Some Snippets from The World: Yeola-Camay

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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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Taking place in 19th century Auntimoany, the Lilly Wace Murders were a family scandal that caused much sensationalism in the press of the time on account of the horrific nature of the murders. The case involved one Lilly Wace, daughter of Jhonam Wace, a monger-justice, or petty adjudicator of quayside and warehouse issues, of the City and Wanthez Wace, daughter of a rather well to do noble house. This judgeship granted him podere di li macea or Authority of the Mace, a legal term which has in Avantimannish become worn down to dillimaas.

The deed itself was horrific: Lilly had obtained her father's judicial mace, carven wood handled wand about two feet in length with a bronze finial in the shape of a thistle, about two and a half inches across. With this, she beat her mother and father to death. The legal term pertaining to Jhonam's occupation became very well known to the people in the aftermath of the murders, the phrase being oft repeated in the broadsheets of the time that he "was murthered with his own dilly mace".

This phrase got taken up by young children who, hearing but not understanding the whole affair in its entirety, turned the whole thing into a beginning game. A common chant for such preliminaries, intoned even in the present time, runs like this:

Was a girl hight Lilly Wace, she went to get the lily mace;
when she come back her Mam said nay!, so Lilly thwhacked her in the face!,
and when the coppers saw the place, of Mam they found but little trace!
How many thwhacks did Lily thwhack? One, two, three, four, five, five were the thwhacks that Lilly gave!


The phrase "lily mace" in the chant is most likely a corruption of dilimaas or perhaps a confused transferance of Lilly's own name.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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The celometrion, a purely technological device invented by Rumnian natural philosoper Oracios Sussurios in 1679, the celometrion's sole purpose seems to be to measure the blueness of the sky. It consists of a thin brass housing, nicely engraved with scenes of aerial gods and winds on one side. Two windows, one above the other, are pierced through both sides of the housing. One window, the lower one, is completely open through the body of the device, while the other window, the upper, allows one to see only through a ring of small glass plates, sixty in number, each one set within a brass frame and each one tinted a slightly different hue from nearly white to nearly black. A small knob near the bottom of the device may be turned which will cause the creat ring of coloured glass plates to revolve.

The interested philosopher may then peer through the lower window, turn the knob until the hue of the coloured glass plate matches the hue of the sky and, observing the small number below the glass plate, may then refer to the numbered list of colours engraved upon the lower half of the device.

During his lifetime, Sussurios was known to have been interested in observing the weather, yet no indication has ever been found in any of his weather treatises that he put his device to any use. When asked by a fellow natrual philosopher, Misaccus of Cuwang Syuu, why he had invented the device, his response was characteristically terse: why not? When pursued as to why he never used it during his researches into the phenomena of the sky, he is said to have replied: why? This has nothing at all to do with weather -- I just wanted to know what colour the sky is!
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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I finally had some time to read the snippets about religion. I am impressed by your erudition. The amount of allusions is mind-boggling. To the average Joe, it probably reads like obscure fantasy. I happen to know more about history of religion than most people, though, and I know better. I love how you re-shaped real events, elements of liturgy and beliefs into something similar, and yet completely different. If we weren’t half a world away, I would gladly have a good chat with you over a beer or two.

I was surprised to see you have Romans, Greeks and Jerusalem in the world. I thought you would change the names or something. How similar were they to ours?

Also: I am very curious about Iskariotism.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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gestaltist wrote:I finally had some time to read the snippets about religion. I am impressed by your erudition. The amount of allusions is mind-boggling. To the average Joe, it probably reads like obscure fantasy. I happen to know more about history of religion than most people, though, and I know better. I love how you re-shaped real events, elements of liturgy and beliefs into something similar, and yet completely different. If we weren’t half a world away, I would gladly have a good chat with you over a beer or two.

I was surprised to see you have Romans, Greeks and Jerusalem in the world. I thought you would change the names or something. How similar were they to ours?

Also: I am very curious about Iskariotism.
I truly appreciate your kind words! Someday perhaps we'll have to find ourselves a little less than half a world away...

In the lands of the Uttermost West, we do indeed find close analogues to the familiar peoples of antiquity -- there are Remen / Remans (the sons of Remelius got to stay in Quereteia, while the sons of Romus were exiled). Romans are the ones who were compelled to trek into the far distant East (not sure of the reasons yet...)); there are Helladians; there are Qofts (the descendants of the Atelanteans) and Ehranneans. And of course, Jews! There aren't many (Jews) left in the Uttermost West anymore -- the largest communities are in Cartadas and Alexandarea-i-Qimion (the capital of the Empire and seat of young Ankh-Alexandra IV (peace, long life and everlasting her reign!) the Ever Reigning Pharaoh of the Remans and her husband-brother prince Julian Alexander). But that is a land of turmoil on the brink of a most destructive war. The homeland of Judaism, the Decapoleis, was recently laid waste (quite ironically by a Jewish wizard) and is now called the Desolation of the Levant. It is a place devoid of life and is a vast expanse of broken mountains, jagged rocks and steaming vents. Through its midst passes the Straight of Jordan, a new waterway that reconnects the Midworld Sea with the Ocean. Beyond lies the mighty empire of the Ehranneans and beyond them the homelands of most of the World's Jews and Helladians -- the so-called Judeo-Hellado, Indo-Hellado and Judeo-Buddho-Zarathustrian kingdoms. The whole Silk Road is littered with all these Jewish and Buddhist Helladic speaking kingdoms, satrapies, principalities, basilidoms and shahdoms. One can quite literally start speaking Loucarian in Alexandria, switch to Greek at Edessa and keep speaking Greek (mixed with the occasional sha'alom) until well above the hill country of Ymmalea. Even the Daine of the lands to the eastwards speak Greek. Until the great trade routes meander into Syansyan. There the last tendrils of Hellenism come to an abrupt end. But you find Jews in any city of Men along the great trade roads, and certainly not a few right here in Auntimoany! The Great Temple is surely the grandest synagogue east of Caramansiya in Demeteia. For it is as Ruodbrêcce says in De Chorographeiad: It seems quite possible that the folk of old Caramansiya, who had fled the destruction of Punt at the beginning of the previous age, were the ancestors of those Aryan Talarians who wandered hither during the Great Migration of the early years of the present age. For example, one of their prayers as it is commonly found on inscriptions and civic devices around the kingdoms is this: clawthî ‘e yizreelatte: Adonaryo anzo deyuo: hiscue oyno - which is very much like the mantra found among the Talarian Jews of the Eastlands: tlewetom ha Yisrayyalatiyye: Haryasca mesas teywas: isca ssatla. This is to say “Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, he is one.”

As far as changing the names... It is possible that some (early) references to "Romans" "Greeks" and so forth have slipped through the censors' nets. I still find a lot of old / abrogated spellings in articles I haven't read in years. They stem from a time when The World really was "Earth" and Europe was Europe and there was a Germany and a Great Britain and a recognisable North America. Some of the oldest maps I have very clearly show Hoopelle (a city of the Eastlands) in the same map as Moscow and Berlin! Anyway, I should think reorienting the whole mythological foundations of the Empire from Romulus to Remus counts as "changing the name"!! Also, in the Eastlands, Jerusalem is usually referred to as Jorsunborg. In the Kristianity of the Queendom of Oz, after the Christ is crucified, the Twelve "...continue their raids against monsters and Pagans, eventually partaking in the Last Sacking of Jorsunborg (the one in which the might of the Western Remen finally crushed the holy city and ground it into dust). The Apostles were each crucified by the victors, whereupon each recites a threefold rune with her dying breath. These last teachings become the basis for the Creed."

I'll get on with Iskariotism by and by. I've a mind to tell a story I wrote out today first.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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elemtilas wrote: I truly appreciate your kind words! Someday perhaps we'll have to find ourselves a little less than half a world away...
You never know...
tlewetom ha Yisrayyalatiyye: Haryasca mesas teywas: isca ssatla. This is to say “Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, he is one.”[/i]
What language is this?
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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gestaltist wrote:
elemtilas wrote: I truly appreciate your kind words! Someday perhaps we'll have to find ourselves a little less than half a world away...
You never know...
It would be a strange thing indeed! I have never in my life met another glossopoet in real life. There are some conlangers I consider friends, from the old days, but I've never seen any of them: never boinked, never went to an LCC or anything of that sort.
tlewetom ha Yisrayyalatiyye: Haryasca mesas teywas: isca ssatla. This is to say “Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, he is one.”[/i]
What language is this?
This is Talarian! Talarians are mostly followers of the Noble Way, though there are some Kristians and Jews among them.

tlewetom ha Yisrayyalatiyye: Haryasca mesas teywas: isca ssatla

tleweham, [*kleu-] D(urative) vb. hear, listen (act); consider (pas)
ha, voc. ptc.
haryas, [*aryo-] n.Epic. lord
-ca, disc. ptc. topicaliser
mesas, poss. pron. 1pl epic.nom.s.
teywas, [*deiwo-] n.Epic. god, spirit
ssatla, [D. shacla, one] num. one
-ca, disc.ptc. topicaliser
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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ELEKTRODROME part 1

“Come on already! We’ll be late!”

“Alright, alright! I’m ready now.” My wife was unusually eager to get down to see the executions today. Gods know why! The way I see it, once you’ve seen one odious sod dance upon the airs to his foregone conclusion, you’ve seen them all. But I guess it’s as she says: tis educational, and we must do this for the sake of the children. And there is some sense in what she says. After all, people must learn the value and the cost of the evil they do, and isn’t it my job to see to it they pay every penny they owe? In their defense, these lost men shall provide one good thing for our children and the people of the City. They shall serve as an everlasting reminder of how good folk never behave towards one another.

* * *

I took out my spiffy new horologue – one of those new Barloff and Sprort jobbies. Two imps and a nicely engraved brass case, and it only cost fifteen dalers! Of course, I got it from one of those grey markets down in Underwharves, so who knows how long it’ll last or even if it’s really a B&S! Anyway, Jhonam from the pawn shop across from my office says it is “bright as brass, squire!” So, I guess there’s some hope after all. We’re really going to be late now.

I shouted up to the triacuclos driver, pedalling away at the great wood and bronze contraption, all gaily painted and having a nice silken sunshade of garish purple, green and black: “What’s the delay? We’re going to be late if this traffic doesn’t let up soon! Can’t you get em to move along faster?”

Few cuclos jockeys are Daine, but this one was, and just as serene as any monk, he turns back to me and says: “No worries, grav, will have you there in a jiff! Bit of a short cut ahead.”

Normally I’d holler back ‘no bloody short cuts!’ I know all about cuclos drivers and their leuyve-long short cuts. Bloody grifters the lot of em. Anything to milk an extra penny from an honest customer. But not these Daine fellows – honest as the king’s own daler and straighter than any arrow.

Soon enough, we came up to an intersection. I saw the sign painted on the corner of the building. Ropetwisters Mew. Been down here a couple times. As a matter of fact, there’s an entryway down into Underwharves near here, down into the twilit parts of the City hidden from ordinary view. You can get anything in the suqs of Underwharves, but I usually just try to stick to the antiquities markets. Our driver hoots his claxon a couple times and calls out to a friend: “Hey Canash!” The other turns and waves before entering a shop. Hm: Poupina Macoui Tourannias. Must be a new tavern. Never heard of it before. We take a couple more turns and before I realise it, we’re at the Plaza of Justice. Much more familiar territory: the Kings Court, the back offices of the Magistracy. The very halls of power in the Empire. Drat. Wish I’d tried to remember which way we came – that was a short cut I’d like to remember to avoid future traffic blocks!


cont. . .
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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elemtilas wrote:
gestaltist wrote:
elemtilas wrote: I truly appreciate your kind words! Someday perhaps we'll have to find ourselves a little less than half a world away...
You never know...
It would be a strange thing indeed! I have never in my life met another glossopoet in real life. There are some conlangers I consider friends, from the old days, but I've never seen any of them: never boinked, never went to an LCC or anything of that sort.
tlewetom ha Yisrayyalatiyye: Haryasca mesas teywas: isca ssatla. This is to say “Hear o Israel, the Lord our God, he is one.”[/i]
What language is this?
This is Talarian!
W00T!!!

samctan camtar-co takam aloteyames-he!


Two quick questions about Talarian, I humbly proffer.

Love & Envy the Supine System. Could've done something like that in Rozwi; had all the pieces ready, just never thought to use them like that by case. [+1]

BTW, the questions:
1) What is the function of the Ablative Supine ?

2) The ACC.PL functions as an OBLIG {sc. Gerundive}? If so, I like how the pluralization is almost like an exponentializer for the PURPOSE expressed in the ACC.SG.

I (try to) say thanks in advance

fflatâ takam!
bless<ACT>1SG 2SG.ACC

Or is it

Can fflótta!
2SG.STAT bless<STAT>2SG
{?}
Anyway, Fear not the deep water!


sawwctâ acâ aloteyâms tawas!
[:)]
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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Lambuzhao wrote:Two quick questions about Talarian, I humbly proffer.
Roots around for Wrihht's Short Grammar of the Talarian Tongue, cos I know I'm going to be looking things up whenever Lambuzhao starts poking about, asking questions!! [:D]
Love & Envy the Supine System. Could've done something like that in Rozwi; had all the pieces ready, just never thought to use them like that by case. [+1]
Talarian is a language that seems to have gone bananas for verbal nouns. There's like four different kinds of participles, supine, two or three different other kinds of verbal nouns, some built on the supine stem others no. Some can take objects, others can not. Sometimes they still show tense; others distinguish transitivity: Hastôs is the transitive result of combustion or "an ember". Hassrôs, on the other hand, is the intransitive result of combustion and would be taken to mean the fire itself.
BTW, the questions:
1) What is the function of the Ablative Supine ?
Well, actually, I don't believe it has a function in modern Talarian. What I think happened is that, originally, it was a kind of "perfect" to the instrumental's "imperfective". The reason I say this is because the modern stative verbal noun is built up from what I believe may have been the old supine ablative. This particular usage became common enough or special enough that it acquired its own declension. What the stative verbal noun means in modern Talarian is "a done thing" and is therefore a past tense and perfect of aspect.

The example of the instrumental supine Wrihht gives is xamyâ ffâtô -- I come with the result that speech is happening; I come for talking. I can't really simply juxtapose the same verb with the stative verbal noun: *xamyâ ffâtôs. This doesn't jive, and neither would a Talarian speaker understand this as an ablative of the supine. It's no longer meaningful when used that way, though I don't know of any ancient examples...

What I can do, however, is use the verbal noun, but not the supine, to replace a verbal phrase: xamrôs, weytôs, waiktôs. A done coming, a done seeing, a done conquering. The two latter ones at least are formally equivalent to ablative supines; and the supine is the verbal noun of result and purpose. The sense of purpose and result are, I think, still pretty clear in these stative nouns: I came with a purpose, I examined with a purpose and I conquered as a result.
2) The ACC.PL functions as an OBLIG {sc. Gerundive}? If so, I like how the pluralization is almost like an exponentializer for the PURPOSE expressed in the ACC.SG.
:mrgreen:

You will find this kind of thing, this exponentialisation, all over the place in Talarian. (It's actually an areal feature that you find all over the Eastlands, but I guess that's a different story!) Not necessarily from singular to plural. For example, there are many nominal pairs in Talarian of the BASE and hV-BASE type. Wrihht hints that this prothetic syllable may be revealing a syllable "lost" in other Aryan languages. I think, just perhaps, the h- or x- of these syllables is a survival of the Aryan laryngeal. Whatever the source, we get a basic word like malcmar which means milk and its expanded form hamalcmar, which originally meant "milk in the breast" but now means "treasure". Sometimes we can only hazard the guess that an ordinary word is actually hiding a now lost pair. For example, the modern Talarian word xonomar means "name", but it looks an awful lot like one of those expanded forms. But there's no modern Talarian word *nomar to go with it. We do know that Old Talarian nomun means "common name for a thing" while xonomun meant "secret or inner name for a thing". Semantic drift seems to have been at work here. Other times, the expanded form is quite ordinary: noxwwar, finger nail vs. xonoxwwar, hoof. But here, there is a hint at the exponentialisation process: the latter word also means a "lute plectrum", which is a kind of very long thin slip of flexible wood, bamboo or quill used to play the lute. In stead of the finger nails, you see!

This latter pair is curious, though for a different reason. These two words are based on the W-extended root. That is, *nogh-w-. There exists also a non-W-extended form, xonoxar, which, even though it is the "laryngeal" exponentialised form of *noxar, means simply "finger nail". Just one of those things -- there doesn't seem to be any particular reason why both a plain and a laryngeal form should both share an identical meaning, but they do. You hear both anyway, and there doesn't seem to be anything that would lead one to believe one dialect or social group or register prefers one over the other. It's like they vary freely with one another.
I (try to) say thanks in advance

Has fflatâ takam!
1SG.STAT bless<STAT>1SG 2SG.ACC
sawwctâ acâ aloteyâms tawas!
[:)]
You're welcome, of course, and blessings and peace in all your days!
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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ELEKTRODROME part 2

. . .

And there, as we got out of the triacuclos and paid the driver his two dalers, before us was the newest façade in the Plaza, red brick and white stone in stark contrast. In big bold runes, deeply carved into the stone lintel was a single word: ELEKTRODROME. On either side of the great brass doors – immaculately polished I might add – were two figural columns carved in the likeness of Elektra herself, the newest of the philosophical goddesses, the radiant Lady of Illumination. People were streaming in, and we fell into the queue.

Little Wulfstan asked: “Dada, why aren’t we going down to the harbour? I thought today was execution day? Aren’t we going to have our lesson on the cost of evil? Or are we going there later? I like the music they play for the deadmen to dance to. I like the hot hound sausages they sell there. Can we get a hot hound sausage here?”

In response to this, Mahhtrood and Blaohhraven piped up: “I want a hot hound sausage too!” “I like mine with kijap!” “Can I try a fried rat? You said time before last time we could try one next time but then you changed your mind and said next time and now next time is this time and can we try a fried rat? Like the ones the Daine mongers sell? I’m sure it ain’t real rat –” “Aren’t” said Mahhtrood, the eldest, giving his younger brother a playful whack on the back of his newly shaved head. Blaohhraven continued without missing a beat: “– probably only chicken or oliphant or something like that.”

Mother hushed them all with a single glance – I’ve no idea how she does that – and we left the hot glare of a Dogsummer day and entered the unnatural cool and dim of the Elektrodrome. Once my eyes got used to the light level, I could see it was actually well lit – there were windows high up in the entry foyer. A smartly clad usher looked at the five tickets my wife held out and directed us to the stairs for the box gallery.

“A signal honour is that, the box gallery! To think, the murderer your dear father helped convict will be the very first man executed by the new magic of electrification!” Deep down I cringed. With every conviction I began to wonder what is it I’m really a part of. We went up to the box and took our seats. I could see the audience below very clearly. The theatre only seats about two hundred people, and most of them were Men. Only a couple Daine were present. It was odd, really. There were always one or two Daine in attendance at an execution, yet they never watched the penitent swing upon the gallows. They always watched the witnesses. Never understood that – why go to an execution and then end up watching everything but the execution?

* * *

The red curtain draws back to reveal the most macabre theatre I’d ever attended. The device in question takes up much of the dais that comprises the stage. It consists of a large glass globe, perhaps three foot in diameter, suspended in the air above the dais within a dark wooden framework, craftily carved, lacquered and polished. Long copper rods extended from opposite poles of the globe. Under the globe is a simple wooden table with heavy leather straps designed to secure even the strongest of men. Heavy twisted copper wires were attached to the rods and to bronze straps that would soon be placed around the penitent’s wrists and ankles like manacles and shackles.

The room itself is devised somewhat like an operating theatre: a large high roofed amphitheatre the design of which is familiar to every medical student and graduate of the surgical colleges. Ten or twelve rows of highly polished hardwood stands radiate in graceful arcs beyond the central dais, allowing for two hundred spectators to, at a penny a head, cheer on the proceedings.

The decor of the Elektrodrome is somewhat heavy on the brass and bronze for my taste, and is entirely over the top in its superfluous baroquery: carved and engraved brass fittings are in evidence everywhere, always polished; icons of Elektra and the various spirits of her City of Wonder, bolts of lightning and so forth; luminant tubes of Living Spirits glow balefully and zaps of pure djus arc from one twisted copper wire to another. The motifs are of light, illumination and progress. Yet the tableau they surround is one of the deepest barbary of our race.

THUMMMM! THUMMMM! A single kettledrum beats its slow tattoo and a silence unnatural to the citizenry of Auntimoany falls within the theatre. Four bronze armoured guards, each bearing a long lance in one hand and a chain in the other, lead the penitent towards his doom. Two are in front and two behind. They enter the hall from the main doors below our seats in the gallery. I could reach out and touch the sharpened bronze of their leaf-shaped spear points. Three judges, vicars of the Kings Justice wait on the stage at the front, all wearing the same scarlet red robes and pointed hats the trial judges wear.

The little group makes its slow way up the center aisle. The white arcs of pure djus make a snapping BANG! as a particularly strong current discharges upon the wires. There’s a disagreeable smell of some kind of foul air that wafts throughout the room. I’ve never smelled the like before. The penitent stumbles, looking up in dread towards the living spirits, doom written in his face. He’s heard about the power of the new magic, and is probably wishing the dread Judge had sentenced him to hang! The two guards behind him yank on the chains and haul him upright. They continue their slow procession – he like a hesitant bride, his groomsmen waiting ahead – and soon arrive at the dais.

I can’t help but think of the dais with its heavy oaken table as a kind of altar of sacrifice dedicated to the old gods. But I wonder, which old god would accept this kind of sacrifice? They liked their men strangled and thrown into bogs; sliced with stone knives and thrown into a pit; burned in a cage, strapped to a horse. I glance up at the tympanum above the tableau: there is Elektra, a long flowing brilliant yellow gown tied jauntily round her waist, naked from the waist up, all I the latest fashion, her skin radiant, her face beautiful and munificent, a nimbus of living djus radiates from her face, rays of fire and lightning are in her hands, images of modern cities with their temples and libraries and even houses all lit with the living Spirits of Elektra’s City, flank her on either side. Aye. Aye, this sort of goddess will accept: a new kind of sacrifice for a new kind of goddess!

cont. . .
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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ELEKTRODROME part 3

. . .

I looked down from my reverie and see that the penitent is now strapped on to the wooden table. The thick cow hide has him firmly in its grip. He can not move his arms or legs. He can turn his head, though, and this he does. His eyes find mine. He must recognise me. I tormented him with a whole stream of innuendo and misleading questions before the seven judges. His eyes are blue, the blue of the Dogsummer sky outside. A colour and a sky he will never see again in this world. A tear runs down the side of his face. I understand his pain. His terror. He’s thinking: gravio, I only slit her throat before stealing her bangles and her wallet. She gasped once and slipped to the smooth round cobbles already dead. I never let her suffer! My eyes soften. He’s right. Very few murderers really cause their victims much suffering, and professional thieves to a one never do. Their need is stealth and speed – lingering over a suffering victim only prolongs the job and increases the likelihood of someone witnessing the deed. He offers me a little smile. Perhaps he can sense my own unease in this place of justice. Two hundred grim faced and hard eyed people, my wife and sons among them, are eagerly waiting to watch this man die for killing a young woman and stealing about forty dalers worth of cheap jewelry. I helped bring him to this place of justice and alone of them, my eyes belie the futility of it all. He mouths something. I can’t quite make it out. Is he asking forgiveness? Or is he forgiving me...?

THOCKCK! THOCKCK! THOCKCK! The chief vicar of the Kings Justice brings his heavy ironwood staff crashing down upon the wood of the dais. Recalling the three strikes of the Judge’s martell at sentencing, the penitent cries out and tries to get away from the dread sound. His hands clench involuntarily. I am startled too, and both of us are fixed immoble. The sentence is read out again, the vicar’s voice booms out over the enraptured audience: “Sigulf the Thief of Ropetwisters Row! Know again that Justice is being done upon your body for the crime of murther, for the Law mandates it, Justice requires it and our Sovereign accedes to it. Hear now o Man and cower before your fate, as best you may being bound by Lady Justice’s irresistible bonds, for the Law commands me hand down to you the Dread Sentence: that you be braced and banded, be transported from the place of Justice being Rendered to this place of Justice being Done, where your life shall be made forfeit. It was the sentence of his majesty’s Justice that you be taken here to the Halls of Elektrodrome in which place shall you be bound immobile and in which the living spirits of Elektra’s City shall cut through your flesh, torment your heart and consume your body and at the last shall steal the last of your breath from your very lips. The cold Lady of Death whom none excel shall seize your body; she shall enblind your eyes and endumb your tongue; she shall bind your hands and still your quivering heart. Your mouldering litch shall then be taken from this place and be cast into the Pits by Nightsoil Field where it shall lie awaiting the Judgement and the End of All Worlds.” THOCKCK! THOCKCK! THOCKCK!

Gods how I hate to hear those words! And how many Men and Daine have heard them in my presence? It is small comfort to know that, to the best of my knowledge, every one of them was guilty.

The large salamaders have been carefully placed within the thaumic field contained within the great glass globe. Once in place, the fully charged salamanders are gently tapped upon their pointed noses with a thin rod of wood or reed so that they slowly discharge their djus. The sphere acts as an accumulator of Spirits of Elektra’s City and in short order begins to glow with a gentle blue light. By the time the vicar is done reading out the sentence and all the officials are seated in their places behind the great oaken table, the blue glow of stored Spirits is quite intense, and I can’t even look into its heart without squinting, for it’s like the bright Sun at noon. Sparks and lightning bolts can be seen flowing about within the globe. It is not the blue of the sky, but rather the baleful blue of pure power. Of course, all this while, the penitent – the man Sigulf – has had ample time to consider both his crimes and his fate. And then, at last, the hangman throws a huge wood and bronze lever that signals the climax of the whole spectacle.

cont. . .
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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Of all the World stories, this is the one I like the most so far.
elemtilas wrote:Our driver hoots his claxon a couple times and calls out to a friend: “Hey Canash!” The other turns and waves before entering a shop. Hm: Poupina Macoui Tourannias. Must be a new tavern. Never heard of it before.
Very neat. You are the world champion of the art of incorporation.

Somewhat off-topic: reading about the World, Micamo’s stories, and now also some of Chagen’s science fantasy, I begin to regret my decision to make the World of Twin Suns magic-less. Reading your pieces, I realized one thing: I hate it when magic is disjoint from the general experience, as it often is in fantasy. Take a look at any of the popular RPG games (tabletop or computer) and you will know what I mean.

You manage to make magic fit seamlessly and really make it a part of the world, with all the consequences. I admire that. In the World and in Chagen’s fiction, magic becomes intermingled with science. In Micamo’s world, magic is science - too ancient and advanced to be comprehended. I want some of this for the World of Twin Suns. Now I see my mishap with astronomy as an opportunity to reevaluate the very foundations of the setting. We will see what comes out of it. Some ancient spirits seem to already be roaming around. And there is that basilisk in the Eerie Forest.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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[tick]
gestaltist wrote:Of all the World stories, this is the one I like the most so far.
Thank you! Sometimes a story just sneaks up behind you, taps you on the shoulder and says write me down. Now!

I was going through some articles to see what might still need to be fit into De Chorographeiad, and came across the article on the Elektrodrome. It's one of those articles I'd quite forgotten about, and it doesn't really have a place in Chor. But I read through it anyway. Nothing at all striking about it, just a cut and dry description of the place - until I fell into the house of an ordinary family off to a day at the executions. Didn't realise it was one of the prosecutors until I was about halfway along.
Somewhat off-topic: reading about the World, Micamo’s stories, and now also some of Chagen’s science fantasy, I begin to regret my decision to make the World of Twin Suns magic-less. Reading your pieces, I realized one thing: I hate it when magic is disjoint from the general experience, as it often is in fantasy. Take a look at any of the popular RPG games (tabletop or computer) and you will know what I mean.

You manage to make magic fit seamlessly and really make it a part of the world, with all the consequences. I admire that. In the World and in Chagen’s fiction, magic becomes intermingled with science. In Micamo’s world, magic is science - too ancient and advanced to be comprehended. I want some of this for the World of Twin Suns. Now I see my mishap with astronomy as an opportunity to reevaluate the very foundations of the setting. We will see what comes out of it. Some ancient spirits seem to already be roaming around. And there is that basilisk in the Eerie Forest.
Yes. Magic -- dwimmery -- is one of the fundamental forces of Nature. Along with things like gravity, atomic forces, love, electromagnetism and the Principle of Ehrranian Rug Affinity(*). It would be kind of hard for it nòt to be so integrated into the daily experience of everyday people. It would be like saying only this group of people can enjoy the privilege of falling off a cliff, because gravity is a force available only to a select few...everyone else must be content floating some distance away from the edge of the cliff. Of course, like any natural force, it generally requires special knowledge and tools to make proper use of. Even those for whom the use of magic comes naturally -- Teyor and Daine spring to mind -- they still need to learn how to focus their efforts. An untrained person might be able to make a little ball of glowing light, or might unaccountably cause all one's older sister's particoloured Bierberry's stockings to turn black. You don't just nip on down to the corner apothecary and pick up a copy of "Diwmmery For Dummies" and expect everything to work out nice and easy! For those whom the use of magic does not come naturally -- Men, Horog, Dharg, etr. -- they must rely on traditional magic and the more modern marriage of magic and technology. The former is the usual stock in trade: spells, charms, ensorcelments -- all that wonky stuff with ee of eft and pee of babe bereft -- while the latter is thaumology. That's the application of magic to a partially technological device. Like using imps in a box to communicate over long distances, or paint an accurate image of a person (--just don't try it on a Daine!--) on a wee slip of art canvas, custom framing available at very modest rates. Much less messy, in some respects a little less magical; but tends to arrive at a rather higher cost.

Whatever magic might be in the World, we can truly say that we are now living in an age where magic is at last made democratically available. Anyone who can't or won't go through the training required to learn the subtil art may, for a price, obtain a cunningly crafted device that will do a certain task magically. And the variety of thaumological devices now on the market is unexpectedly broad. You've already met the pegopansophicon (I think probably the most stable device in the World), and I think you've met Lord Maytagge's Self Actuating Laundry Device (with Handy Autowringer). Those are pretty complex devices. Self pushing brooms are old hat, thaumic mouse traps are too. Thaumological noodle twirlers and stir-fry actuators are pretty new; the homunculus driven motivators that drive almost every modern vehicle in the East from the duocuclos to the poteriovelox to the trundling brontoreeds of the caravanway -- those are ancient thaumology that have been recently reinvented. All of these things bring magic into the homes and lives of many.

Agreed about the disjointed nature of magic in much fantasy. It's like magic is a thing apart, unapproachable by anyone except the adept few. What I ended up finding in the World is, if you will, a kind of mundane magic. There's really nothing special about it. Sure it's true that not everyone has the native ability to work it, but really, it's just a force of nature that can be studied, tamed to purpose. And like gravity or electricity, can also backfire on the foolish with the most humorous results!

Thaumology does need to be respected, else the consequences can be dire. A noted artificer accidentally discovered that forcing magic and magical beings to do something very much against its nature can yield disasterous results. One Samwise Guggenham of Auntimoany attempted to violate a magical rule pertaining to the use of imps in thaumological devices and ended up with a clock fused to his head. The resultant discovery that an imp can not be permanently bound to a device became known as Samwise's Inversion and describes an inversion of an intended spell or ensorcellment that backfires upon the spellcaster, causing him to suffer from the spell's intent. As I understand it, the clock kept very good time, but poor Samwise was for many years the butt of jokesters who would constantly ask "o master philosopher, what is the hour?" And poor Samwise could never give them an answer, since he was unable to see the face of the clock embedded within his own head!

As for WoTS and your planned reevaluation, I am certainly of the pro-magic camp. And I don't doubt that you will find a satisfactory solution to the issue of magic in an otherworld. I'm sure you'll avoid the usual forms magic takes in many fantasy and game settings.
Spoiler:
NOTE: Undoubtedly related to the Principle of Gastronomic Lodestone Affinity, the Principle of Ehrranian Rug Affinity involves food and costly woven articles. In this case, philosophers have observed a correlation to buttered and toasted bread (with or without jelly) that falls from the table onto the floor. Whenever the floor is bare wood or stone, or some other easily cleaned surface, the toast sometimes falls buttered side down, sometimes buttered side up. However, whenever the floor is draped with, for example, a costly imported Ehrranian carpet, the toasted bread always falls buttered side down.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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elemtilas wrote: As for WoTS and your planned reevaluation, I am certainly of the pro-magic camp. And I don't doubt that you will find a satisfactory solution to the issue of magic in an otherworld. I'm sure you'll avoid the usual forms magic takes in many fantasy and game settings.
Thanks for believing in me. I already have something subtle and yet game changing shaping up. We’ll see. I would like to say I am indebted to you for showing me it is possible to do this in „discovery mode“ instead of playing an omniscient god. I have had various disjoint ideas whirling around for a while now, and I simply let them slide into place. It is a much more pleasant process than sitting at a drawing board, tossing away rejected projects.

Ceterum censeo: It’s time for a description of Iskariotism.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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[tick]


ELEKTRODROME part 4


The great glass globe groans and a curious smell of a rarified air wafts throughout the hall. It’s the same smell as when the djus crackled earlier, only much stronger this time. There is a brilliant white flash within the globe as the pent up Spirits are let out through the mighty twisted bronze wires. They roar through the twisted copper wires. They flow through the bands round Sigulf’s wrists and ankles. His body convulses and shudders. The people in the audience continue to stare transfixed, their mouths agape in wonder. He opens his mouth wide and cries out once and a curious cloud of vapour rises from his body. Perhaps his soul is being torn from his searing flesh? At last the convulsions diminish and stop altogether. The spent salamanders have no more djus to give and the blue glow within the glass globe dissipates. At last, the silence in the theatre is broken by one of the witnesses beginning the Death Song. Others take it up and soon almost everyone is singing Sigulf’s soul on its way.

As the music washes over me, I wonder as I have at times before if the Daine aren’t right about us Men after all. Today, though, I have no more doubt about it. There must be something broken in the very soul Man: one man thinks little enough of killing an innocent woman, and then we think nothing at all of taking his life in turn. A tooth for a tooth, don’t they say? And here we sit in the glistening temple of retribution. The song ends at last and the witnesses quietly file out of the Elektrodrome, another successful theatre in the great city of Auntimoany, one sure to be repeated this same time next week. The body of Sigulf lies still in its bonds. Men come, dressed in black kneetrousers and long duster coats, their peaked caps and coat buttons an incongruous and jolly red. They undo the straps and shift the first star of Elektrodrome’s stage onto a wooden cart. They wheel him out of the place, his arms hanging down the sides of the narrow trolley. I wonder at the futility of it all.

Elektrodrome stands empty now. The goddess of the new temple has been given her first victim. I rise from my seat and go down to my sons and wife. The glare and heat of the Sun on a Dogsummer’s day is like the blast from a bronzesmith’s forge after the cool air inside. The hot hound sausage monger’s cart, painted a garish collage of purple and blue and red with gold trim, is down on the smooth brick pavements outside the doors, and he’s singing his wares in a jolly baritone. The aromas of steaming sausages and fried onions waft over the Plaza, selling themselves better than the monger’s chant. My sons are happily eating their sausages and Mother seems especially pleased with today’s debut at Elektrodrome.

concl.
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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gestaltist wrote:Thanks for believing in me. I already have something subtle and yet game changing shaping up. We’ll see. I would like to say I am indebted to you for showing me it is possible to do this in „discovery mode“ instead of playing an omniscient god. I have had various disjoint ideas whirling around for a while now, and I simply let them slide into place. It is a much more pleasant process than sitting at a drawing board, tossing away rejected projects.
Goodness, if I had to start up with a new project and could only do it playing the omniscient god, I honestly don't think I'd get past that first metaphorically blank sheet of paper...
Ceterum censeo: It’s time for a description of Iskariotism.
Ah yes! Iscariotism... well let's finish up our solicitor's happy tale of life in the City first!
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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ISCARIOTISM

We now look back over the spreading woods of the Lands of Time, back to a different age of the World. Those were the days when, in the Uttermost West, there arose a ruler known to history as Agustas the Archmage. Now when Agustas was coming up, his native land, Quereteia in the northern warths of the Midworld Sea was in much turmoil. Great men thrust forward with great designs, each vying for the throne of the city of Reme. Now Agustas grew up in a world that could best be described as the Helladian Hegemony, for from west to east, from Mastilia to Layskandareyya-on-Yaralante in the middle of Eosphora, all the world spoke Helladian (or, as in the case of the western and southern lands, a creole involving Helladian). Having made himself master of Quereteia, he sought then to make himself master of the lands of the Alexandrians. Having overrun the original homeland of the Hellades -- now something of a backwater, really -- he set his eyes on acquiring Kemeteia for his own empire, which was at that time rapidly expanding along the coasts of the Inland Sea, swallowing up formerly Helladic and Punic territories. A failed military campaign (Actium) did not yield the Remens' desired result, the forced abdication of Pharaoh Cleopatra VII; however a later offer of marriage between her grandaughter and the son of Agustas was found acceptable and the young couple formed the basis for a combined realm, which became known by its other ancient name, Missrayim or "Two Kingdoms". An era known as the Golden Peace ensued; but peace came at a high cost. This cost was the literal occupation and garrisoning of the Levant, making the beautiful cities of the Hellades and the Judeans into veritable fortresses and to say nothing of a wary watchfulness along the eastern frontier, beyond which lay the partially hellenised empire of the Ehrraneans.

It was during this age that gave rise to a veritable volcano of religious and spiritual fervor in the Levant -- messiahs rose and fell from favour, living god-men strode the earth for a time before fading into the obscurity of the wastes. We have already met with Kristianity, the greatest of the religions to grow up at this time and have seen mention of several others: Baptism, Mithraism, Dydimism, Manesianity, Iscariotism.

A lesser known and less numerous rival to Kristianity is Iscariotism. Its theology is largely in accord with Kristianity's being one of the need for human salvation from a sinful nature. Its practices are based on personal sacrifice and suffering for the cause. Iscariotism was most prominent in the Decapoleis region, before it was laid waste, around the Galillee Sea. There are small communities
elsewhere, however, that have survived the destruction of the homeland. While Iscariotism has remained a more isolated religious community, it has not entirely rejected non hereditary Jews as members. It simply redefined "Jew" as "Iscariotian". Indeed, in the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem, most Jews migrated to eastern lands and many non Jews settled in the now mostly emptied regions of the Decapoleis; many of these took up Iscariotism.

Worshippers meet in caves or basements (like the Mithraists, though there is no obvious connexion between the two), though little is known about the furnishings of their churches. They take as their symbol a noose hanging from a T shaped gallows.

Iscariotism holds that Judas Iscariot and Judas Thomas were the same person and that this Judas and Ye Shue were indeed twins. This is a key element in Iscariotism, as the theme is developped to the point that Judas and Ye Shue are coredemptors; that is, both of them were working together in order to bring about salvation. It takes as its primary sacred texts the two books that are called "Gospel of Judas", the "Gospel of Thomas" (for it was written by the same Judas) and the "Wellspring Gospel". It is not entirely clear how the problem of relating the two Judases to Ye Shue is resolved, especially given that, according to one of the Gospels of Judas, he was born in Capernaum of Galillee and was cast upon the sea only to be picked up by a childless family. There are hints that Iscariotians have reworked Ye Shue to fit into their chosen story line. Though this same Gospel of Judas does not mention Ye Shue early on, it is believed by them that Ye Shue was kept by the mother while Judas was cast upon the sea. It vehemently disavows the other Kristian gospels as works that highlight the role of Ye Shue and also disparage and malign Judas as a man "of ugly reputation". It has developped a series of "proof texts" that support its claims.

Of their primary gospel, it is well known in the East where it is called Sutra of Judas Iscariot, and subtitled that men may know the nature of his Deed and his true reward.

The Book of Judas records all the salient points. It starts out with a description of Judas's early life: a birthmark, mother's troubled dreams, astrologer is so horrified by the baby's horoscope that he refuses to talk about it, suggests mother stifle him but she can't do that and chooses to set him adrift in a basket...

It then presents a fairly conventional gospel account, using either the Wellspring gospel or the source materials of Wellspring as its own foundation. In the days when Tiberius was Emperor at Rome, Judas was at Capernaum; and there he saw a great multitude flock towards the shore, and there was much excited speach. He waylaid one man, saying: “Old man, whither go ye apace? is there some fair or entertainment that so stirs the district?” “Good sir, we go to hear the words of the Teacher, called Ye-Shue the son of Joseph the Carpenter for he will give us great wisdom; and he makes the blind to see and the dumb to speak and lame to walk and he raises up the dead to life again. And some do acclaim him a great sage.” Judas went there with them to see what spectacle could so captivate their attention. The crowds waited eagerly, for the Teachers fame was spread wide in Galilee and everyone was looking towards the Teacher, waiting for him to speak. Then, the Teacher turned to the crowds, and taught them thus:

It is singular in that Judas is referred to as "beloved" by Ye Shue and the two of them often converse together and Jesus often speaks of the things to come, though Judas never catches on. Often the Teacher would walk alone with one or another of his disciples, and they would speak privately. Once he walked with Judas, when three of the disciples of John came up to him...The Teacher spake of events to come, saying: “I am Issac bearing the wood bundle, beloved Judas, and thou are Abraham of the sacrificial knife; I am the wild bull, rampaging in the land, and thou are the proud hunter who chases me into the cave, brings me down and, laying hold of me, plunges thy blade into my neck. For through me all are saved; and within the mercy of the Most High, not one shall be cast aside. From the mightiest lord to the meanest slave, neither shall be forsaken.” Judas was dumbstricken at this speech, for he understood not one word of it. Before he could compose himself to question his Master on this speech; the Teacher said: “Come, beloved, for the crowds gather.”

It also presents a fairly conventional (and typically Western) account of of the arrest, "trial" and crucifixion. Thereafter, the book makes no mention of the burial, Consternation of the Apostles, or post ressurection appearances. In stead, it becomes visionary and offers a history of what happened after the crucifixion and some hints as to Judas's role in the events.

We find that Judas, after his own suicide, awakens in a dark city: Judas awoke and came to his senses, and found himself in a dark place, filled with firelight and sharp sounds of metal striking metal. When he could see, behold, he saw a palace inhabited by demons of every shape and description. And he walked towards the parapet of the high tower and saw the preparations of great armies arrayed below in a great city of red stones and black iron; and in the far distance, he perceived a great gate made of black iron which even at this distance loomed more forbidding than the black cloud of the tempest. There, Demons (probably really fallen Angels) of every description are preparing for war and (presumably Human and possibly Daine) slaves are in evidence.

The chief Demon, possibly the Dark One of ancient legend, proclaims: "Thou have been a thief and a scoundrel since thy youngest days; and now thou have betrayed and slain the Holy Fool according to my plan, and, lo, this was foretold by a magus of Capernaum. Thou are mine for all time, o Judas the Betrayer!” “How can this be? For my Master has taught me otherwise!” “I am thy master, and thy father, for thou are well formed in my own image. ... Thy Master is dead and buried, o Betrayer! And all thy hopes are as dust! Even now, we prepare to invade the Middle World; and then storm the very gates of Heaven; for behold, the plans of the Most High are shattered and in ruins; and all the victory shall be ours!” Judas is then clapped in irons that burn his wrists and ankles; Demons spit in his face, slap him around, chain him to a cross and leave him.

The invasionary force leaves the Iron City, and long indeed was the time of their leaving. But the triumphant drums and cries of victory turn to dismay when a piercing light appears high in the dark red sky. It becomes plain that Under World itself is being invaded, and in fact the great Gate to the City is thrown down, Demon hordes are chased all over the land and a shining figure pursues the Dark One right to the great courtyard before the palace, and it turns out to be none other than Ye Shue who ...brought him to earth, pummeled him and rent his flesh with godly vim. An angel then brought forth a great chain wrought upon the High One's own anvil, the metal forged and formed of his own Words... The Dark One is then chained and cast into the uttermost places, all the powers of the Demons are broken, the captives set free and the Iron City left broken and abandoned.

At last, Judas is left alone in the place and Ye Shue approaches, breaks the Demons' shackles and in response to Judas's surprise says: You are the last in the Iron City; but even you are ransomed. For you are well loved by me, and you have done your Duty well. Note is made of the mirror wounds on each figure and Ye Shue says at last: "Come, our time in this place is done. Let us seek refreshment and rest in the pleasant places."
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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And then what happened? ;)
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gestaltist wrote:And then what happened? ;)
:mrred: Bene jocata!
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Re: Some Snippets from The World

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The rest of the story...

Wind soughed through the long grass. Whispered through the trees.

After a long, long silence, a voice was heard. Old sounding it was. Gravelly. Like a rock slide, it beginning somewhere in the heights, careening raucously over the precipice and cascading into the deeper valleys below, ending with a cavernous roar.

“You know, we didn’t used to have all this, this greenery all over the place! It was just us, all sharp crags and steep cliffs. Bare rock and clear sky above and the bitter cold water at our feet.”

“Grass.”

“What?”

“Grass! The greenery that’s all over. ‘S called ‘grass’.”

“Oh. Yeah? Yeah, that. Grass.”

The first speaker was called Amath and he was old and bent, gnarled with age and bald on top. He was older than old and his age had long since lost the count of years. His neighbour was Gahalt, similarly old and just as bent, equally gnarled with age and as bald on top as his friend Amath. They were practically twins. Both were covered with green grass and deep woodlands on their lower verges. Amath and Gahalt was what they were called by Daine and Men, and they were hills, low and round with very gentle, rolling slopes. Gahalt sat just to the south of Amath, while Amath sat right at the water’s edge to the north, his toes dangling in the bitter cold water.

They were Mountains, old and haggard. Ancient by far, even according to the reckoning of their kind, worn down by the gnawing teeth of wind and merciless pummeling of rain to little more than nubbins, leaving them little more than ghosts of their younger, loftier selves. If Mountains had a pension scheme, “Amath” would have been the first name on the first list of benefits recipients.

“Why,” said Amath, “Time was when we stretched a way up into the cold, crisp air and snow storms would dance around me, the gale singing, the flakes swirling and the winds howling, wishing I would move out of their path so they could blow straight and true.” He paused for a moment, then went on: “Alas, they have had their wish, as our heads are usually warm anymore, and hardly ever attract more than a passing storm cloud to grace us with a blanket of soft whiteness.”

“Sure. Things have changed a lot since those days,” said Gahalt. “There weren’t all these things creeping about us all the time. Some of them even bored some vents into me, once, long ago.” There was a long pause, and a gravelly grating sound arose like a distant echo from an ancient canyon: “Hehe. Gave the bastards what’s coming to them, mind you! A little shift down in the fundaments and hey presto!, caved the lot of em right in. No one ever heard their cries for rescue!”

“Ha! The old ‘collapsed tunnel’ trick, eh? Who says we’ve lost it? Why, those young mountains you hear about in the broadsheets, with all their alpine slopes and impenetrable passes, they don’t have anything on us!”

“Right you are, my old friend. They think they’re so grand because they’re unclimbable. Well sir, we were unclimbable long before any creeping wossname ever dared wriggle out of the primordial water!”

“Now, don’t you get me started on water! Horrible stuff. All waves, washing away at your feet; eating away your skirts and foothills. Remember old Zahair?”

“Mm.”

“Sure, she was a great old gal. Always with the landslides that triggered them big waves out in the water. Wossname.”

“Yeah. I recall. She always stayed behind you, mind. I remember you telling me about the landslides. I didn’t know about the waves out in the water thingies.”

“Yeah, well, you were always a little further inland. Lucky you! Me and Zahair were right on the water, in those days. Ah, that was long ago. Those waves wore her down too quick; and what the waves didn’t wear away, that upstart river bore off to the sea. And now, of course, those continent things have come and gone a few times; the river dried up ages ago and the sea is so far away anymore. All that’s left is that fast little bit, always gnawing away at my roots. Ever so slowly, but I can feel it all the way down to my roots. Too bad she couldn’t resist a while longer. She’s all rolling downs, now, and I haven’t heard so much as a word from her in ages. I think she’s gone.”

“Bloody continents. Always rushing about. Can never make up their minds where to go!”

“Yeah.”

“It’s all that limestone, I reckon. That’ll wear you down real quick, all that limestone. Weakens your back, they say”

“Bugger all limestone.” The hills sighed nostalgically and fell silent for a while, remembering their friend long ground away into the piedmont silt. The wind blew overhead, sighing in the tall grasses upon Amath and Gahalt’s heads, moaning through the trees on their lower downs. Fast moving cold water ever wore away Amath’s roots.

* * *


Amath broke the silence. “Gee, those were happy days! Remember the wild parties we had, all the lads?, when we used to toss the lightning around from our craggy heights?”

“Sure, friend, I remember well! That’s why we didn’t notice the eons rolling by. I don’t know if you met em, but there were a few lads down yonder. Away south they were. Stout lads, every one of em. Very handy with the glaciers, they were — ah what fun we had in those days! The grinding ice was too hard on em, though. Broke their backs and wore em right down flat.” Gahalt paused for a moment, his voice choking up with the memories. “You, my dear Amath are the last friend I have in the whole world!”

“And you are mine, friend! How I’ve often thought I’d give the world to have our old gang back, here in our old neighbourhood! Why, remember when the Trolls first wandered our way? Oh, how Zahair cooed over them — she always thought they were adorable little tikes! Remember? We used to wager pebbles on their games?”

“I remember. They used to play valley ball on our lower slopes! Stout fellas, for all they were so tiny — casting boulders around just as easily as pebbles!” Gahalt paused for moment, before continuing: “That is, back when we even had lower slopes! Huh; I’m almost all downs now, myself!”

The Mountains always felt a kind of kinship for the Trolls — they were rock after all. They were the largest creatures on the surface of Gea to move about on their own, which always made the Mountains curious, as they themselves were forever rooted to their home basement rock, and only got about when the continents themselves decided to go on walkabout.

“Sure, those Trolls were real sweethearts. Never damaged a thing — they were just content to be. Not like those vent borers at all! Blast all when they came along in after time and spoiled everything! Drove the Trolls away or smashed them into dust and rubble. But I suppose all things change. Even though they tarried quite a while, the vent borers too left after some time, never to return again.”

“And good riddance! Good riddance says I!” Gahalt was fond of saying; “Why, I still have vents and pockmarks in my slopes and slag heaps around my foothills! ‘Quality ore’ they said; ‘could mine this old heap of rocks for ever’ they said. Heap of rocks! I ask you!”

“Undignified is what it is!” cried Amath, commiserating with his old friend. “You’d think that at our age there would be some consideration. Some basic respect. Only thing around older than us is the Continental Shield, and she’s been buried under a mile of dirt for as long as I can remember. Do you know, one time, the vent borers had the audacity to collect and bind together a whole load of my own boulders up on my summit? Zugarat’s Teat they called it, whatever a “zugarat” might be! Right up at the top! Ho, no! That never would have happened in the old days, I can tell you! A watchtower they called it. Never did find out what a watchtower is for.”

“Yeah. Horrible little rotters, weren’t they?” Gahalt groaned: “One time, a band of em took up residence in one of my valleys, but I was able to attract a little lightning. One sure feels fine after a good old fashioned wildfire! Nature’s own purgative. Buggers never did come back after, and so much the better, I don’t mind telling you. It’s like they think we’re not even here!” They fell silent for a while, pondering those thoughts.

Amath sighed long, and whispered: “No respect at all. I reckon maybe we’re just too old. Too old, and no one even knows we’re here anymore...” His thought trailed off and he didn’t continue. The hills fell silent again and spoke no more. Each was lost in his own ancient thoughts and dreams of times long past and friends borne away to the distant sea.

Wind soughed through the tall grass. Whispered through the trees.
Last edited by elemtilas on 01 Nov 2015 17:04, edited 1 time in total.
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