For most of human history, the disasters wrought by nature were utterly unpredictable, their causes wholly unknown. They were merely a random act of God that could lay waste to whole cities without warning. On the morning of May 20, 1202, thousands of people across an enormous swath of the Earth experienced such destruction.
In 1906, a famed explorer saw something on the horizon that would lead an expedition of men to search for a magnificent land they hoped would be full of new and undiscovered treasures for science.
One famous dolphin lived near the shores of New Zealand in the late 1800s, and swam alongside hundreds of ships, becoming a beloved figure to locals and foreigners alike, and described as ”the best known fish in the world.”
It was relatively common in the middle ages for Kings, royals, and various other titled men to die in combat, and they were at least usually expected to fight personally. Despite the dangers of medieval combat and the expectations of nobility, however, many at the highest levels of aristocracy died in less than noble mundane accidents, and even in embarrassing circumstances.
In April of 1894, a young man from Pittsburgh left Tabriz, Persia, aboard a bicycle, bound for the turbulent land of the Ottoman Empire. His story had seen coverage in newspapers around the world - attention would only magnify when he mysteriously disappeared in the remote terrain of Turkish Armenia.