Archive | August 2016

Conlang all year round – Juneme in August

I’ve discovered that I missed conlanging, and as I’ve missed many months of “365 Conlang thingies beyond #Lexember,” I decided in the remains of August, I would cycle through the first 8 months twice of conlang-exercises twice.

We’re up to June!

Juneme – Document or add to your phonetic inventory a phoneme a day, or add a rule to your phonotactics a day, or a Sandhi rule a day (but not all three, that would be absurd)

See? I’m learning things every day! I had to look up Sandhi rules and phonotactics… and I think I have to try Calenyen more out loud before I can realize and Sandhi rules.

Calenyen Phonatactics:
* Two consonants appearing in a row (ketbaa, Diedreddakak) are pronounced separately, and mark a syllable break between them (ket-baa, died-red-dak-kak)

* A single consonant between syllables can belong to both syllables (lanutez lan-nut-tez)

* a palatalized consonant on its own between two syllables (Pebyab) is pronounced at the end of the first syllable as non-palatalized and then as palatalized in the beginning of the second syllable (peb-byab)

Ketbaa – mother
Diedreddakak – button-maker
lanutez – goat-hair braid, a faker
Pebyab – tiny baby goat


Old Tongue Phoneme

Ofein, a letter making the sound “o” as in the word “oh” (this is either o or o̞ in IPA, I think)

The word ofein also expresses the concept exist and is pronounced oh fine.

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Morphambruary
Febmanteau
Polysemarch
DisMayCourse
✒️
Julectury
✒️
Polysemarch 2/ Juneme 2

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Addergoole: the Original Series – Horse-trading

Kai frowned at the charts in front of her: genealogies, descriptions, birth dates and years. You could follow patterns easily enough down any given genealogy, but that wasn’t what was making her frown.

Read on: http://www.addergoole.com/TOS/archives/1301

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Conlang all year round – DisMayCourse in August

Turns out I missed conlanging, and as I’ve missed many months of “365 Conlang thingies beyond #Lexember,” I decided in the remains of August, I would cycle through the first 8 months twice of conlang-exercises twice.

And bog help me, it’s Dis-May-course!:

Write a speech, novel, epic poem, folk tale, or chat log a day to fill out your examples of discourse. Or one of the above if you have a real job.

Okay, so I’m going to write a line. In English, there once was a man from Kalakaig…

Subject-Object-Verb: [A man from Kalalkaig] [There] [is-past tense-long ago]

You know, I’m going to start with something I have SOME words for.

Okay, here’s some words already in my Lexicon:
kaalopato->fake, poser, someone pretending to be something they’re not, Yellow-face.
gilon-> to shout
baado, baado, “some ancestor way back in the (father’s) line.” “baa, baa” some ancestor you’re not clear on which line.
-ba possessive pronoun

A poser was shouting his pedigree

[Kaalopato] [baa-baa-ba-ne] [past tense-gilon-subject agreement]

Kaalopato baa-baa-ba-ne ulie-Gilon-tyat …

Lazy notes on vowels: ai, i, aa, a, e, ie, u, o, oo (light, chit, car, cat, let, reed, mud, note, roost)


Morphambruary
Febmanteau
Polysemarch
✒️
Juneme

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After the Night

After A Couple Helping Hands, Littermate, and Strange Favors, for the Finish It! bingo

Begley was out of the doctor’s office in an hour, an hour Cúmhaí had spent pacing the waiting room and irritating all of the other nervous or unhappy people who’d filled and over-filled the room. Some she recognized as other new students, others were upperclassmen. One of those, Brontes, leered cheerfully at Cúmhaí and reached out for her, only to find his hand slapped down by an invisible force.

“He’s got ideas,” she faux-apologized. “Whoever he is.”

“That’s all right. If all he has is ideas, I’m sure I could come up with something more interesting.”

“That’s definitely a possibility. But, on the other hand, you’re here because of someone, aren’t you? And it’s probably not your little brother…”

“You’re here because of your brother? On Hell Night?” Brontes’ brow wrinkled. “Seriously? I mean, You’re pretty cute, nobody—”
An invisible clearing throat caught Brontes’ attention. “Oh, you did? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did not. But the young lady here — young woman,” the voice corrected, at an angry glare from Cúmhaí — fought very well, and her brother did as well.”

Cúmhaí’s glare — which was pointed at the sound of the voice, so it did not matter that she could feel the space he took up in the room — lessened only faintly at the praise. “I’m glad you approve.”

“You really were impressive. After four years here, I’ll be interested to see — from a distance, preferably — what you can do.” The voice chuckled. “But I’ll be going now, before Brontes’ slow brains finally figure out who I am, and he gives away the game. Miss Cúmhaí, I assume I will be seeing you, if not the other way around.”

“It’s a small school.” It might not have been the most encouraging reply, but she wasn’t all that sure that she wanted to encourage this guy.

She watched his shape leave the room and gave Brontes a thin smile. “I should go check on my brother. I hope whoever you’ve got here, you’re good to them.” She found her voice growling a bit at the end, but hey, if he’d been chasing people down like she’d been being chased, he deserved it. “They deserve it, if you landed them here.”

Brontes had nothing to say to that, and she had nothing more to say to him.


He might have been the only one with nothing to say to her in the next few days. The first thing she got was angry accusations — why had Begely rescued her, what was her relationship to him, why wasn’t she wearing his collar?

Cúmhaí’s patience was wearing thin. She had barely managed not to punch the last guy who’d asked her about a collar, and she had shown her teeth to several. It seemed to be making them back off, but the questions kept sneaking in, in between classes, during class, in the lunch room. Over half of her Cohort was wearing collars, maybe a quarter of them had a spooked look, some had bruises. And people wanted to ask her what she’d done?

Worse still, they were getting in her way. She could feel all the people filling up space, but when they got too close together, they became one amorphous space-blob. It was like the closer people’s faces got together, the more they faded, until they were one unidentifiable mess.

Her new power, Cúmhaí thought, might not have been the prettiest thing.

“So, what is it with you and this Begely kid?” another unfortunate soul asked. “I hear he helped to rescue you, and you him, on Hell Night?”

Cúmhaí turned to answer with a snarl already twisting her lips. “He’s my brother… oh.”

The man asking was tall, handsome in a slightly-creepy way, with pale skin and black hair, and too well-dressed for a school. He was raising one eyebrow inquisitively at her. “Oh?”

Cúmhaí grinned. She’d checked out the expression in a mirror, and with her new Change, it was pleasantly terrifying. “You know, if you’re trying to be all sneaky and hidden, it helps if you don’t sound like the husband in some gothic novel or something. I mean, nobody else here sounds quite that full of themselves.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked, she thought, offended.

She smiled even wider. “So, I’m not sure if I should thank you for the help or yell at you for hurting my brother. ‘Cause I wouldn’t have needed help if you hadn’t attacked me and thrown him across the room — but, on the other hand, everyone was attacking everyone.”

“I heard that you were quite impressive Saturday morning. I — nobody expected you to hold out that long, or to fight that hard. Or to be able to fight an invisible opponent.”

Cúmhaí found herself grinning. He thought she was impressive, did she? She let the teeth show and turned the grin into something more like a snarl. “Something everyone here should know about my family — since we’re talking about rumors and stuff people ‘just heard’ here — we don’t give up and we watch our own. Begely might be a pain in the ass, but he’s my brother, and we watch after each other, no matter what.”

“I am certain everyone will be keeping that in mind,” he answered solemnly. “Especially after his defense of you, especially after the way you reacted when he was attacked in turn.”

Cúmhaí eyed him cautiously. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me,” she admitted.

He smirked. “I am not. Generally, that is accompanied by some sort of snicker or chortle.”

“…do you always sound like this? I mean, come on, it’s a school, you’re a student. Unless you’re secretly a professor in disguise? That would explain a lot.”

“What would it explain?” He raised his eyebrows in such a perfect fashion it had to be magic.

“Well, the fact that everyone else was trying to cause damage or put a collar around someone’s neck and you, well, didn’t — you helped us out. Or the way you talk. Or the fact that you’re pretending it’s not you, when I can… smell that it’s you.”
“Smell?” His nostrils flared. “That’s certainly a useful set of Changes you’ve gotten there.”

“Yeah, yeah, dogbird. Call me a puppy and I’ll make sure you need a rabies shot.”

“You know what happens to dogs who bite humans, don’t you?”

“You were much more charming before you started in on the threatening.” Cúmhaí showed her teeth. “Now you’re just like everyone else here.”

“I hate to sound juvenile, but… you did start it.” He didn’t look like he hated it. He looked amused by the whole thing.

“I’m the one with an animal Change. What’s your excuse?”

“My excuse? I have none. I was simply trying to gossip with you about your luck on Hell Night.” His smile looked slightly wrong, too sharp or too big or too thin or maybe all three.

“We both know it wasn’t luck. It was Begely, anger, and you.” It grated on her to credit him, yet, at the same time, he had helped more than a little.

“You keep insisting I was there.”

Cúmhaí growled as she stepped up into his face and grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands. He was taller than her by almost a whole head, but when she pulled him towards her, it leveled the playing field a bit. “I keep insisting,” she snarled, “because I know it was you. The question is why you keep pretending you weren’t there.”

“Ah.” He looked down at her, eyebrows quirking, and coughed. “Maybe I wanted you to have to work a little harder to find your rescuer. Perhaps I wanted a chance to observe you when you weren’t under stress. It is possible I just like being mysterious.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And it wasn’t because you were trying to figure out how to get a collar on me without having to permanently incapacitate Begely?”

“Miss Cúmhaí, I am fairly certain that, if I wanted to collar you, incapacitating your brother would only then mean that I would have to incapacitate you as well. No, I — can we speak somewhere more private?”

“About you collaring me? I don’t think so.”

“No.” He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders forward. “I was thinking more about talking about not collaring you,” he whispered. “But that’s a conversation that will anger people more than, say, your good relationship with your brother or the way you managed to survive Hell Night free and intact.”

“You seem like the sort of person that can take care of yourself. And I…”

He quirked an eyebrow, seeming to guess what she hadn’t said, and why. “You did, once. With support. Can you handle yourself against a whole crew of upperclassmen intent on putting you and your brother in your places?”

“Can you?” she countered.

“Ah, well, that is the question, isn’t it? And a quite important one for both of us.” He nodded and gestured down the hall. “Shall we talk?”

Support the Thorne-Author

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Reiassan, Stranded Landing pages updated with “start here” suggestions

http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/24221.html – Reiassan Page
http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/23315.html – Stranded Page

Now taking suggestions on

http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/938780.html

the rest of ’em.

(Some, like Genique/Space Accountant will be easy)

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Meta-Conversation Part three: Egglings and children

You, the readers, asked Jaco of Lady Taisiya’s Fourth Husband some questions, and he’s already discussed someand then some more Here he is, back after anotehr intermission.

Rix’s hand is the first to go up once again, as Jaco scans the audience, hands clenched in his lap.

“I hope I may ask this without being unpardonably rude, but how many children does a family tend to have?”

That manages to elicit a smile from him, and his bow this time is as elaborate as his sitting position and chains allow. “You’re not being rude at all, Honored Lady, but the answer might be a bit complicated.

“So, generally, most families have three, maybe four children per husband. Sometimes a man outlives his first wife, or maybe his second. It happens — look how young little Fell is. He might get married again, then, as a retirement sort of thing. Lady Taisiya’s first husband was like that. Usually guys like that don’t have more children — but Orrig had two.

“Sometimes…” He rolls his shoulders and clears his throat. “Well, someone’s not good for anything so they get married, but they don’t sire any egglings. You know, they say ‘the shell was too thin on that one’? That sort of person.

“But, uh, generally…” He twists his lips up for a moment. “Three kids, maybe four a husband, averages about two and two-thirds kid when you figure in the thin-shells and the old guys.”

“Do you know and/or are you allowed to discuss why there are more men than women?” Rix asks. In turn, Jaco shrugs, all his chains jingling as he makes a show of the noise.

“What they say in history class is it’s a side effect of the egg thing. I don’t know. They said that when we came here, to this place, the creators had to do some modification to make us able to survive here. And one of the modifications, well, that made so the eggs usually come out male. Sometimes someone comes out with a theory — an academic, maybe, or a priest. Once my older brother was working on something, actually, to see if they could shift the balance. His funding got pulled and he nearly lost his place at the University.” He shrugs, short and jerky. “So that’s as much as I know.”

He flips through the cards from the audience, finally smiling — almost a grimace, really — at one. “Lady Kelkyag.” He bows in Kelkyag’s direction. “‘How long do egglings incubate?’ That’s a good one. They generally incubate for about six —” he glances at me for the word.

“‘Month’ is close enough,’” I offer.

“…about six months. And, urm.” He frowns back at the card. “Does one male mind the same eggling for the whole incubation period?’ Well, here, and in the house I grew up in, yeah. The father minds his own eggling. If he’s sick, or… something happens, the rest of the men will take turns minding the egg, or a man without an egg will take over, I guess. But in some houses, all the egglings, all the children, are considered children of the first husband, and everyone else helps him out.” He wrinkles his nose. “Onter’s not like that, and I can’t see the Lady putting up with it. But not all First Husbands are Onter, and not all Wives are our Lady.”

He takes a breath, and then stands up to stretch. “I’ve got to get some air. Go ahead and leave more questions, if you want.”

His chains jangle loudly against the quiet of the room as he steps outside.

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1163315.html

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Conlang all year round – Auxpril in August

I am going through 365 Conlang thingies beyond #Lexember one month/day in the second half of August…. because I wanted to. See conlang 365 tag for the ones I’ve done so far…

April’s Auxpril is about getting new fans! (Which leads of course to the question of: for what? I’m a mult-project girl; should I focus on fans for the fan-fic (blood for the blood god?), fans for Edally, fans for my vast corpus of unfinished work (i.e., this blog…)

Sometimes, one of those can translate into another, in theory. So I’ll ask about all three:

  • Where do you go to find Fanfic? I have accounts and stories posted on AO3 and Twisting the Hellmouth, and don’t mind writing in a specific fandom if it draws people.

  • Where do you go to find original fiction on the internet? I’m listed on Web Fiction Guide, Epiguide, and Muse’s Success (shamless plug: I still pay in fic for every two reviews, and Edally is sadly underreviewed)

  • Writers: Where do you go to find audience?
    I know [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith and others have used the Bingo Challenges to go fishing for audience; did you find that it worked?
    Project Wonderful ads, sure, but how do you make them engaging enough to draw people in?

  • If you’re already a regular reader, how did you find this blog?
    Any suggestions on making it easier for readers to move from one section of my work (blog, fanfic, serial) to another?

Thanks! Also, if you’re a new fan, thank you! Where did you come from and how do I clone you? 😀

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Passing the Torch

a story of Doomsday/Cloverleaf

Acquiring Students
When my tablet runs out of battery…
The Crew Continues
Crew, Continued
The Day
A Pact
The Pact Slips, Part I
The Pact Slips, Part II
A Solution

Several years after the above stories – more than 50 years after the apocalypse.

There were five students loitering near the fence at Maureen’s, and the last parents had come and gone. Luke rolled his shoulders and pulled his wings close. There was nobody coming for them. There never had been someone coming for three of them — raised in the creche, the only time they’d been out of the Addergoole complex was on field trips. The last two had been dropped off by their parents four years ago. Luke had honestly thought those parents would come back.

It had been years since Cya Red Doomsday had stopped showing up, long enough that the rumors had almost stopped. She’d never have taken the girls, and he could only remember once that she’d taken two, but she could have done something. Luke stepped forward. He was going to have to have the talk abut the Village and Other Options with these kids. He was going to have to pull their Mentors in and ask why they hadn’t prepared their Students. He was going to have to growl if one of Mike’s old Students showed up, the way they did some years, offering snake oil and a slave collar.

A blue man teleported in front of him with a whiff of sulfur and an apologetic grin, followed a millisecond later by Cya Red Doomsday and… another woman. Luke didn’t recognize her, althugh her face shape remind him of someone else — black hair, golden-brown skin, and a ready and wide smile that looked ready to cause trouble.

“Usually I’d come earlier,” Cya was telling the other woman, “but I wanted to be sure that you saw what happens when we don’t come. sa’Hunting Hawk,” she bowed politely in his direction, “this is Sunitha the Bright Idea, my former student and current protégé.”

Protégé.. “Red Doomsday.” He returned her bow. “jae’Bright Idea. Are you…”

“It really doesn’t work for me right now.” Luke thought that Cya sounded apologetic. “And… i thought that the ones who didn’t look like Howard, Leo, or Cabal deserved a chance.”

“Ah.” There was a “Howard”-type among the five — broad-shouldered, blond, big horns — but he wasn’t one Luke was most worried about. He bowed again at Bright Idea. He shouldn’t feel as relieved about this as he did, but… “I trust Red Doomsday’s judgement, ma’am.”

Cya smirked at her protégé, but there was warning in the expression. “Don’t let him down.”

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Conlang all year round – Polysemarch in August

Turns out I missed conlanging, and as I’ve missed many months of “365 Conlang thingies beyond #Lexember,” I decided in the remains of August, I would cycle through the first 8 months twice of conlang-exercises twice.

Today is Polysemarch – Add a new meaning a day to an existing word in March. This might be challenging for my Old Tongue vocabulary of 15-or-so words…


So I looked up Polysemy, assuming that was the basis for this challenge. It includes this phrase… “…usually related by contiguity of meaning within a semantic field.(11)

SO

We covered bunnies in Calenyen in Lexember.

A kaler is a domesticated fur rabbit. When in the wild, or in a burrow, it pops its head up to look around, much in the way early steam-pressure-relief valves did. (See also pressure cookers). Thus, a kaler in engineering terms is a pressure-relief valve, especially but not always a pop-up valve.


And in my 15-Word Old Tongue, we have a plot-based word, aeosthena, which means, in essence, “father-of-many,” “desirable stud.”

A tongue-in-cheek use of the word appeared in the early 18th century, mostly by Grigori scholars: in a manner similar to the Erdős number, a scholarly aeosthena was one whose papers had “spawned” new ideas or new papers, or one who had created many protegees, in part by co-publishing.


Morphambruary
Febmanteau
✒️
DisMaycourse
✒️
Polysemarch 2/ Juneme 2

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Intros to Tír na Cali, two story fragments from the past

Rather than actually repost these two stories, because of the length, I am going to link to their beginnings.
They were meant for a Tír na Cali sourcebook, as fiction explaining setting. One takes the POV of a kidnappee, the other of a slave born into the life.

They’re old, but they give a good view of some of the bones of the setting.

Read On…

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