#taban kha

[crystalsundered]

the skexish conlang that no one asked for but is getting anyway pt. 2 ;; 

laboratory: erkashti 

scalpel: mukhrat 

forceps: malkhit 

beaker: fanakhan 

experiment: tarama 

machine: mikhan 

blood: nila

injury: ishabakhan 

ill/illness: shawmara

gelfling: kelffink 

podling: podlink 

crawlie: arkhe 

landstrider: satard 

throne room: ekhen-hash 

jewels: jawa 

riches: khina

beautiful/handsome/attractive: turbash 

lord: taban 

palace guards: hurrash 

sword: shayfa 

crystal of truth (planet-heart): kawkhalb

library (secret-hoard): mikhti-dokh 

book(s): kitab(im)

quill: rish 

to write: aktib 

read (imperative): anakh 

music: ankha 

soldier: bullorkh 

fire: porroh 

burn (noun): lalpon 

burn (verb): lalpar 

stables: stafloi 

food: trof 

hungry: khinon 

tasty (adj.): khefshti

disgusting/rotten (adj.): shapi 

water: mana 

thirsty: pikhshon 

wine: habi 

revelry: aihtifa 

past: almad 

present: had

future: mustad 

animal/animals: hayakhan/hayakhanim

danger: khindnosh 

war: harkha 

fear: markh 

death: telokh 

friend: zorkhe 

love: bolush 

sad/sorrow: mekhefa 

happy: deshit

angry: khad 

betrayed: alkhian 

betrayal: khian 

child: pash 

star: eevay 

sea: talash 

land: sat 

ice: alid

snow: khioni 

winter (ninet): shata 

summer (ninet): alshay 

harvest: hishad 

blight: afakh 

day: bashkhin 

greater sun: akha 

rose sun: alwa-kha

dying sun: wafti-kha 

dead: wakh

night: doshikh 

blue moon: azra-graa (”graa” pronounced gray-ah) 

pearl moon: kawa-graa

hidden moon: mukhti-graa 

light: olpar

dark: orsh 

(the) darkening: orshani 

sleep: pakh 

tired: khorashme 

awake: mushtay 

punishment-ritual: eikhab-sikhta 

sun ritual: ror-sikhta 

draining: aposhtra 

tithing ceremony: eshir-sikhta 

[pywriting]

Prompt 3: “Lost”

The morning had come and gone, midday now well on its journey. There was the smell of food cooking, as meal was prepared and set out.

It wasn’t fresh, but, rather, leftovers from the night before. Still, as the young Faeravel sat down with his tousled hair and his dirty face, he looked all too happy for it. Already greedily gulping down some water and chatting happily with some of the other young men of the tribe that had been working with him in caring for the animals. 

Even so, with such an enjoyable atmosphere, something was bothering the young Kha. As he looked around, he could not spot exactly the person he searched for. There was a slight frown on his face, but he put it past him for a moment, finishing his meal quickly.

The others were talking of going out and taking to some hunt or other sort, and already Faeravel was getting invited to come along. Even though he wanted to go with them, he gave a dismissive wave and apologized.

“Come on… Let’s go find something large to take down. Or is it you’re too scared after last night’s match, eh? Don’t want to be shown up for, what, a fourth time now, Faer?” One boy said to him, taunting in hopes to get him to rise to the challenge.

Faeravel let out a snort, smirking widely. “You only wish you would be able to defeat this.” He said, puffing out his chest. He then, for pure entertainment's sake, began to flex his muscles this way and that. As if to show just how ‘strong’ and ‘powerful’ he was with just that.

The other men boo’d at him, pushing and shoving playfully, which Faer returned with a grin. He even had reached out, grabbing for one of them to pull into a headlock. The victim, slow as ever, was Otgonbayer. A whiny brat, all in all.

“What was that? Trying to challenge me here already?” He would wrestle with the other, all of them clearly enjoying this.

For a while, they did tussle. More pushing, taunting, and generally being a pain in the ass for one another.

Still, Faeravel would wave them off, “Go on. Off with you sorry lot. I have to go find my true prey- I’m going to go find Jaran.”

“Ooohh… that’s a sorry hunt, Faeravel. Too easy to find- probably resting away in some field with the sheep.” A man named Chuluun tossed back to Faer’s excuse.

“Bah. So you think. Clearly, you misunderstand just how good he’s gotten at hiding in plain sight.” Faer grinned, then just turned with one last wave. “Good hunting, brothers!”

There were a few more taunts thrown at him, but eventually the laughter and chatter drifted off, and towards the horse pens where they surely would soon find themselves riding out of. Faeravel didn’t mind nor care at the moment, far more interested in finding the prior mentioned topic of his ‘excuse’. 

For the better part of the afternoon, he’d gone to search. First to the places that would normally be set for him… then asking further. He’d received no clear answer of where he’d gone, merely a few shrugs here or there.

Finally, when coming to one of the yurts, he called in, “Gansukh! Gansukh, have you seen Jaran?”

An old man was settled by the fire, looking irate at the interruption. He simply snorted, “What are you talking about? Of course I haven’t.” He kept slowly carving away at a wooden figurine in his hands.

Faer had let out a long sigh, “I’ve looked everywhere for him. Mother’s looking for him.” Sure, he’d lie a bit… but at least it sounded less like a random intrusion. Many knew Taban’s nature for getting into everyone else’s business, especially when it concerned her ‘son’. Either of them.

Gansukh would then furrow his brows, “You didn’t hear?”

Faeravel blinked at that, not understanding that sort of response, “Didn’t hear what?”

“Jaran left.” The old man tossed out so casually, never ceasing the movement of his knife whittling away at the wood.

The young man’s eyes widened a moment, then he asked quickly, “Where’d he leave to?”

The man shrugged, “Heard he was going to the sea. Off to find a boat maybe. He left late, though. Not sure everyone he told, but that’s just what the watch said. Surprised Taban didn’t know of it already, if she’s out sending you to bother me.”

Faeravel was dead silent for a moment, processing this new information. Jaran was gone? Why would he leave? Why didn’t he tell him?

Remembering his manners, Faeravel nodded his head a bit, “Of course. Right… Well, then i’ll go see what’s going on with that. Do you need anything before I leave?”

Gansukh snorted back, waving his knife a bit, “Go off somewhere else, boy. I don’t need anything. I’m not some frail old man yet.” He said with clear annoyance. He just wanted to be left alone to his own tasks right now.

Faer accepted that, leading himself out of the older man’s yurt and slowly going back through the gathered homes to where his own family’s stood. There was a deep frown on his face, and his brows knitted with worry.

The afternoon turned to evening. The evening turned to night.

Still, Jaran did not come back at all. There was little to any news, other than a mention from Taban with some worry, before his father quickly silenced the concern with some other business.

Faer had to admit he was a bit bitter- angry, more than anything. He swore as soon as he’d see Jaran, he’d make sure he wished he’d never left without telling him. Honestly, just who did Jaran think he was now?

There was no sight of Xaela the next day.

Nor the next… or the one after that…

A week passed. A month.

Soon, winter had come, and there was no word from Jaran at all. 

In the end, Faeravel grew to fill a different role. He traveled more from the steppes and each time, the thoughts of where Jaran had gone dissipated. They were lost, just like he’d lost the man himself.

His heart ached still, but there was little to do about that now. After all, he couldn’t go searching for lost things forever. He had to move on, like he imagined Jaran had.

And he did.

- - - Tags - - -

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @treyu

[swygmerl]

The sound of silence

Speaking of alts, some of them are already past level 50, but don’t have blogs (yet). This fine lizard, for instance, is Taban of the Qestir tribe. Father of two – a boy born in his tribe and a younger girl, product of the time he lived among some of the Kha –, he is quite shrewd and has a keen eye for detail, especially when it comes to reading others.Which he usually does from a distance; aloof doesn’t even begin to define his wary demeanor.

[poisonedviper]

Starlight gift for Taban Kha (no clue about their tumblr).

Left in Taban’s room was a small box wrapped in a ribbon stylized like a viper, holding a small note. Inside of the box was a flask, bound up in a leather holster that could attach to a belt.

Taban,

A good man of a few words, but with eyes that speak volumes. I hope that this helps you deal with all you put up with, and that it keeps you refreshed in the trying times.

Happy Starlight, L’alor