#etolia

[lucianopodes]

145º [200 a.C.]. Pyrrhias de Etolia, corrida do Stádium Quando os macedônicos iniciaram as conquistas em território grego, formou-se a Liga Etólia, uma confederação de estados da Grécia Antiga centrado nas cidades da Etólia na Grécia central. A liga foi estabelecida em 370 a.C. e ocupou a região da grécia central, chegando a Delfos em 290 a.C. e ganhando território desde então até o final do século III a.C., onde controlava toda Grécia central até as proximidades da Ática. Por volta de 200 a.C., a Liga já estava na última parte de sua influência, e Pyrrias foi à Olímpia representar sua nação, embora a Liga tenha unido-se aos romanos, seu povo ainda era composto por cidadãos gregos. Seu pai, um estrategista que havia combatido os macedônicos, derrotado em duas ocasiões, finalmente pode ver o triunfo de seu filho ao vencer a corrida do Stadium, frente a espartanos, macedônicos e atenienses. Outros vencedores nestes jogos foram daquele deswconhecido de Argos na corrida de Diaulos, o que foi sua terceira vitória, Damatrios de Tegea na corrida de Dólicos, filho de Aristippos, que depois destes Jogos se dedicaria exclusivamente na modalidade dólicos, já que competia também no Stadium, sendo nomeado até Periodonikes, pois no dólicos venceu quatro vezes nos Jogos Nemeos, duas vezes nos lstmicos e duas nos Píticos. Timão de Elis venceu no pentatlo, e conseguiu também vitórias nos jogos de Delfos e nos Nemeos, não pode participar dos jogos Ísticos por estar proibida a participação dos eleos nestes Jogos. De acordo com Pausanias, Timon tomou parte na guerra entre etolios e tesalios, havendo-se encarregado por aqueles a diversas funções diplomáticas. Moschos de Colofón venceu no pugilato juvenil, e ele foi o único menino a ter vencido a competição de pugilato em todos os jogos principais. Phaidimos de Alexandia venceu o Pancracio juvenil, que foi disputada pela primeira vez nesta Olimpiada. Entre 200 e 196 a.C. aconteceu a II Guerra Romano-Macedônia, e em 197 a.C. acontece a Batalha de Cynoscephali na Tessália, onde os romanos sob o comando do cônsul Titus Quincio Flamininus, apoiados por grupos helênicos dissidentes, derrotaram Filipe V. @prof.lucianodornelles #etolia (em Olímpia - Grécia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoSNUwzuMYM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[abyssal-song]

Trying to get back into drawing. Here's Senka, my Cat School witcher who I played earlier this year on Girls Run These Worlds. Palomino Blackwing pencil on sketch paper. Approx. 1hr.

[cinnamuff]

A star is born! 🌠

This started out as a style test for a future comic (or webnovel?) I'd like to do called Ad Astra (temporary name!), but I continued to render it haha!

I had this idea a couple years back about how Novins were born- they aren't born biologically, but instead they would form in space and float down to planet Etolia's surface as shooting stars!

So in that case they technically don't have parents in a biological sense, but they do have guardians, which often end up being a Novin who caught the star when it landed!

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

The Roles We Play (Ch 7): Occupational Hazards

Summary:

Emperor Emhyr contemplates on the recent events and Sarah ventures to Etolia to negotiate with the smugglers.

TW: blood and gore. Slight NSFW.

Mererid heralded Sarah’s arrival.

“Your Imperial Majesty. Lady Sarah.”

Emhyr waved a hand and the chamberlain gave a low bow before leaving, closing the doors behind him.

Sarah walked the required ten paces and stood in front of his desk and bowed. She was wearing the ensemble sent to her. For added anonymity, she wore a heavy, dark brown cloak with the hood down- for the moment. Emhyr looks up and sees something silver glinting around her neck. Whatever hung below it was hidden beneath her blouse.

Emhyr stood up and took the stack of papers on his desk.

“Documents in triplicate detailing the agreement. It requires their leaders’ signature… and your seal” Emhyr produced a heavy ring bearing the imperial seal used only by Emhyr’s councilors. He handed it to her, carefully avoiding touching her hand.

Sarah noticed the seal’s band is embossed with her name in Elder runes. She removed one glove and wore the ring on her index finger. It fitted perfectly although the ring felt huge on her finger, then puts back the glove. Emhyr handed her the papers and Sarah gave it a quick read, before stuffing it inside the tube bearing Emhyr’s imperial seal.

“I trust you had sufficient time to prepare for this endeavor.”

“Sufficient, sire” she replied to the medal on his chest. There were dark circles under her eyes. He knew she stayed up late prepping for the mission.

Her voice had none of the agitated nervousness that comes with being given their first, major task.It was clipped and confidently professional. Like an imperial advisor should… or a soldier. “Our cause is just and I will return with the signatures you require.”

“Excellent. Franz is waiting for you in the adjacent room. I have added twenty of my personal guards as added precaution. You should not encounter any dangers as the route you’ll be taking is secured from any bandit activity. Use the tools of statecraft at your disposal. I believe you know these, as one verse in the art of politics.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Good. The extra muscle will come in useful to back up any threats you deem necessary to deliver in case the smugglers are uncooperative. Camp supplies are provided as the road has little in the way of retreats or inns. You will be safe and in good hands.”

Sarah pondered on the details and gave another formal bow. “His Imperial Majesty is most kind to provide for my safety.”

Emhyr pursed his lips. He wanted to say more assurances, additional orders. But he’s already come across as babbling. Part of him is holding up her departure. He wanted her to remain, but national interest compels him to send her on this mission. Truly, the empire cannot control his heart.

Instead, he replied just as cold as her.

 “Do not disappoint me, Sarah.”

Sarahs’ lips stretched ever so slightly as she looks up at him. Her smile did not reach her eyes. It reflected longing that was barely held in check by her professionalism. Her hand rose, and for a moment, he though she was going to touch him. Instead, she pressed the hidden pendant on her chest.

“I will not let you down, I promise. Farewell, Your Imperial Majesty.”

(Basilisk pic shot by @eycsnow666 edited by me)

[s0chinky]

Officially Etolia Manjoe, MBA, J.D. 🤍

[laurikarauchscat]

the Goddess

At a pub, ten minutes away from Nilfgaard's Palace gates, a group of sailors are sharing a drink. One of the sailors is employed by a Nilfgaardian noble family, and is telling his friends a story.

He speaks of a stormy night, some months earlier, when his employer had been visited by the Crown Princess at their summer residence on the North Western coast of Etolia.

She had spent the day lounging about with the young lord and lady, sailing out in the morning on a recreational trip up the coast, and was set to return that night.

For whatever reason, the medium sized sailboat on which the three nobles and their retinue had departed, has been delayed upon their return. It was only many hours after the sun had already set, that a watchman from the lighthouse had alerted the Impera on the shore, by this point near apoplectic with rage at the shorebound captains who had refused to brave the night in search parties, that the light of a vessel had been spotted inbound.

There had been, however, one major problem. The vessel had been signalling distress. From the code provided by the aft-light, it had been clear the vessel was taking on water at a pace that would have had it sunk long before it could reach the shore. Even worse, a terrible storm had grown, making it impossible for any vessels to be able to initiate rescue efforts, or, more alarming, for any lifeboats to have been launched from the incoming ship.

A fight had broken out on shore by this point. Ten members of the Impera Brigade were attempting to steal the narrator's skiff. The narrator, despite being a loyal servant of the Empire, had been unwilling to risk the lives of his crew in a rescue attempt that would undoubtedly be futile. Nonetheless, the soldiers had been desperate enough to try forcing a mutiny.

Before things could escalate to a disastrous level, however, the sparring men were interrupted by a newcomer on the key. The Crown Princess herself, still dressed in her sailing frock (now sopping wet), had wandered into the commotion, to gaily inform her men that they were needed further up the coast, to help carry the sailing party's valuables - which, alongside the sailing party itself, had somehow made it ashore in the miserable weather.

"How'd they make it ashore?" One of the listeners asks as he signals for another round.

"Obviously," the narrator says, smacking his lips after having finished his pint, "The Princess controls the seas."

---

Recreation of Miquel Carbonell i Selva's painting "sappho"

[otterintheflightdeck]

Pearls Before Hedgehogs (Emhyr/Mererid, 730 words)

... so. I learned a couple of days ago that Mererid means “pearl” in Welsh. And then this happened.

(For context: A lot of Elder Speech words were taken from Welsh. And “eimyr” means “hedgehog” in the Elder Speech. I think that’s all you need know to enjoy this silly little scene.)

***

The setting sun painted the Emperor's desk with a broad stripe of warm orange light that caught on his jewelled surcoat and lined his hard profile in gold. There was little chance he'd make a request of Mererid before his evening meal, engrossed as he was in the letters he was writing, but Mererid stood unobtrusively in a corner of the office all the same. One could never know.

Sunshine crept slowly across the room. Mererid watched a few dust motes dancing in the air and made a mental note to have the office cleaned overnight.

The Emperor's quill stopped its scratching, and Mererid looked over. He had paused and set the quill down, sitting perfectly straight in his chair as he looked over the letter. There was something tense in the set of his shoulders, though, and he flexed his hand once.

Mererid crossed the room and stood at his shoulder, reaching for the offending hand. "Please allow me, Your Majesty," he said, though it was only a formality—he was already rubbing circles between the Emperor's thumb and forefinger, massaging the cramping muscles there. He'd done this before. He had been terrified the first time, his sense of propriety warring with the sudden, foolish urge to put his hands on the Emperor and take the pain away himself instead of calling for a physician. The Emperor had said nothing, though, and Mererid's head was still attached to the rest of him. So the hand massages had continued.

He had learned a long time ago not to think closely about what he was doing and who he was touching, lest his treacherous body give him away by reddening his face or quickening his breaths. He handled the Emperor's hand as if it were someone else's, his mind a careful blank as he rubbed his thumb up each of the finger bones, then turned it over to massage the palm.

The Emperor's breathing had slowed pleasingly, his ministrations having the intended effect. Mererid leaned into his task. He chanced a glance upwards and saw that the Emperor's shoulders had relaxed, too, his expression pensive as he stared ahead.

After another minute, the Emperor turned his head; Mererid could feel his breath on his ear. Goosebumps prickled the back of his neck, and then the Emperor spoke. "A myriad pearl divers along the shores of fair Etolia," he murmured in the Elder Speech, "yet fortune smiles brightest upon an urcheon in its burrow."

He noticed the perfect meter and rhyme of the short verse first. Then the meaning hit him, and his breath caught in his throat. He was still holding the Emperor's hand—too tightly, now—and he let go as if he'd been burned, his face hot with shame. Wishful thinking, he told himself, turning the words this way and that in his mind in frantic search of another explanation.

The dimming sun fell across the Emperor as he watched him, casting part of his face into deep shadow but setting his amber eyes alight. "Have I mistaken you?" he asked, his expression inscrutable.

So Mererid had been correct. A man of stronger mettle would have been able to compose a witty verse in response, perhaps. Emhyr—he allowed himself the small thrill of thinking of him as Emhyr, even though it made his face grow hotter—had sent his heart racing just by speaking his name with such gentle warmth, and language itself was escaping him. "I, I—" he stammered, then smoothed his trembling hands down the front of his doublet, trying to stand straighter. "No, Your Majesty."

Emhyr gave a short nod. His eyes fell to the letter on his desk, finally sparing Mererid from his steady gaze, and he picked up his quill again. Mererid dared to look at his downturned profile and saw that he was smiling. He stood there, struck dumb, until Emhyr turned his free hand over, his open palm a silent invitation.

He stepped to Emhyr's other side, grateful for the return to their routine and the opportunity to gather himself. "Please allow me, Your Majesty," he said needlessly, the familiar words tumbling from his mouth as if of their own accord. He took a steadying breath, then Emhyr's hand, and started rubbing small circles into the thick muscle of his thumb.

The only response was the scratch of quill against parchment.

[battleofthebae-la]

Etolia Manjoe, 24

My ideal baecation would entail being at all exclusive resort at Maldives. The underwater villa, to be exact. With massages, clear kayaking, touring, subadiving, snorkeling on the travel itinerary. Good food and drinks too!

[witcherrarepaircommentexchange]

Ship:

Dettlaff van der Eretein/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

Fic:

The Painted Year by SebDoesWords

Regis nodded. He was no great artist, though he did enjoy a bit of sketching sometimes, preferably botanical in nature, but he could understand the sentiment of need. The need to do something, say something, have something. Need was what had driven him most of his life.

After his blood brother's life was spared at Tesham Mutna, Regis sets out to find him. His journey takes him all the way to Etolia, near Nilfgaard. There, the two settle down at an abandoned farm, where Regis hopes Dettlaff may heal. Eventually, he does, and it all begins with paint.

[acabcor]

Perdón por la demora, tuve muchísimos problemas, pero finalmente aquí está el capítulo de esta semana

[armatofu]

En el 280 a.C. el mundo griego y Roma entraron en contacto por primera vez debido a la intervención de Pirro de Epiro en el sur de Italia a favor de Tarento. Esa vez fueron los griegos quienes intentaban expandir su influencia.

Roma hubo de esperar dos largas y duras guerras contra Cartago para poder voltear su mirada a Grecia. En el 215 a.C., cuando Aníbal estaba llevando la guerra en Italia y tenía a Roma sometida a grandes apuros, Filipo V de Macedonia hizo una alianza con él, e intentó apoderarse de Iliria para desde ahí invadir Italia.

Ahí comenzó la Primera Guerra Macedónica, que culminó en el 205 a.C. con la firma de una paz que dejó el estatu quo anterior a la guerra. En ese conflicto las tropas romanas y macedonias no se enfrentaron, ya que los romanos estaban ocupados contra los cartagineses y dejaron la acción distractora a la Liga Etolia en Grecia.

Filipo V de Macedonia continuó llevando una agresiva política exterior en el Mediterráneo, lo que llevó a Rodas y Pergamo a pedir ayuda a Roma. La ciudad, ya convertida en la potencia dominante del Mediterráneo occidental, aceptó y la Segunda Guerra Macedónica comenzó en el 200 a.C.

Tras tres años de guerra y escaramuzas menores, los macedonios fueron derrotados en la batalla de Cinocéfalos y Filipo V solicitó la paz, por la que se vio obligado a retirarse de Grecia. Acababa de esa manera el dominio macedonio en el territorio heleno.

Filipo V murió en el 179 a.C. con la idea de echar a los romanos de Grecia a través de una acción militar. Su hijo Perseo no estuvo a la altura de las circunstancias y comenzó a llevar a cabo acciones diplomáticas, mediante alianzas, para perjudicar los intereses romanos.

Roma, enterada, declaró la Tercera Guerra Macedónica en el 171 a.C. El conflicto se caracterizó por la actitud defensiva de Perseo y la flojedad de las acciones ofensivas romanas. En el 168 a.C., tras tres años de guerra, Perseo fue derrotado y capturado en Pidna.

Como consecuencia, Macedonia dejaba de existir y su territorio fue dividido en cuatro repúblicas clientes de Roma. Sus relaciones diplomáticas y económicas con otros estados fueron suprimidas. Las siguientes dos décadas las tierras macedonias sufrieron de un empobrecimiento hasta que en el 150 a.C. un hombre llamado Andrisco se hizo pasar por hijo de Perseo y encabezó un levantamiento general. En el 148 a.C. fue derrotado en otra batalla en Pidna y la rebelión acabó.

Como resultado, Macedonia fue convertida en una provincia romana y quedaría sin independencia, dominada por otros imperios en el transcurrir de los años, hasta el siglo XX.

[whencyclopedes]

Liga Etolia

La Liga Etolia fue una antigua alianza griega de las tribus que vivían al oeste de Atenas y al norte del Peloponeso. La liga probablemente se estableció por primera vez a principios del siglo IV a.C., alcanzó su punto máximo durante el período helenístico y sobrevivió hasta que Roma anexó la región al final de la Cuarta Guerra de Macedonia.

Leer más...

[cinnamuff]

Exta the Astra Warrior, and the first one too! They fight with their fists and even beat up an evil cloud with them, some 13 billion years ago in the past on Etolia!

[coolladydot]

Ziua bună se cunoaște după cafeaua de dimineață.

Ziua bună se cunoaște după cafeaua de dimineață.

Nu am să pretind că sunt o persoană ahtiată după cafea. Aș minți. Dar, am să vă mărturisesc că savurarea unei cești cu această licoare dătătoare de energie este plăcerea mea vinovată. E o cochetărie și, chiar mai mult de atât. Nu consum mai mult de o cană pe zi, dar atunci când îmi savurez cafeaua este unul dintre cele mai intense momente ale zilei. Am făcut din asta un ritual pentru sănătatea și…

[s0chinky]

49, 53, 71

(49) She dislikes that you can never truly know what person intent is. But she likes how unified people can become to support a mutual cause or ensure a wrong is made right. 

(53) Etolia grew up wanting to be a dancer (choreographer) for the most part, but as she grew older, she developed a passion for studying legal practices and decided to follow in the same footsteps of her late mother. 

(71) Emotionally stable for the most part, but she can be temperamental or emotional at times. Depends on the day and the situation. 

[lydiaalin]

I lost all motivation for this but I spent too much time on it not to post it so 🤧