Zompist Bboard Again

bradrn wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 8:51 pm

Pedant wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 1:50 pm Looking over a map of Irthiron

Totally unrelated question: is there any particular reason why the coastline often makes 90° angles?

(I don’t have anything to say about the rest of the post, other than that I really like it!)

Well, glad you do like it! As to the map...yeah, it’s not one of my best. I’ll have to redo it at some point, make it cleaner.

Basically, just an opportunity to show off my new world map. Not too shabby, eh?

bradrn wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 8:51 pm

Pedant wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 1:50 pm Looking over a map of Irthiron

Totally unrelated question: is there any particular reason why the coastline often makes 90° angles?

(I don’t have anything to say about the rest of the post, other than that I really like it!)

Updated map of Irthiron right here!

Pedant wrote: ↑Sun Aug 16, 2020 8:18 am

bradrn wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 8:51 pm

Pedant wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 1:50 pm Looking over a map of Irthiron

Totally unrelated question: is there any particular reason why the coastline often makes 90° angles?

(I don’t have anything to say about the rest of the post, other than that I really like it!)

Updated map of Irthiron right here!

Um… that doesn’t look like that first map at all. Perhaps you meant this one?

bradrn wrote: ↑Sun Aug 16, 2020 8:43 am

Pedant wrote: ↑Sun Aug 16, 2020 8:18 am

bradrn wrote: ↑Wed Aug 12, 2020 8:51 pm

Totally unrelated question: is there any particular reason why the coastline often makes 90° angles?

(I don’t have anything to say about the rest of the post, other than that I really like it!)

Updated map of Irthiron right here!

Um… that doesn’t look like that first map at all. Perhaps you meant this one?

Heh, heh...whoops...

I like these maps a lot!

A few quibbles, though:

I'm a little confused at not finding some of the place names you mentioned on your map of Irthiron... I don't see Mount Antyne for instance. Also, I think it'd be good to label Irthiron and Baliron.

Ares Land wrote: ↑Tue Aug 18, 2020 3:37 am I like these maps a lot!

A few quibbles, though:

I'm a little confused at not finding some of the place names you mentioned on your map of Irthiron... I don't see Mount Antyne for instance. Also, I think it'd be good to label Irthiron and Baliron.

Whoops! Another issue with updating a map from scratch…all corrected!

It's not completely certain when the Senok Desert began to fall from the hands of the Nukkians (Ancient Nukkian Nuk-yo "Nuk people" and Nukki "Nuk-land", from the root *nyk meaning "plain, grassland"), that ancient race of shapeshifters who worshipped animal gods and effectively founded Central civilization. The start of this culture dates back to the 28th Century Before the (Salvian) Long Count, about nine thousand years ago, but the end has been dated to various situations. A great famine, the ever-turbulent weather just giving up on them, a shift in the rivers where their cities lay, poor soil irrigation…or just possibly the rise, in the Thirteen Century of the Long Count, of the desert nomads to the west, and with them a new kind of faith.

There are three types of riding animal on Ajjamah, of varying strengths and weaknesses. The barrus, in Pelia and Meniscia (rather like an elephant crossed with a tapir), is clever and long-lived but has not technically ever been bred domestically. The quagga, on the grasslands of Potamia (think tame zebras with a duskier colouration), is swift and strong but feisty and quick to bite. And the camelopard, native to the dusty hills around the Senok Desert (Bactrian rather than dromedary), has incredible endurance (not to mention superb climbing abilities for its size) but an incredibly stubborn temper and not much plowing capacity. Still, the eventual taming of this beast was what led tribes of nomads to eventually take on the might that was Nukki, led as they were by their own pantheon.

It is most curious, perhaps, that after a while Nukkian hieroglyphic tablets, carved with the seal script used across the empires, refer to the foreigners (called the Kol-yo, apparently derived from Diriyyan Qoliyyu "[people] of God") as being monotheistic, and of worshipping a "single god, Sagar, a demon of the dust-storm and sword". Other tablets talk of many gods worshipped, listing dozens of names of patron deities.

In point of fact, both of these are true. The Kol-yo did indeed worship many deities, at least at first; like other cultures from the Dovan language family, individual tribes had patron (or matron) deities, which they kept to themselves. We have records of wedding ceremonies, for example, where part of the rites included a forswearing of the bride's old god (Dovans tend to be patrilineal) and an initiation into the cult of the groom's. Coming-of-age and adoption ceremonies took place the same way, with an "unknown god" (Yaqqôsh "he/she has not yet spoken") filling in for the local aspect (as children were considered too young to make the choice for themselves until at least their early 20s). This was about as much initiation as most actually got, bar a few celebrations; most actual communion with the patron deity was done through elders attached to the band. Nevertheless, no aspect was considered greater than the other, except by the people who owed their allegiance to that aspect. All seem to have viewed fire (and by extension the suns) as holy, a means of communicating with the raw divinity within the world.

For about three hundred years the Kol-yo ruled Nuk-ki, before being driven back by a rallying force of Nukkians who had slowly but surely built up the first settled cavalry in history. As the Dovans scattered, however, one group–the Qoliyyu–seem to have consolidated around the coastal Iva Mountains, a dry but prosperous country. There they would remain for some time, as other Dovans wandered the scrub and desert lands around them, following their tribal god under the taboo name of Harish "the spirit of spirits". Elders separated into priestly lineages, judges for the clans and electors of new kings and lords (azzawshaa, from zash "to be strong"). From their brief sojourn into sovereignty over the Nukkians they had picked up agriculture, irrigation, a legal code, even writing–although this was still technically cuneiform, impressed onto clay rather than written with a stylus. Various kings and judges came and went, and the world outside turned on.

Then came what is known as the First Period of Subjugation, where the still-nomadic Tirayuv (ironically the cousins of the Nukkians) came to dominate the Senok Desert themselves, taking the rich land around the Iva Mountains and scattering any resistance. Part of the success of their empire was through their letting conquered peoples remain under a semblance of their own government, on the condition that they allow others (particularly Tirayu) to move within their borders. At this time a whole flood of new ideas came pouring in, from the newly-reconquered Nukkians to the clan ethics of the southern Werebeasts, from the conduct of honour held by the Tirayuv themselves to the localized clan practices of their fellow Dovans. With such a cosmopolitan spirit, the old religion of the Qoliyyu was slowly stamped down, not facing external repression that might forge it into a monolithic entity, but a cultural cornucopia from which it could pick and choose the best elements for itself. (Of course, there were issues with this system as well. The king, for example, was no longer elected by the elders, but was fully integrated into a dynasty.)

The First Empire collapsed in the late 21st Century due to internal matters; among these internal matters was the revolt of a group of Dovans led by a man who called himself Ramuz Ur-Yam, "servant of the light"–his name follows the old format of titles for the priestly castes, but does not distinguish a particular deity. Ur Yam was born in a trade caravan and raised in the then-capital of Iva, Ammay Eq-Qar (Eccaro in Modern Hercuan). He was a priest by upbringing, but spent much time in the markets, listening to the different languages and learning of the different gods. He came to an epiphany, one day in early 2103 LC; he shared this epiphany from the markets, from the mountains, to trading caravans who took it in their stride. It could be broken down into three fundamental tenets:

1. All gods are equal, because all gods are one single God. This God is the Izfa, the Holy Flame, which all Dovans use to call to Him (and He can just as easily be Her). This God is also present within us, in equal amounts between men and women. All tribes, therefore, are allies and cousins.
2. There are two enemies of God, who is the Light: the Night (for obvious reasons–a scarcity of what is needed) and the Flood (not a regular event in the desert, and devastating even as it provided life-giving water–the literal definition of "too much of a good thing"). We must seek a balance within ourselves, and aid others in that balance.
3. The best way to find the Light is through good words and good deeds. The latter allow us better access to the Light, while the former let us build a standing in the community to allow more good deeds to be done. (Oddly enough, good thoughts weren't part of Ur-Yam's initial theology; his assumption was that it was not possible to do good deeds without some aspect of good thought, no matter what line of thought that was. One may have unnatural or harmful urges, but those should be suppressed for the good of the community.)

This was a surprisingly popular premise, and his followers grew exponentially. Putting him to death didn't work–it merely led to riots and rebellion against the state, followed by a polite "request" by King Laymu Ur-Ishmaya that they be allowed to leave the empire. The king himself didn't last very long, and his son and successor came under the tutelage of Ur-Yam's followers. Eventually the kinghood became practically defunct, and the lineage of Ur-Yam ("restarted" in the 35th Century by S'adwa I the Great) took over as irmuzud or sultans (singular irmuz). The clincher came with the discovery (or creation) of the Great Seal Ring, possession of which allowed the wearer to command the djinn who lived within the borders of the empire. As djinn have a strong and potent presence on Ajjamah, this had the added advantages of speeding up construction, increasing orthodoxy, and making the desert empire almost impregnable--for a long time, anyway.

It is probably worth noting that the southern Tirayu Empire, at the time given over to civil war, was itself united in the 40th Century by a man professing a universal faith. This one, however, was monotheistic rather than pantheistic, with much more dire consequences for the world at large--including the conquest of large swathes of the Senok Desert under the banner of two of the Four Churches. But that's for another time.

The Sixty-Three names of God were never fully named by Ur-Yam himself. He himself knew of only thirteen, which to be fair represented thirteen different ethnicities from far-off corners of the desert. All of them are the taboo names of various tribes' patron deities; Jeqqar "pillar of the world", for example, was associated with the god of the Ur-Shaqar Tribe, some form of demiurge it seems. Likewise, Warruj "the well of souls" is the Ul-Laymu Tribe's patron goddess, dressed up and prayed to. Even the Psalters, a compilation of festival songs and history from thirty-seven different tribes, all translated to Classical Qoliyyan (and some given more weight than others), are limited to just that: thirty-seven aspects of God. Oh, others were added over time, eighteen new ones in fact as theological thinking on the matter became more complex, but even today only fifty-five names are actually known.

Common thinking on the matter is that there are eight "hidden" aspects, part of the world itself; to call on them is to call on various aspects of the cosmos. Gnomic thinking on the matter has proposed a sixty-fourth, "primordial" aspect; it is believed that this is the name one is taught after death, when one's soul has ascended to the stars, and to chant this name is to preserve the universe and the Central Fire itself.

(It is also worth noting that Dovan languages have a Base 8 system of calculation, in the spaces between digits rather than on the digits themselves. So 63 in Base 8, good people, would be…?)

The spell doesn't promise very much. It doesn't grant long life, or wealth, or even much happiness. A little happiness, to be sure–it wouldn't deny its people that–but not much.
The spell wants to be born, you see.
A little spark, tingling in the air-beyond-the-air. A conduit for new souls–new souls with new magic promised. The long rounds of reincarnation are what grant new babies new souls, and the spells want a part in that. They want to die. They want to become immortal.
So sometimes, often, you find people drawn to one another. It doesn't matter their race, or their class, or even whether or not they would normally be attracted to each other. Their bodies can't help themselves; their minds see connections, make up for the defaults of the other. If they're whole, or healthy, they make up for it by working with them. If not, they put them aside, promising that one day it will get better.
Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the unions last for decades, other times the parents split soon after.
What matters to the spell is that it grows up in a new body, with a mother and a father who will know of its existence and keep it safe if not always sane. The new soul–a timeless spell and an old creature given life–will wander along through life as best as it can. But as the child grows up, it will notice that the land it lives on feels more like home than any other place, that moving from that place makes them feel weaker, more tired. And it will notice that calling to their home, thinking like their home, allows them to do many things that would be impossible otherwise. Bend solid light into glowing stone. Soar into the winds. Hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of those around them.
Because the spell is a part of them, but it also comes from the land–the way the air sings and the water drums and the earth dances, all of these make the spell. And it gives them a Gift, a way to bond with the world. It even (though it is hard) maintains that Gift when far away, though it has to feed to do so, on other souls or spare energy from the new land.
Oh, that's not the only way to do magic. Most people across the world catch a spell once or twice in their lives, managing a small miracle that could probably have happened anyway given the right kind of luck. Or they call on a god, a great bundle of souls and spells, and manage to get through and perform a miracle or two. And it's always possible to draw spells in, using the right kind of symbols or prayers or dances. But those with Gifts are the ones whose magic can't be taken from them when amulets crack or wands snap. Magic bound to the land itself. Magic that can be mimicked by other spells, floating free in the aether, but which for the person bound by it is as much a part of life as anything can be.
Powers though they have, they are bound to families that wouldn't have happened without them. And their powers are so often more of a curse than a blessing–things they can do that don't help, actual skills that lie neglected or ignored because their magic comes to define them, to themselves and others. Defines their entire culture, even. And terrible, terrible envy, when someone outperforms them with a clear and focused mind, while they're stuck watching the bright lights and meaningless noises and not being able to focus on anything, anything, but the magic in their bones.
Pity the Gifted. They envy your freedom.

Inspired by a colleague’s work I’ve made a couple more short stories. The titles are concepts in my world that I’ve explored. Come take a look!

Jaayakam
Chashvarah

It’s a funny thing, but I don’t think I’ve actually bothered describing what the people of this world actually look like to any major degree. Well, I’ve all the words and none of the pictures, so let’s get started:

1. The Auguroid race is predominantly found in Pelia, as well as parts of western Potamia and on the island chain between them. Their skin colour ranges from dark garnet red to light copper, while their eyes can be brown, gold, or (in the north) grey. Hair is usually brown or black, fading to grey or white as they age. The way they interact with the world of magic tends to be through perception; their senses are highly attuned to magical connections of various sorts, and often they can reach out and manipulate these as they choose. Magical lines pass directly from the father’s father and mother’s mother. Notable language families within this group are the Midaha (Salvian/Quiramic/Akotoyan), Chalic (in eastern Salvi), Ashenacom (near Quiram), and Goldlandic (on the southern coast).
2. The Theurgoid race is found in the far west, further than the Auguroids, in some parts of Pelia and all of Ambalira and Borealia. Skin ranges from burnt brown to a golden-cream colour up near the poles, and eye colour ranges from a deep black to milky blue and green, but all across the board there is a tendency for lighter-coloured hair--red in Borealia and the northeast of Ambalira, blond to auburn in Ambalira proper, and a snowy white in the Grand Mountains of Pelia. Their ability is channeling, taking the spirits of the land and giving them part of themselves in exchange for the enforcement of their will on reality. Magic lineages are quite random; the basic power may be passed down, but its manifestation is more dependent on local spirits than ancestry. Important language families include Qumoric (along the Grand Mountains), Waaru-Bwirna (in Ambalira), and Icemannic (in northeastern Ambalira and Borealia).
3. The Vatoid race is found in Hemeraea and on the southern coast of Potamia, with a strong red or pink hue to their skin even when in more temperate or even polar climes. Hair ranges from black to red (and tends to be straight); eye colour can be brown, orange, golden, green, or grey, with very rare cases of blue. Epicanthic folds are common. The Vatoids prefer strengthening, manifesting a shell around themselves derived from their own souls (plus whatever magic happens to be around) and using it to their advantage. Magical lineages run through either the Z or W chromosome only (so it’s possible for a boy or girl to inherit their mother’s power, or a girl to inherit her father’s--but not both). Important language families include the Endurers (Zanguenese/Hercuans/Chü-Ki), Nekortian (on the northern coast of Hemeraea and southern coast of Potamia), Poko (in Akotoya), Kwehnu (in western Potamia), Gosāri (on the Free Islands east of Mujara), and Ur-Tzálacan (in Mujara).
4. It is uncertain as to whether or not the Fabroid race is the oldest; certainly they seem best suited for humanity’s ancestral environment on the high plains of Eastern Potamia, though they live across the continent and even in Hemeraea. Skin is darkest here, from a purply black to at lightest an olive colour. Hair is black or brown and often frizzy; eyes are brown, orange, or golden. The Fabroid peoples prefer fabrication in their magic--the instilling of part of their own essence into other objects, even locations. Magic is passed down via these inhabited objects, who choose new “wielders” (as it were) upon the death and/or defeat of their previous owner; in many societies this has become ritualized as part of an apprentice’s training. Notable language families include Zitleshic (in eastern Potamia), Omgoyan (in northern Potamia), Gykkuri (in eastern Hemeraea south of Mujara), and Banshian (in northern Hemeraea).
5. The final group, the Lamioid race, is found in Hemeraea and in the archipelagos of Thalassia (the only area not technically on continental crust). They range from olive-coloured to peach or beige, with straight black hair and brown, blue, or grey eyes. Magic for the lamioids follows chimerism; this appears to be an example of convergent evolution with the Theurgoids, but their fusion is dependent on the communication with and control of already-living beings, be they animals or plants, or the borrowing of their essence (shape-shifting and the like). Magic is passed not in a straight line but through alternating generations; sometimes this is straightforward (and means children are trained by their grandparents), but other times this manifests in a form of moiety, up to eight types strong. The most prominent language families are Qikhnyric (along the frozen Australian Circle and into the temperate woodlands of Hercua), Malehinese (in the great island chain north of Coluega), Yamatsoq (again in Hercua, particularly around the mountains, but also on the Whirlwind Plains), Qoldishtari (again on the Whirlwind Plains), and Ashino (in Western Potamia--there is some debate as to whether this group represents the original clade, or was simply a late arrival with some generalization).

Naturally all humans have access to the gods, who provide powers in exchange for oaths. Often, too, the lines blur a little bit; the Salvians make Objects of Power (extensions of family powers loaned to others) on top of magical sensing, and Hercuans have learned to wrap gods around themselves and manifest their wrath (hence their classification as “Crusaders”). Fundamentally, however, these represent the main groupings and their base powers.

Good stuff, as usual. I like the different types of magic associated with each group. Are there any further physical differences besides color: height, facial features, build, etc.?

Vardelm wrote: ↑Sat Oct 24, 2020 9:22 am Good stuff, as usual. I like the different types of magic associated with each group. Are there any further physical differences besides color: height, facial features, build, etc.?

Many thanks! As to physical stuff, well, maybe a few things. Off the top of my head:

• Both the Theurgoid and Vatoid races manifest epicanthic folds, the latter much less frequently than the former.
• The tallest people in the world are the Zanguenese, Omgoyans, and Icemannics; the shortest are probably the Yamatsoki and Zitleshu. Salvians are fairly lean by nature, Hercuans broad and stocky as any Irishman. The Chü-Ku are quite small and a bit plump, and always look both quite young and very, very old at the same time (mainly because they often are).
• Facial hair is more common among the Vatoid ethnicities than anywhere else. The Fabroids are next, although even there it tends to manifest as thin beards. The Auguroids manage wispy beards themselves (and occasionally rather impressive moustaches), but facial hair beyond a light covering is incredibly rare among the Theurgoids and Lamioids. (Irthironians are often deemed “uncommonly hairy” for being able to grow stubble.)
• Fabroid humans have faces that tend to be wider than the “golden ratio” standard, with more pronounced lips and eyebrows slightly higher (with tips at the end). Auguroid and Theurgoid faces are slightly wider than the “golden ratio”, with high eyebrows and relatively weak chins. (Theurgoid faces also tend to have more prominent noses, except among the Icemannic peoples. Auguroids tend to have pronounced lips themselves.) Vatoid and Lamioid faces on the other hand are slightly thinner, and may have larger noses. (Vatoids are noticeable for their prominent foreheads; Lamioids tend to have very thin lips.)

Introduction
Irthironian (Eaber am Irthiron) is the most prominent member of the Waaru-Bwirna language family, found across northern Ambalira (and, as of recent centuries, in the worldwide colonies of Irthiron and her neighbouring nations.) The languages are best known for relatively restricted vowel and consonant inventories, noun class systems incorporating dual animate and inanimate plurality systems (animate with singular-plural forms and inanimate with mass-singulative forms), and a heavy reliance on auxiliary verbs. The northeastern branch, to which Irthironian belongs, has additional features--namely, a set of prominent sound changes (turning a word like *rtyàxìyù into sahey "nebula stream") and much in the way of vowel mutation and initial consonant lenition.
The standard phonology of Proto-Tharocite (from Tharoc, Therayc) was as follows:

• Consonants: m p b n t d l r rt /ʈ/ rd /ɖ/ rr /ɻ/ y /j/ k g x w
• Vowels: á áa à àa í íi ì ìi ú úu ù ùu
• Consonant Clusters: (m)pw (m)bw (n)ty (n)dy r(n)ty r(n)dy (n)ky (n)gy (n)kw (n)gw xy xw
• Tones: á (high) à (low)

It's presumed, based on available evidence from other languages, that it was the "high" tone which was marked and the "low" tone which represented the "level" voice. However, languages like Tìywartiyrri in the far southwest have the high tone representing "level" voice, while the low tone represents a drop that's slowly pulled across the word (so the above word would be pronounced ['ti˥.wə˧.ʈi˨.ɽɪ˦], as opposed to **Tíywartiyrri which would be **['ti˨.wə˨.ʈi˦.ɽɪ˨]).

The standard noun endings in Proto-Tharocite were as follows:

Masculine Male (human, nonhuman), water, Moon	Feminine Female (human, nonhuman), fire, Sun	Plural (Of Masculine, Feminine)	Singulative (Of Common, Neuter)	Common Food (meat), body parts, creatures, ceremonies, trees, Midnight Sun, locales	Neuter Food (non-meat), events, minerals, plants, animal products, created objects, stars, places
-a(tya)	-u(ru)	-i(li)	-u(na)	-(id)a	-(arty)i

It should be noted that the categories sometimes included elements that were associated with their particular speciality, as in many Ambaliran languages. A bridge (*borùnà, later bran), for example, was classed as a masculine singular noun, because of its association with water. Likewise words for meat meals were often given a feminine aspect, not because women tended to do the cooking (which was the case in early Irthironian society as well) but because they were most often roasted or baked in some way.

There were also, it seems, markers for proximity; a prefixed *a- was used for objects close to either the speaker or the conversation, *i- for objects far from the speaker/conversation (and also for matters that were less concrete), and *u- to mark questions (e.g. *a-gyúlá "this king", *i-gyúlá "that king", *u-gyúlá "which king?").
Modern Irthironian has had a few shifts along the way:

• The proximity prefixes have developed into fully-fledged articles; these are also the only forms to keep the grammatical suffixes (e.g. ah "towards this X, into this X"; ic "with these X-es", ong "without what X?", etc.).
• Final vowels were incorporated into preceding ones, affecting the word either one or two vowels deep; note that this happened before intervocalic voicing became a phenomenon. (Thus, for example, *káronídá "bows" becomes carned, thanks to a-mutation, while *yámú, yámí "queen, queens" becomes yam, yeme thanks to i-mutation--the latter having shifted to eem in modern language.)
• Plurals are largely marked by vowel changes in animate nouns, but the inanimate nouns have a more difficult time of things. There are three remaining suffixes: -o/an, -a/ed, and -(e)s. The general rule is that the singulative marker is dropped, leaving the two "mass" markers to function as plurals, except in certain specific nouns. The general rule can be summed up so: if an object is distinguishable from others of the same type, use the singulative and don't mark the plural, but otherwise mark the plural. This is largely down to distinguishability; books and islands, usually found in clusters, use the singulative (bashman/bashame "book", irthon/irth "island"), while libraries and archipelagoes, which represent a full collection, use the plural marker (bashdael/bashdaeles "library [lit. "bark-house"], irthir/irthired "islands"). (An interesting exception to this rule is when a specific collection is referred to, usually in place names; the word Irthiron itself means "this specific archipelago".) Grains take the singulative, fruit the plural. Days one after the other take the plural (jure/jyre), but days of the week take the singulative (e.g. Pardjure "Wash-Day (in general)", Pardjuron "This Wash-Day").

Modern Phonology

• Consonants: m p b ff [f] f [v] th [θ] dd [ð] n t d s rh/r [ɹ] r/rr [r] ll [l̥] l [l] ch [tʃ] j,dj [dʒ] sh [ʃ] y [j] ng [ŋ] c [k] g cw [kw] gw hw [ʍ] w h
• Vowels and Diphthongs: a /æ/ a(r,l) /ɐ:/ ae/a-e /æɪ/ aer [e:] ay/y-e [ɑɪ] ayr/yre [ɑæ] e [e] ea [i:] ea(r,l) [ɪə] e(r,l) ee/e-e [i:] eer/ere [ɪə] eo i/y [ɪ] o [ɔ] oa/o-e [əʉ] oi/oy [oɪ] oo [ʉ:] ow [æɔ] or/our/ur [o:] u /ɐ/

Vowel Shifts
Proto-Tharocite had four short consonants (*a, i, u, o [ə]) and three long consonants (*aa, ii, uu). These were (with the exception of *o) marked with a tone, High or Low, that carried across the entire word. In Tharocite languages this has tended to manifest in the form of different levels of vowels, the tones first becoming diphthongs (or triphthongs when fusing with a final vowel) and then collapsing into new vowels completely. The standard list for Hamhyre Irthironian (the capital of the empire and the largest city besides) can be seen below:

*á-

*áa-

*à-

*àa-

*í-

*íi-

*ì-

*ìi-

*ú-

*úu-

*ù-

*ùu-

*+a#

CaC, CaCaeC

CaeCa

CaC, CaCaeC

CaeCa

CeC, CeCeaC

CeaCa

CaC, CaCeoC

CeoCa

CoC, CoCowC

CowCa

CaC, CaCoaC

CoaCa

*+i#

CeC, CeCeeC

CeeCy

CeC, CeCeuC

CeuCy

CiC, CiCayC

CayCy

CiC, CiCayC

CayC

CuC, CuCayC

CayCy

CoyC, CoCoyC

CoyC

*+u#

CaC, CaCaC

CaeC

CaC, CaCaC

CaeC

CiC, CiCiC

CayC

CeC, CeCeC

CeeC

CuC, CuCuC

CooC

CoC, CoCoC

CoaC

Thus the plural form of jol "king" [ dʒɔl] is jyle (also jayl [dʒɑɪl]), and the plural of llyse "phoenix" (also llays) is llysie (also llayssy). There is a tremendous amount of mixed spelling, thanks to an incomplete spelling reform back in the 48th Century when people had finally started to get a grip on the diphthongs. There was a lot of effort put in to remedy this, but by the 55th Century there are no fewer than five distinct spelling conventions all across the Irthironian Empire, although the Hamhyre Standard is considered the highest-ranking.
Thankfully for the beginning reader, plural forms are marked with the noun in its dictionary entry.

Consonant Lenition
Lenition seems to have taken place at a stage in the language after word-internal *o had been lost, creating consonant clusters, but before final vowels had been lost on article preclitics. Intervocalic stops were thus voiced. When combined with an aspirated consonant of some sort, however--or one followed by /w/ or /y/--they became aspirated themselves, even lost their voicing in a number of cases. This slowly carried over to almost all of the initial consonants.

p

b

ff

f

m

th

dd

t

d

s

n

rh

r

ll

ch

j

sh

c

g

cw

gw

hw

h

Strong

b

m

m

mb

f

n

n

d

n

sh

s

r

rr

l

j

j

j

g

ng

gw

ngw

w

Ø

Weak

ff

f

f

f

f

dd

n

th

dd

th

s

r

rr

l

y

y

y

h

h

hw

hw

w

Ø

This is particularly important when dealing with various prepositions (previously preclitics that took on a form of their own); prepositions are usually marked in the dictionary as creating strong or weak lenition (e.g. ong(S) "without which X?" plus jol "king" forms Ong jol? "Without what king?").

I've never tried this before, but honestly it makes sense. It's too easy for me to decide that the world I'm working in just doesn't fit, and that's a bit annoying when trying to work out both language and story details. So…something a little different, methinks. I have a couple of possible options available for how to shape the world, and whichever you guys like best I'll try to keep to. Deal?
I know I want there to be an island nation called Irthiron, with the largest transoceanic empire in the world (and thus a rival to Hercua, Qoldishtar, Zàn Kwēn, and Salvi). They are ruled by a Senate with various elected leaders taking on the divine functions that a King would have. Its people are industrious, stubborn, and prone to feats of great storytelling--but they prefer events with as little "fiction" as possible, and have a tendency to scorn others' myths and legends as mere superstitions instead of real living beings. And the scary thing about their empire is, the more technologically advanced they become, the more the old myths of their conquered peoples seem to slip away into oblivion…
But how they form is up to debate.

1. They could have extended themselves out from the Grasslands Kingdom when it collapsed under its own weight, a tribe of merchants living on the coast who had borne the worst of the taxation from the Grass Kings (rather like the Tsonga with the Zulu) and made a break for it when they could to a nearby island just off the coast. Settling on the seashore they began drawing the natives into their cities, establishing colonies inland after many generations. Drawn to the wealth found in other lands by their mainland kin once the earliest transoceanic empire was set up, they quickly began amassing their own, focusing on their superior shipbuilding abilities. (This puts their island on the far northeastern side of the world, a bit far from general shipping lanes but in quite a position to enjoy the Roaring Forties. It also marks them as part of this world's *Bantu civilization.)
2. They could also have started out as conquerers themselves, a part of the Ice Peoples (themselves a motley collection of Arctic tribes benefitting from longship technology) who claimed the islands of Irthiron and Baliron for themselves early on. They established fortified kingdoms on the coast, then had to fight off the more matriarchal Trancers for a few centuries before getting fed up enough to extend south. (This puts them in the far west of the world, on a relatively isolated island archipelago that they expanded across in the centuries to come--a reverse colonization of *Australia, if you will.)
3. Finally, they could have started just off the coast from the empire of Quiram, kin to the Salvians and powerful telepaths. Strong oceanic currents protected them for a time before they were briefly conquered by the mainland; it took them a while to get up and running again, but they did, and with their hereditary emperor dead they replaced his single potency with chosen senators who each had a small portion of his powers. While Quiram never really took to the seas again, they did--and very quickly indeed…(This would make them a tad more *Japanese in origin, and put them closer to the meridian line--closer to the Inner Ocean, and with more lands nearby for colonization.)

So, what do you guys think?

Hmm, on the basis that a major sea power should be in a strategic position, I'd go for option 3 myself.

Option 2 is implausible. I can't see anyone from the arctic conquering anything, so it's a choice of 1 or 3. Given that once an empire is established the general shipping lanes will end up going to Irthiron, I'm not fussed about it starting a bit out of the way - indeed having to go far to get anywhere could just spur them on - bit like the Vikings. I like option 1, but I can see Ares' point about starting in a strategic well-traveled location.

Option 3 does seem the most plausible, with option 1 not too far behind. Vote "no" on option 2!!!!

I like option 2.

it's been a while, but from what i remember, these peoples have important differences from humans that might make arctic conquest more plausible than it would be on Earth. Also it really depends on where the landmasses are and what the climate is like .... the map you posted at the beginning of this thread suggests that the Arctic might be much like Europe, and if so, that solves that problem.

But I also like Option 2 because I've picked out that part of the world as my clear favorite since the very beginning, and I hope to be able to read more about them. In any case, I'll be interested to see what you come up with.

Thanks for the votes, everyone! I’ll be sure to put them to good use...
Now, for something slightly different: The Tikush Kumitu or Central Mountains run the full length of the continent of Pelia, along the southern edge where it comes into contact with the Irenic Ocean. The southern coast is lush and rich and great for breadfruit plantations, while the northern foothills are dry and get monsoon weather if they’re lucky. But sandwiched between the two major mountain ranges is a land which the Incas called puna and the Qumor call chura--a tropical plateau, largely treeless and great for the llama flocks that rival the camelopard herds down in the northern deserts, as well as for the growing of various starchy tubers. To the east, long masters and mistresses of their own domain, lies the Salvian Peninsula, the Central Mountains curling up as the land folds northeast towards the islands of Akotoya. To the west--now under Qumor control--are the Goldlands, where great kingdoms create massive irrigation systems and heroes wield the powers of the six elements. But in the central highlands, stretching from one end of the continent to the other, are the Qumor, the Winged People--and their Gift has been, for nearly a thousand years, the ability to fly.
Curious people, really. Divided into tribes, they’ve had about seven hundred years as the lords of the mountains, and have definitely made the most of it. Oh, others have made great civilizations in the mountains (the Eternals of Chü-Ki and the Fleece-Lords of Nkuronga spring to mind), and others still live in the Tikush Kumitu. But only the Qumor have managed to unify them, across a staggering stretch of land, and with such a remarkably small population too. Only they have temple complexes carved into the bedrock halfway up the side of an otherwise impenetrable mountain, or towers hanging upside-down over a chasm in the rock. And only they have been able to maintain an effective monopoly on trade goods of various sorts from a distance of over 7,500km, the deserts of the Goldlands and the jungle city-states of the Ayobai and Treezh and the llama-herders of Xallacau and all falling under their dominion. All of this, because of their ability to fly gives them thrice the range and speed of an average human, enabling them to reach far-flung corners of their ever-fluctuating domain in fairly reasonable chunks of time (not to mention they can avoid obstacles a lot more cleanly).
But enough on the Qumor, you’re here for the quipus.
Surprisingly enough the lina qochisa or “speaking knots” did not have their origins with the Qumor. The Iramu, living somewhat peacefully in the Xallacau Valley, seem to have had their own knots for some time previously. But the two main Qumor quipu variants are the most understood across the mountains, as they're the furthest-ranging. There are six variations of the lina qochisa still in use to this day:

1. The Qumor language has 1,672 distinct syllables, but only 132 CV ones (including the glottal stop; there are no vowel-initial syllables). Thus the Old Qumor knotting system, still used to tie imperial decrees from the Kara Parancha (“Raven Reborn”, the leader of the Qumor, also known as the Phoenix) and royal records. Seven colours of thread (white, black, red, yellow, green, purple, and orange) are arranged in one of three ways (medium-sized stripes, a thin central band of one colour with solid blocks on either side, and a thick central band with smaller blotches of colour on the ends), creating 133 different potential colour combinations. (The purely purple fringe, being made of crushed seashells from the coast, is used to mark imperial as opposed to merely noble decrees.) Final consonants are marked using another CV combination, generally (C)a. This is generally equivalent to five bands. So, for example, the syllable QO (as in Qomur, the local word for Qumor) is represented with a thick band of purple between two thin bands of white, roughly equivalent to the form white-purple-purple-purple-white. (Symbolically this represents their proximity to the Kara Parancha in terms of race and ability.) Readings are made from right-to-left along the string, equivalent to the passing of the sun (facing north so it's not in one's eyes as one reads).
2. The New Qumor system, also known as the basic relay system, relies on accounting knots to mark equivalents to the sounds in the Old Qumor quipus. Seven types of unique knot (the ones for 1-6 and another--a figure-eight--which means “plus six” normally but here stands in for seven) are arranged in rows on the strings. The syllable QO would thus be represented as [one]-[seven]-[blank]--that is, the knot for one, the knot for "plus six", and the "plus-six" knot again to mark the "heavy centre" formation. Different coloured threads may represent patterns of the voice--red for quick, angry reading, white for sedate reports, yellow for noble decrees, purple for imperial ones. Reading is once again right-to-left.
3. The Ayaboi system is slightly more complicated, and is tied in heavily with their form of geomancy. Up to three colours from a selection of six (white, black, red, yellow, orange, and brown) are tied down at the beginning of the string to mark one of the 216 "holy words" (three to four syllables long) used in the language. These are followed by up to three knots representing different syllables of the word. So, for example, writing yaboni "I died" (common in census-taking) one would tie down AYABOI-2-3 NIBAKWE-1. The quipu is held down with one's foot, and read from the bottom up.
4. The Treezh system, used by a group related to the Malehinese in the archipelagoes to the south, is similar to the Ayaboi style, but relies (quite uniquely) on actual characters. Symbols of animals, plants, people, or tools are pounded out of copper (or carved of stone--sometimes just baked out of clay, other times made of gold or electrum or tumbaga…you get the idea), then slipped through a knot on the belt. A knot following them determines which of the many homonyms this particular variation refers to. To write "Qumor" as in the people, for example, one would use KUM-3 OR-5; other potential meanings include "blanket coconut", "potato sadness", "cloud coral", and "disobedient toucan", which highlights the importance of tying things down properly lest you hit a storm. It is worn like a sash, and read counter-clockwise, from the leg to the shoulder.
5. The Jebor system is used by a group related (a long way back) to the Qumor, and who share their abilities. They even technically held an empire of their own for a time, before being absorbed through conquest and marriage into the Qumor. (They are the group whom the Irthironians contacted first; thus our name for the Qumor, from *quumu-r-a "being winged people is a good thing", as opposed to traditional Qomura.) Their style of quipu (locally zochislin, whence Irthironian chislin [ˈtʃɪzlɪn]) are unique in that the syllables take up two threads at a time, and the way they match with one another to produce forty unique knot-combinations makes their system practically an alphabet (particularly as there are only 32 sounds in the Jebor language; four are used for diphthongs, and the extra four for classification). Writing "Qumor", therefore, is as easy as jotting down the knots for Q-U-M-O-R, plus a special knot for [air]. Writing is, quite unusually, left-to-right.
6. The Goldlander system is used in the far west of the world, near the boundary with Ambalira. Previously the Goldlanders had no such system of their own; they used combinations of white and purple shells on strings to mark tribes and families. After contact with the Jebor, however, they came to record the sounds of their own language using knots where before they would have used wampum shells. The words aren't syllabic, per se; instead, they're ideographic, or else as logographic as one can be with a multicoloured piece of string. The threads take a while to weave, and have specific combinations of colours entirely dedicated to words and classes, which are read (as with the Jebor) from left-to-right. (The more complicated system may have been as an attempt to maintain some degree of secrecy among the tribal chieftains as to the art of writing, but it does fit fairly well.) To write "Qumor" in this system, then, one would first use a red-and-white thread (marking classes 1 and 2, referring to humans), then tie it in a reef knot with a second thread and tie the other end back to the mainstring (this represents the plural form). The second piece of string is black and white with three knots on one side, used for the syllable KOMO (technically referring to a boab tree), making the word mikomo "Qumor people". (A fisherman's knot, with both cords only having one end open, would be pronounced sokomo "Qumor person".) Goldlander quipus (locally wemoch'a, singular imoch'a) are often double or triple-layered, so as to increase information density.