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The Minkathnaazrah war-helmet!
Once lost for centuries, it was uncovered recently and now sits proudly on display at the Orimar museum for all to see and wonder at.
The inscription at the bottom of the helmet reads: r-y-c-i-d-a-r-a||l-i-g-i-n-a = rycidara ligina = “great leader.”
>”laria aealia” = ‘Resident of Aealia’ = rich/well-off person.
>”kelia kif iya” = “deja vu,” and/or, “je ne sais quoi.”
>”yar mooryis” = ‘until we’re dead’ (from the Minkathnaazrah war-speech).
>”sonke pabuskla” = a putz or dim-wit. (a “happy Land-lubber [a large, cat-sized salamander]”)
>”siske pabuskla” = an idiot; stupidity. (“like a Land-lubber”)
>”slenga senia” = a Politician. (a “poisonous adder”)
>”gealickanra niks kericksnionrah” = ‘veracity and integrity’ (the Professor’s mantra).
One of the main features in Fantasium is the Gateway — a magical portal system created by an ancient race that is shaped like a doorway that allows for instantaneous transport of an individual from one world to another.
When inactive, the Gateway has its “door” up (as shown above). Once activated, the “door” slides downwards into a recess in its “floor” and the reddish orb glows.
When the door retreats, it leaves in its wake a bubble-like filament that projects the destination onto itself — allowing the user to see where they’ll end up.
To activate, one punches in a six-character code by tapping on engraved symbols on the Gateway’s “door-frame.” After the code is entered, tapping the orb actually activates it.
There are 30 symbols, representing the 30 “letters” of the creator-race’s “alphabet”:
A symbol can be used more than once in the six-letter code, which means an awful lot of possible code combinations are available to the unwary user.
Totally forgot to do this last week, but whatever…
Switching-up a bit this time; below is a cryptic poem from my book-in-progress Fantasium:
It’s called the “Old Ones Stela,” created by one of Fantasium‘s first race of beings. Translated into their language:
Yezz ejja urryng; Ke harjeing; Ke cilum zae daukhing; Aeg daukhing.
Auph zan eutheri ta kunkhey; Yadh ijhugh ashuvey; Fwezzy bhakh rouzhe ta khey.
Yadh othellir fwestea; Ke grominwe ca fhyzha; Ke dwarghin vellia.
Ullujh ejja fhou auvor chiggur ta velleu; Ullu dwarkh vi fhou; Ay zhou.
Ullu yammin ghy arphin; Ullu yammin ghy lankhin; Ullu yammin ghy stavin; Aickin.
Kap fhou ce; Velliewe; Fwejjim chade; Aghwae yadhe; Ca ejja thydhwe.
Razhur iche ejja bhakh ullu; Ca yumiyumi bhakh veu; Eggie ca ejja kappi kwervu.
Narrihe ejja tyrrung zae daukhing; Orkhi cang; Ca yumiyumi bhakh ullung.
Orkhi bhakh vi; Vi daed hwithem cai; Ullu swayei; Ullu ejja veuffi; Gavin ullu:
Zazzi hueghe van fhou, hiekhe daed fhou…
Ghaz virrum iche eushing ejja brangwey…
Ezzam ca zazzi vi pulkar…
Yankey chabbo ke sebho…
Pullem aej vi pullem…
Iche fhou dawar aufheng…
Arrumbin zeching ta zechin…
Ydhef ejja iche eushing uveum…
Pella ejja jheffer iche ejja jheffer…
Razhur ejja veghul rastifau…
Othellir ejja cichwa kaerno; Cechung orkhi babhin ca; Ullu ejja jorrie.
Fwezzy fie vaedachi, ngoff ngumbie jheffen.
Here is a key; To destiny; To freedom at the end; As the end.
On each land of old; A temple resides; Created with the tools of lords.
A marker created; To our home it points; To hopeful salvation.
We do not know the power of salvation; We hope you do; Or can.
We wait for a hero; We wait for an army; We wait for a chance; To strike.
So does she; Our salvation; Made of two; Behaves as one; She is asleep.
Time was not on our side; It should be on yours; Unless it is too late.
Terror is freed at the end; Even her; She should be on our side.
And on your side; You must prove it; We have; We will help; Save us:
Think of the consequences;
May the worthy not always be chosen;
What many can do, few must do;
Imagination defies logic;
Look how you look;
Do not send a king;
Avoid getting lost;
Consider the price of a price;
This beginning is not a beginning;
Time will forgive your future;
The marker is a path to follow; Walk and brace it; We will watch.
Made by its father. When wars began…
Stay tuned for next week… I’ll try not to forget, as well.
Primary literary work in the book Pathallea.
It’s called the Warrior Poem, and in Thoul goes thus:
From plains we come, to fields we go.
With strength of heart, body and soul.
And know no fear, as we come near.
And feel our wrath, our swords and our spears.
Armed and armoured, we fight with our might.
Today we fight, we fight tonight.
We fight as one, we fight as all.
And never will you make us all fall.
We charge, we roar, we shake the ground.
To a common end, our hopes can be found.
We will fight to the death, and make trophies of you.
It’s for love and for life, you’ll see what we’d do.
If you come from above, we will take to the skies.
You cannot take our pride, nor our will to survive.
If darkness falls, we will burn up the night.
Today we fight, we fight tonight.
(May we have the grace of a thousand horses, the might of a thousand hammers, and the legacy of a thousand kings)
King Minkathnaazrah’s speech, given on the beaches of Arkoul during the Great War that took place on Pathallea 1,000 years prior to the setting of the book Pathallea itself…:
It’s not that we out-performed the enemy so late in the war, that we are here.
It’s not that we out-witted the enemy in the depths of despair, that we are here.
It’s not that we pounded them into submission with our weapons, that we are here.
It’s not that we succeeded in asymmetrical warfare tactics, that we are here.
It’s not even that we got lucky in our tactics against such a foe, that we are here.
We are here because we never gave up.
We are here because we never gave in.
We are here because we never stopped fighting.
We are here because we love freedom more than we fear death.
We are here because we knew that failure wasn’t an option for our kind.
Everyone did their part to make this advancement possible.
Every single one of you here on the beaches of Arkoul has earned your place here.
Every single one of you deserves to be here, as well as all those who could not be here.
You made this happen, not me.
This amazing achievement was only possible because of you, with your iron will.
You, who chose to stay your ground, deserve this coming victory more than anyone.
Savour that victory, when it comes.
For it will come, so long as that iron will stays within each and every one of you here.
Believe you can eliminate the Slenka, and it will happen.
The past twenty five years of advancement is proof of this.
There’s no stopping us now, because of the fire of liberty in our hearts.
There’s no stopping us now, when the great Azuephoydah still stands proudly tall.
There’s no stopping us now, for we’ll only cease when we’re all dead!
Spoken again by the Professor within Pathallea‘s timeline as a rallying-speech.
*Happy Family Day, everyone! 🙂
Something new I’m starting on this blog, in the hope it’ll help me post more regularly on it..
This is the inscription on the Azuephoydah, an infamous, ancient lighthouse in my Pathallea novel. The script belongs to a race living on the other side of Pathallea, and it’s true meaning has been lost to time.
Unbeknownst to the humans of Breykaria, they already know what the inscription says…
Oklamk thiesi nasigika, kliomasios amlaeiyosi lera.
Translated: “So long as my light can guide thee, thou shalt always find thy way home.”
**Hopefully around this time next week, I’ll post a second installment to this ‘series’….
“Fantasium” is still in the process of being written, but currently what I give below is the first chapter of the book:
In a state of hysterical fear, a young woman wearing a worn-out, ripped-up, filthy, white, one-piece dress made of itching wool runs over the mucky soil of a dense, but dead, forest. She stumbles over protruding roots and hearty weeds, expression wild. Her skin marred by mud and various cuts and bruises in differing stages of healing. Her long, matted hair, like an angry fire flickering wildly from her head, ruffles in the breeze and bobs with her frantic movements.
The female, appearing no older than a teenager, breathes heavily yet quickly; it is raspy, and her ample chest heaves greatly. Using beaten, yet still very feminine, hands, she pushes herself forward as fast as she can; as fast as her long, slender legs will take her.
Somewhere, an angry mountain crackles. She won’t stop to look.
She won’t stop, even when she’ll become tired and too weary to carry on. She won’t look back to see if anyone’s pursuing her. She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t know where she’s headed – she cares not about that, for so long as she heads away from where she’d been held captive for so long. That is all she cares about.
She escaped her prison this time, but it’ll be coming for her. Stalking her by day and haunting her by night. Not until she can manage to leave this hell for good. But, who knows when that may be…
Every noise, though most are from her own self, is frightening. Every little sound threatens to be a menace out to seize her up again. Every light an eye watching her. Every slight motion an enemy ready to strike. That dark, dank, deep that held her hostage for so long. It forces her to continue running, even when her body wants to collapse and die.
Despite herself, tears build up in her large, emerald eyes, and begin trickling down her cheeks. She’s never been so terrified. So vulnerable. So mortal…
Happy New Year! 🙂