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The Goat Legacy

Aug28

To [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt(s).

::You know how to do this. You know how to win this.::

“So does everyone else here.” Liezhta strapped the talking stick to her back – talking stick, ha, her ancestors had possessed a horrible sense of humor – and tried to ignore its whispers.

It didn’t work, of course. Ever since her aunt had passed down the family goat-crook (and what family had goat-crooks they passed down? Liezhta’s of course, the family that produced more goat-wives and goat-husbands than any other three families on the mountain), ever since she’d first wrapped her hand around the ancient, twisted root-wood stick, the blasted thing had been talking in her head.

::You have several advantages that nobody else here has. One, you have me.::

It turned out the stick was an ancestor – or, at least, that was what it claimed. There was a family member named Ketkez or Ketkezhie, long back in the history, who had been, not a goat-spouse, but a herder and breeder of goats nonetheless. And, if such a thing was possible, the few notes in family records suggested Ketkez/hie was the type of person who would, given an option, live forever to nag their descendants.

::In another sense, you also have me; you have the blood passed down to you. Your family. You’re strong, fast, and clever::

“But I’m working with an unknown team. It’s only me from the family.” Liezhta checked the lacings on her boots, checked the braiding on her hair, and settled her hat snugly over everything. She’d have to stop arguing with a talking stick soon, and get on with it.

::And that’s a pity. In the old days, the whole family would compete, and we almost always won::

“Well. This is the new days.” With the way things were going, they might not even need goat-wives much longer. But for today, there was the race. She waved at the others, gathered by the shallow sledge. “Hello.” Liezhta bowed, while in her head Ketkez/hie grumbled about changing times. “I’m Liezta, and I’ll be your third runner in the human goat race today.”


Goat-bride information: here & here.

Information Liezhta does not have, but is useful for setting here.

Liezhta is pronounced LEEZH-tuh.

ZH stands for the buzzy sound of the “s” in our words “pleasure” or “casual”.

Ketkez/hie is pronounced ket-KEZH-(ee)

A root-wood shepherd’s (goat-herd’s) crook might look like this

Want more words, or just really like this post? Drop some money in the tip jar!


(the tip jar is a kitty for reasons)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/794483.html. You can comment here or there.

Other Soldiers, Other Fates

Aug28

[A story of Reiassan taking place at the same time as the Rin & Girey story]

The war had ended.

Hiron was sure of that much.

The war had ended, the papers had been signed, and the camps were packing up.

And the prisoners were being packed up, Hiron included, pushed and prodded and poked into a long line, chained ankle-to-ankle and wrist-to-wrist. Hiron didn’t bother fighting as the legionnaire came to add him to the line. What good was it, when the country he was fighting for was gone? At least it didn’t look like he was going to be killed.

“This one’s mine.” The hand that grabbed Hiron’s wrist was as hard and sword-calloused as his own; the voice had the rough gravelly-whisper sound that only throat injuries gave, and the uniform was field-worn but clean. The chin was strong but, strangely for the Calenyen, beardless. Hiron got that much in the first glance; the first listen also told him the soldier’s accent was, as his commander had said, “field not tent.”

“Tribune?” The legionnaire paused, shackles hanging over Hiron’s wrist. “They’re going up North.” At least, Hiron was pretty sure that’s what he said. The Calenyena language was tongue-twisting and throat-biting.

The clink of coins passing hands was unmistakable in any language, however. “This one’s mine,” the tribune repeated. “I’ll take him now.”

“Tribune.” The legionnaire gave Hiron a little push. “Here, you.” He used the field-Bitrani most of the Calenyena soldiers had picked up. “Go with her.”

/Her?/ Hiron took another look at the Tribune. They all had braids, they all wore the same uniforms. But that beardless chin… Hiron swallowed. The Tribune patted him on the shoulder. “You’re pretty,” she told him, in mangled field-Bitrani. “You’ll do just fine.”

With the Goats

Aug27

To wispfox‘s prompt

Morning came, and Lazhman slipped out of the house and into the herd. When he could, he slept among the goats, too, but the census-counter was in town, and everyone had been pressuring him, act normal, Lazhman. Act like a person and not a goat.

Lazhman had no interest in such things, but he did sometimes like bread and stew and, to be fair, didn’t have the stomach the goats did. So he spent most his time among the herd, let his beard grow like a goat’s and his hair as well, twisted two braids to look something like goat-horns when nobody was looking, and spent just enough time in town to convince people to keep selling him bread and stew.

He’d done that, last night. Now he could sit out on the hill near Copper and Counter and the other goat, watch the clouds and the river move by, and have no cares except the wildcats and the occasional bandit.

“Hello there.”

What? Words? Lazhman snorted and looked around.

“Hello.” She’d snuck up behind him, how had she done that? “I’m Liegya.” The census-taker, that’s who she was. “I’d like to talk to you.”

more

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/792013.html. You can comment here or there.

A Hero of Reiassan – patreon post

Aug19

“They teach you about heroes.” The teacher dropped into story-telling cadence as she hopped onto her desk. “They tell you about Empresses. They tell you about scholars. But do they tell you…”

Her voice became a whisper, “about Dirvodirvan and the Sword of Fire?”

The class stared at her. The teacher smiled.

“Dirvodirvan was born to a goat-herder, back in the cold times when the world was hard. He was born in the winter, on the coldest night, he was born to a world so cold the midwife’s hands near froze to him.

“And from his cold birth came a man of fire.” The teacher dragged out fire as if she were savoring the word. “A man of iron, a man of blood.” She grinned at her students, and they shrank back in their seats. “A man who would break chains with his bare hands.”

“I heard he was a slave,” one student piped up, certain of himself.

“In that day, all the Calenyena were slaves.” The teacher’s answer was smooth and sure. “The Bitrani owned the land and the boats, the goats and the weapons, and doled them out only as they saw fit. They kept the wheat and the grain, too, so that all the Calenyena had to eat were river-grass and marsh-root, seeds and moss. They kept the Calenyena hungry and needy, so that they could not fight for the need to farm, could not ride for the need to eat their goats, could not sing for the need to breathe.”

She had leaned forward as she spoke, and so had they. She leaned back, now, grinning once again. “But Dirvodirvan broke the locks. Dirvodirvan set us free. Dirvodirvan, clever man.” She sat down on the edge of the desk and held her arms wide, “found food where there was none and steel where only stone had been, fed and armed the Calenyena using nothing but his wits.” She waited for a count of three. “He broke the first link, and warriors did the rest.”

Lannamer Department Gendarme Report (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug18

Lannamer Department Gendarme

Seventh Grid, North-East Quadrant

Kostya Ninth, Year R.950

Officer Kezkies Reporting

Standard patrol of Quadrant, clockwise spiral as per patrol rotation.

About mid-way through the patrol, heard noises coming from Ilaztudzob-Azen’s accounting shop. Hurried to location, as there have been troubles in that area recently, while signalling for back-up.

Arrived to find three people in altercation: shouting, hitting one another, swinging about ledger books. First person was Counter Ilaztudzob-Azen himself; second and third persons not identified at that time.

They had not seen the signal, or, if had, assumed it was for someone else. Indeed, three involved parties seemed to have no concern they might be doing something illegal or even obnoxious, despite the late hour – just past the turning of the clock.

Took effort to remove each fighter from fight individually, but, as none of them wanted to be removed, had to resort to force. Nose broken in second attempt to move eighty-seven-year-old Ilaztudzob-Azen out of combat.

Backup arrived, at which point we could restrain elder Ilaztudzob-Azen and two much younger combatants.

Said combatants, once interviewed, were Gilrup-Lye and Lyevnepsa-Gil, who own a shop on the edge of Seventh Grid, North-West Quadrant (against 8th Grid North-East). They accused Ilaztudzob-Azen of cheating them; Ilaztudzob-Azen accused them of nonpayment.

Date has been set for hearing on cheating v. non-payment in front of the Magistrate. Second date set for hearing on violent altercations and assaulting gendarme. As all three are locals, with businesses in Seventh Grid, released on own recognizance.

Witnessed by Officers Kezkies, Tankun, and Irestantya.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/780733.html. You can comment here or there.

The Lannamer Chronicle: the Karsekarzlen Bucks (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug17

Entertainment

In all the world, in all the land, there are no goats as beautiful, nor as skillfully trained, as the Karsekarzlen Goats.

These goats are bred specially for grace, coloration, horn twist, and length of leg, and they are raised only in the remote mountain city of Karsekarzi, by a family as old as the goat bloodline and older: unsurprisingly, the Karsekarzlen family.

This week, Lannamer was treated to the rare Karsekarzlen Goat Show, which tours the continent and only comes to Lannamer every third year. The goats and their handlers performed to a sold-out amphitheater, as they always do, with the less fortunate gathering outside, hoping for a place to open up.

This reporter was there, under the benevolent aegis of the Lannamer Chronicle, and had the chance to see the Karsekarzlen Bucks for the second time in her life.

They are a sight to behold! They are a hand1 taller than your average war-goat, more narrow in the withers and rump, and with a long and graceful neck. They are a lovely chestnut color in fur, and their horns are nearly pure white, and twisted like a corkscrew.

The Karsekarzlen family has all of their tack custom made, and it is just as lovely, if not more so, than the goats. Green and blue and silver adorn them, even to the tips of their horns, and every step flashes.

Not only do the goats put up with this sort of treatment, where lesser goats would balk and buck, they seem to enjoy it. And in their paces – based on ancient war maneuvers, but looking more like a dance than a fight – you can see clearly the enjoyment, in every handler and in every goat.2

My readers, if you can make it to a showing of the Karsekarzlen Bucks – they are in town for three more nights, and I hear that the last night still has tickets available – please do. They are a sight you may never see again, and well worth the cost.

1. Term here translates as “knot” but means, pretty much, “hand;” a unit of measurement about 4″ or a decimeter long

2. If you think I recently watched a special on the Lipizzaner Stallions, you’d be right.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779539.html. You can comment here or there.

A Review of “On the Nature of the Sira & Its Flow” (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug16

A study of the paper,
On the Nature of the Sira and Its flow
by Opaknaipbo-Oset, Scholar of Edally Academy

Paper written c. 850 R – study 1002 R.

Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset was one of the first to study aether as a science, although he did so in the era when it was believed to be sira, an ancient Tabersi word meaning simply force.

In this paper, one of his most comprehensive, he details the flow of several different kinds of sira. In a move that is not uncommon to ancient scholars but unusual in his era, he color-codes three sorts, lithic as green, aqueous as blue, and igneous as red – much as Temples of the Three still color-code the services of the gods – the blue, Tienebrah, the red, Veignevar,the green, Reiassannon.

More than that, which is, after all, a simple trick used throughout history, Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset tracks specific flows and patterns of the sira over the continent, and within specific “spells” and formulae.

Although there is a great deal of superstition in Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset’s work, there is a great deal of value there as well. While he still thinks of the aether as a magical force of the gods, he manages to make some surprising discoveries about the flow of aether that still color research today.

Within the book is a series of maps. Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset spent years, with a series of interns and apprentices, walking across the continent from end to end, mapping every line of wild aether he could detect, and finding patterns in the way that it moved and spread. Those maps are the basis for research still being done today.

More interesting, to those who study such things, are the diagrams of “spells.” If Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset could diagram things that he thought were magic, what can those of us, who truly understand the nature of aether, do with those diagrams and Scholar Opaknaipbo-Oset’s work?

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779493.html. You can comment here or there.

Reiassan – a Welcome

Aug16

Welcome to Reiassan.

The continent stretches from the northern ice to the warm southern isles, carved by glaciers into long trenchlike valleys and shoved into high ridges of mountains that act like a spine down the eastern coast of the land.

The history stretches from its first settlers, stranded here by a climate change, through an age of magic and mercenaries, to the peace of ages and the subsequent chaos. It continues on through into the nation’s steam era, with the advent of goatless carriages, airships, and the harnessing of what was once called magic, sira, into aether.

The Iron Era, when magic was high and war was a series of dirty skirmishes, is a high-fantasy setting. Warriors ride into battle on war-goats, followed by sira-flinging mages. Armor is simple, magic is wild, and nobody is certain who will win the war, the northern Calenyena or the southern Bitrani.

The Peace Era, when religion binds up magic and war is ending in a series of complicated battles, is a low-magic fantasy setting. The peace has been signed, and much of what remains is politics. Magic is done quietly and subtly, and warriors head home to their farms. The Calenyena have beaten the Bitrani, and nobody knows what will happen next.

The Steam Era, when science has taken over and magic is a distant myth, is a steampunk setting. The Calenyena are firmly in charge, and engineers and scientists, politicians and scholars, adventure where once warriors rode. The Bitrani might rebel – nobody knows – but in the meantime, the aether will flow and the steam will punk.

The Reiassan’s landing page is here.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/779060.html. You can comment here or there.

A Letter Home from the Bitrani South (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug16

Dear Mother and Father,

I am enjoying the visit with Teshoni, Bryiery, and Tomasso.

Yesterday, they introduced me to a traditional Bitrani dish, made with a wide flat bread and many local fruits I have never tasted before. It was quite good, although I think Grandfather would look down his beard at it.

While we were in town buying ingredients, I saw two of the enclave Bitrani. They look so strange, but I remembered what you told me and did not stare, nor did I ask to touch their hair. (I haven’t asked to touch anyone’s hair, the whole time! Although Tomasso touched my braids without asking!) I have tried to remember to be very good and polite all the time.

Last night, when Bryiery was tucking us in, she told Tomasso to beware the Moonlight Beast. I didn’t know about the Moonlight Beast, so I asked.

She told me it was a creature that comes out of the lines of the moons, the light that kisses the floor and night, and it gobbles up the toes of little boys and girls who aren’t good. Tomasso had been naughty all day – Tomasso likes to be naughty, and he told me yesterday they let him get away with more, because I am visiting – and, Bryiery said, he’d have to be careful not to get his toes nibbled on, like his grandfather Gatito did when he was a little boy.

When she was gone, I told Tomasso about Empty Horns, and how it floats around at night, looking for children who were not brave or clever enough, and how the horns would fasten themselves to the head of any child who did not try. He cried for the rest of the night.

I do not think Tomasso will enjoy visiting us very much, when the time comes.

I remain until then,

Your loving daughter Laizhte

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/778377.html. You can comment here or there.

On Hair-Braiding Patterns and Their Significance (Reiassan Demifiction)

Aug15

On Hair-Braiding Patterns and Their Significance

A Cross-Genre Thesis by
Kezhbe of Textiles House
Akerrabgyah of Diplomacy House
Giryana of Art House

Abstract

The history of the Calenyena braiding is long and complex, going back to the earliest known Calenyen art. Although all races on Reiassan are known to use hair-braiding, Calenyena hair is uniquely suited for the more complex patterns, and Caleyena history has been actively colored by these braids.

In the early days, pre-Rebellion, Calenyena were often forced by Bitrani – or Tabersi, as they were known then – cultural norms and, in some cases, sumptuary laws to wear their hair in the Tabersi style. Thus, braids were a symbol of rebellion for early Calenyena.

In the days called the Iron Age by many and known to historians as the Skirmish Era, from 200-500 R, soldiers wore their hair in tight styles, close to their head and easily tucked into helmets; the affluent, the soft, and those who could not fight wore elaborate styles. The inability of one’s hair to be put into a helmet became a clear sign, for good or ill, that one was not a fighter.

In the Time of the Treaty, a group of border Calenyena objected to the treatment of the defeated Bitrani and wore their hair unbraided – and in some cases short – as a protest. This fashion lasted in the borders for well over a hundred years, long after the protest itself had been forgotten.

In any portion of Calenyena history, you have been able to read a person’s story in the pattern of their braids or the lack therof, and such remains true to this day.

In this paper, we will detail many of those stories, working from primary sources – art, letters, ambassador’s notes – as well as from early historians’ work. We seek to show the evolution of the braids from a mere hair-holding technique to a symbolic language all its own, showing the stops taken by history along the way.

I’ve never actually had to write a thesis, so if this abstract form is incorrect, please be kind!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/777121.html. You can comment here or there.