~Lyra
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Voices of Ataname
~Lyra
Last edited by Lуra; November 14, 2012 at 05:02 AM.
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Re: Voices of Ataname
The Monic culture was inspired by the cities of Sumer as well as the Greek city states. These tidbits are for having a more rounded knowledge of the background of the stories I shall be writing.
Language
Brief History of the Monic Culture
~Lyra
Last edited by Lуra; August 10, 2012 at 03:36 PM.
Look at the stars
Re: Voices of Ataname
THIEF THIEF! MODS SHE'S STEALING MY IDEAS WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
But no really, I'm glad to see that you are posting your ideas. TBH, I won't post all of my ideas, as I want to save stuff for books I am going to write...though the only ones with plots I can think of occur before the Fall
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Re: Voices of Ataname
The Boy and the Crow
The wind blew over the plain, a familiar wind. This wind had come from the great ocean far east from these fields, you could smell the sea salt and almost hear the docks of the port towns with their fishermen and lively markets. But this land was a different land; the wind was a foreigner here. Bhárn took off his helm to feel the breeze; the sun was hot on his dark hair and features –this was no time to stand idly about. He looked around at the banners flapping eagerly in the midday sky. They were orange, the colours of his city, Ghámab. Some pennants bore the black crow, its animal protector; seer of the day. Holding these signs and flags were Bhárn’s troops, all warriors of the city as he. They stood proud in their bronze armour and helms, mottled with their liveries. They also bore their hánan1, hung loosely on their backs, and in their hands were their metal tipped ngéran2. All these soldiers were standing in battle formation in front of the enemy settlement, waiting for the latter to engage in pre-battle talks, as was custom with all the plain-dwellers.
“Never wait on an outsider! That’s what they told me. Do they pretend to win the battle by boiling us in the sun?!” Ruklan muttered impatiently on his horse.
“Ghosabhęmnel3 would never betray us, he is our guardian.” Bhárn assured his second man, “The rivermen will meet with us now, as they did three mornings ago. And let us hope today will not end in slaughter.”
Three days ago his troop had routed the rivermen of this town, they had rebelled against Monic rule, and so suffered their ruler’s wrath. Bhárn suspected the town would surrender, as many of their young men lay dead on the plain a horizon away. It would mean certain doom if they said otherwise. Unlike many of his compatriots, the commander held feelings of the riverfolk. Having been a Traveler of the Món4 in his younger years, he had come to know them well, even partaking in their lives and learning their tongue. This was vital for his position as talks could take place with ease.
Right then a commotion was heard from within the palisade of the village, its gates opened reavealing three figures walking their way. They wore garments of skin and reed, their weapons of same material. The heads of the trio were not covered by helm, keeping their light hair visible to the world. All three had grim pale faces and trod determinately and strong, but one was different, flanked by the two largers there was a little boy. But this youth held the same airs, the same cold look, as a true leader; this boy was the tribe’s cheiftan.
As they came closer, Bhárn dismounted from his horse to meet with them. Ruklan angrily did too, he did not enjoy being on the same level as these blue eyes savages. And so the two waited in front of their forces as the boy and his two men stopped a mere stone’s toss away. He then stomped his feet, shook his spear to the heavens and started shouting out in his own tongue. It sounded course and violent to the untrained ears of the city men, who rustled in commotion at the words. But Bhárn knew the River Speech, and so could understand what the little boy said, it went along as such:
“The river is my mother and the earth my father, so I am the mud, the clay, the dirt. I am of this world to be washed away in the final flood. My father and mother give me my food and my shelter and so I am in debt to them. I am their protector, I, born of Sásxom and Txepzádais Leader, I Fyskó Cheiftan of the parentlands shone by moon and sun forever till I wash away as all will also be.5”
When the boy had finished all was silent, there was command in his words, words spoken by these men for centuries.
After a brief pause he continued, “What brings you and your warriors here, o men of the walls? Why do you bare death?” he looked solemnly at Bhárn, his blue eyes hiding bitterness and hate. This boy-s father had surely being killed in the battle a few days ago, as his heir, the leadership of the tribe was thrust upon him unforgiving of his age.
The commander began, following the speech of the Riverfolk, “Fyskó Cheiftan, we do not come bearing death, we come bringing peace. Your warriors have been cut by the blade, as they too had raised with blade against us. As victors we come to ask you for your people’s surrender so that you may not have to suffer an untimely fate. Pledge fealty to the Món of Ghámab and thus agree to pay us a tribute of seven loads6 of fish a year and, in time of war, to help our cause in battle. If you do so, your people will be spared, but, I warn you, Fyskó Cheiftan, if you refuse, my men shall lay down havoc upon your land and you will lose all.” Bhárn looked upon the boy, hoping for a good answer.
The boy kept his serious demeanour answering simply, “No. We will not sell of our home off to aliens, city man.”
Bhárn knelt down to be on his level, “Fyskó Cheiftan, understand me here, I will spare your land, not harm your people. You only have to surrender and give a petty worth’s amount in exchange. What is there wrong in that?”
“You are blind, wall wanderer.” he spat blankly, “You think titles and coins can give you the power to rule, that you can go to a place and proclaim it yours –but who are you city man? You hide within your walls during the night, fearing the lands about you. You hate the land and so you kill it. You build upon it with harsh stone and cut it up to drown it. The river you poison and block and strangle till there is no more life within her. How can you be the ruler of lands? The land and river are my home and your coming has harmed it. You are the enemy of my people. How can we live at peace if your being is our demise. There will not be an end to the fighting till one side is gone. City man, we will not surrender; we will not give up our ways, not till everything is taken by the flood.”
Bhárn saw it in the boy’s eyes, a fury, a passion for his way of life. The Hwol Mónáz was the foreigner in this land they could not be his without changing. But the river people, they could not change, that is why there could be no compromise, no half way point between the two; it was either all or nothing. The boy knew this, he knew what his decision spelt for his people and himself, there were no men to defend the town, it was going to be a massacre.
“So be it, Fyskó Cheiftan of Sásxom and Txepzádais Leader, there will be battle.” he admired the pride and honour of the young boy and wondered, ifthe situation had been reversed, if he would have done the same.
“And blood shall bathe the earth.” the boy replied, his expression unchanging. His hair and robes tussled at the wind which filled the silence with its howl. Both parties silently went back to their lines, readying themselves for the upcoming onslaught. But the wind kept on blowing, flying far away from the scene; it did not care. But it would still carry the shouts of war and the screams of dying; it would billow the flames of the burning houses but it did not care. It blew over the plain, to whom the plain belonged to was not its trouble.
1. oblong shield normally made out of leather stretched over a wooden frame.
2. medium length spear with iron or bronze tip.
3. name of the sun, a god to the Monic peoples.
4. one of the junior positions of a monic city. The Traveler was meant to act as an envoy and explorer for the city, giving it news of the world beyond the walls.
5. for the river folk, the end of the world would come by the flooding of all the land by the river.
6. around to basket fulls. A full load for a transport animal.
Notes:
This story is set during the Age of Kingdoms of the Monic culture. During this time the Món states were beginning to enforce their control of the lands surrounding their city, which originally belonged to the Riverfolk. Conflicts arose between the two peoples for the rights over the land which ended in the extinction of the Riverland culture in the later years.
Any questions I will answer with delight.
EDIT:
@Derpy: Muahahhah! My evils are out! >:]
I couldn't let you be doing all the conworlding by yourself. Now go make a lang >:[
~Lyra
Last edited by Lуra; August 13, 2012 at 04:47 AM.
Look at the stars
Re: Voices of Ataname
I know nothing of conlanging Jon Snow...I mean Lyra Heartstrings!Originally Posted by Lуra
The Boy and the Crow
The wind blew over the plain, a familiar wind. This wind had come from the great ocean far east from these fields, you could smell the sea salt and almost hear the docks of the port towns with their fishermen and lively markets. But this land was a different land; the wind was a foreigner here. Bhárn took off his helm to feel the breeze; the sun was hot on his dark hair and features –this was no time to stand idly about. He looked around at the banners flapping eagerly in the midday sky. They were orange, the colours of his city, Ghámab. Some pennants bore the black crow, its animal protector; seer of the day. Holding these signs and flags were Bhárn’s troops, all warriors of the city as he. They stood proud in their bronze armour and helms, mottled with their liveries. They also bore their hánan1, hung loosely on their backs, and in their hands were their metal tipped ngéran2. All these soldiers were standing in battle formation in front of the enemy settlement, waiting for the latter to engage in pre-battle talks, as was custom with all the plain-dwellers.
“Never wait on an outsider! That’s what they told me. Do they pretend to win the battle by boiling us in the sun?!” Ruklan muttered impatiently on his horse.
“Ghosabhęmnel3 would never betray us, he is our guardian.” Bhárn assured his second man, “The rivermen will meet with us now, as they did three mornings ago. And let us hope today will not end in slaughter.”
Three days ago his troop had routed the rivermen of this town, they had rebelled against Monic rule, and so suffered their ruler’s wrath. Bhárn suspected the town would surrender, as many of their young men lay dead on the plain a horizon away. It would mean certain doom if they said otherwise. Unlike many of his compatriots, the commander held feelings of the riverfolk. Having been a Traveler of the Món4 in his younger years, he had come to know them well, even partaking in their lives and learning their tongue. This was vital for his position as talks could take place with ease.
Right then a commotion was heard from within the palisade of the village, its gates opened reavealing three figures walking their way. They wore garments of skin and reed, their weapons of same material. The heads of the trio were not covered by helm, keeping their light hair visible to the world. All three had grim pale faces and trod determinately and strong, but one was different, flanked by the two largers there was a little boy. But this youth held the same airs, the same cold look, as a true leader; this boy was the tribe’s cheiftan.
As they came closer, Bhárn dismounted from his horse to meet with them. Ruklan angrily did too, he did not enjoy being on the same level as these blue eyes savages. And so the two waited in front of their forces as the boy and his two men stopped a mere stone’s toss away. He then stomped his feet, shook his spear to the heavens and started shouting out in his own tongue. It sounded course and violent to the untrained ears of the city men, who rustled in commotion at the words. But Bhárn knew the River Speech, and so could understand what the little boy said, it went along as such:
“The river is my mother and the earth my father, so I am the mud, the clay, the dirt. I am of this world to be washed away in the final flood. My father and mother give me my food and my shelter and so I am in debt to them. I am their protector, I, born of Sásxom and Txepzádais Leader, I Fyskó Cheiftan of the parentlands shone by moon and sun forever till I wash away as all will also be.5”
When the boy had finished all was silent, there was command in his words, words spoken by these men for centuries.
After a brief pause he continued, “What brings you and your warriors here, o men of the walls? Why do you bare death?” he looked solemnly at Bhárn, his blue eyes hiding bitterness and hate. This boy-s father had surely being killed in the battle a few days ago, as his heir, the leadership of the tribe was thrust upon him unforgiving of his age.
The commander began, following the speech of the Riverfolk, “Fyskó Cheiftan, we do not come bearing death, we come bringing peace. Your warriors have been cut by the blade, as they too had raised with blade against us. As victors we come to ask you for your people’s surrender so that you may not have to suffer an untimely fate. Pledge fealty to the Món of Ghámab and thus agree to pay us a tribute of seven loads6 of fish a year and, in time of war, to help our cause in battle. If you do so, your people will be spared, but, I warn you, Fyskó Cheiftan, if you refuse, my men shall lay down havoc upon your land and you will lose all.” Bhárn looked upon the boy, hoping for a good answer.
The boy kept his serious demeanour answering simply, “No. We will not sell of our home off to aliens, city man.”
Bhárn knelt down to be on his level, “Fyskó Cheiftan, understand me here, I will spare your land, not harm your people. You only have to surrender and give a petty worth’s amount in exchange. What is there wrong in that?”
“You are blind, wall wanderer.” he spat blankly, “You think titles and coins can give you the power to rule, that you can go to a place and proclaim it yours –but who are you city man? You hide within your walls during the night, fearing the lands about you. You hate the land and so you kill it. You build upon it with harsh stone and cut it up to drown it. The river you poison and block and strangle till there is no more life within her. How can you be the ruler of lands? The land and river are my home and your coming has harmed it. You are the enemy of my people. How can we live at peace if your being is our demise. There will not be an end to the fighting till one side is gone. City man, we will not surrender; we will not give up our ways, not till everything is taken by the flood.”
Bhárn saw it in the boy’s eyes, a fury, a passion for his way of life. The Hwol Mónáz was the foreigner in this land they could not be his without changing. But the river people, they could not change, that is why there could be no compromise, no half way point between the two; it was either all or nothing. The boy knew this, he knew what his decision spelt for his people and himself, there were no men to defend the town, it was going to be a massacre.
“So be it, Fyskó Cheiftan of Sásxom and Txepzádais Leader, there will be battle.” he admired the pride and honour of the young boy and wondered, ifthe situation had been reversed, if he would have done the same.
“And blood shall bathe the earth.” the boy replied, his expression unchanging. His hair and robes tussled at the wind which filled the silence with its howl. Both parties silently went back to their lines, readying themselves for the upcoming onslaught. But the wind kept on blowing, flying far away from the scene; it did not care. But it would still carry the shouts of war and the screams of dying; it would billow the flames of the burning houses but it did not care. It blew over the plain, to whom the plain belonged to was not its trouble.
1. oblong shield normally made out of leather stretched over a wooden frame.
2. medium length spear with iron or bronze tip.
3. name of the sun, a god to the Monic peoples.
4. one of the junior positions of a monic city. The Traveler was meant to act as an envoy and explorer for the city, giving it news of the world beyond the walls.
5. for the river folk, the end of the world would come by the flooding of all the land by the river.
6. around to basket fulls. A full load for a transport animal.
Notes:
This story is set during the Age of Kingdoms of the Monic culture. During this time the Món states were beginning to enforce their control of the lands surrounding their city, which originally belonged to the Riverfolk. Conflicts arose between the two peoples for the rights over the land which ended in the extinction of the Riverland culture in the later years.
Any questions I will answer with delight.
EDIT:
@Derpy: Muahahhah! My evils are out! >:]
I couldn't let you be doing all the conworlding by yourself. Now go make a lang >:[
~Lyra
Empress of Nilfgaard
Re: Voices of Ataname
This thread gladdens me, LYRA.
Look at the stars
Re: Voices of Ataname
Why U No Read My Thread Legio?
Life's a Rock Farm
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Re: Voices of Ataname
I plan to cover the major human history of Ataname from 10000 BA to 4000 IR. Some epochs will be covered in more detail than others, of course.
Short stories will be made from each era and age, in a non-linear fashion. Though I may make a longer story set within an interesting period, but that will saved for later when the civilization develop further.
I also have to introduce the magic aspect of this universe, but I have to design the planet and it's solar system first.
Currently I'm working the proto language of another important culture in the east.
~Lyra
Life's a Rock Farm
Re: Voices of Ataname
You would probably have a lot of space to try out different types of writing, like a detailed narrative historical approach to a single episode, or creating "primary source material" like speeches or works from or about great individuals of the time.
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Re: Voices of Ataname
Yes, I want to do that as well, but I need more material in my conworld. The TotW entry is actually taken from a book on the First King.
Another aspect I really need to work on soon is the religion and philosophies of these peoples, as well as their art. This will be quite interesting but challenging as well.
~Lyra
Sōkō yumi
Re: Voices of Ataname
World building is very hard work (I know cause I'm in the process of building a galaxy) and u are doing a very good job. Especially in building the languages. That is something I tremble at tackling. + rep
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Re: Voices of Ataname
Thanks!
And yes, world building is a big process, but fun. Linguistics and culture come in part, it is very difficult to have one without the other.
And if you ever need help with making a lang, I could help.
~Lyra
Chugen
Re: Voices of Ataname
Hey Lyra nice work,here! And Derpy I posted my thread the Telian Chronicles before you posted the World of Gaiisha so technically you both copied me.
"Sing to the LORD a new song;sing to the LORD, all the earth."-Psalm 96:1
"A true man hates no one."-Napoleon Bonaparte
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Re: Voices of Ataname
The change of the Monic states from oligarchical ancestral rule, to dictatorships & democracies, to an Empire
The cities of Pemágarn and Záman were a bunch of isolist city states, not wanting to have deals with the rest of the world and only focusing on their own urban problems. It took time and many wars to finally open this Monic walnuts.
Rule of the Ancients
The Monic states, were first lead by the elders of the community. These old tribal leaders decided matters of the city’s working and management and the making and implementation of the laws. Every 27 years they would meet with the rest of the elders of the other Mon cities and discuss how thing would go about. These moots of great importance were seen as very holy ceremonies by all the Hwol Monaz, and were respected, left untouched from any inter-monic politics. The meetings took place at the Pillars of Tormnon, which were an assortment of raised stones representing the arrival of the first Wanderers of the Plain, ancestors of the Mon, to the riverlands.
As the elders were only a sort of council, they did not themselves supervise the workings of the city, instead they elected servants of the city (Dánwatan Mónáz) every 9 years. These positions where not the same for each city or each time period, but were normally the following:
-Bédnat (Constructor): who organized the building and maintaining of the structures within the city.
-Sénat (Watcher): was the head of the Silent ones (Sárnatan), the police of the city. They would also man the walls and towers of the Mon and surrounding fields. They would later have much sway over city politics and come to clash with the,
-Támat (Killer): was the head of the Támatan, soldiers of the city. The soldiers did the fighting on the field against other Támatan from other cities or warriors local tribes. Many times, if the Sénat had more favour, he would band the Killer from entering the city. If the Támat held more power he would normally take control of the weaker and relatively inexperienced Sárnatan. Often so much conflict arouse that the elders merged the two under the ad hoc role of the Bédnahat (lit. Joiner), who did both jobs at the same time. Another solution was to give the command of the Támatan to the,
-Ódzat (Walker): was the diplomat and explorer of the Mon. Delegating between other cities and tribes, he would also bring news from abroad. The Ódzat was never allowed to enter the city, thus the elders had to meet up with him in a special tower (which in later centuries developed into a camp) called the Abzékwan (Place of messages). This place also became the living quarters of the Ódzatan (Támatan under the walker’s control) and later would become a little military fort in itself in most cities. This position was the most versatile and powerful in later years.
-Gzánat (Farmer): held responsibility of the city’s granary and the field’s beyond. In many cities he also became the banker and trader, though staying in the Mon.
-Dékrat (Overseer): was the organizer of all city events and functions, he also took care of writing down all of what was done. Dékratan also rose in power in later centuries when they became bankers and royal councilors. Also took care of festivities.
Each Dánwat was elected before they started their service at a young age, normally 16-18. Normally they were from the richer landowning families or the warrior caste and emparanted to a current Servant. After serving for 4 years under the current Dánwat, they would then take over the position and serve for 18 more years. After retiring, many would live their lives tranquilly in the city or join the inner circle of the elders to eventually become one. If any of the Servants failed their duties during their term then they were immediately banished from the Mo to die on the plain. The Traveler had a different fate, is one disobeyed orders they were immediately marked as traitors and sentenced to death if found, but travelers were hard to catch and many times escaped out of the Monic lands or to a rival Mon. But this, of course, was a rare thing, as the Travelers were usually the most loyal of the Dánwatan.
First kings
The oligarchical elder system continued for many centuries, but, gradually, the power of the Servants started to grow as they noticed their importance. Elders were pushed more and more into ceremonial role, finally being paired with a consul of upper echelon free men. The Sénatan and Támatan of many Mons started to grab up all the executive powers without the direct order of the Elders. Many cities suffered internal strife with Servant’s taking sides and killing each other off. The first city in which one Servant went against the complete will of the Elders was in the Mon of Dhémn, where a Támat killed of the entire families of the other Dánwatan seating himself as the first King of Dhémn.
Outraged, and seeing that they and their wisdom from the ancestors held no more sway on their world, the Elders decided, at the Moot of 1134 BA, to abandon the Pemágarn and Záman and set on a journey to the Ancient Homelands, far up the river. Thus, a band of old men in ceremonial armor riding horses set off an ill-fated trek to their deaths1. Thus all the Mon found themselves with a void of power which would end up in a lot of bloodshed.
The more conservative cities in the North and ancient cities in the east decided to replace the Elders with the already present counsel expanded to include all landowners of the city, they were named the Kjoratan (the many). These then voted on a committal head, Ájrat (Decider), who gave orders to the elected Servants with the help of the Kjoratan. These were the first democratic Monan, but not all went through the same procedure, some had to fight against the Sénatan and Támatan for their rights and many failed to do so.
The cities that flipped monarchic ended up with much the same structure as before but with a King and his family at the head. Many of these kings, though, were puppets of their own soldiers who would not hesitate to finish off their monarch (dhúmarn) if he dared to put their positions in peril. Much of the Central Monan became highly militaristic but still quite autocratic.
The Monan, now very divided without the unifying forces of the Elders, started to claim each other as traitors to the Ancients and declaring war. Most were fought on the field, killing off countless cocky Támatan, ill prepared Sénatan and peasant rabble. During this time many a military advance was made with equipment and tactics which gave the Monan as a whole an advantage over the surrounding natives.
Along with these belligerencies, many alliances were also made, through marriage or as a simple means of survival in group. These Unions started expanding and planting outposts at their boarders, these expansions were met with counter expansions which ended with all the river lands being claimed up by one city or another (annihilating the native Riverfolk2). By the 5th century BA, the political situation had mostly stabilized, though with cities still attacking each other over little border disputes; the Hwol Monaz had learned not to waste so many men on the field for there was little gain from that. Some aggressive kings did try to unite a few cities under their control and did rule a small kingdoms for a while, but after their deaths their land once again fractured. One such King, Kjagat Kretsę of Mílnâ managed to conquer much of the central Monan in the year 416 BA. He brutally ravaged the cities he took, killing many of its inhabitants. He also hired mercenaries from the land of Yushal (west of the Mon) to fight in his army. The other Monan formed a Great League to fight off this King, starting what was the First Monic War.
Some annals say that a quarter of the whole population of the river plain perished in the battles and death dealt out by Kjagat, but what is certainly known is that the destruction seen by the war was too much for the leaders of the cities to bear. A meeting was had as to not let such a war happen ever again, the weakened Ájratan hastily agreed to the peace proposals. The terms that were agreed to were that no Mon was allowed to attack or invade the other directly, but only through the field and with a maximum of 2 Lánäkuram3 of soldiers (288). War became a ritualized and symbolic thing, mostly a sort of game for young princes and men seeking fame on the field. Though many peasants were sent by kings as arrow fodder, and had no chance against trained noblemen. But, for the Ájratan, at least, the cities were safe.
Around this time there was also an advance in farming, with better irrigation from the river and better made tools, produce from the grain exploded marking a growth in population. The Monan also experienced much trade and immigrants from the Coast and mountains, thus the cities swelled to beyond their walls. Living conditions went down for the average urbanite as there was less and less space and more filth. Some cities went to put a ban on foreigners but soon retracted these because their trade suffered. The bigger and more populous cities in the south suffered this wave of deculturaization to a greater extent than the North, who had grown a little out of touch with the mainstream Monic Culture after the War. They retained the old ways as opposed to the southerners who fully rebuked them and called the northerners antiquated fools.
The late Kingdoms era saw a fall of the Monic culture, now almost being replaced by the foreigners from the Islands, many saw this as better than the battling days of old, but others were disheartened by what their once proud cities had become.
But, around 32 BA, a young Ájrat from Étwamíl changed all that. With a fanatical religious following of fundamentalists, he reunited all the Monan once again, defeating their hapless toy armies on the field and marching into the cities victorious. Some Monan did hold out longer than others, but after 3 years of fighting, all the Mon had fallen and so was declared the First Monic Empire in 28 BA.
~~~
1. The official version says they simply died due to the elemnts. Others say they entered a magic feild and, due to their saintful purity, ascended into the Lands of Before.
2. Though the Riverfolk culture had been in steady decline as soon as the Hwol Monaz arrived. The cities clashed too much with their hunting grounds and the irrigation for the monic fields interfered with their fisheries. Most simply starved, or throw themselves against the monic walls to be pincushioned.
3. Lánäkuram stands for 'finger countings', it is part of the number scale for counting 'things'.
> 1 Lánäkuram = 12 Lánäkan (144)
> 1 Lánäkan = 4 Lánäk (12)
> 1 Lánä = 3 ma (3)
> 1 ma (1)
Some meaty history, though necessary. Now I need to make something more arty.... bleugh...
~Lyra
Sōkō yumi
Re: Voices of Ataname
Good job!
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Re: Voices of Ataname
Thanks. It's one of the more bland things I've had to write.
Now for some stories and that!
~Lyra
From the Writers Study!
Re: Voices of Ataname
Lyra, I have found you!
A great start, and everything is progressing nicely.
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Re: Voices of Ataname
Sorry for not posting anything in such a long time. But it's not as if I have not been doing anything and this project is very, very much alive. But the content right now is unsuitable for public eyes, mostly sketches and rough ideas as well as WIP langs.
I might as well post what I plan to complete:
Languages:
Lots of langs!Code:~Proto Eastern Atanaman (majorly finished) -South Group: >Dunic (in progress) +Jasb (pending) =Imperial Speech (pending) +Erakian (pending) +Korkovan (pending) +Dunva (pending) >Kaman (pending) +Cheran (pending) +Fumen (pending) -North Group: (pending) -East Group: (pending) ~Proto Western Atanaman (phonetics in progress, everything else pending) -Coastal: >Mahargan >Dorish -Insular: >Western >EasternThey won't be worked on equally, of course, it all depends on how much I need from. Some, such as Dunic, are religious or governmental langs and thus will have to posses a rich vocab for writing. But importance of langs will mostly come down to how important they are in the story project I am planning.
~Lyra
Last edited by Lуra; November 09, 2012 at 12:10 AM.
Content Staff
Re: Voices of Ataname
Some really good pieces of writing you have here!
Good job!
+rep
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