Cɔ̀l n̪íéèlé Tá!à̤r (The Blackest city of Tazar)

[elemtilas]

Got it.

I understand you prefer to recount things from an in-world perspective so I am not going to ask about the meta-level mechanics, but I would like to ask if you even have them. Have you developed this world from an inherently in-world view, or do you have the „big picture“ (the science, the numbers...) as well?

I do, but there are two reasons why I'm posting things from an in-world perspective instead.

Tis much more exciting to read the in-world version!! I have very little knowledge of the "big picture" science and numbers mumbo-jumbo as far as The World is concerned, and frankly my eyes glaze over when I read posts here agonising over this or that minutia of geography and climate. I know a lot of folks are into that kind of detail, but I find it snoresomely tedious. So long as the world is consistent within itself and is well described, all is well! You've shown me a world very different from mine, but is every bit as internally consistent and is certainly very well described!

I wish -- nay, I DEMAND -- that you write all this up into a longer saga! I'll buy copy no. 1 right off the press! There's just something about the way you're telling the story of this world that I find compelling. Tis like kettle cooked chips -- can't eat just one, and once you start, you can't stop til the bag is empty and you've licked all the salty goodness off the inside! And then you just end up waiting for the next installment to come along...

[Micamo]

She was huddled in a shadow, clinging her knees to her chest. A rotting, half-eaten vulture laid beside her. Only some of the teeth marks were human. Filth flowed through the street in a gutter in front of her. I kneeled in front of her on the other side. She was 10 years old. She didn't even have a mask to protect her face from the dust.

"Water... please... just one drink..." she said. I took my canteen off my belt and handed it to her. She gulped it so fast she threw it up, then she drunk more until my canteen was empty. I asked her about what happened to her father and brother.

"He tried to get a job working the guarguar fields. Eventually he got hooked on smoking the stuff himself." She coughed up black mucus into her hands, and wiped it on her leg. "He sold my brother to this weird guy so he could pay for more guarguar. Then I heard him say he was going to sell me too, so I ran away. I've been here ever since."

I was like her, once. This city is not kind to girls like us. I couldn't bear to think of the terrible things that must have happened to her here. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and put the mission first. "That weird guy, did you get his name?"

"No, but he wore a bunch of dead bugs. And he smelled awful."

As I went to get up, I was kneeling in the dust again, watching her get torn away from me by that horrible husband of mine as my world fell apart. "SHE IS NOT YOUR CHILD." a voice in my head interrupted.

But I can fix this! I can give her food, clothes, a place to stay. She can become one of us!

"NO. SHE IS IRRELEVANT. SHE HAS SERVED HER PURPOSE. SHE IS OF NO FURTHER USE TO ME."

I can't just leave her here to die!

"YOU CAN, AND YOU WILL. YOU KNOW THE PRICE."

I fought back the tears as I gave her my mask. I had others. It wouldn't cure the breath she already had, but it would stop it from getting worse.

The next day she was found dead, walking the streets. Eleven stab wounds. Her breasts and vulva mutilated. The mask I gave her had been taken. Another victim of this wretched city. And I told myself I was powerless to stop it.

[thaen]

This is so addicting!

[Ahzoh]

"revel in the death, the futility of mortality..."

[gestaltist]

Micamo, this is officially the best thread I have seen on this forum so far. Please continue. It is George Martin brilliant: so brutal you won’t to stop reading but so well-written that you can’t.

The second problem is a motivational ones. I actually find it really hard to motivate myself to write dry, wikipedia-style comprehensive entries on aspects of my conworld. It's not material I find interesting to do the work of writing. In world narratives and prose, however, I find much more fun to make. It's the same reason I'm better at coming up with glossed example sentences than writing paragraphs explaining what's actually going on in those sentences. (One of several reasons I don't post as much about my conlangs as I'd like to.) This thread was an experiment after people were interested in Tazar from the Show Your Conworld thread to see if I could get more done this way, and I think I succeeded.

You have definitely succeeded in piquing our interest.

I am the other way around: I find it easy to document my conworlding in dry encyclopedic entries. It is much harder for me to write stories. The problem with this is that I am having a hard time exciting anyone but myself about my inventions. And eventually, I get bored, too, as a result.

The Pakara Sea: Tall trees block out most of the sunslight, and torrential rains flood the forest floor for half a year. Both the native humans and the wildlife are adapted to shifting between a terrestrial and aquatic environment.

I like this one. I would definitely be reading along.

Ch'shkwil' Forest: Rivers of lava cut through frozen fjords. Ancient robots and mysterious spirits coexist, with the white-haired Mithe eeking out their survival in the middle riding their great black wolves the size of horses, the Xhw'shxh'aa.

Not sure about the robots. Given your track record, though, I am sure it is much better than what it sounds like.

[Micamo]

Micamo, this is officially the best thread I have seen on this forum so far. Please continue. It is George Martin brilliant: so brutal you won’t to stop reading but so well-written that you can’t.

D'aaaw, you're gonna make me blush :3

Not sure about the robots. Given your track record, though, I am sure it is much better than what it sounds like.

Well, I really should save this for the Ch'shkwil' thread, but I can't resist:

The Keyisal was twice the height of a man, and its lumbering arms and legs were thick as tree trunks. Its silver body was marred by dirt and scoring from ancient battles. Its head was completely round and featureless, save for two round, glowing yellow eyes. It was kinda cute, honestly. Would look friendly and nonthreatening to anyone who'd never seen one before. Its body forged in the fires of a distant star to fight a war between worlds. Whispered to life by a civilization that had mastered command of the soul itself. It was nearly unstoppable.

Here I was, 10 feet away, foolish enough to consider this monstrosity my prey.

From behind my tree I looked down at the silver glove on my hand, wrapped with wiry copper markings. Will this even work? Xhwt'lxway, my namesake, used this thing 400 years ago to take command of Keyisal and plundered the cities of the south, smashing down their walls and torching their armies. After stealing it from the clan treasury I got it to light up again, but exactly how my ancestor used it is something the stories left out.

I flipped my hand over and stretched out my fingers, bringing up a globe of solid light and incomprehensible, ethereal shapes. I massaged the lights, and they danced around at my touch. The thundering of the Keyisal's patrol stopped.

It turned to me.

I ducked behind my tree, and waited. Silence, save for the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears and the snapping of branches unable to bear the falling snow. Maybe it hadn't seen me?

I reflexively dived forward and covered my head as my tree exploded in a shower of splinters. I couldn't risk trying to hide again, not while it was still so close. Run! The Keyisal sprayed fire around the woods, setting the ground and trees around me ablaze. The fires burned blue, and were so hot the snow around them didn't even melt. It just vaporized. Trees cracked and fell around me as their trunks were rendered to ash beneath them. I could feel my lungs seizing up. Not now, not now! I pulled my scarf over my mouth and nose to protect my sensitive lungs from the noxoius smells. It wasn't enough.

A dead end. Fires at both of my sides and a fallen tree in front of me. Too big to climb over or under in time. I was trapped. I panted hard as I could feel my lungs shriveling in my chest. The Keyisal approached closer. A great, black silhouette in the smoke and flames. It held its arm forward and its hand began to glow. The bow on my back and arrows on my belt may as well have been a loadstone around my neck. I was dead.

I reached out my gloved hand and screamed my last words. "You will obey me!"

The glowing stopped. Its arm lowered. It spoke some incomprehensible jibberish. I hacked and wheezed. Slowly, the jibberish became comprehensible. The sound of the words had not changed, but I could start to understand them.

"Awaiting command", the Keyisal was trying to say. I could no longer see. The forest was spinning around me.

"Get me out of here!" It scooped me up in its arms and dashed through the forest, like a spotted reindeer running for its life from a pack of dire wolves. When we were out of the smoke and flames it set me down. I threw up onto the snow. My chest painfully heaved up and down faster than it ever had.

"Awaiting command."

I hacked and gagged trying to force out the words. I could no longer force myself to stand. "P-*hack* put out *wheeze* this fire!"

The Keyisal obeyed and lumbered back into the flames, spraying a white foam and smothered them just as quickly as they started. I fumbled my way into my pack and pulled out my smelling sticks. I lifted one near my nose and snapped it. The scent of sugar-coated, fried reindeer fat overwhelmed my senses. My chest still hurt like hell, but I could breathe again. I dragged myself onto a log and tried to recover. My white fur coat and hair were black with soot and covered in splinters. I took a brush out of my bag and tried to comb it out, watching my new pet do its work.

"Awaiting command" the giant said when it was finished.

"Do you have a name?"

"My identification number is PX-004761Q. Awaiting command."

Too hard to remember. "I shall call you P'xaaq from now on, servant." "Understood. Awaiting command."

I almost couldn't believe it. It was mine! Now all I had to do was decide what to do with it.

EDIT: Did some editing to incorporate gestaltist's suggestions and just clean up the prose overall. We'll be returning to our regularly scheduled Tazar programming shortly.

[gestaltist]

In a low-tech world like this, wouldn’t people kind of assume that these robots are living things or at least magical things? Would they really say things like „Maybe it had shut down“ - I don’t know much about the world but „Maybe it had fallen asleep“ would be more appropriate?

Contrasting Tazar with this new story I would like to see one of the two things to make it a more coherent whole:

* either what I just wrote - make the in-world understanding of the robots more in line with the rest of the setting (people might see them as golems, perhaps...)
* or I would need some meta-explanation why people do understand that these things are mechanical

The story itself is good - goes without saying at this point.

[Micamo]

Well, Mithe mythology is that the Keyisal (and other wonders of the forest like holographic displays and temperature-controlled ruins laying around) were built by humans in ancient times, and the knowledge of how to create them has been forgotten. One of the things I want to keep ambiguous is exactly which things are technological relics and which things are genuine magic. So they understand that they're artificial and mechanical, even if nobody understands how they work. But you're right, "shut down" is a bit of an anachronism in this case.

[gestaltist]

Well, Mithe mythology is that the Keyisal (and other wonders of the forest like holographic displays and temperature-controlled ruins laying around) were built by humans in ancient times, and the knowledge of how to create them has been forgotten. One of the things I want to keep ambiguous is exactly which things are technological relics and which things are genuine magic. So they understand that they're artificial and mechanical, even if nobody understands how they work. But you're right, "shut down" is a bit of an anachronism in this case.

I understand the intent but I still think that Clarke’s third law would apply here. Even if Mithe understood that these things were created by humans, they would try to explain it somehow. Given that the methods by which these were built are far beyond their comprehension, they would probably label them as magic.

This would have the added benefit of helping with your goal of ambiguity. A modern reader will recognize technology when they see it. Having it called magic will add the right touch of doubt.

[Micamo]

If I could take it back, I could. It just became easier, over the years. At first I only smoked guarguar to relax at the end of a hard day; It was backbreaking work tending those fields, you know. Then I smoked to ease my wounded back, the mark they left on me after they caught me sneaking petals.

The more I did it, the more miserable I was when I wasn't. After a while I was doing it to forget her face. The sight of my wife sobbing and laying in the dust, as I took her dreams away forever. I don't expect you to understand. I felt like the runt of a litter of Wengs, being ripped apart by its brothers and sisters, waiting for its pain to finally end.

The baby... I don't regret it. He wouldn't eat. I could find no one to nurse him; No one who didn't have the rot, anyway. He was wasting away, and kept attracting the deaders in the middle of the night with his constant screams. My little girl wasn't faring much better. There's not a mother or a father in this whole damned city who hasn't done it, not even the rich casino owners in Dakur, there's no shame in it. I was saving him, and I was hoping the money would save my little girl too.

But then she vanished. I looked for her. I tried. I truly did. I'm so sorry. And now she's probably a deader, or worse. All because I didn't have the courage to keep my marriage going. I couldn't, not after she sold the wedding necklace I made for her, and went into the city to sell herself to God knows who. The money was gone in a week, all into the pockets of my guarguar dealer, and still not enough to satisfy my debts. Who am I kidding? I couldn't have done anything. We were doomed from the moment our last weng took ill. This city is no salvation.

[gestaltist]

Hey Micamo. I feel weird answering after every post „this is great, I want more“, so please assume this is my default comment for every post in this thread going forward. I enjoy this story very much.

[Micamo]

In a dusty cellar room deep below the warehouse district in the Black City, a cold lantern sputters a sickly light. A girl, shaved bald, her body covered in scars and bleeding cuts and gashes, kneels beside a table. On the table, the sacrifice; A dying baby boy, screaming, begging for a mercy that will not come. A monster enters the chamber.

"Everything is prepared, master." the girl says, her head never rising.

The skin the monster was wearing was that of a handsome aristocrat, gone missing 6 months ago. He had many debts, and everyone assumed he had ditched town to avoid them. The monster had many such skins, but this was its favorite as of late. It had been allowed to roam unchecked for nearly 300 years. Once, the city was very strict about ridding itself of monsters of its kind. It always wore its skin wrapped within a cloak made of dead locusts; Its way of taunting a city that now tolerated its presence.

"Rise" the monster said. The girl stood up. Her eyes were milky-white, and had chunks removed from the corneas. She trembled as it grabbed her chin and inspected her. A mixture of tears and blood ran down her cheeks. She always had fresh wounds, it made sure of that. The monster's skin bulged and writhed, what lay within aching to get out. The screams did not stop.

It removed its cloak of dead locusts and revealed the stitches that ran up and down the spine of its skin. "Assist me" it said. The girl fumbled to remove the laces of the grisly corset. The tips of all of her fingers and toes had been cut off, one by one. The skin fell to the floor as a swarm of locusts came out of it. Thousands of wings beat together in their terrible symphony, a caricature of speech. "Ahh, much better. Now, to feast." the swarm droned.

The locusts set upon the baby. The screams intensified. Blood and tears covered the floor where the girl kneeled; Though she could not see what was happening, she knew she was responsible. It did not even need to feast upon the flesh; The dark power that gave it sentience sustained it well enough. It only wanted to taste the misery and terror of his final moments. After several hours, the screaming finally stopped.

"I've had better" the swarm droned. "He was too... accustomed to being miserable. Bring me someone fat and spoiled next time."

The girl's sobbing worsened. "Please, master, no more" the girl said. "Let me die."

"Foolish girl! You begged me for this. You wanted me to give you a share of my power, after those stuffy brides and their chained husband refused to allow you into their ranks. I have held up my end of the bargain. Yet you snivel and whine whenever I ask you to uphold yours!" the swarm droned.

"I do not want your power anymore!" she sobbed. "The price is too high! Nothing is worth this!"

"You poor thing" the swarm droned. "Everyone must suffer to become who they are. Back in my childhood, when I was but an old man, I was just like you. It is merely our fate to suffer more than others. In your case, much, much more."

The swarm set upon her, the locusts digging themselves into her wounds and opening new ones, wriggling around in her skin like maggots. They flew into her mouth, her nose, her eyes, her ears. She gasped for breath, but only got a lung full of locust corpses for her trouble, but the monster was careful not to let her pass out or asphyxiate. It continued until noon the next day, until it was satisfied that it had made her suffer enough. She collapsed into a pool of her own blood, urine, and tears. It did not let her die that day.

[thaen]

Good thing I don't need to sleep. Ever.

[Micamo]

An aside: This is also effectively an AMA thread about Tazar and (until I get the other threads up) my conworld in general. It really has been the whole time but I've gotten few questions. Ask away!

[Ahzoh]

What's a "weng"? From what I imagine, they're giant beetles analogous to cattle.

[Netharía]

What are ALL THE THINGS?

[Micamo]

What's a "weng"? From what I imagine, they're giant beetles analogous to cattle.

Yes, though internally they're more analogous to marsupials than to beetles: They have lungs and a proper endoskeleton. They feed their young (which are born in litters) by keeping them under a hard, armored plate filled with a special regenerative placenta instead of feeding through through milk. Instead of teeth, they filter fungus, small insects, and other microorganisms that live in the nutrient-rich dust. Humans use weng as cattle by prying open the birthing plate with a knife, then scraping away some of the placenta, which once removed, becomes a protein-rich jelly that's edible by humans after being allowed to ferment for a few days.

The weng, as a grazer, is adapted to defend itself against predators instead of running away from them. Its six legs are incredibly strong, but not very dextrous. It does poorly attempting to climb over obstacles, and is thus not well suited for life outside of the great flat expanses of the black wastes. Its body is covered in sharp spines and overlapping exoskeletal plates, with no gaps for attackers to exploit. When threatened, a weng will charge at its perceived aggressor and attempt to gore them with its shoulder-spines, but it will usually stop its charge if the target backs off or shows submission. Adult males are especially aggressive and produce no nyieng, and so are much less valuable than females.

They are central to the economy of the wastes; Every culture that lives there is dependent on them for food, with nyieng as their staple. In theory a human can live on a diet of nothing but nyieng and water, but usually this diet is supplemented with worms, roaches, and the occasional caught bird. It is traditional to sacrifice an old weng and then feast upon the meat at important occasions like births, funerals, and weddings. The weng is also used as the central beast of burden, used to plow fields around Tazar and haul goods in carts across the wastes. They are not usually ridden, however; The spines leave no place to sit, and a human can easily outrun them.

What are ALL THE THINGS?

Have to be more specific, bae ;3

[zyma]

How big is a weng, compared to a person or another terrestrial animal?

Also, I assume the placenta gets renewed. If so, how long does this take?

[qwed117]

This is absolutely amazing; my language arts teachers would probably agree. I love how the writing style is nearly unintelligible. My only complaint? In the most recent vignette, I think it falls under too understandable. You need to make the writing even more undecipherable!

About the wengs, can I draw a concept picture?

[Micamo]

How big is a weng, compared to a person or another terrestrial animal?

Wild ones tend to be about 3 feet at the top of the "shell", but domestic ones grow to be about 5 or 6 feet. The bigger ones produce more nyieng, and can carry heavier loads, so they've been bred to become bigger and bigger over time.

Also, I assume the placenta gets renewed. If so, how long does this take?

I want a single weng to be able to feed 3 people with its nyieng, so long as it's healthy and well-fed itself. So on average it produces about 6000 calories in nyieng per day. I need to run the actual numbers on how fast it needs to regenerate the placenta (and how much its capacity needs to be) to get this to suss out.

This is absolutely amazing; my language arts teachers would probably agree. I love how the writing style is nearly unintelligible. My only complaint? In the most recent vignette, I think it falls under too understandable. You need to make the writing even more undecipherable!

What do you mean? What's unintelligible about my other pieces? That wasn't really a goal I had in mind.

About the wengs, can I draw a concept picture?

Go right ahead! If there's anything you'd like to know about the anatomy to help your drawing, feel free to ask.