#perhaps Sargon

[thessidy]

You don't get it, do you? You're flesh. It's a beautiful thing. You think you're like me, some incorporeal whisp who can only observe and ponder and occasionally haunt, occasionally make my voice heard. But you, you can still do so much more. I beg you, take advantage while you can: hug. Taste. Feel the warmth of your beloved, of the thawing sun, feel the cold when you reluctantly leave your blankets. You are not a mere observer; you can act and interact and make others react, you can do good or ill. What a privilege to be embodied!

[cerastes]

Specter: "Have you seen Swordfish? I had some questions regarding the roster for the deployment tomorrow, best to get those inquiries done and settled before showtime, and all that."

Skadi: "I think I saw her with doctor Kal'tsit, they were going towards the dormitories together... Probably her room."

Specter: "Oh, wonderful, then I get to ask the two head honchos about it instead of just the left side of the brain, should make matters more simple."

Skadi: "Hey, now, wait a second, Laurentina. I said to slow down. Surely you don't mean to interrupt them?"

Specter: "Interrupt what? A strategic meeting? I dare think I have a voice in such sundry matters as much as anyone who is ordered to take cannonfire to the face in her duties on a nigh daily basis. The value I can add to any given conversation is not to be understated, my little Orca."

Skadi: "I'd consider that a complaint, where it to come from the mouth of anyone except you, Shark. But seriously, think about it a little... The two of them, alone, not in any of the meeting rooms or the offices, but rather in the dormitories. You can add those twos together with ease."

Specter: "Surely you jest, Orca? Are you suggesting that I could be so uncouth as to intentionally, naively, brazenly sling open the doors to the realm of intimacy between two entangled, probably very sweaty souls? Non-sense! I so confidently stride because I know that's not even a possibility!"

Skadi: "Elaborate. And seriously, slow down."

Specter: "Those two old wells haven't seen a trickle of moisture in years, I'd reckon. They are all-business, no non-sense, well oiled chaste tactical machines! Young, dumb and full of cum? Try old, cold, and full of mold! And I love them so, but let us be real for a microsecond, my little Orca, can you truly picture Swordfish and Miss Kal'tsit doing the Sargon Speedbump? Or the Laterano Excommunication? Perro Style? Get real, dearest, they are more likely to be playing checkers than they are to be making Bolivar Pancakes in there. And she's absolutely in there, reeks of that seawater with a tinge of warmth so characteristic of her behind this door."

Skadi: "First of all, never say any of those words ever again, but you're right, it smells like the Captain in there. There, past that door, with a plaque that very clearly reads 'Kal'tsit'. Let's, perhaps, mind our own business and just field your questions tomorrow early."

Specter: "You truly are insistent on these fantasies of yours, Skadi! It's so cute and endearing how you think that could even be possible! Ahem... Pardon, Swordfish, Miss Kal'tsit, I've got some inquiries regarding tomorrow's sortie that I was hoping to--"

*Specter opens the door and has a full frontal VIP seat peep at Gladiia running her hands deep inside of Kal'tsit's dress, half-lidded red eyes staring back at the intruding shark, straddling the doctor with her lithe yet strong frame, a cougar that's not yet had enough of its meal. The silence is filled only by greedy little gasps seeking to oxygenate two hearts that have very clearly not have had enough of each other just yet, an almost primal hunger in the two pairs of eyes that glared guillotines at the interloper, deafeningly silent yet clearly inquisitive as the trails of saliva that connected their lips lost its tension and threatened to snap*

Specter:

Skadi: "Hm. So, I tried to warn her, but--"

Specter: "Orca, look! Isn't it gallant, isn't it inspiring? Swordfish is hard at work, making a younger sibling for me! Oh, how splendid!"

Skadi: "LAURENTINA!"

Specter: "Oh, how simply joyous! Observe! Swordfish fully intends to cultivate that moist, fertile delta, and from it shall life spring! Orca, we'll care for a brave new Hunter soon, we must be on our best behavior and be good influ--"

Skadi: "With your pardon!"

*Skadi secures the interloping shark with a deft armlock and beats a hasty yet perfectly gallant retreat, closing the door behind her in such a hurry that the entirety of the landship shook. Many a Messenger on-board would remember this as the Localized Earthquake of 1099, which would go on to prompt emergency preparations for a sudden Catastrophe overnight, but that is a story for another time. Back in the dormitory room, as the younger Hunters exfiltrated themselves from the battlefield that was that room, after a cautionary yet eternal few minutes of silence and stillness, just in case that door decided to open again, the senior Hunter dismounted the doctor.*

Kal'tsit: "...Well? So what was that about?"

Gladiia: "My sincere apologies, Dame Kal'tsit, and you have my gratitude for having gone along with my drastic, sudden strategy."

Kal'tsit: "Don't worry about it. So?"

*Gladiia nods and, from a little corner behind Kal'tsit's bedside cupboard, carefully drags out a small table with a checkers board on it. The game is clearly quite progressed, with one side having a clear advantage.*

Gladiia: "I did not want Shark to see me, as some land-dwellers would put it, 'getting bodied' so badly in this showdown of ours."

Kal'tsit: "Because she would never let you hear the end of it?"

Gladiia: "Not for a couple of lifetimes, no."

Kal'tsit: "You have my sympathy and understanding, don't worry about it. Now..."

Gladiia: "...Yes. It's about time I reverse my fortune. Ready yourself, Dame Kal'tsit."

*Kal'tsit then proceeded to win the next game, as she did the previous seven, and they played lots more checkers afterwards*

[five-rivers]

The next part of my pollfic! You guys got me with a tie last time. I tried my best!

Previous.

(Edited to actually put the poll in, sorry about that.)

.

For a moment, Danny was paralyzed by indecision.  Who should he go to?  Who should he help?  But then he remembered that this wasn’t a combat situation.  He could help both, one at a time.  

There were, perhaps, some negative side effects from spending his formative years as a ghost as a superhero and satisfying his Obsession through combat.  It was very unfortunate.  Useful in combat!  Less so at other times.  

But he should ask the large man first, or else by the time he finished translating for the attendant he might be done.  He inched closer, hovering so he could actually see what the man had spread out on his table.  

His heart sank when he saw clay tablets and papyrus scrolls covered with the tiny, black squiggles of Coptic.  

Danny knew a fair amount of Akkadian cuneiform.  While Pandora tended to focus on the immediately and practically applicable when it came to language lessons, Clockwork had a more chronological method.  As in, he seemed intent on teaching Danny languages in the order of when they were first written down, except for when a certain language was necessary for one of the time field trips he sometimes sent Danny on.  

(He had not, perhaps, revealed the extent of those trips to his parents.  A story for another time.)

Coptic was, sadly, not among those.  

Still.  He was a bit more concerned about the expressions of abject suffering the man was making.  

“Um, excuse me?  Sir?  Are you alright?” asked Danny.  He bobbed in the air, near the man’s shoulder.  “Do you need help?”

The man looked up in clear surprise, eyes flicking over Danny from head to toe.  Not that there was a whole lot of Danny to look over right now.  “Ah,” he said, “I am afraid I have reached beyond my grasp, but unless you have the Coptic and the language of Blessed Sargon both, it is not to be.”

“I know some Akkadian.  I could translate it into English and then you can put it into Coptic?” suggested Danny. 

“Alas, I am going the other way,” said the man, pulling slightly on his curly beard.  “The Coptic, into mine own language, yes?”

“Oh,” said Danny, deflating further.  “Okay.  Sorry.  You just looked, um…”

“Wait,” said Dad.  “He’s from ancient Sumeria?  Ask him what that was like!  He’s got to know so much stuff!”

Danny was not going to ask him that.  That would be rude, considering how hard he was working, and edged just a little too close to asking a stranger about their death for Danny’s peace of mind.  

“That is very dear of you, to come see,” said the large man.  “Perhaps after this, our paths cross again, hm?”

“Maybe,” said Danny.  “Sorry for interrupting you.”

The man waved him off, already refocusing on his tablets.  Danny gathered up his things and hurried to the attendant’s desk only to discover that she had been watching him.  But for how long?

“Hi!” he said, a little nervous from the pressing need of his Obsession.  “I finished this translation, and I was wondering if I could help you out with the others you mentioned?  Or other Elysian ones?”

The attendant stared at him for a long moment, and Danny got the distinct and vaguely embarrassing sense that his Obsession had been correctly clocked.  

Then her face scrunched up into the expression people made when they had seen something indescribably cute.  Ugh.  

“Oh my goodness,” she said, “that’s so lovely and sweet of you to offer!  Like I said, we have a pretty big backlog, so any help you can give us there is greatly appreciated.  But… if you don’t mind doing something that isn’t strictly translation, there’s something else you can help us with that needs Elysian Greek.  Among other things.”“Er, Danno,” said Dad, “why are we doing this?  I thought you just wanted to give us a look around the library?”

[barbariankingdom]

Bronze Head of a King, perhaps Sargon of Akkad, from Nineveh (now in Iraq), Akkadian period, 2300 BC; in Iraq Museum, Baghdad.

[foxdrabbles]

Perhaps a hypothetical "First time Skadi and Adreana encounter each other" thing?

Andreana sprinted down the Sargon alleyway, cursing to herself. Reunion had broken through the first line, her nest had been flushed out, and now she was totally lost. Base camp had to have been somewhere around here, right?

She turned a corner and found herself face to face with a Reunion grunt, wielding an axe longer than she was tall. Well, shit.

Before either of them could react, his head turned into a fine red mist. He slumped slowly to the ground, and the most beautiful woman Andreana had ever seen stepped over his corpse, long gray hair flowing like an ocean wave. She stared at her, wiping blood off her sword, before gesturing behind her.

"Base camp two blocks that way. Anyone pursuing you?"

"I... no, n - not that I saw." Andreana stammered. God, her biceps looked like they were carved out of pure marble.

The woman nodded. "Go." She brushed past, sweeping down the alley Andreana had just exited, as if she hadn't just saved her life and absolutely flustered her beyond words.

[sag-dab-sar]

Enheduana Was A Strategic Priestess

She wasn’t just a priestess who became famous for her beautiful literature. She wasn't a woman of low birth who dedicated herself to Inana solely out of love. Or any other romanticized story. She was, in the beginning, a strategic royal tool of conquest.

I'm writing this because I came across "Inanna: Lady of Largest Heart" by Betty DeSheong Meador. She is a Jungian analyst, she says she studied under an Assyriologist (I have a bone to pick with Jungian analysts but whatever) I noticed this on page 7:

...she was now elevated to the supreme position in the Sumerian pantheon. There is no way to know why Enheduanna made the painstaking effort to elevate Inanna above all the great gods. Perhaps it was simply an act of dedication to her goddess.

There is evidence. It wasn’t just an act of dedication.

🔹Why Inanna Was Elevated🔹

Ištar was the tutelary Goddess of Sargon of Akkad [1] [2]

From a legend of him:

Akki, the irrigator, as his gardener appointed me. When I was a gardener the goddess Ishtar loved me [3]

Sargon conquered many Sumerian cities. He instilled his daughter Enheduana as priestess of Nanna and Inana at Ur— one of the most powerful Sumerian cities [4].

Why? To use religion to legitimize his reign [5]. Sargon respected Sumerian culture [6] so it makes sense to try and legitimize his reign via appeasing the Sumerians themselves— using religion was an extremely common tactic for conquerors [5]. The Gods were the ones who appointed Kings and punished them when they did wrong.

Nanna was the tutelary God of Ur [7]. Making her a priestess of the most important God put her in a position of power to elevate Inana and equate her with Ištar [8] a good political move.

This is where the false idea that "Inana is a moon Goddess" comes from; people seem to cut out the Moon God Nanna when telling her story. Enheduana was priestess of both of them— and held the role of Ningal, Nanna's wife, in some ritual settings.

After being exiled from Ur and receiving no help from Nanna, she turns towards his daughter, Inana, to seek help. And raises her even further above the Gods in the hopes of gaining her favor and assistance; it was a personal cry for help by Enheduana while she is in exile. [11]

I’m not trying to say she did not love Inana and it was just a royal duty or some sort of bribe, I am stating her actual origin and reason for being a priestess.

She is described in the Disc of Enheduanna

Enheduana, priestess of Nanna, spouse of Nanna, daughter of Sargon, the king of the world, built an altar in the temple of Inana-Zaza at Ur and named it Altar, the Table of Heaven” [9.1]

[Right: Original Disc [9.1] | Left: restored version at Penn Museum [10] ]

🔹Inana's Importance🔹

No doubt Sumerian Inana and Akkadian Ištar was one of the most important Goddess throughout Mesopotamia and eventually neighboring regions. Many local Goddess were identified with her at various dates (even if originally separate).

But was Inana actually placed above all other Gods?

Yes, in two literary compositions (as of right now). The Exhaltion of Inana & Inana C. Two literary compositions do not equated to the 3000+ year history of Mesopotamian religion and I wish more people who wrote on this topic acknowledged that.

To be the "Queen of all the me" was to hold the cosmos in one's palm. Crucially, this was not a universally accepted view of Inana. Though she was of course a celebrated goddess in Sumerian culture, she was generally considered inferior to the main male deities of the pantheon: Enlil, An, and Ea. The Exaltation sets out to change this by making Inana supreme among gods, and this aim is emphatically announced in the first three words of the text. [11 page XIX]

It is often stressed that the plethora of myths & hymns from cultures with more literature available (and popularity) such as Greece & Rome do not always reflect the totality of their ancient beliefs—it is the exact same situation when it comes to Inana.

🔹Better Source for Enheduana🔹

If you want to read these same hymns in a way that is presented for a modern audience I suggest the version done by the Assyriologist Sophus Helle, who has a passion for Edheduana, in his book "Enheduana: The Complete Poems of the World's First Author"

Google Books — LINK

Companion website to the book - LINK

Enheduana on his personal website — LINK

Helle actually has Maedor's work listed in the bibliography of the companion website (albeit I read the entire website and can't find where it is used) [9.2], but translations coming from an actual Assyriologist are a better option for those who want to know Inana.

On each of the companion pages—The Exaltation, The Hymn, and The Temple Hymns—he mentions other translations of the literary compositions that are also reliable but he never suggests Meador's translations. Additionally, his book is 2023, hers is 2000, so his will have much more updated information about Enheduana & Inana, and he mentions that more updated info will naturally continue to come forward.

You can also explore them in a very literal translation on the ETCSL.

ETCSL Inana Hymns— LINK

Exaltation of Inana / Inana B — LINK

The Hymn / Inana C — LINK

🔹Sources🔹

[1] The Two Steles of Sargon: Iconology and Visual Propaganda at the Beginning of Royal Akkadian Relief by Lorenzo Nigro in Iraq Vol. 60 https://www.jstor.org/stable/4200454?seq=1

[2] A Tribute to King Sargon of Akkad by Agulyas from Mott Community College Historical Faculty https://history.mcc.edu/wordpress/history/2014/04/04/a-tribute-to-king-sargon-of-akkad/

[3] Ancient History Source Book: The Legend of Sargon of Akkadê, c. 2300 BCE from Fordham University https://sourcebooks.fordham.edu/ancient/2300sargon1.asp

[4] 095. Tell Maqayyar (ancient: Ur) from Colorado State University https://www.cemml.colostate.edu/cultural/09476/iraq05-095.html

[5] Sargon of Akkad: rebel and usurper in Kish by Marlies Heinz http://faculty.uml.edu/ethan_spanier/Teaching/documents/CP2.0HeinzSargonofAkkad.pdf

[6] Handbook to Life in Ancient Mesopotamia by Stephen Bertman.

[7] Nanna/Suen by Adam Stone at Oracc and UK Higer Education Academy http://oracc.museum.upenn.edu/amgg/listofdeities/nannasuen/

[8] A Dictionary of Ancient Near Eastern Mythology by Gwendolyn Leick

[9] Enheduana . org "Authorship" https://enheduana.org/authorship/

[9.1] "Disc of Enheduana" https://enheduana.org/disk-of-enheduana/

[9.2] "Bibliography" https://enheduana.org/bibliography/

[10] Penn Museum https://www.penn.museum/collections/object_images.php?irn=293415

[11] Enheduana: The Complete Poems of the World's First Author by Sophus Helle

I have a working draft on the Inana's importance section, that I removed from this post because it was getting too long and off topic. Will I finish it? Literally have no idea.

Originally written February 9th, 2020, complete overhaul in 2024 due to access to Helle's commentary and resources. And wanting to be more concise. So I don't think this counts as a repost 😬.

[rex101111]

gladiia and kal'tsit, fondness

Gladiia was not used to her limbs aching. Not like this.

Pain? That was an old friend, she knew every pain imaginable, she had long since grown numb to them all. All the blood she had shed, all the people she had lost, the Captain would not bow her head to simple pain.

No, what she felt now, early in the morning, her limbs dully thumping and tangled up in a warm blanket, was new. Or perhaps it wasn't, and it was simply so long since she had last felt like this that she was learning it anew all over again.

Pressed to her side, still and calm for the first time in what must have been eons, was Chief Medical Director Doctor Kal'tsit. Compared to her, the Captain often felt like a child strutting around in clothes too big for her. And yet she had been the one to convince Kal'tsit to put aside her myriad responsibilities for a night, to focus on something much more...simple.

This was not the first time she had managed such a hard won victory. To claim any victory at all over such a fine woman was an achievement worthy of any war campaign.

It was early in the morning, early enough that even they, who needed to wake before everyone else, had a moment to soak in warmth.

Kal'tsit face was not without lines of stress, she had a history too vast and a life too involved for that, but for once Gladiia could see more of her, more of what must have captivated the King Of Sarkaz, the Old Rulers Of Sargon, and countless more before her.

She would need to wake her soon, if the doctor did not wake herself on instinct, but for now she will allow herself this tiny indulgence.

She didn't bother to hid the fond smile on her face when eyes of brilliant emerald lazily opened to meet hers.

Kal'tsit did not smile back, she never does, but something in her silent gaze made the bottom of Gladiia's worn heart grow warm.

(They don't keep it a secret, not really, but their reputations means only the mad and foolish dare ask at all.

Gladiia is happy to know that, even as old as she is and feels, she can keep a secret this juvinile, just for herself.)

[exoticalmonde]

LUNDInium Outskirts /but it's her insane doodles/ PART IV

Me: *Casually watching my operators work on ZT-7 farming* Me: *Looks away for a second* Lessing: "Du kannst rennen, aber ich werde weiter jagen." Me:

I forgot I set all the Leithanien characters to German the day before...

--- Me: *In the base* Poz: "Doctor, if you insist on spending time together, how about we talk about your favourite books?" Me: *Pushes everything off my desk to clear space* "You just need to ask!"

--- There is no doodle for this one, but since it's HorseUncleTM merch, I wanted to show it off because the last part didn't actually feature what I was shown and how insane it looks knowing she has her entire desk COVERED with them.

---

How is RI-13 not broke yet living in holes, who knows...? Perhaps the rumours are correct and Dr. Lundi really dealing secretly with firearms on the black market of Sargon. ---

The event of Dr. Lundi half-crying on the bus back home because she couldn't stream to us BUYING the SKIN will be a core memory created based on eternal friendship. I will never be happier to wake up than I am when I see an 'Eve, can I be soggy again?' before being bombarded with Mlynar details and ramblings regardless of what I say.

There's a lot to unpack but I can't possibly ever talk about Mlynar the same way Lundi does in VC. She pulls up receipts proof of her words as well every time she mentions something.

--- We also have a new Pinkie sticker! Wahoo team!!!

Based on this --- Based on this post about our Arknights Yumeship's kid being bullied, I had a little spiral and was just thinking about different scenarios. Out of all the answers given, Kryo's is most direct and... very in character towards his sarkaz/draco child.

Lundi's also leaning towards physical aggression, instant retaliation for their little baba horse.

And then I just... imploded... (This was on the basis of the parents trying to justify their child's behaviour)

While Pinkie is not too interested on the aspect of children we've been trying to involve them more in the Yumeship questions just because their relationship with Swire/Chen is SO wholesome but they're shy to actually indulge. It's alright, we will always be there for the sugarbaby ultramind that is our friend.

You can see this conversation was very important to me.

Which is why this ART IS SO CUTE IM CRYING I LOVE THEM

---

Vigorously searched for the video, but basically, me and the Team were watching Unusual Memes from this one channel and one of them was of a guy who walked up to his neighbour/friend's home camera and said 'Well, you DON'T get to decide when to party, I want you around now.' And well... if that isn't Lundi pulling Dr. Eve out of bed during some of her emotional episodes.

In reference to this, Dr. Pinkie was upset Lundi wasn't just breaking down my door because she usually does that without asking. So some edits were applied and a part 2 has been added:

We all loved everything about this. Thank you Pinkie for always being some of the best designers and always editing things in the funniest way possible.

Me: "It looks like I'm getting kidnapped." Lundi: "Child napper."

... ... ... I JUST NOTICED THIS GIF WAS CREATED??!?!?!?!?!?!?

I'M GETTING TURNED INTO SOURDOUGH HELP ME --- Pinkie stealing Dr. Lundi's food.

--- God forbid I ever sneeze in call

--- And as some of the final doodles there's for this part, allow me a little TW about bugs because I am absolutely terrified of this thing and I am afraid that its arms are longer than mine so I can't even come into reach to kill it.

It's not my fault people make shelves so high up.

[kyndaris]

Ascending Mount Qaf

Prince of Persia is a franchise I have faithfully followed since childhood. While I was predominantly occupied by Kingdom Hearts and enjoyed many of Sony's mascot games including Jak and Daxter, Ratchet and Clank, and Sly Cooper, there was something about Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time that immediately captured my interest. Although I didn't begin playing it from the start, as soon as I got Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones on my PlayStation Portable, I was sucked in. Especially given how athletic the Prince was as he darted in and around against his foes, absorbing the sand from his enemies and having access to time powers. These concepts blew little Kyndaris's mind. And if Blinx had ever come to PlayStation, I would have gobbled up those games just as readily with all the others.

Since The Two Thrones, titles for the Prince of Persia has been few and far between, with only a reboot game and then the Forgotten Sands entry. After all, when Assassin's Creed and Far Cry can make Ubisoft buttloads of money, there's no need to introduce a competitor to your primary money-making machine.

All that changed with the shock announcement of the Sands of Time remake. Unfortunately, the title has been delayed. Perhaps indefinitely. To ameliorate the discontent of gamer's everywhere, we were bequeathed Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown instead.

This game, unlike the 3D titles that captured the hearts and minds of many, is a metroidvania-style game where you are thrust into the shoes of Sargon, a member of the Immortals. After the prince is kidnapped, Sargon and the Immortals set out to rescue him on the mythical Mount Qaf and find themselves trapped in a place where time no longer flows as it once did.

Along the way, Sargon unlocks special abilities by collecting Simurgh feathers and faces off against alternate versions of himself. About a third of the way through the game, Sargon catches up to Anahita and the Prince, only for the leader of the Immortals, Vahram, to murder the prince and throws Sargon from a cliff. After surviving the fall, Sargon seeks a way to go back in time to stop Vahram.

Although Sargon is successful, he loses Anahita in the process. As he battles against Vahram, he learned the leader of the Immortals is the long lost son of King Darius, the previous king of Persia who was assassinated by Thomyris. Despite this slight, Vahram does not seek the throne. Rather, he hopes to ascend to godhood and remake the world in his vision.

The rest of the game sees Sargon seek to stop the mad Vahram. It all culminates in a battle atop Mount Qaf, harkening a little to almost every single Japanese role-playing game where the last boss is always a God, or someone who tries to claim such powers. By game's end, I did wonder if I had somehow stumbled into a Tales of or Final Fantasy title.

Of course, Vahram's redesign as Time and Space (a terrible name for a God. Perhaps try Bhunivelze? ? Maybe throw in a full Latin choir to chat throughout the entirety of the boss battle just for kicks) was a little lacklustre in my opinion.

Perhaps it's how often I've seen such stories play out that I was hoping for a little more spectacle.

That's not to mention all the plot holes scattered throughout the game, like how did young Vahram initially escape Mount Qaf in the first place to found the Immortals. If he was trapped on Mount Qaf (and players do see versions of him throughout the main story - with Sargon even helping him), why is there another version of him who is too far gone? And where did the alternate Sargons come from? When I first stumbled upon them, I was a little confused as to how they came into being. Perhaps if there had been more exposition on these phenomena, it would have made more sense.

Then there is the fact that Sargon went back in time to save Prince Ghassan. However, Menolias and Orod are apparently still dead.

Not to mention the prophecy of Mount Qaf which alludes to three Princes rather than two. And the way Thomyris allows her son, Prince Ghassan, to walk away from the throne but was more distressed when Sargon, too, left after the revelation she had usurped the throne from King Darius.

These aside, my main gripe with The Lost Crown is the tight timing when it came to parrying attacks and the punishing extra damage. Throughout most of the game, I relied more on dodging instead of relying on parries although the game does encourage such use through the amulets Sargon can equip for use.

Maybe it was simply a matter of me learning enemy patterns but I simply did not have the patience, given how risky it was.

Notably, as well, was the platforming. True, I should probably try and start to 'get good' but it's frustrating when Sargon has so many abilities and one needs to keep all of them in mind as he jumps and backflips his way through, while also crisscrossing into the unseen world to navigate his way through the Citadel. Especially given where these abilities are mapped to.

Like, I know what I'm supposed to do, but my over 30 reflexes no longer work as intended. That, or I mispress something and do something that ruins my entire run although I was just a platform away from being on safe ground.

Very frustrating.

Nobody wants to waste forty minutes trying to desperately get a King Xerxes coin. Still, it's a learning experience. And every failure is a step forward...

...is what I would say if it wasn't so rage-inducing.

This is exactly why I don't play Soulsborne games for fear that I'll always be so close to victory but have it snatched from me in the last moment.

And I simply don't have the time to keep retrying and retrying.

Well, maybe I do, but the perfectionist in me would have me throwing myself at the problem until the wee hours of the morning if I can't get it, and it still wouldn't be satisfied even if I did pull it off. There is no dopamine rush. Only stress and adrenaline that leaves me shaking.

Anyways, I can still see why gamers would still enjoy The Lost Crown. And it is a great game that has been fine-tuned for those with the skills necessary to take out all the challenges the developers have concocted. While it did prove a little frustrating to me in the later stages, the game does also include accessibility options for the main path that didn't detract from the game. In the end, it allowed me to see the end of the game and play it as I liked. Without knowing where the next Prince of Persia entry will land, The Lost Crown is still a worthy game to keep gamers busy.

More importantly, it's not another open-world entry with towers to synchronise with.

Goodness, the fatigue is real and is one of the main reasons I skipped out on Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora. That and I never did fall in love with James Cameron's alien world.

[quotes-from-the-bookery]

Without the staff and the bound spirits within, Sargon could not tear open the earth. Only… Are you seeking change, or just to add a rung below you on the ladder? Nothing words from a child reeking of angels, he had been ready to dismiss, but then Sargon had looked in the White Knight’s eyes and seen faith.

It had burned then and it burned now.

“So I wonder,” Sargon murmured, “have I made the mistakes of my mother, of the Isaru?”

Had he thought himself the master of his Greed, only for it to poison him unseen? It had all begun in that moment, he often thought, when the Spirit of Fire burst through the ground. And oh, how Sargon had wanted it.

“How many of you did I take?” he said. “Dozens. I called you and bound you, hung you from my staff like ornaments.”

And now that he no longer had the strength, now that he thought of those clear eyes and burned with shame, Sargon wondered if he’d ever mastered anything at all. He breathed out and his Words unfurled, resonating with Creation, and he felt the call to the Deeps being heard. As a child, Sargon Isaru had seen the face of Greed.

Perhaps he had been a child still all these years, to be facing it only now.

“Please,” the Herald of the Deeps said. “I cannot bind you, cannot master you.”

His fist clenched. And he never would again. He would not keep making rungs below his own.

“I can only ask,” Sargon whispered. “So please – help us.”

His words sunk into the Deepest Sea, below the burning waves, leaving only ripples. Sargon waited, watching and hoping. The depths remained dark.

And then they shook.

Like an anthill kicked, the dead began to swarm. The ground below them cracked, split, the earthquake shattering the stone. And light came, of light came when magma erupted in a fountain. Dead burst into flame, ran, as the Spirit of Fire roared its wrath. A small one, young, and still Sargon felt his throat tighten with shame and joy. It had come. He had not deserved it, but it had come. His Words rang again, and the Spirit of Fire sang back.

“Yes,” Sargon said with a smile. “Together. Let us teach them who the deeps bel-”

The depths shook again. He froze. And again, and again, and again, until the darkness below Keter burned red as the ancient scream of Spirits of Fire shattered stone. Small and large, old and young, they had come. Not one but dozens. And as magma swallowed hundreds of dead, as the air filled with twisting heat, the burning waves shivered. Something was swimming below. An old one, the leviathans of the Deepest Sea. And when it burst free, turning stone into flowing rivers, Sargon stilled. For he had seen it before, this Spirit of Fire. Long ago, when he took the first step down a road.

“Beginning,” the Herald of the Deeps softly said, “to the end. Were you with me all along?”

A song, a harmony more beautiful than anything he had ever heard. And when Sargon Isaru looked at the ancient spirit, he saw beauty again – but nothing more. The Greed was gone, and the Herald wept. The Spirit sang, comforting, and he laughed through his tears.

“No,” Sargon told it. “They are good tears.”

We can learn, he thought. We can do better.

“Then let us,” the Herald of the Deeps smiled, and his Burden unfurled like a flower under the sun.

His hands rose and the Deepest Sea rose with them, devouring armies whole.

[salmontooth]

@gryffintheparrotcat brought to my attention that Menolias manages to kill Sargon in an alternate timeline, so I knew what I had to do

Read more for a little drabble I wrote!

SPOILERS FOR POP: THE LOST CROWN, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

Menolias knew he should’ve missed. Sargon was light and quick on his feet, making him nigh impossible to hit. But, somehow, the arrow Menolias had fired from the air had found its mark. Perhaps it was the mountain that made the Rashabar slow and sluggish with exhaustion, or Menolias needed to have more faith in his archery skills. No matter the cause, the effect of his actions played out in front of the Immortal.

            Menolias watched in a disbelieving haze as the arrow head buried itself into Sargon’s torso, causing the traitor to curl in on himself in a muffled cry of pain. Menolias quickly snapped back into a combat mindset and notched another arrow as he fell back to the earth. He fired. And then he fired again. And again. And again. All of the arrows found their target, hitting Sargon in the back, shoulder, leg, and chest, causing the young man to fall to one knee. These shots would’ve killed an average man, but Sargon had athra flowing in his blood, and he still stood. However, athra was only useful if the blood was still inside the person, and not spilling out onto the ground.

Sargon, with wavering steps and harsh breath, charged with a furious yell as soon as the archer landed, clearing running off adrenaline, and in an auto-mode mindset. But the arrows slowed him down and the injuries he suffered hindered his footing. It was almost too easy for Menolias to roundhouse Sargon, his foot slamming into Sargon’s jaw and sending the Rashabar flying away from him.

Sargon hit the ground with a sharp cry, the momentum of Menolias’s kick causing him to slide across the cobblestone before coming to a jarring halt. The Rashabar didn’t get back up. But he was alive; Menolias could see (and hear) his wheezing breaths, his sides and chest heaving as he struggled to intake enough air. Menolias crept closer, but he holstered his bow. He knew Sargon was in no condition to continue fighting him. Menolias doubted Sargon would be able to get up even if he wanted to.

As Menolias loomed over Sargon, he felt a twinge in his chest. Despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the hurt, Menolias had a fondness for Sargon. Sure, the kid was cocky and arrogant at times, but he had a certain charm he brought to the Immortals. This man (still a child when he joined their group) had changed Menolias’s life, and the older Immortal couldn’t truly imagine a life where Sargon wasn’t in it. But here they were, with Sargon bleeding out at Menolias’s feet. His breaths were beginning to whistle in his dry throat, and his wheezing had quieted down to light gasps.

Menolias planted a sturdy boot on Sargon’s shoulder, and the traitor winced from beneath him, a small pained noise slipping out from his clenched teeth. He had his eyes screwed shut, his brow furrowed in agony as the arrows bit into his flesh.

He coughed harshly, blood starting to seep from the corner of his lips. From his experience in battle, Menolias knew one of the arrows must’ve hit a lung, or at least nicked it. It was the most pathetic Menolias had ever seen Sargon. He didn’t look this pitiful even after his fight with Vahram all those years ago.

So, they stayed there in the falling twilight, Menolias keeping his foot on Sargon’s shoulder in an attempt to keep him down. But it was all for show; Sargon wasn’t getting back up. He couldn’t. Menolias actually didn’t know why he had planted his foot down; maybe out of habit with enemy soldiers? Or maybe this was the only comfort he could give as the young man slowly slipped away from the land of the living. Silence blanketed the two, besides for crickets beginning to stir and Sargon’s wheezes starting to fade.

Menolias wanted to scream in that stillness. He wanted Sargon to say something- anything! Why did he kill Ghassan? Why would he betray the Immortals after everything they’ve been through together? We loved you! Menolias cried within his mind. “We took you in! We were your brothers! And this is how you repay our kindness?”

Of course, he got no answer. But then, Sargon coughed, his entire body shaking as he dislodged blood that had clotted at the back of his throat.

Then, he whispered, in the most broken tone, “M-Menoli…”

Sargon’s voice gave out, and he left his last word unfinished. Menolias had seen enough death to know what it looked like; Sargon was dead. Menolias sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a stinging sensation. Vahram would admonish him for showing grief for an enemy. Even if that enemy was someone he had loved like a brother.

Menolias lifted his foot off the boy’s body, and he dropped to one knee. He gently stroked a dreadlock away from Sargon’s eyes; he knew it did no good, since he was going to leave Sargon’s body there for the vultures to fight over. Then, in a low tone, he whispered to the night air, “I never wanted this fight… I am sorry, little one.”

With that, Menolias turned away and began to leave the palace. Vahram would be pleased to hear of this victory.

[raisengen]

It's pretty easy to gloss over, especially when you're also trying to figure out the tutorial, but Fire in the Sands doesn't have you playing as Rhodes Island; you represent an unnamed Sargon village that was destroyed by Catastrophe and forced to relocate. It's also presented as such in dialogue, in character storylines, and in the sheer absence of any mention of RI.

(While we do use our usual operators, that's a necessary conceit of the game. Perhaps we shouldn't read too much into how strong the raiding parties are either...)

I appreciate that they've taken this route. It's pretty easy to get games of this style that are either explicitly or implicitly colonial, where you're striking out into "new" territory to build your sovereign realm and getting into conflict with whoever already happens to be here. In particular, AK's existing assets bound them to make the gamemode conflict-heavy against human enemies.

By having you explicitly play as a local settlement displaced by natural disaster, they avoid making it so colonial and instead head for AK's preferred themes — so now the final boss is a tax collector from the unquestionably more powerful Lord Ameer, trying to push you off the oasis you settled.

Interestingly, the game doesn't aim to represent you as "the good guys" too heavily. While the raids and Mountain Passes are generally bandits or tax squads, and Basil takes the time to stress how cool you are with Infected, there are at least a couple of nodes where you're raiding a neighbour's farmland, and more than a few that are straightforward resource conflicts. You also extort/blackmail your Liaison pretty badly (under duress yourself, yes, but it's still hardly heroic behaviour). Your justification is simple survival, and it doesn't seek to sanitise what that asks of you.

Arknights certainly isn't perfect when it comes to representational/portrayal issues, particularly when it comes to Sargon, but I think it's clear that when it comes to economic/material issues they do try to handle them effectively.

[ramonag-if]

The Priestess and the Sword is a side story available to Vinia and Ishari tier patrons. In this side story, read Anu's perspective on her feelings for the MC.

Excerpt:

There was one thing Anu hated more than idiots and that was idiots who thought it clever to pick on you. She wrestled with the idea of rushing in to save you - after all, it was the one thing she prided herself in being able to do for you. But she was also tempted to watch you shove away the brute that confused you for a rich noble, unaware of the dangers of the streets. Coming to the streets of Sangasu had been your idea and one that Anu despised. She hated the gilded streets that paved the way to the palace and she loathed biting her tongue around the courtiers who smiled too widely at her. There was something false about being around people in Sangasu. Anu longed for the days when the only thing she had to worry about was defeating the Blood Guard and remembering to do her morning prayers. She sighed, her grey eyes shifting to your features. Anu would never admit it aloud to anyone, but she enjoyed the way your voice sounded when you spoke. There was a gentle quality to it that made her heart beat two times too fast and made her want to close the distance between you. Perhaps, she mused that she was the fool and not the brute who glared at you, for staring at you was proving a difficult habit to break. “I said watch where you’re walking,” the brute - a man who could not have been older than Sargon by a year, yelled. No. This would not do. Anu’s steps carried her to stand beside you. The midday always brought with it dense crowds of nobles and courtiers with far too much wealth to know what to do with it to the heart of merchants’ stalls and had forced her to walk a few steps behind you to avoid elbowing those around you. It had brought you great amusement to watch Anu trail after you, like a lost puppy but there was nothing hilarious about watching the brute shove his finger at your chest. “You best keep your hands to yourself,��� Anu growled.

Read the full story only on my Patreon.

[in-inertia]

A: Greetings Consul. Your words from earlier made us curious.

Though I can infer what some of them would be I think, do you happen to have a list of the top ten most spoken languages on your planet?

Z: Additionally, are there any notable extinct or near-extinct languages?

At one point, the most-spoken was Ægirian. I expect this is no longer the case. Soon enough, Ægirian may be extinct, if the present trajectory holds.

Though we don't have actively available statistics, as the censuses of the largest nations are not public information, the most common language on the land would likely be Lung Yanese or Victorian. Lung Yanese is spoken predominantly across the Great Yan, and is a common trade language spoken by businessmen who frequent Lungmen, perhaps the foremost economic center of the mainland. Victorian is spoken in both Victoria and Columbia, and is a common trade language for the same reasons. After these, Leithanian is a likely third, owing to its former colonies, such as Bolívar—though Bolívar itself predominantly speaks a dialect of Iberian, which I'd place as fourth. Padishah's Sargonian is a good guess for the fifth, given the size of their empire, though only third because of the sheer number of languages spoken as a primary language in Sargon, and the lack of central dominion over much of their territory. Ursus might exceed the number of primary speakers. Past those, I'm unsure of where they rank. If every Sarkaz spoke Kazdelian, it would easily be a top three language on the land—but I doubt the actual percentage is anywhere close to 100. Similarly, Lateran can be seen worldwide—but its actual speakers are typically only clergymen, so it may not even make the top 10. Siracusan is still spoken in many places in Columbia. Kazimierz is a large enough territory that I'd feel somewhat comfortable placing its language within the top 10, though it may honestly be beaten out by another dialect of Yanese. I doubt that Gaulish makes the top 10 anymore, as it's spoken as a primary language in no current nation, but there may well be enough existing pockets of it to push it over the line. It isn't yet extinct, but I expect it to begin to disappear within the next few generations.

As for extinct languages, you'd be better off asking Kal'tsit—though she may be too busy to answer. History of the land is not my forte; I've only been here for a handful of years.

[thesoulprophecies]

Who Were The Earliest Authors?

July 27, 2023 Caitlin Lynagh

Since writing about book binding and some of the oldest books in the world, it got me thinking about who the first authors were, when were people considered authors, and when did it become a recognised profession?

The earliest author, as considered and still debated by historians, is a woman called Enheduanna. She was a high priestess in the Sumerian city-state of Ur during the reign of her father, Sargon of Akkad during  2334 –  2279 B.C. A number of works in Sumerian literature appear to feature Enheduanna as the first person narrator, but works that have been attributed to her, were written by scribes six centuries after she lived. However, Enheduanna probably wasn’t considered an author during the time she was alive, even if she did write several works.

The Bible is Perhaps the most important and the best-selling book of all time. Both the Old and New Testament were finished by the end of the 2nd Century and were written by many authors over a period of 1,500 years. Moses supposedly wrote portions of scripture, and others were named with their ‘books’ or ‘Gospels’. However, scholars believe that the Gospels and books of the New Testament were not actually written by the people to whom they are attributed, and it is quite possible this is true for the Old Testament too. It appears that Bible writers came from all walks of life during different time periods and with different governments. You can find lists of Old and New Testament authors online, but again it is unlikely that any of these authors were considered authors professionally during their lifetime.

Before the invention of mechanical printing, and of course the Gutenberg Press, books were handmade. During the 4th Century, medieval books were made by scribes copying text by hand from original editions. Cassiodorus made copying biblical texts a compulsory tasks for monks. A monastic scribe would work for at least six hours a day, with the best scribes working even more hours. Scribes were not necessarily authors in their own right but we can definitely call them writers, and thanks to their hard work, a lot of ancient texts were saved and passed on.

Greek and Latin mythical and literary classics were the first texts predominantly copied, but during the 6th Century this shifted to Christian texts due to the rise of the Christian Religion. This saw a decline in Greek and Latin texts until the Carolingian Revival when Emperor Charlemagne pushed for more texts to be copied, restarting the copying of Greek and Latin classics.

The emergence of universities in Europe saw a demand for more books, particularly Bibles and books of law. When the printing press was invented, there were suddenly between eight and twenty-four million new books available in just a few decades. Classical and religious books were produced at first, but around 1484 scientific illustrations and books on Botany were produced. Arguably both an author and a publisher, humanist scholar Erasmus used the new print medium to promote his own ideas by the beginning of the 16th Century. Not everyone was thrilled with the arrival of the printing press, Filippo de Strata wrote ‘the printing press is a whore’ and called for printing to be banned. Others just simply preferred hand-written books, like Vespasian da Bisticci and Federico da Montefeltro, not only because they were beautiful, but also because of their value.

The authors of these Classical texts I keep mentioning, were generally Greek and Roman philosophers or other important people like Sun Tzu, a Chinese military leader who is believed to be the author of ‘The Art Of War’. There was also the Greek physician and botanist, Pedanius Dioscorides, who authored Vienna Dioscorides, a work which lists the medical properties of 383 herbs and 200 plants. The Book of Kells was believed to have been written by Irish Columbian Monks, and of course the Bible had many authors, but it is unlikely that any of these authors were considered professional authors during their lifetimes.

The earliest people who could be considered authors by profession were probably poets, like Homer, who was a Greek Poet and wrote ‘The Iliad’ and ‘The Odyssey’, two epic poems that were the foundations for Greek literature. These ancient poems would have been performed to audiences rather than read. Dante’s Divine Comedy, completed in 1320, inspired generations of poets and Dante himself is considered one of Italy’s greatest poets. Lots of artists, scientists and engineers, wrote books about their work, but were never solely authors by profession. Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra is considered one of the greatest Spanish writers, he wrote Don Quixote, published in two parts in 1605 and 1615. There was also William Shakespeare, an English  playwright but definitely a writer and author, who lived between 1564 – 1616. The first folio of Shakespeare’s work was published in 1623.

It’s not until the 18th Century where more people seem to be recognised as authors, with French philosopher and writer Denis Diderot, who wrote plays and novels, and is most famous for his ‘L’Encyclopedie…’ though this was written and completed by more than 150 writers. During this time, Samuel Johnson was an English writer and critic who authored ‘Samuel Johnson’s A Dictionary of the English Language’, and Laurence Sterne, an Irish-born novelist, authored ‘Tristram Shandy’.

Towards the later end of the 18th Century, Thomas Paine rose to fame as a writer and wrote ‘The Rights of Man’, it was a publishing success, selling around 200,000 copies. In it’s day it horrified the authorities and was banned. William Blake lived during this time and wrote poetry, but most of his works went unrecognized until after his death in 1827.

During the 19th Century, Charles Dickens, a famous English novelist wrote many fictional works. His life-long career as a novelist began in 1836 and lasted until the day he died in 1870. Another writer was Harriet Beecher Stowe, she was an American abolitionist who wrote ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’, she went on to write 30 books, including novels and memoirs. Walt Whitman, another poet, was an influential voice in American Literature, his book of twelve poems ‘Leaves of Grass’ was published in 1855.

Until the end of the 17th Century, books for children were written mainly for instruction and religious teachings, like Venerable Bede’s 7th Century text on natural science and later the first encyclopaedia written by Anselm for children. Manuals for good conduct were written for children during the 15th and 16th Centuries. Though the first serious children’s author was possibly Charles Perrault who wrote ‘Mother Goose’ for his own children. John Newberry appears to be the first author and bookseller who wrote entertaining children’s book with his ‘Little Pretty Pocket-Book ‘ in 1744. Fairy tales and folktales became increasingly popular, with Grimm’s fairy tales being published in 1812, however you can argue that maybe some of these stories in their original forms aren’t so suitable for children. Lewis Carroll could be considered the most important children’s writer who wrote specifically for entertaining children with his story ‘Alice In Wonderland’ published in 1865.

So the answer to who were the first authors is a complicated one. Storytelling has been around for centuries, and most stories were passed down through generations through word-of-mouth. Some poets wrote down their poetry and some people wrote stories but they were never published or mass produced in the way books are today. Other’s wrote works about their lives and livelihoods but were not necessarily considered authors. The printing press definitely caused a shift that saw people being able to mass produce their writings and spread them to a wider audience quickly. So it’s not really surprising that being an author as a profession, certainly during one’s lifetime was really only possible after this invention. Of course you either had to have your own printing press or convince someone who had one to publish your works.

References:

Books That Changed History

A little history of reading: How the first books came to be | BookTrust

Where Did Writing Come From? (getty.edu)

Medieval Book Production and Monastic Life – Dartmouth Ancient Books Lab

Some Early Professional Authors of the Middle Ages (wondriumdaily.com)

What People said About Books in 1498 (uh.edu)

Children’s literature | History, Books, Types, Awards, & Facts | Britannica

[nevertrustanoracle]

Decided to transcribe Roger de Camden’s letter to his sire Constancia in the Giovanni Chronicles because I wanted to share it, but the poor quality of the pdf made it hard to read.

It’s so sweet and sad; had me almost sobbing the first time I read it. Good sire-childe relationships are pretty rare, but theirs clearly was.

Putting it under a readmore because it’s kinda long.

(Note: it’s signed with a different name because WW kept changing his.)

My beloved Constancia,

If you are reading this, then perhaps God can still hear the prayers of our kind. Though I am long dead, you may yet live. I learned of your peril in Egypt and sent Leolis to aid you against Augustus' brood, but there are ever so many more of them than us these nights. He told me that he lost your path and feared the worst, yet I still dare cling to hope. I am not strong in the ways of prophecy, but sense my time is short, so I write this letter.

Our clan's fire burns dim since the death of Father Cappadocius. The cursed Giovanni pursue us without respite and even I, Chamberlain to Lord Mithras, am not safe. We Cappadocians have reflected on death so long, yet we know its touch but once. Now that I sense its silent approach, I find the thought both invigorating and restful. Whatever my fate, the upstart Giovanni must pay the price for attacking their betters. Though they swallow us whole, we will stick long and hard in their throats.

It is to this end that I now address myself. As you sought the wisdom of Lazarus in occult tomes, I studied the man himself. Was he really Japheth, as you have so often asked? I fear I will never know. Since our Father's folly beneath dread Kaymakli, Lazarus has become Infitores - heretic - and some accuse him of stealing Sargon's lore. He is a difficult man to find, if indeed he still exists. He did receive at least one visitor before his disappearance - the ill-fated Caias. What passed between them in that valley of serpents is unknown.

You were right. The secrets we seek must lie beneath the desert sands. My studies of poor Caias have rendered some fruit your absence. He was a careful man and had visited Lazarus' lair before. I have rediscovered a map of its lower strata and it is this that I now bequeath to you. Replace the sarcophagus and cover up my old bones: incant the third rhyme of the Via Ossis and the map will stand revealed by the light of the stars. Use it and avenge me loved one, if such is your desire.

If you found what you sought in Egypt, then you will no doubt make good use of this. Lord Mithras swore that none but you would visit my remains, but forever is a long time. If another of our kind reads this, know you that the Giovanni are a blight upon this world and they gnaw at our souls. The map will reappear every 42nd year hereafter, the night of our Lord, February 17, 1504, by the Gregorian calendar. If you have the will and the knowledge to use this information, look to out kinswomen, the Lamia, for aid. Bear this letter and they will do you no harm.

Beloved, I must go now to make final preparations. When they come for me, they will find me ready. I will not ask for Lord Mithras' protection, damned pride, but at least he will furnish me some small measure of revenge. That jackal Amber will no doubt be the next chamberlain: God save the prince. We have fought long and hard, you and I. If you continue for a while in the world - which is my most fervent wish - then my soul flies before you, protecting you from harm. When at last you die, let your soul fly to mine in whatever pleasant darkness awaits us.

Your loving,

Thomas Becket Camden