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Neil's three weeks in the clink and subsequent probation caused him to be shunned by the rest of Motley Crue, who were all busy planning their own suicides. Nikki Sixx, the bassist, was suffering from drug addiction, locking himself in his room and shooting heroin and freebasing cocaine with Vanity, his lover and Prince protege. Tommy Lee, a drummer, married actress Heather Locklear in 1986 and struggled to balance his newfound domestic joy with his vices. Mick Mars, meanwhile, was quietly suffering from ankylosing spondylitis, self-medicating it with alcohol and finding it difficult to even pick up a guitar.

Azhagar (Harish), the son of a police constable, is tempted to take bad habits, seeing his father in his younger days. Azhagar, along with his friends A to Z (Ramakrishnan), Azhagappa (Raghuvannan), and Inippu Murugan (Prakash), leads a carefree life by involving in petty crimes. Unfortunately, they hold responsibility in Viruman's (Ravi Mariya) sister's death. In a bid to take revenge on them, Viruman hires a contract killer named Paandi (Vikranth), who is in the business, only to educate his young brother. What happens after this forms the climax.

Another innovation in this already unconventional RPG is the battle system, which combines the "Active Timer" turn-based combat of FFVII with the keep-your-feet-movin' battles of The Granstream Saqa. When you encounter a party of monsters (which usually happens only once per area, instead of randomly), Aya's attack timer immediately begins priming. You can move her wherever you wish in the combat area, dodging the attacks of the baddies, who can also roam freely. A tap of the X Button snaps Aya into Fight Mode once her gauge is full. Now she can attack any enemies in range (the limits of which are shown by a green geodesic hemisphere), target multiple baddies (most guns shoot more than one bullet) or summon Parasite Energy spells.

We awoke one morning to find the second-class saloon turned into aHerzegovinian camp, piled with gay saddle-bags and rugs upon whichsquatted, cross-legged, a couple of families in full native costume, andthe air was thick with the highly scented tobacco which the whole partysmoked incessantly. The friendly steward, a Dalmatian Italian,whispered hastily, "This is a Herzegovinian family, signorin'. Do youlike the Herzegovinese?" Rather taken aback, and not knowing what hispolitics were, I replied, stupidly enough, "I find their costume veryinteresting," This frivolous remark hurt the steward deeply."Signorin'," he said very gravely, "these are some of the bravest men inthe world. Each one of these that you see would fight till he died."Then in a mysterious undertone, "They cannot live without freedom ...they are leaving their own land ... it has been taken, as you know, bythe Austrian.... They are going to Montenegro, to a free country. Theyhave taken with them all their possessions, and they go to findfreedom."

The battered ruins of the great Turkish fort that was once a thorn inMontenegro's side stand on the long low hill that overlooks the town,and a stone or two with Turkish inscriptions and a few Turkish guns uponthe grass are all that tell of its former holders. Whatever the futuremay have in store for the Montenegrins, let us hope that it will alwaysbe remembered to their credit that they have played an heroic part inthe freeing of Europe from the Ottoman curse. A tumbledown mosque andsome dozen Mohammedan Albanian families are now the only traces left inNikshitje of the Asiatic invader.

The Albanian is ignorant and untrained, but he is no fool. His oneruling idea has been to go on being Albanian in the manner of hisfathers. He perceived quickly all the points that would enable him to doso, and he seized upon them. The mountain people in the moreinaccessible parts retained their Christianity. The Albanians whoswooped upon the plains vacated by the Serbs found it greatly to theiradvantage to profess Mohammedanism, and both Mohammedan and RomanCatholic were ready to make common cause against the Christians of theEastern Church. So indispensable have the Albanians made themselves tothe Turkish Government that it has been forced to concede to them everylicense, lest it should lose their support. Far from making any attemptat civilising them, it has never scrupled to make use of their savageryin warfare, and in warfare the Albanian can be exceedingly savage. Neverfrom the beginning of time has he been taught anything that the Westernworld thinks necessary; never in the majority of cases has the mostrudimentary education come his way. His Mohammedanism and hisChristianity he practises in an original and Albanian manner, and in hisheart he is influenced mainly by traditional beliefs and superstitionswhich are probably far older than either. He purchased his freedom bymaking himself useful to the Turk, and the Turk has left him in thelowest depths of barbarism. The only schools that exist in the land arethose of the Italian and Austrian Frati, and such civilisation as theAlbanian possesses he owes to the labours of these devoted men. As fortravelling and means of communication, it seems probable that the roadsto-day are far inferior to what they were in the time of the Romans. Andthis is the land of the only one of her subject races with which Turkeyhas been "friends." The deplorable state of Albania is an even strongerindictment against Turkish "government" than that of Macedonia. To-daythe country is practically in a state of anarchy. Little or nothing isdone in the way of cultivation; blood-feuds rage, and men are shot forquarrels that are family inheritances and originated for long-forgottenreasons in the dark ages.

"And you have come all this journey to see us!" he cried. "It iswonderful! I am a Christian Albanian. I am Catholic." Here he crossedhimself vigorously to show that he really was, for in these lands yourposition in this world and the next depends mainly upon how this isdone. "Ah, but you should see Skodra!" I told him I knew it well, and hebeamed with pleasure. We discussed its charms and the unsurpassedmagnificence of its shops. "And it is in the hands of those devils theTurks. Ah, the devils! I came here eighteen years ago with my father,because this is a free land. Here all is safe, but it is a poor country.When I was a boy I was bad. I went to the school of the Frati, but Iwould not learn. Now I know nothing, and I speak Italian, oh, so badly!"He rocked himself sadly to and fro with his big account-book on hisknees. Son of the race with the worst reputation in Europe and born inone of Europe's worst governed corners, he lamented (as which of us hasnot done?) the lost chances of his youth and his lack of book-learning.To comfort him, I told him his people in Skodra had been very good tome. He cheered up. "Why do you come here?" he asked. "Why do you nottravel in my country?" I said that I was told that it was a bad time andthe country very dangerous. He considered the question earnestly, andlooked me all over. Then he said seriously, "No; my people are very goodto women, they will not hurt you. But there is no government, so the badpeople do what they like. There are some bad people; Turks, all Turks.But there is no fear. Truly they will take all your money, but they willnot hurt you. That," he said simply, "would not be honest. My people areall honest. You must not shoot a woman, for she cannot shoot you. Nowwith a man it is different; you must shoot him, or he will shoot youfirst. Also you cannot take his money if you do not shoot him first." Toall of which points I agreed.

A great barge was dragged alongside the bank and the pony persuaded toenter it. I sat on the edge and curled up my toes, for the bottom wascovered with water, and we were soon off. The boat was towed somedistance up stream and let loose, and the force of the current combinedwith skilful steering swept it across. Dutsi was now happy; we shouldhave a "buona strada" all the way! He began telling me of a noble andwealthy Englishman, one X. of the Foreign Office, to whom he had actedas guide in the spring in a shooting expedition, one of the best andkindest signors that existed, and we progressed slowly over the "buonastrada," which was like a dry torrent bed, for we were now back amongthe limestone rocks again. Presently we arrived at a stream with a plankacross it. "The frontier, the frontier!" cried Dutsi, and, as we setfoot on the other side, he announced that we were in a free andChristian land, Montenegro! Now, he said, we would rest and eat somebread. So we sat down under a tree, and I discovered that theimprovident creature had brought nothing more filling with him than afew cigarettes. As my chances of getting to Dulcigno depended entirelyon him, I supplied him with two of my three eggs and three-quarters ofmy loaf, and we were just setting to work when we heard a loud"tom-tom-tomming." Out of the bushes came a gang of seven very blackgipsies, four muzzled bears, and a loaded ass. Between them they carriedfive rifles and seven revolvers, and they certainly looked the "DevilsOwn." The pony snorted and stamped at the bears, and would have boltedhad he not been tied fast; we hadn't a weapon between us, and Dutsilooked so green that I thought "all the fun of the fair" was about tobegin. "Dobar dan," said I, through a mouthful of egg, for it is alwaysas well to be civil. They made no answer, but scowled upon us and wentsurly by, single file, the boy who was in charge of the bears beatinghis tambourine rhythmically the while. As soon as the last of them haddisappeared round the corner, Dutsi announced that they were very, verybad and all Turks (i.e. Moslems), and that now we must have a longrest. He was obviously afraid of catching them up. 041b061a72