly. “The people left, finally, and then the city was hauled away, stone by stone. All faded away, and what has not gone is fading. Everything, everywhere, fading. There is hardly a nation that truly controls the land it claims on a map, and there is hardly a land that claims today on a map what it did even a hundred years ago. When the War of the Hundred Years ended, a man rode from one nation into another without end from the Blight to the Sea of Storms. Now we can ride through wilderness claimed by no nation for almost the whole of the land. We in the Borderlands have our battle with the Blight to keep us strong, and whole. Perhaps they did not have what they needed to keep them strong. You say they failed, Builder? Yes, they failed, and what nation standing whole today will fail tomorrow? We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands? How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?”
There was a shocked silence. Not even Mat broke it. Ingtar rode lost in his own dark thoughts.
After a time the scouts came galloping back, straight in the saddles, lances erect against the sky. “A village ahead, my Lord. We were not seen, but it lies directly in our line of march.”
Ingtar shook himself out of his brown study, but did not speak until they had reached the crest of a low ridge looking down on the village, and then it was only to command a halt while he dug a looking glass from his saddlebags and raised it to peer at the village.
Rand studied the village with interest. It was as big as Emond’s Field, though that was not very big compared to some of the towns he had seen since leaving the Two Rivers, much less the cities. The houses were all low and plastered with white clay, and they appeared to have grass growing on sloping roofs. A dozen windmills, scattered through the village, turned lazily, their long, cloth-covered arms flashing white in the sun.  There was no gate in the one opening he could see in the wall, but he supposed it could be blocked easily enough with a cart or wagon. He could not see any people.
“Not even a dog in sight,” Ingtar said, returning the looking glass to his saddlebags. “Are you sure they did not see you?” he asked the scouts.
“Not unless they have the Dark One’s own luck, my Lord,” one of the men replied. “We never crested the rise. We didn’t see anyone moving then either, my Lord.”
Ingtar nodded. “The trail, Hurin?”
Hurin drew a deep breath. “Toward the village, my Lord. Straight to it, as near as I can tell from here.”
“Watch sharp,” Ingtar commanded, gathering his reins. “And do not believe that they’re friendly just because they smile. If there is anyone there.” He led them down toward the village at a slow walk, and reached up to loosen his sword in its scabbard.
Rand heard the sounds of others behind him doing the same. After a moment, he eased his, too. Trying to stay alive was not the same as trying to be a hero, he decided.
“You think these people would help Darkfriends?” Perrin asked Ingtar. The Shienaran was slow in answering.
“They have no great love for Shienarans,” he said finally. “They think we should protect them. Us, or the Cairhienin. Cairhien did claim this land, once the last King of Hardan died. All the way to the Erinin, they claimed it. They could not hold it, though. They gave up the claim nearly a hundred years ago. The few people who still live here don’t have to worry about Trollocs this far south, but there are plenty of human brigands. That’s why they have the wall, and the ditch. All their villages do. Their fields will be hidden in hollows around here, but no one will live outside the wall. They would swear fealty to any king who would give them his protection, but we have all we can do against the Trollocs. They do not love us for it, though.” As they reached the opening in the low wall, he added again, “Watch sharp!”
All the streets led toward a village square, but there was no one in the streets, no one peering from a window. Not even a dog moved, not so much as a chicken. Nothing living. Open doors swung, creaking in the wind, counterpoint to the rhythmic squeak of the windmills. The horses’ hooves sounded loud on the packed dirt of the street.
“Like at the ferry,” Hurin muttered, “but different.” He rode hunched in his saddle, head down as if he were trying to hide behind his own shoulders. “Violence done, but . . . I don’t know. It was bad here. It smells bad.”
“Uno,” Ingtar said, “take one file and search the houses. If you find anyone, bring them to me in the square. Do not frighten them this time, though. I want answers, not people running for their lives.” He led the other soldiers toward the center of the village as Uno got his ten dismounted.
Rand hesitated, looking around. The creaking doors, the squealing windmills, the horses’ hooves, all made too much noise, as if there were not another sound in the world. He scanned the houses. The curtains in an open window beat against the outside of the house. They all seemed lifeless. With a sigh he got down and walked to the nearest house, then stopped, staring at the door.
It’s just a door. What are you afraid of? He wished he did not feel as if there was something waiting on the other side. He pushed it open.
Inside was a tidy room. Or had been. The table was set for a meal, ladder-back chairs gathered around, some plates already served. A few flies buzzed above bowls of turnips and peas, and more crawled on a cold roast sitting in its own congealed grease. There was a slice half carved from the roast, the fork still standing stuck in the meat and the carving knife lying partway in the platter as if dropped. Rand stepped inside.
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street.  The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward a door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and—
Blink.
Rand could not move. The flies buzzing over the table sounded louder.
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street.  The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward the door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and—
Blink.
Rand struggled, but his muscles seemed frozen. The room was colder; he wanted to shiver, but he could not move even that much. Flies crawled all over the table. He groped for the void. The sour light was there, but he did not care. He had to—
Blink.
A smiling, bald-headed man in rough clothes laid a slice of meat on a plate held by a woman with a worn face. She was smiling, too, though. She added peas and turnips to the plate and passed it to one of the children lining the table. There were half a dozen children, boys and girls, from nearly grown down to barely tall enough to look over the table. The woman said something, and the girl taking the plate from her laughed. The man started to cut another slice.
Suddenly another girl screamed, pointing at the door to the street.  The woman grabbed another, and motioned desperately to the others, her mouth working frantically, silently. They all scrabbled toward a door in the back of the room.
That door burst open, and—
Blink.
The room was freezing. So cold. Flies blackened the table; the walls were a shifting mass of flies, the floor, the ceiling, all black with them.  Light, help me. Cold. The flies buzzed like thunder. Cold. It penetrated the void, mocking the emptiness, encasing him in ice. Desperately he reached for the flickering light. His stomach twisted, but the light was warm. Warm. Hot. He was hot.
Suddenly he was tearing at . . . something. He did not know what, or how. Cobwebs made of steel. Moonbeams carved from stone. They crumbled at his touch, but he knew he had not touched anything. They shriveled and melted with the heat that surged through him, heat like a forge fire, heat like the world burning, heat like—
It was gone. Panting, he looked around with wide eyes. A few flies lay on the half-carved roast, in the platter. Dead flies. Six flies. Only six. There were more in the bowls, half a dozen tiny black specks among the cold vegetables. All dead. He staggered out into the street.
Mat was just coming out of a house across the street, shaking his head. “Nobody there,” he told Perrin, still on his horse. “It looks like they just got up in the middle of supper and walked away.”
A shout came from the square.
“They’ve found something,” Perrin said, digging his heels into his horse’s flanks. Mat scrambled into his saddle and galloped after him.
Rand. mounted Red more slowly; the stallion shied as if feeling his unease. He glanced at the houses as he rode slowly toward the square, but he could not make himself look at them for long. Mat went in one, and nothing happened to him. He resolved not to set foot inside another house in that village no matter what. Booting Red, he quickened his pace.
 Rand did not think it could be an inn; there was no sign, for one thing. Perhaps a village meeting place. He joined the silent circle, and stared along with the rest.
There was a man spread-eagled across the doors with thick spikes through wrists and shoulders.  Dark, dried blood made fans down his cheeks. Scuff marks on the wood behind his boots showed that he had been alive when it was done. When it began, anyway.
Rand’s breath caught. Not a man. Those black clothes, blacker than black, had never been worn by any human. The wind flapped an end of the cloak caught behind the body—which it did not always, he knew too well; the wind did not always touch those clothes—but there had never been any eyes in that pale, bloodless face.
“Myrddraal,” he breathed, and it was as if his speaking released all the others. They began to move again, and breathe.
“Who,” Mat began, and had to stop to swallow. “Who could do this to a Fade?” His voice squeaked at the end.
“I don’t know,” Ingtar said. “I do not know.” He looked around, examining faces, or perhaps counting to be sure everyone was there. “And I do not think we will learn anything here. We ride. Mount! Hurin, find the trail out of this place.”
“Yes, my Lord. Yes. With pleasure. That way, my Lord. They’re still heading south.”
 Hurin was first beyond the wall, not waiting on Ingtar for a change, but Rand came close behind him.


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Then we got chilly and the warmth doubled as the blankets not only covered us against the chill of fear of finally breaking through the code ceiling,
but also created heat through friction, and it got hot in here very quickly.
Really, though, there is a direct correlation between the bits of progress and sparks of anxiety.
The fear is highest right before a breakthrough.


The Account UUID you provided is either invalid or expired, please keep in mind
that the tokens have a max validity of five minutes after which they will expire
and you will have to repeat the registration process.
The Account UUID you provided is either invalid or expired, please keep in mind
that the tokens have a max validity of five minutes after which they will expire
and you will have to repeat the registration process.


After creating the handler, we are going to need a template to be able to
present a contact's personal page. Create a new file
contact_view.html
in the templates
directory
and paste the following code there:
# extends 'base.html' # block content

{{title}}

{{contact_db.email}}

{{contact_db.phone}}

{{contact_db.address}}

 Back
 # endblock
It's hard to test this form right now because we have to create manually the URL, but in the next section we'll add a link to make it easier to access.


* Mouse Controls
Move with the mouse, click an option to select, click away from the dropdown to close.
* Keyboard Controls
Up/Down to move, Enter to select, Escape to close.
* Searching
Type into the input to narrow down the option list.
<search-select ng-model="main.currentFruitOption" options="main.fruitOptions" label-keys="name" placeholder-text="Select Fruit" font-awesome-icon="fa-lemon-o"> </search-select>
vm.disabled = false;
<button ng-click="main.disabled = !main.disabled"> Toggle Disable Value </button> <search-select ng-model="main.currentUserOption" options="main.userOptions" label-keys="first_name last_name" placeholder-text="Select User" font-awesome-icon="fa-user" disabled="main.disabled"> </search-select>
vm.currentVideoGameCharacterOption = { characterId: 6, name: 'Sonic', weapon: 'Speed' }
<search-select ng-model="main.currentVideoGameCharacterOption" options="main.videoGameCharacterOptions" id-key="characterId" label-keys="name" placeholder-text="Select Character" font-awesome-icon="fa-user"> </search-select>


Feel free to click the link of the images below to see a larger size PDF of the project.
This project involved redesigning a brochure for the Virginia Tech History Department. The purpose of the brochure is to advertise for the department's masters program. All of the content given had to fit into the brochure; similarly, only a few images were available for use in the design.
I created this brochure for the Funeral Consumer's Alliance of the Virginia Blue Ridge, as part of a public relations campaign to improve the local chapter's reach and brand. This campaign was the primary project for a Public Relations Campaigns course, and involved working directly with the client.
I used Bootstrap to redesign the website for Hokie House, a restaurant in Blacksburg, Virginia. The project was done individually without consulting Hokie House; it is in no way an official website representing the restaurant.
The purpose of this project was to create a unique editorial illustration to accompany an article. I chose an article titled "The Risks of Pulling an All-Nighter," and accompanied the article with this edited stock image. I used Photoshop for image editing and InDesign to compose the layout.
This project was aimed at creating an infographic on a popular or controversial topic; I chose to expose "Molly," a controversial drug that was often in the news during 2013. I used Illustrator, InDesign, and Photoshop to develop the infographic and its designs.
After creating a consistent logo, I created a business card, letterhead and envelope for Virginia Tech Television. I used Illustrator for the logo and InDesign for the design of each document. For more examples of this project, view the accompanying letterhead and envelope.


Official Statistics
Statistics about 16- to 18-year-olds not in education, employment or training (NEET).
Ref: OSR18/2010 PDF , 76.4KB , 15 pages
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MS Excel Spreadsheet , 68KB
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MS Excel Spreadsheet , 57.5KB
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ZIP , 43.4KB
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Plain text , 1.59KB
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Reference Id: OSR18/2010
Publication type: Statistical Release
Publication data: Underlying Statistical data
Region: England
Release date: 18 August 2010
Coverage status: Provisional
Publication status: Published
This brief sets out the latest statistics available on NEET (not in employment, education or training) in England from the Department for Education 16 to 18 Participation statistical first release ( SFR ), the Labour Force Survey, and regional NEET figures and a segmentation using Connexions data. Additional tables will be released with the brief which disaggregates the data by characteristics such as gender.
As part of a government drive for data transparency in official publications we will make supporting data for this publication available as an additional table on this page on 9 September 2010.
Michael Greer
0114 274 2462
Published: 18 August 2010


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210. Beloved Sons
time limit per test: 2 sec.
memory limit per test: 65536
KB
input: standard
output: standard
Once upon a time there lived a king and he had N sons. And the
king wanted to marry his beloved sons on the girls that they did love. So one
day the king asked his sons to come to his room and tell him whom do they love.
But the sons of the king were all young men so they could not tell
exactly whom they did love. Instead of that they just told him the names of the
girls that seemed beautiful to them, but since they were all different, their
choices of beautiful girls also did not match exactly.
The king was
wise. He did write down the information that the children have provided him with
and called you, his main wizard.
"I want all my kids to be happy, you
know," he told you, "but since it might be impossible, I want at least some of
them to marry the girl they like. So please, prepare the marriage list."
Suddenly you recalled that not so long ago the king told you about each
of his sons, so you knew how much he loves him. So you decided to please the
king and make such a marriage list that the king would be most happy. You know
that the happiness of the king will be proportional to the square root of the
sum of the squares of his love to the sons that would marry the girls they like.
So, go on, make a list to maximize the king's happiness.
Input
The first line of the input file contains N — the number of
king's sons (1 ≤ N ≤ 400). The second line contains N integer numbers
Ai ranging from 1 to 1000 — the measures of king's love to each of
his sons.
Next N lines contain lists of king's sons' preferences — first
Ki — the number of the girls the i-th son of the king likes, and then
Ki integer numbers — the girls he likes (all potentially beautiful
girls in the kingdom were numbered from 1 to N, you know, beautiful girls were
rare in those days).
Output
Output N numbers — for each son output the number of the
beautiful girl he must marry or 0 if he must not marry the girl he likes.
Denote the set of sons that marry a girl they like by L, then you must
maximize the value of
sqrt( sum(i from L, Ai2) )
Sample test(s)
Input
4
1 3 2 4
4 1 2 3 4
2 1 4
2 1 4
2 1 4
Output
2 1 0 4
| Author: |
Andrew Stankevich |
| Resource: |
Petrozavodsk Summer Trainings 2003 |
| Date: |
2003-08-30
|
| Server time: 2004-01-14 13:41:09 |
Online Contester Team © 2002 - 2003. All
rights
reserved. | | |


{% load static %}
{{ dance_name }}
You listen to a ton of danceable music!
{% else %}You don't listen to much danceable music
{% endif %}{{ loud_name }}
You listen to a lot of LOUD music!
{% else %}You listen to music on the quieter side
{% endif %}{{ energy_name }}
Your songs have high energy!
{% else %}Your songs have a calmer vibe
{% endif %}{{ speech_name }}
You love hearing people speak!
{% elif speechiness > 33 %}You dabble in the art of speech
{% else %}You'd rather enjoy the sound of music than speech
{% endif %}{{ acoust_name }}
You love the raw sound of instruments!
{% else %}You like hearing digitalized music
{% endif %}You prefer the sound of instruments over vocalizing
{% else %}You love the sound of human voices
{% endif %}{{ instrumentalness }}%
of your songs are instrumental!
You love the sound of live audio!
{% else %}You live for clean-cut recordings
{% endif %}{{ liveness }}%
of your tracks are live!
You listen to a lot of negative-sounding songs
{% else %}You love listening to songs brimming with positivity!
{% endif %}BPM
{{ tempo }}
{{ key }} {{ mode }}
is the key you listen to most often!
Or at least your music is
Your average song popularity is {{ popularity }} out of 100!
You shouldn't listen to
{{ explicit }}%
of your tracks around the young'uns


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I'm Good What about You. I think you are the oone baby I love you.
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Join new node attribute values in a left join using a data frame. The use of a left join in this function allows for no possibility that nodes in the graph might be removed after the join.
join_node_attrs(graph, df, by_graph = NULL, by_df = NULL)
| graph | a graph object of class |
|---|---|
| df | the data frame to use for joining. |
| by_graph | optional specification of the column in the graph's internal
node data frame for the left join. If both |
| by_df | optional specification of the column in |
a graph object of class dgr_graph
.
# Set a seed set.seed(23) # Create a simple graph graph <- create_graph() %>% add_n_nodes(n = 5) %>% add_edges_w_string( edges = "1->2 1->3 2->4 2->5 3->5") # Create a data frame with node ID values and a # set of numeric values df <- data.frame( values = round(rnorm(6, 5), 2), id = 1:6) # Join the values in the data frame to the # graph's nodes; this works as a left join using # identically-named columns in the graph and the df # (in this case the `id` column is common to both) graph <- graph %>% join_node_attrs( df = df) # Get the graph's internal ndf to show that the # join has been made graph %>% get_node_df()#> id type label values #> 1 1 <NA> <NA> 6.00 #> 2 2 <NA> <NA> 6.11 #> 3 3 <NA> <NA> 4.72 #> 4 4 <NA> <NA> 6.02 #> 5 5 <NA> <NA> 5.05# Get betweenness values for each node and # add them as a node attribute (Note the # common column name `id` in the different # tables results in a natural join) graph <- graph %>% join_node_attrs( df = get_betweenness(.)) # Get the graph's internal ndf to show that # this join has been made graph %>% get_node_df()#> id type label values betweenness #> 1 1 <NA> <NA> 6.00 0.0 #> 2 2 <NA> <NA> 6.11 1.5 #> 3 3 <NA> <NA> 4.72 0.5 #> 4 4 <NA> <NA> 6.02 0.0 #> 5 5 <NA> <NA> 5.05 0.0


Syntax:
psetq {pair}* => nil
pair::= var form
Pronunciation:
psetq: [;pee'set,kyoo]
Arguments and Values:
var---a symbol naming a variable other than a constant variable.
form---a form.
Description:
Assigns values to variables.
This is just like setq, except that the assignments happen ``in parallel.'' That is, first all of the forms are evaluated, and only then are the variables set to the resulting values. In this way, the assignment to one variable does not affect the value computation of another in the way that would occur with setq's sequential assignment.
If any var refers to a binding made by symbol-macrolet, then that var is treated as if psetf (not psetq) had been used.
Examples:
;; A simple use of PSETQ to establish values for variables. ;; As a matter of style, many programmers would prefer SETQ ;; in a simple situation like this where parallel assignment ;; is not needed, but the two have equivalent effect. (psetq a 1 b 2 c 3) => NIL a => 1 b => 2 c => 3 ;; Use of PSETQ to update values by parallel assignment. ;; The effect here is very different than if SETQ had been used. (psetq a (1+ b) b (1+ a) c (+ a b)) => NIL a => 3 b => 2 c => 3 ;; Use of PSETQ on a symbol macro. (let ((x (list 10 20 30))) (symbol-macrolet ((y (car x)) (z (cadr x))) (psetq y (1+ z) z (1+ y)) (list x y z))) => ((21 11 30) 21 11) ;; Use of parallel assignment to swap values of A and B. (let ((a 1) (b 2)) (psetq a b b a) (values a b)) => 2, 1
Side Effects:
The values of forms are assigned to vars.
Affected By: None.
Exceptional Situations: None.
See Also:
Notes: None.


To join click through to the YouTube stream at 7:00pm! Or watch below 👇
Itching to get started? Why not download the picture round or the captions round and jump right in now!
🖼 Get the picture round! 🖼 Get the captions round!We're going to simplify a bit this week and just have everyone write on pieces of paper or similar, then type their scores into the chat below at the end of each section.
If you absolutely MUST have something to write on though, here's a 🖨 printable answer sheet
If your team is distributed, and one of you has a GDrive account, you can make a copy of this template document and setup sharing. But I'll leave that up to you!
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Pop a question in here, and if we're watching, we'll answer! 😘


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Control how the blockchain behaves when new transactions or blocks are created. Changes are automatically saved.


The idea of establishing this shop was very strange and some may not like this, but it was a great idea for me and it was established in 1987 where the excellent performance of the cookies that we prepare is the reason for our popularity at the present time and I am loved because I have customers who appreciate unique business and many have been done From branches to our shop in many countries and we will remain as you have entrusted us with many delicious, unique and new dishes.
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tle:+00240600
working time:6am-8pm
city center mall fourth floor
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tle:+00240601
working time:6am-8pm
city center mall fourth floor
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tle:+00240602
working time:6am-8pm
city center mall fourth floor
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tle:+00240603
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tle:+00240604
working time:6am-8pm
city center mall fourth floor
- picy cookies:5$
- chocolate chip cookies:7$
- soft cookies:4$
- special cookies:9$


Regular Expression is one of those terms that seem prevalent when you're just getting into coding, yet chances to work specifically with it seem limited. This is because regular expressions deal with searching text, a form that is pervasive in our every day lives but not necessarily as common within the logic based coding languages.
What is a regular expression? It is a sequence that describes a pattern of characters. This is important to remember. It is not just a pattern, is a representation of a pattern that can be placed within the confines of whatever programming language you are using. In Object-oriented languages like Ruby and JavaScript, regular expressions are placed within objects. Because of this, you can send messages to them, pass them to messages, and do basically anything to them that you can do with other objects.
In Ruby there is a class called Regexp. The object created by its initialization is meant to hold the pattern to be searched for. It's useful to think of the Regexp object like you do the string object. It is an object but can be easily represented with a unique delimitation. Surrounding forward slashes mark a Rexexp object in Ruby:
You can also create a Regexp object using standard Ruby initializers and constructors. The constructor can take either a string or a Regexp object:
Regular Expressions are typically used to perform three fundamental operations: testing, extracting, and altering.
The most basic is testing. You can test in ruby using the~= comparison operator. By comparing a string with a regular expression object, you locate the index on which the pattern begins. You can also use ~! to test if the pattern is not in the string. This returns a boolean. As you can see, the order of the comparison does not matter:
Beyond this, you can use the match method of a regular expression object to return a MatchData object. This is important and functional because, again, you can do many things with an object. And the MatchData object is custom built to work around patterns that you would want to manipulate! You can convert it back into a string by using the string method, for instance.
MatchData objects are array-like objects. When you match returns more than one match, you can use bracket notation to find a specific element of the object.
Alterations can be performed on strings with the gsub method. You search the string for your pattern and then substitute, in the string, the second argument of the method. A copy is returned; the original is not altered.
Regular expression searches can be modified with quantifiers. Quantifiers mark how many times you want to find an expression. For instance, the plus, +, quantifier says to search for a pattern that appears one or more times. The important thing to remember about quantifiers is that they search the passed string in a specific order. The entire string can be searched as a whole, individual elements of the string can be searched, and the search can quit at any specified time or wait until all types of searches are exhausted.
A search therefore can either be greedy or lazy. A greedy search is exhaustive. The plus quantifier is greedy. Remember it searches for one or more. Let's look a search to better understand what makes it greedy:
The above search, searches for any one or more characters followed by the pattern right. What happens is that entire string is searched first, element by element because the pattern .+ will match the entire string. This makes it greedy. It will then begin to backtrack and search for right. The right starting at index 28 is found, and the current data object, all that has been matched up until then is returned. The problem with this is that it is memory intensive. It's performing actions that go above and beyond what you may want.
To combat this you need to make the quantifier lazy. You do this appending a question mark to your pattern. This searches for one match and then returns it when it's found.
So the new search searches the each element to see if it matches the .+ and then checks for right. When that is found, the specified pattern is found and what has been stored up until that point is returned. The entire string is not searched. The search does the minimal amount of work. It is lazy.
These are just some of the basics of regular expressions. You can do a lot with them, but the advanced work isn't so complicated to understand. Like many aspects of programming regular expressions are built upon straightforward, explainable logic. Understanding that logic will give you a significant advantage when learning.
Resources used:


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Pediatrics student
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Jane Lambert
Psychiatry student
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Kevin Smith
Pediatrics student
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Jane Lambert
Psychiatry student
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Kevin Smith
Pediatrics student
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Jane Lambert
Psychiatry student
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Kevin Smith
Pediatrics student
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.
Jane Lambert
Psychiatry student
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Show mouse location panel
X
Mouse X:
Mouse Y:
Setting coordinates to x =
- y =
Cross-x =
Cross-y =
Set Crosshairs
+


A lightweight vanilla javascript library that replaces native select elements with customizable dropdowns.
Download View on GitHub1. Include the library.
<script src="path/to/nice-select2.js"></script>
2. Include the plugin styles, either the compiled CSS...
<link rel="stylesheet" href="path/to/nice-select2.css">
...or, ideally, import the SASS source (if you use SASS) in your main stylesheet for easier customization.
@import 'nice-select2'; // Or 'nice-select-prefixed'. See 'Notes' section.
3. Finally, initialize the plugin.
NiceSelect.bind(document.getElementById("#a-select"));
All done. That will turn this:
...into this:
There are no settings (a native select doesn't have settings), although there are a couple of special features, documented below.
You can specify an alternate text for each option, which will be displayed on the dropdown when that option is selected.
Add a data-display
attribute to the desired options. For example:
<select>
<option data-display="Select">Nothing</option>
<option value="1">Some option</option>
<option value="2">Another option</option>
<option value="3" disabled>A disabled option</option>
<option value="4">Potato</option>
</select>
Updates the custom dropdown to reflect any changes made to the original select element.
var options = {searchable: true};
NiceSelect.bind(document.getElementById("seachable-select"), options);
Translate the three different texts: 'Select an option', 'Search', 'selected'
var options = {searchable: true, placeholder: 'select', searchtext: 'zoek', selectedtext: 'geselecteerd'};
NiceSelect.bind(document.getElementById("seachable-select"), options);
Every class you assign to a select element will be copied to the generated dropdown. That way you can customize different versions of it to your needs just by adding new CSS.
These are some examples included in the plugin stylesheet:
Updates the custom dropdown to reflect any changes made to the original select element.
var instance = NiceSelect.bind(...);
instance.update();
Removes the custom dropdown and unbinds all its events.
var instance = NiceSelect.bind(...);
instance.destroy();
Autoprefixer is used to add vendor prefixes to CSS rules for older browser support. A nice-select-prefixed.scss file is also generated if you wish to include the SASS file in your project and you're not using Autoprefixer.
In some cases there can be a brief flash in which the native selects are displayed—between the time the page is loaded and the scripts are run. This can be fixed by adding a CSS rule to hide them beforehand:
select {
display: none;
}
Note that the above rule will hide all native select elements. If you're only applying the plugin to some select elements you should adapt the rule accordingly.


hivexml
Section: Windows Registry (1)Updated: 2010-12-23
Index Return to Main Contents
NAME
hivexml - Convert Windows Registry binary "hive" into XMLSYNOPSIS
hivexml [-dk] hivefile > output.xml
DESCRIPTION
This program converts a single Windows Registry binary ``hive'' file into a self-describing XML format.OPTIONS
- -d
- Enable lots of debug messages. If you find a Registry file that this program cannot parse, please enable this option and post the complete output and the Registry file in your bug report.
- -k
- Keep going even if we find errors in the Registry file. This skips over any parts of the Registry that we cannot read.
SEE ALSO
hivex(3), hivexget(1), hivexsh(1), hivexregedit(1), virt-win-reg(1), guestfs(3), <http://libguestfs.org/>, virt-cat(1), virt-edit(1).AUTHORS
Richard W.M. Jones ("rjones at redhat dot com")COPYRIGHT
Copyright (C) 2009 Red Hat Inc.This program is free software; you can redistribute it and/or modify it under the terms of the GNU General Public License as published by the Free Software Foundation; either version 2 of the License, or (at your option) any later version.
This program is distributed in the hope that it will be useful, but WITHOUT ANY WARRANTY; without even the implied warranty of MERCHANTABILITY or FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE. See the GNU General Public License for more details.
You should have received a copy of the GNU General Public License along with this program; if not, write to the Free Software Foundation, Inc., 51 Franklin Street, Fifth Floor, Boston, MA 02110-1301 USA.
Index
This document was created by man2html, using the manual pages.
Time: 05:29:04 GMT, December 24, 2015


Conferences
Since 1993, the International Smalltalk Conference is organised by ESUG every year, with tutorials, workshops and demonstrations on various subjects. Inactive links below on past summerschools will gradually be activated.
Hosting the Conference
If you would like to organise the ESUG event please send all required information to<EMAIL_ADDRESS>International Smalltalk Conferences
- 26th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2018 in Cagliari, Italia
- 25th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2017 in Maribor, Slovenia
- 24th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2016 in Prague, Czech Republic
- 23th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2015 in Brescia, Italy (report)
- 22th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2014 in Cambridge, England.
- 21th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2013 in Annecy, France.
- 20th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2012 in Gent, Belgium. (report)
- 19th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2011 in Edinburgh, UK.
- 18th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2010 in Barcelona, Spain. (report includes London Camp Smalltalk)
- 17th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2009 in Brest, France. (report includes vendor conferences)
- 16th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2008 in Amsterdam, The Netherlands. (report includes StS2008 report)
- 15th International Smalltalk Joint Conference 2007 in Lugano Switzerland. (report)
- 14th International Smalltalk Conference 2006 in Prague, Czech Republic. (report)
- Thirteenth International Conference 2005 in Brussels, Belgium. (report)
- Twelfth Smalltalk Joint Event 2004 in Koethen, Germany (report)
- Eleventh Smalltalk Joint Event 2003 in Bled, Slovenia (report)
- Tenth Smalltalk Joint Event 2002 in Douai, France (report)
- Ninth Summer School 2001 in Essen, Germany (report)
- Eighth Summer School 2000 in Southampton, UK (report)
- Seventh Summer School 1999 in Gent, Belgium (report)
- Sixth Summer School 1998 in Brescia, Italy
- Fifth Summer School 1997 in Sophia-Antipolis, France
- Fourth Summer School 1996 in Lausanne, Switzerland
- Third Summer School 1995 in Utrecht, The Netherlands
- Second Summer School 1994 in Cork, Ireland
- First Summer School 1993 in Brest, France
Display ESUG conferences on a bigger map


Angular v1 SSR test - {{ main.headerCssClassName }}
Page1
|
Page2
on route change:
title tag should change
header on this page should change
style of this div should change
div below this (the ui-view) should change


|
Image Processing Suite
|
handles all file IO for jpg formatted image files. More...
#include <file_io_jpg.h>
Inherits image_tools::FileIo.
Public Member Functions | |
| virtual PixelBuffer | load_image (std::string file_name) |
| load the image specifed into a PixelBuffer. More... | |
| virtual int | save_image (const PixelBuffer &image, const std::string &file_name) |
| save an image to the path specified by the file_name string More... | |
| Public Member Functions inherited from image_tools::FileIo | |
| FileIo (void) | |
| parent class for all file io modules; non instantiatable; contains no method definitions. Class has only load_image and save_image full virtual methods that will be defined in all subclasses. | |
handles all file IO for jpg formatted image files.
|
virtual |
load the image specifed into a PixelBuffer.
| file_name | a string containing the path and name of the file to open |
Implements image_tools::FileIo.
|
virtual |
save an image to the path specified by the file_name string
| image | the PixelBuffer pointer that will point to the loaded image |
| file_name | a string containing the path and name of the ouput file |
save the given PixelBuffer image as the given FILE file_name
Implements image_tools::FileIo.


Quick CSV download links
Graphs
Stats
Estimated installs:
Unique active channels:
Estimated linked accounts:
Currently live channels:
Recent Changes
- Added dots at the individual data points with tooltips containing the date and exact value
- Added "Renders per Viewer" and "Install Rate" calculated stats
- Added "Currently live channels" count
- Added "Installed Channels" and "Linked Accounts" calculated stats


nathan rowe
personal
tech
A showcase of skill and knowledge gained throughout my Dev Academy journey
personal blogs
learning plan
identity, values and culture
emotional intelligence
mindset
the newer me
tech blogs
best practice when using class and id?
javascript fundamentals
problem solving


Typescript particles
A small demo project that implements a very simple particle system using
TypeScript
.
Reset


By using CryptSen, you confirm that you accept the following Terms and Conditions of Use, and that you agree and comply with them:
Research Prototype. You acknowledge that CryptSen is a prototypical platform that has been built for research purposes. You understand that correctness of data and system functionality is provided on a best-effort basis but cannot be not guaranteed by CryptSen team.
Storage of (personal) information. All data-points within CryptSen are gathered from public sources. CryptSen does not store personal information or information from users interacting with the demo system
Misuse. The CryptSen team assumes no responsibility for potential misuse of this service and reserves the right to suspend access or take down the publicly available demo.
By not complying with any of these terms and conditions, you forfeit your right to use CryptSen.
The CryptSen team provides free access to a demo instance in the spirit of open source and as an act of collegiality. We make no guarantees about access to this service at any time or about timeliness of data held in the system, nor do we accept any liability whatsoever in case of conclusions drawn the data exposed by CryptSen.


{% load staticfiles %}
Jeong Joo Park - a software engineer & cloud associate
About
Work
{% block nav_block %} {% endblock %}
LinkedIn
Blog
GitHub
© 2019 Jeong Joo Park. All rights reserved.
{% block foot_block %} {% endblock %}


Harlem, New York
Tupac Amaru Shakur, born Lesane Parish Crooks (June 16, 1971-September 13, 1996), was an American rapper and actor in the East Harlem section of Manhattan in New York City. In 1972, he was renamed Túpac Amaru II, after the 18th-century Peruvian revolutionary who was executed after leading an indigenous uprising against Spanish rule.
His mother, Afeni Shakur, and his father, Billy Garland, were active members of the Black Panther Party in New York in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Baltimore, Maryland
In 1986, his family moved to Baltimore, Maryland. After completing his second year at Paul Laurence Dunbar High School, he transferred to the Baltimore School for the Arts. There he studied acting, poetry, jazz, and ballet. He performed in Shakespeare plays and in the role of the Mouse King in the ballet, The Nutcraker . He was remembered as one of the most popular kids in his school because of his sense of humor, superious rapping skills, and ability to mix with all crowds.
Shakur developed a close friendship with Jada Pinkett (later Jada Pinkett-Smith) that lasted until his death. A poem written by Shakur titled "Jada" appears in his book,The Rose That Grew from Concrete , which also includes a poem dedicated to Pinkett Smith called "The Tears in Cupid's Eyes."
Marin City, California
In 1988, Shakur and his family moved to Marin City, California, a suburban community located north of San Francisco. He attended Tamalpais High School in nearby Mill Valley. Shakur contributed to the school's drama department by performing in several productions. He began attending the poetry classes of Leila Steinberg in 199. That same year, Steinberg organized a concert with a former group of Shakur's,"Strictly Dope"; the concert let to his being signed with Atron Gregory. He set him up as a roadie and backup dancer with the hip hop group Digital Underground in 1990.
Shakur was friends with Mike Tyson, Chuck D, Marlon Wayans, Jim Carrey, and Rosie Perez. He befriended fellow rappers Snoop Dogg and Freddie Foxxx, collaborating on songs with the pair and wriing to Foxxx while in prison.
He had a three-year relationship with Madonna but ended things because she was white. In a letter explaining his decision he wrote, "I felt due to my "image" I would be letting down half of the people who made me what I thought I was." He was engaged to Kidada Jones at the time of his death in 1996.


{% load staticfiles %}
Great! Looks like you got your reference genome folder is in place.
Scroll down to proceed to the next step ..
Oops! The simulator couldn't find the reference folder. Possible causes:
1. You have to use one of the folders we provided at http://nabavilab.uconn.edu/datasets/ as the reference folder.-v <absolute_path_to_reference_folder>:/reference
flag.
{% endif %}
First, you will generate reads for the normal
genome.
They represent reads from a healthy person;
with normal SNPs and Indels.
Second, you will design your experiment to simulate the tumor genome.Select parameters the way you want them; No restrictions.
Third, you will generate reads for the tumor
genome.
You will also get proper variation files included that are the truth benchmark.
Now, modify the simulation parameters.
Normal reads will be generated from the original
reference genome.
Tumor reads will be generated with the below simulation parameters.
Now, click run below and wait for the simulation to finish.
You will find the reads in the
directory you ran this application from.
Simulator is not ready! Check error in step 1.
{% endif %}


Spencer is a 3D third person brawler. The player takes control of a teddy bear to fight against evil shadows and defend the sleeping child. He fights through the child's room and enters a dangerous dreamworld.
At the "Deutschen Entwicklerpreis 2015" in cologne we won the second place in the category "Newcomer" sponsored by "Ubisoft Blue Byte".
Die Socken
Jump 'n' Run | Hack 'n' Slash
5 Months
Unreal Engine 4
C++
Windows | Linux | Mac OS X
Game Design
Game Design
Programming
Programming
2D Art
3D Art
3D Art
Production
Sound Design


This class is a NSXMLParser delegate, which extracts informations from a gsdoc file.
NSCondition NSConditionLockOnce extracted, an HTML file can be generated using a template.
A template is necessary to generate the final HTML file. Such template is a normal HTML file, containing two special comments:
<!-- gsdoc-header -->
: insert the generated header<!-- gsdoc-methods -->
: insert the generated methods list<!-- gsdoc-files -->
: insert the content of the file “filelist.html” (if the file is present in the GSDoc source directory)


{{user?.info}}
Publications |
Followers |
Following |
Likes |
|---|---|---|---|
{{user_recipes?.length}} |
{{followers_users?.length}} |
{{following_users?.length}} |
{{n_likes}} |


--- layout: post status: publish published: true title: Some Recent Reading author: display_name: Tomas Restrepo login: tomasr email<EMAIL_ADDRESS>url: http://winterdom.com/ author_login: tomasr author_email<EMAIL_ADDRESS>author_url: http://winterdom.com/ wordpress_id: 443 wordpress_url: http://winterdom.com/2006/10/somerecentreading date: '2006-10-07 09:45:08 +0000' date_gmt: '2006-10-07 09:45:08 +0000' categories: - Personal tags: [] comments: [] ---
One of my favourite things in the world is reading books, not only technical in nature, btw. So I just wanted to stop my usual technical babble to mention some of the things I've been reading recently. I'm usually a big Sci-Fi and Fantasy junkie, but I also enjoy a lot novels (particularly with a historical background).
I just started reading Edward Burman's "The Image of our Lord", though I'm only in the second chapter so far so it will still be a while before I know if I like it :-).
Just yesterday I finished reading through Arthur C. Clark's 2001 Space Oddisey saga (2001: Space Odissey, 2010: Odissey Two, 2061: Oddisey Three and 3001: Final Odissey), and I rather enjoyed them. I loved the 2001 and 2010 films, and so I rather wanted to see how the story unfolded later on (though there are certainly differences between the books and the movies, they are both rather entertaining).
Before that, here are some other books I read recently:
And possibly a fair share of other books I'm forgetting...


Vacuum
The breach absorbs any air nearby, making it impossible for any spell caster to speak magical words.
${value} second(s) of Skill Disruption
min: [1.0, 1.4, 1.8, 2.2, 2.6, 3.0, 3.2, 3.4, 3.7, 4.0]
+${value}% Total Damage
10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100
MaxLevel
6
UltimateLevel
10


During the week I bumped into some pretty lass,even with make up she's a nutural beauty.Make has been highly sort after product in the 21st century,every girl wants to look pretty,every guy wants a pretty girl.So Pwitti explained make goes wrong on someone if you use the wrong make,if you don't know what make up to put on you can consult,follow her instagram.com/pwitti
Have something to say?
11/25/2017
Tivk 3
Baby you can drive my car
Yes I'm gonna be a star
Baby you can drive my car
And maybe I love you
11/23/2017
Tvick 3
1.) Atoms Auto Indent feature. This is a life saver.  To navigate to this handy feature in atom you will need to CTRL+A to select all your HTML code Click EDIT Open LINES then use the AUTO INDENT function.
2.) COFFEE! caffeine blocks an inhibitory neurotransmitter called Adenosine. When that happens, the amount of other neurotransmitters like norepinephrine and dopamine actually increases, leading to enhanced firing of neurons.


SFCameraViewController Class Reference
| Inherits from | UIViewController |
|---|---|
| Declared in | SFCameraViewController.h |
Overview
Provides an integrated UIViewController
with all the Slyce SDK functionalities.
The Slyce SDK may be utilized out of the box as a turnkey solution. Using SFCameraViewController, the SDK will present the UI of the camera screen as well as progress indication during the recognition phase. Using this view controller, a developer will a continuous barcodes/2D(Premium) scanning, slylized buttons for toggling the flash ON/OFF, opening an image from the Photo Library, as well as a possibility to manually send an image from Photo Library / video preview for a 3D/2D(Premium) recognition. The developer has to conform to SFCameraViewControllerDelegate protocol to get the results.
Note: This mode of operation is mostly used when the user wants to utilize the Slyce SDK along with the Slyce UI.
Note: One can also use his own resource images instead of the SDK’s built-in resource bundle, in case the developer wants to match the look and feel of his own app.
Properties
delegate
The camera view controller delegate that will be notified of scan results.
@property (weak, nonatomic) id<SFCameraViewControllerDelegate> delegate
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
options
Options dictionary.
@property (nonatomic, copy) NSDictionary *options
Discussion
Use this dictionary to pass properties to Slyce servers.
For example: @{@“storeID” : @“1234”, @“state” : @“CA”}. Can be nil
.
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
cameraView
A handle to the underlying camera/scanner view used.
@property (strong, nonatomic, readonly) SFCameraView *cameraView
Discussion
Use this property if you need to tweak the SDK’s scanner functionalities or
perform camera’s specific operations, like turn the flash
on/off, snap an image etc. SFCameraViewController is started along with the continuous
barcodes/2D(premium) recognition by default. If you do
not wish to use a continuous recognition, set [SFCameraView shouldUseContinuousRecognition]
property of SFCameraView’s object to NO
.
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
– setCustomHelpViewController:
Used to override the default ‘help’ viewController with your custom viewController.
- (void)setCustomHelpViewController:(id)customHelpView
Parameters
customHelpView |
The custom viewController. |
|---|
Discussion
Note: You have to make sure that your custom viewController includes a back/close button that his action will be ‘[self dismissViewControllerAnimated:YES completion:nil]’.
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
– setCustomNotFoundViewController:
Used to override the default ‘not found’ viewController with your custom viewController.
- (void)setCustomNotFoundViewController:(id)customNotFoundView
Parameters
customNotFoundView |
The custom viewController. |
|---|
Discussion
Note: You have to make sure that your custom viewController includes a back/close button that his action will be ‘[self dismissViewControllerAnimated:YES completion:nil]’.
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
– addCustomBtnWithVC:postionInPercentX:postionInPercentY:btnImage:popUpAnimation:
Add your own custom button with a custom viewController to the SFCameraViewController(Full UI mode).
- (void)addCustomBtnWithVC:(id)viewController postionInPercentX:(CGFloat)x postionInPercentY:(CGFloat)y btnImage:(UIImage *)btnImage popUpAnimation:(BOOL)popUpAnimation
Parameters
viewController |
Your Custom viewController. |
|---|---|
x |
Position of the custom button in percent, when 100% is width of the screen. |
y |
Position of the custom button in percent, when 100% is height of the screen. |
btnImage |
The image of the custom button. |
popUpAnimation |
PopUp animation. |
Discussion
Use this method to add your own custom button with a custom viewController to the SFCameraViewController(Full UI mode).
Note: The position of the custom button will be set in percents when 100% is for both width and height of the screen.
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
Initialization
– initWithSlyce:resourcesBundle:options:andDelegate:
Initializes a new SFCameraViewController object.
- (instancetype)initWithSlyce:(SFSlyce *)slyce resourcesBundle:(NSBundle *)resourcesBundle options:(NSDictionary *)options andDelegate:(id<SFCameraViewControllerDelegate>)delegate
Parameters
slyce |
The initialized Slyce object. |
|---|---|
resourcesBundle |
An optional bundle of resources to use as assets for the current view
controller. In case you wish to use the built-in
SDK’s assets, simply pass |
options |
|
delegate |
Object that implements SFCameraViewControllerDelegate protocol. |
Return Value
Returns an instance of SFCameraViewController.
Discussion
This method initializes SFCameraViewController object. Depending on you client ID, it will be initialized for Standard/Premium SDK’s features. If you wish to use Premium features, make sure your client ID is registered for Premium features.
Use this method to prepare the Slyce’s integral view controller. You may also provide you own
bundle of resources. The size and name
of the assets
you provide must follow the guidelines in the docs to be presented correctly by the SDK.
In case you wish to use the built-in SDK’s assets, simply pass nil
to this parameter.
Note: This method only initiliazes the view controller object and does NOT start the video frames processing nor the video preview at all, until the view controller is actually presented via presentFromViewController:usingAnimation:completionBlock: method.
Note: Initializing SFCameraViewController using this method will prepare the view controller for a continuous and manual 3D recognition.
See Also
SFCameraViewControllerDelegate protocol
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h
Presentation
– presentFromViewController:usingAnimation:completionBlock:
Presents the SFCameraViewController using animation.
- (void)presentFromViewController:(UIViewController *)fromViewController usingAnimation:(SFAnimationType)animationType completionBlock:(void ( ^ ) ( void ))completionBlock
Parameters
fromViewController |
The view controller from which SFCameraViewController is presented. |
|---|---|
animationType |
Presentation animation. |
completionBlock |
block that executes after presenting animation completes. |
Discussion
Use this method to present the camera view controller. You can choose among predefined animation types the presentation animation that will best fit to your app style. For the available animation types, refer to SFAnimationType enum.
Note: This method may look a bit different to the usual iOS native view controllers' presentation technique. It is due to the fact this method encapsulted all the operations needed to present a view controller using a custom transition in iOS. Please refer to the code below.
SFCameraViewController *cameraVC = [[SFCameraViewController alloc] initWithSlyce:self.slyce resourcesBundle:nil andDelegate:self];
[cameraVC presentFromViewController:self usingAnimation:SFAnimationTypeZoom completionBlock:nil];
Declared In
SFCameraViewController.h


Nachos originated in the city of Piedras Negras, Coahuila, Mexico, just over the border from Eagle Pass, Texas. In 1943, the wives of U.S. soldiers stationed at Fort Duncan in nearby Eagle Pass were in Piedras Negras on a shopping trip, and arrived at the restaurant after it had already closed for the day. The maître d'hôtel, Ignacio "Nacho" Anaya, created a new snack for them with what little he had available in the kitchen: tortillas and cheese. Anaya cut the tortillas into triangles, fried them, added shredded cheddar cheese, quickly heated them, added sliced pickled jalapeño peppers,and served them.
When asked what the dish was called, he answered, "Nacho's especiales". As word of the dish traveled, the apostrophe was lost, and Nacho's "specials" became "special nachos".
What you need to make Nachos
(makes 1 Servings):
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
500g beef mince
300g can kidney beans, drained, rinsed
1 teaspoon Mexican chilli powder
35g sachet reduced-salt taco seasoning mix
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup coriander leaves, chopped
230g packet corn chips
1 cup grated cheddar cheese
1/2 cup tomato salsa
Avocado, diced, to serve
Sour cream, to serve
Fresh coriander, to serve
How to make your Hot dog:
1. Preheat oven to 200C. Heat oil in a non-stick frying pan over medium heat. Cook onion for 2 minutes, or until soft. Add mince. Cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, for 5 minutes or until browned.
2. Add kidney beans, chilli powder, seasoning, tomato paste and water. Reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer for 5 minutes, or until thick. Stir through coriander.
3. Arrange corn chips on a heatproof plate. Top with mince. Sprinkle with cheese. Bake for 15 minutes, or until hot. Top with salsa, avocado and sour cream. Serve.
Jane Smith
12:23 PM
This is delicious and I learnt something! Double Win!
Sam Smith
12:23 PM
Love nachos! Didn't realise they had such a history.