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N A H O D K A

A whole stack of letters that look like a cross between love letters and friendly correspondence. Two people participate in it: a man who is addressed as Gaimh (“gold”) and a woman nicknamed Sewrach ("a spear"). Yes, correspondence is conducted in classical Glinnar; For a girl he’s like family, apparently, but for a guy he’s not so much, sometimes he makes mistakes. It is much worse preserved than what we found before: the letters are torn, dirty, and often some parts are missing. Apparently, they had already been stored in approximately this condition.

For the most part, this all looks like chatter about life and the like, but two letters are very interesting in this context. In one, a girl writes:

“...you say that you have finally become an ass; that's right, so be it. But what did you do with Thunderstorm?

The guy answers:

“...I can’t say what’s going on with Groza. Just know that she is there, where she will again become a Crushing Flame.”

Blazing Flame (clay. Cairfhadh) - the name of a semi-legendary sword that belonged to Fodallain Goraethvi (look in previous posts), which was broken in his last battle, passed to his sister and then was kept by her descendants for a whole lot of time - until it was simply lost in a strange way somewhere in history. Maybe, of course, it was just a metaphor in the letter - or maybe not.

A few posts ago I said that we were contacted by some guys from Ruginia. The National Cultural Museum in Skaftos reported that they have one interesting object in stock.

It is an almost transparent crystal of silver spar with a light golden hue, with sides measuring approximately 30, 45 and 7 millimeters, and with several large cracks. For some reason they didn’t attach a photo, but to hell with it, I shoved a photo of some random crystal from the network here.

Judging by the description, he himself is in a not very well-preserved silver frame, on which the following runes were carved by an elder futhark:

ᛋᛟᚹᚢᛚᛟ ᚲᚹᚨᛁᚲᚹᛁᚦᛁ ᚺᚱᚨᛁᚾᛁᛃᛟ ᛋᚨᛁᚹᚨᛚᛟ
sōwulō kwaikwīþi hrainijǭ saiwalǭ.

From early Proto-Lavina this is translated as “the sun kindles the pure soul.” Such stones could have been used by the ancient Vikings to navigate the sea using the sun in cloudy weather - I may make a separate post about this. The guys claim that the stone may be directly related to the sword we found. They haven’t said what exactly yet, but they want to come to our excavation site, look and figure it out for themselves. I don’t understand why there is such secrecy, but there are probably some reasons for it.

We'll keep you posted!

Another gay post, as promised.

• Kharassukhumi doors. These people to this day don’t have a very good attitude towards homosexuality, and even more so a thousand years ago. Whether between men or between women, this is considered unethical, shameful, unnatural, and so on. After all, Mother Vecna herself forbade them to do such bad things - or at least that's what they say.
• Glinnar alvas. For these people, everything is quite complicated, but I will try to explain it as best I can. Their culture implies that non-procreative sexual relations are frowned upon; but all varieties of love that lie outside the erotic sphere do not distinguish either gender or age at all. This was how it was before, this is how it is now, and it is unlikely that this will change in any way in the foreseeable future.
• Saadian alvas. In general, it’s similar to the alvs above, but with a little more freedom: do what you want, but behind closed doors at home and put out the candle. That is, yes, it is also not very approved.
• Eryakhshari dzherts. If one of you, gentlemen shippers, invents a time machine and travels to any year before the eighth century AD (and even more preferably between the fifth and seventh, or before the first), then you will be greeted with real freedom there. The Gearts there always lived in large families, which could be called prides - with the only difference being that such a pride included both men and women. If your pride produces offspring, then no one really gives a damn that you are there with men, non-men, or anyone at all. Relationships outside the pride (both same-sex and opposite-sex) were not exactly welcomed, but they were not particularly condemned either.

We continue to model the sword with the name Varðveitari.

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A few folk games that you can play with your friends when you're bored.

1. Naghleibhas, "sticking".

The Glinnar game, the first mention of which dates back to two or three thousand years BC. The meaning is this: a certain word is taken (preferably with as few affixes as possible), and then the players take turns sticking suffixes/prefixes/other roots to it so that the resulting word has at least some meaning from the point of view of language and is formed correctly. You can only glue on the right and left; you cannot fit between existing parts. The loser is the one who can no longer make anything intelligible out of the resulting cadaver.

A simple example in Retzin:

• write
• writer
• writer
• clean writer
• …

I’m not sure that such a game will relieve you much of boredom, but you never know.

2. Royza

Eryakhshari drinking game for a group of people. Everyone stands in a circle and starts counting from one onwards; when the first round ends, players must skip numbers divisible by two when counting; on the third circle, numbers divisible by three are added, and so on. If someone makes a mistake, the neighbor on the right must hit him royzā — for Gearts, this is a clap with an open palm, which ends in a not very traumatic, but painful “grab” with the claws. This blow is applied exclusively to the chest (men only), stomach or butt. Early rules also included something like kicking the testicles, but these were quickly abandoned.

The one who makes a mistake must have time to intercept the hand of his neighbor on the left and also inflict on him royzā. And then the options:

- if not a single blow hits the target, then no one drinks;
- if one blow reaches the target, then the one who was hit drinks;
- if both blows reach the target, then both drink.

Well, of course, if someone hits another by mistake, then he also drinks. And, yes: people and others like them don’t have claws, so you can just clap your palm very hard.

3. Kanb, "stone"

ATTENTION VERY TRAUMATIC

Dverzhsky game from Kharassukhum. Something between baseball and “catch me brick.” More than two people are needed.

The idea is this: a large round stone is taken, which the participants can more or less easily lift, but throw - with difficulty. Two people take a special leather bag with iron chain straps; the third throws a stone in their direction, they catch it with this thing.

• if the stone hits one of the participants, he is eliminated (no wonder);
• if the stone falls to the ground, one point is awarded to the thrower;
• if the stone still manages to be caught (if it falls to the ground while in the bag, this also counts), then the catcher goes away with a point;
• After every three throws, the participants change in a circle.

The game lasts either until a pre-agreed number of points, or until all but one are eliminated.

PS If you are interested in what we do here and what we write, then I ask: spend a little of your time and tell your friends/enemies/relatives about us - in short, all those who may also be interested =D

A little bit of abstract news.

In Rechan, the competition for the design of a new flag has finally ended! All the options were probably very worthy and not bad, but this particular one, attached to the post, won.

A blue-white-yellow (gold) tricolor with an aspect ratio of 4:7, along the top and bottom stripes there is a three-time repeating text “Bg҃ъ with us and ц҆нєжє на зр”, interspersed with Christian wheels (stakes). On the central, white stripe, the heraldic falcon of Prince Stanislav is depicted in black.

Soon they should come up with something interesting with a small coat of arms (I’m a little scared how much budget is spent on this). And then, perhaps, a large coat of arms will finally be drawn up!

And now I’ll explain that this happened yesterday.

In 328 AD, a terrorist attack occurred in Elery (if anyone doesn’t remember, the largest port of the then Glinnar Dimonarchy), as a result of which almost all children from ten to twenty years old were killed (by Alvan standards, children, of course). Historical sources mention it very reluctantly, but this happened, most likely, as a result of the arson of the school in which these same children were then staying.

We found records of a woman whose daughter died in this fire. Only the first few sheets have been translated so far, but even they made such an impression on me that I couldn’t sleep the whole night before yesterday—and I couldn’t calm down until I finally wrote this text. And, believe me, in comparison with the feelings that she described, they are just flowers.

We are unlikely to ever know what both Ezil and her mother looked like - we can only assume that the mother’s face was similar to the girl in the photograph.

Context will come later.

---

Ezil.

When I return home, the first thing I see is the ticking of the pendulum. I try, I honestly try to close my eyes as tightly as possible - but for some reason they remain open. A measured knock dances in front of the pupils with bright metallic flashes and dissolves in the vessels on the eyelids. Very painful; I can't see anything else.

Ezil.

I can't sit down. My finely carved ebony chair is transformed every day into a rough-hewn bench of the grayest alder. She hurts me. It digs its sharp angles into my thighs and legs. I try to lie down - its fibers scratch my back, which has not completely healed.

I can not get up. The patterned floorboards, made of ash and beech, become a pile of boards every night, with a draft blowing from the cracks between them. They drive their splinters into the skin of my feet; I fall back and try to pull them out, but they go far into the very flesh. I'm already tired of enduring it.

Ezil, a mo vaouenn…

The day before yesterday I shaved my head. Her hair grows like a stiff stubble and pricks her fingers in a funny way. I begin to laugh fervently - and then suddenly fall silent: it seems to me that an persistent pendulum ringing has crept into my laughs. Sore throat. If I scratch my chest, can the laughter come out another way?

My spear stands against a bare wall. It's probably already completely overgrown with cobwebs. I don't want to look at him; I’m scared to take it in my hands - what if, when I touch my fingers, it will burst into flames with stinking fire? I'm afraid. I'm very afraid. I'm really scared. I don't want that much light.

Ezil, a mo vaouenn!

I'm actually not afraid of fire. It's warm and warm. Gently dissolves his fingers. Do you remember how your father once upon a time took whole handfuls of it and tossed it from palm to palm? Do you remember when he went to sea? It seems like quite recently, but it seems like even before I was born.

I broke the fireplace in our house. It's cold and damp at night, but I endure. I'm still awake. I never sleep anymore. I'm too old to sleep. You can lose yourself in a dream - I don’t want to. I'm afraid to lose. It hurts me when they take it away.

Ezil!

Yesterday I started going to the sea. It is gentle and smells like water. Such clean and bright water - and somewhere below, in the sand, fish swim. So small and funny - but for some reason I don’t laugh anymore. I just smile and wave my hand over the waves.

Ezil!

You know, I already stopped screaming when passing by that house. The fire from its blackened logs spreads to my eyebrows every time - but now it has become completely dim. It will soon be completely dismantled, and in its place there will be emptiness. And a slight smell of bone dust.

Ezil, my daughter...

I'll pick up the spear again in the morning. Let it burn with me - then I will be free. Let it stick tightly to my palms. Let me be remembered with arms in hand.

Ezil, my daughter! I promise you - tomorrow I will finally stop crying.

(sorry, I just really wanted to write a clickbait headline)

In general, we really did find important information that very well confirms some scientific views on the culture and beliefs of the pre-Christian Rechans. It consists of a small inscription on a scrap of parchment, written from left to right in koiran - the historical alphabet of the Eryakhshar Jearts, which they are now persistently trying to bring back to life.

It looks like this (in romanization):

simo pistruyi reçānīnu yiz rodā ridā su ro~ (breaks off)

it is immediately obvious that this is a completely ordinary Proto-Rechan language, here it is in Klimentitsa:

very colorful river from the clan of the Rada s ro~
"here the Motley Riverman from the Rda s Ro~"

You can read more about Motley in a few posts earlier; but that's not even the point. It's worth paying attention to the words "from the ryda family". Why?

Firstly, this very “ryd” is the name of a certain animal. This word has been preserved in the north of Rechani (red, r.p. rda) and in some places dialectally according to Retsinia (red, r.p. rda) — and wherever it is still found, it specifically refers to the snow leopard (also known as the "snow leopard"). Etymologically, it goes back to the Proto-Orbis root *wreyd- "scratch, cut out", but that's secondary.

Now let's look at it from a different angle: historians knew in principle that the ancient Rechans, like the Svaiti and Germans, had certain animalistic beliefs - but this is a find of a completely different level! That is, we clearly see that:

a) at that time the clan-tribal system still continued to exist;
b) at least one such clan had a very obvious totem animal.

It's very, very interesting what kind of relationship these guys had with snow leopards/snow leopards in general, but unfortunately we don't know that yet. If we find out anything, we'll definitely let you know!