#tenakth tattoos

[cha-mij]

Kotallo by the end of the game be like ...

[ayaitch]

I was playing Ikkotah's quest again, but accidentally let the Scorcher set him on fire too many times as I tried to get action pictures of him. I don't know if it was some kind of glitch in the game or because he was set on fire too many times, but afterward the fight, his armor that usually covers his legs was missing, and thus exposed his thighs (and normal-length, non-booty shorts, lol, darn). He has the sweetest thigh tattoo! No, seriously, it's adorable, look!

I also drew it, because I couldn't stop myself. I know I'm no artist, but I will share it so you can see what I saw in my head when I laid eyes on it for the first time. They look nothing alike, but I feel that I captured its essence.

[singingkestrel]

Oseram tatts. For "research."

[cicadaknight]

marshal aloy

[iosvirtualguide]

Your favorite Nora and some Tenakth Rebels in No Man's Land.

[i-lavabean]

I do his tattoos with great wailing and gnashing of teeth

Kotallo artists, how do you do this??? The man has so many tattoos???

Anyways, this is the Kotallo redesign from my Twisted Threads AU! In this world, the red raids never happened and Tekotteh took over the Tenakth lands.

[steelsartcorner]

Tenakth world building thoughts

I’ve had this idea for a while that not wearing face paint among the Tenakth is akin to being naked, way more taboo than actually not wearing clothes.

Even children are wearing face paints at all times and are never ever totally bare. Way before they have tattoos they’re already wearing face paint.

It follows, imo, that there must be a binding ritual for partners or friends who wish to become family that demonstrates the level of intimacy reserved to kinship.

Borrowing from military terminology, I suggest that the Tenakth bring special people into their “confidence” through a symbolic mutually agreed ceremony, called the Confidence Rite. Through the rite paint is symbolically removed by the loved one and the bare face beneath is revealed, solidifying the pair’s platonic, romantic, or familial bond.

Anyway just some thoughts from my little headcanon corner. Here’s a Kotallo in the different stages of face paint. Click for better details.

[missmrah]

Thank you so much @mayalli for this super fun commission! I may have a minor obsession with tattoos so all the Tenakth characters from HFW have a way of making my brain short circuit! 

Check out her fic for more Drakka x Aloy (now featuring this artwork), and mind the tags for explicit content xx

When to Put the Focus Down by Mayalli

[onlythegoodpretzels]

Blood Duty

Kotallo this time! With a fic and a WIP of art!

This is for Whumptober 2024's prompt surgery!

On AO3: Blood Duty (3447 words) by OnlytheGoodPretzels Chapters: 2/2 A marshal under a knife is always dangerous, no matter how much he understands. Dekka will take him through it.

(I could not finish this illustration for today, ohmygod Tenakth tattoos.)

Or, if you like, read it under the cut:

Dread climbed Dekka’s armor when she saw the mismash of paint colors shambling up the path. Lowland and Sky together, squadless, was never a good sign. Neither were any Tenakth moving so slow.

A runner split off, pelting to the Grove’s palisades. “Chaplain! Treason!”

His white-rimmed eyes were enough for her to vault down to him, catch his arm. He was young, Sky Clan. Curse Tekkoteh for sending dregs! “Steady, soldier. What ---?”

He lurched out of her grip, waving wildly backward. “Regalla, at the Embassy! M-Marshal Kotallo!”

Shit.

Dekka hadn’t registered the white between the two lowland warriors. Kotallo’s lines bent wrong and crooked. He couldn’t be walking. “Report inside.” She pushed the warrior up the stairs, already running. “Chief’s guard, with me!” Please, if they carried him this far, let him be alive.

Fury flew in Dekka’s hands. Regalla, always sure there hadn’t been enough blood!

Ten above, Kotallo was walking. Or he was hobbling, arm wrapped wrestle-tight around a warrior’s shoulders. The other Tenakth huddled close around him, but didn’t touch his left side. Dried blood smudges covered him from chin to leg, garish and dark in the lush lowland green.

Kotallo’s eyes were barely a clenched line in his face. Sweat canyons carved through his paint. Every muscle stood separate in his neck.

And he clutched his left arm tight to his side, and wrap sheds around it were blood-black.

Shit shit shit.

“He needs a medic!” the warrior holding Kotallo gasped as Dekka reached them. “We-we did what we could, Chaplain, but I’m not sure --”

“R-Regalla -- Aghhhh!” Kotallo fought his eyes open, his growl gutted and hoarse. Hate made his skin look like stone. “D-declared war. We --- the Carja -- dea -- aaagh…” Dull choked gasps cut him off and his legs trembled, forcing him to hold tighter. The third time he tried for breath a dull cracked cry shredded out instead.

But it was his arm that commanded Dekka’s attention. He dug it tighter to his ribs, crusted blood glistening against his marks. The angle of it…the rolling twitch it dragged along his jaw, mouth open in a silent retching quiver…his hand was gone.

And though he looked toward her, Kotallo’s eyes never focused.

Dekka blocked out the rest of the conversations. The chief guard commander could handle the rest, but not this. They might still lose a marshal yet. “Quiet, soldier.”

Kotallo squinted, weaving dangerously, trying to find her. She came to his side and reached in slow to press her thumb to his headdress. Just as she had years ago setting his first marshal mark. “Your chief will take his report when he’s ready.”

Even that little force tipped him.

But Kotallo winced, swallowing raggedly. “D-Dekka…”

“Yes.” Dekka grit her teeth, feeling his gasps rattle on her fingers. Were the others she’d marked gone? She couldn’t worry about them now. “You made it. Regalla didn’t strike here.”

Kotallo snarled, low and choked. The rawness of it twisted in Dekka’s feathers, anger clenching her arms until the fronds hissed. Regalla thought sending pain like this to their doorstep would frighten them. What it would do was sing vengeance, like the fury burning in Dekka’s hands now at the thought of Kotallo limping all this way.

“Ch-chief?” Kotallo twitched, grimace carving deeper. Trying to straighten up, the idiot. 

Dekka pressed knuckles to his breastplate. “Safe. Hold Still.” The force of his shaking ached in her wrist.

Orders still worked, thank the Ten. Kotallo stilled, eyes open but darting. “G-good…good.” He must know she was there, though, because he let the chief’s guard heave him onto the stretcher when it came. Kotallo howled but he didn’t attack anyone. That was the best they would get today.

Dekka waited just long enough to be sure he was down. She had to speak to Hekarro, now.

______________________________________________________________

The shadow of war hunched over the Grove as Dekka hurried to the sleep rooms. Teharra’s report was clear and curt. The broken remains of Kotallo’s arm had Bristleback hate leeched in. The hasty field job, cut and cauterized, saved his life this long. But blaze in the wound had done its work, too deep to pry out.

For him to survive, they had to cut the attack off at the source.

This, and then Regalla.

Hekarro’s grief held him impossibly still when she left him staring at the throne room flickers. ���Call him back,” had been his orders. “We can’t lose him too.”

Dekka had no intention of losing anyone else. The tags laid at the base of the throne bit so sharp. She’d give Hekarro her full report later. He was with the survivors now, though it sounded like they’d been trapped at a distance while Kotallo fought in the thick of it. And Dekka had her own calls first. A marshal under a knife was always dangerous, no matter how much he understood.

She could hear the right hut twenty paces off. Rough, sharp groans clouded the air. Dekka ducked inside.

“The Chaplain will be here -- “ Teharra’s face lit up with relief. “It’s alright. She’s here.”

Dekka nodded, setting down her bow loudly and slowly. “Kotallo.”

Kotallo sagged against the dark. He curled, hand wrapped across his knees, holding himself up as if by the grip alone. Each time he gasped he twitched, bowed tighter around his wounded limb. Armor and ornaments scattered the rug around him, so he hadn’t stopped Teharra removing them. Or hadn’t managed to. But now he looked coiled, a burrower ready to strike.

He looked up, gaze drifting slow and dull.

Good. So he’d been aware enough to drink Teharra’s liquor. They wouldn’t be able to do this at all without something in him to blunt the pain or his strength.

Teharra nodded. “He’s had a flask, but he won’t take more.” He sighed. “Marshals.”

Dekka smiled despite the tight pang in her chest. “Always at the ready, as much as they can be.” Hopefully one was enough for Kotallo. He rarely drank more ale than brought his brash back out for spars, and Teharra’s brew was rust-bitingly strong. She was glad he’d been aware enough to accept that much.

Dekka stepped closer. “Marshal. Ready?”

“Read…Ready.” Kotallo scowled, fighting against the slurring words. He squinted at Dekka, fist clenched. “Ch…chief?”

She’d only heard bits and pieces from the survivors on her way out. An ambush. Machines tearing through the marshals, Regalla’s traitors on their backs. This close, Dekka could see the dark seep of bruises in Kotallo’s marks. Cuts glinted in the blue-black stain ringing his left arm and side. The same impact echo showed dark and edged in the gap of his sternum and all the way down at his knee between the white bands.

Something enormous crashed into him, or blows all swung from the same side.

It must have been terrible.

“Planning our retaliation.” Dekka made sure he met her eyes. She wondered if he didn’t remember or was so worried he had to ask again. “He’ll want to see you after this.”

Relief hazed across Kotallo’s face. He was young enough for Hekarro’s approval to fill a void Dekka could only just remember. Maybe it would help him through this. Still, Kotallo hissed, slumping. Violent quivers ran across his bruises. “H-he…nhh--it’s bad…”

Sky Clan and their understatements. Dekka nodded. “I know. We’ve had worse.” She hoped that was true, but truth wasn’t her goal here. She moved slow, watching for strikes, and touched Kotallo’s strained knuckles. “Teharra needs to work. Lie down.”

Kotallo’s brow and nose clenched pain-low before he fought them flat. He sighed raggedly, the sound catching each time his bruised side twitched. Were the ribs broken? A snarl-shape trembled into his lip as he glanced at his arm, then turned sharply back to her. “Watch…” Kotallo’s voice broke and he winced, the pain crumpling back into his face. “Watch for machines…she…”

He finally released his knee to catch Dekka’s thumb. He shivered, fighting not to fall without the brace, a fight he would clearly lose. “She had machines…c-controlled them…somehow.”

Chills ridged up Dekka’s back. She needed to know more about that, but not now. Now she needed to answer Kotallo’s fear. She returned the handclasp, keeping her voice firm and even. “I’ll keep watch. I promise.”

Kotallo searched her face. His expression changed sluggishly, from drawn to relieved to exhausted. He braced against her hand. And when he started to fall again, he stopped fighting it.

Dekka held on, pulling to slow his fall, but Kotallo still whimpered through grit teeth hitting down, left arm slipping. Teharra ducked into the gap, stabilizing it and guiding it down. That set Kotallo growling shrilly, glancing wildly in too many directions as he tried to find what was hurting him.

Dekka let him go. No sense making him feel more trapped. “The chief’s guard will take care of it. You just have to focus.”

Kotallo panted, blinking dazedly toward her. Then he arched, keening, clawing at the rug as Teharra peeled the wrap off his mangled arm. Dekka winced, bitter taste in the back of her mouth. How long had he been stifling that sound whenever someone jostled him?

Bared, the destruction was gut-twisting. The stitches at Kotallo’s bloody wrist couldn’t hold the wound closed fully, so bone glinted at the end. The skin was mottled purple and black, darker at the wrist. Ragged scabbed gouges bent the swollen flesh in awful spirals up his forearm. Like he’d been processed by a Scrounger. They rippled and wept as he flinched. The smell of bleed and tear hit like a punch.

Teharra caught her eye and nodded before he bent down. Dekka swallowed. She’d seen many machine wounds and every single one looked inhumanly awful. If the medic thought it was possible, her duty was simple and clear.

Kotallo hissed through setting the tourniquet. He searched the room sluggishly, breaths tight and ragged. The position on his back made it worse. That worked in their favor.

When Teharra brought down his knife, Kotallo howled, recoiling, but he was choked enough to fall back almost instantly, coughing. Each time Teharra shifted Kotallo gurgled, searching shakily for Dekka, a low unyielding sound deep in his chest.

He wouldn’t be able to do this without something to hold.

Dekka leaned over him. It was hardest when there was nothing to fight. Tenakth Kotallo’s age had rarely uexperienced that kind of pain. “Soldier, I need that report. What did this?”

Kotallo twitched, relief fighting into the sweat and bruises on his face. “R -- hhhghh --” His chest spasmed, stomach to neck. “Regah -- !“

Blood, bubbling fresh. Kotallo roared, teeth creaking they clenched so hard. Teharra pinned his shoulder, shushing softly as he dug his knife in again.

 “Regalla.” Dekka broke eye contact long enough to spit on the ground. “Yes. How were you hurt?”

“ B--bhhh. Khhh--aghhh!” Kotallo flattened into the rug, kicking frantically as the blade chewed into him. Dekka pinned him, hands flat to his chest, the shattering force of his spasms jarring up and through her to ground in the dirt. “Brist -- khh! Bristle-b-back…”

Kotallo suddenly snapped his head down, hand writhing against Dekka’s knee. “Javv--AAAH! I w-wouldn’t let…” The words rushed out like he couldn’t bear them in his mouth. “H-he didn’t --- N-no!”

By the Ten! The pain was setting him off, forcing him to see what he had in battle. Dekka realized with a start her hands were flat over the bruise on his chest, where something struck him so hard it painted him black. She cursed and pushed harder. “What happened to the Bristleback, Kotallo?”

“S-sp…!” Kotallo choked, fighting weakly against her, but not enough. Not enough to jostle Teharra, or knock the glow-blade off course as it came down again, sizzling. Kotallo’s scream felt like it split the arena walls.

Dekka focused on the jagged thrum of the sound from Kotallo’s bloodied ribs up her arms, deep into her bones, right into her heart. Let it lodge there. She’d take it. She’d listen to what Regalla did to their soldiers, swallow it down bitterness and all. And she’d send it straight back into that traitor’s chest when the time was right.

Let everyone hear it. Let Hekarro hear it and be ready this time.

Lulls in bloody work like this were short and sharp. Teharra switched tools. Kotallo sagged, streaming sweat. “S-spear,” he gasped, slow and toneless. “Sp-spear. Ja--h-he speared. It pinned me.” His knuckles knocked against Dekka as if to push, but he was too uncoordinated. His wild searching of the hut intensified, tears caught in his paint. “C-can’t get loose. C-crush.”

Dekka hadn’t though she could feel more ache, but there it was. These bruises were from a Bristelback burying Kotallo? Like he was already dead as the sand drank his blood? The image chilled all the way to her spine. No wonder the warriors who saved him looked so haunted.

“It’s not here.” Dekka risked letting go one hand to brush Kotallo’s face, drawing his head down to the rug looking at her. “I have you.”

Had Regalla missed him then, down beneath the machine?

Kotallo winced, blinking hard, heaving. Shudders ran all the way down his ribs. His eyes focused violently as Teharra shifted. “D-Dekka…?” A broken bark of sound, clawed out hoarse and frayed.

Damn, so brave. “Yes. That’s right.” Dekka shuddered. The bone-biter flashed its jagged teeth in the corner of her eye, lighting Teharra’s rigidly focused face. She held it separate, looking only at Kotallo. “Yes. The Bristelaback. How did you evade Regalla, marshal?”

She didn’t really want to know if her old sparring partner found other downed marshals, or what she did to them. Regalla could be cruel and now she was beyond all honor. But Dekka hadn’t been in that bloody dirt, so she wasn’t going to fall short of those who were.

Bone grating sounded like nothing else.

Kotallo fought, joints snapping with the kind of desperation that made lizards bite after their hearts stopped beating. Dekka caught his hips with her knee, pinning his torso with an arm bar dug in at the collarbone. Kotallo wailed and roared, pulse sputtering against her fist at the crook of his ear. But even though he bared his teeth animal-sharp at the pain, he couldn’t move her.

Thank the Ten she could hold him. And she hated it so much. Kotallo was stronger than her. Dekka hated that he wasn’t right now.

Kotallo writhed beneath her even though he couldn’t break through. Dekka didn’t think he could see her, and she could only hope he wasn’t seeing the Bristleback. His white smudged on her knuckles, bleeding off in the sweat. Like Regalla tried to wipe the marshals’ stories down into the sand she thought belonged to her.

“Out -- “ Kotallo suddenly clutched at her sash. “F-fire hair, n-neverseen---” When she looked his eyes were glazed, forced almost closed by the deep gouges the pain tore in his face. But he was focused. Holding on to what he saw. Words bubbled out like the blood spatters Teharra burnt closed. “Neverseenoutland--aaah---f-foughtch-challenge--Gr--AAAH!”

An outlander?

Dekka tried to shift enough for him to feel her tug in return. “A Carja challenge Regalla? Brave.” She leaned down, holding him through the spasms.

She didn’t think Kotallo could feel anything through the sawing teeth. But she had to try.

After interminable time and screams, Teharra shifted at her shoulder. Roasting flesh smell roiled much closer to Dekka’s face than before. She looked, letting the glow-blade sear its echo-ache on her vision to watch it press to the curve where Kotallo’s elbow had been and now was carved away. The blood was so red it seemed like it would never allow another color, even though Dekka knew that wasn’t true.

Teharra nodded, gratitude tight in his face as he set the glowblade aside and took up his needles. He set to closing the flesh around the new end of Kotallo’s arm, stitching the muscles back home.

Before Dekka could respond, Kotallo slumped under her, breaths watery and ragged, full-body trembling. She lurched up so she wasn’t crushing his chest. “Kotallo?”

He muttered, still trying to answer her, but no words formed in the sounds. Dekka pressed her palm to his cheek and sagged with relief when skin-warmth met it. So no blood-chill, thank everything. She tapped his cheek. “Kotallo!”

Teharra’s wounds weren’t like battle hits. They could shock even the strongest warriors into strange states. Maybe losing the bone was more than Kotallo could hold like this.

Kotallo flinched, bumping Dekka’s hand. He slid one eye open. Pain-drunk now, loose and shaky as new-walking cadet, he nudged closer. It took a long time for any recognition to bleed over his face. Kotallo wheezed, fingers twitching. “G--Grudda…”

The desert champion. Certainty stabbed into Dekka. The braggart joined Regalla. “He isn’t here.”

Kotallo bared his teeth in something like a smile, though it couldn’t reach the grooved pain lines in his face. “H-he’s dead.” He clutched his hand to his ribs, panting so fast it shook him. “Ahh--at least---I saw…that…”

Dekka let her full scowl out. She had no patience for Kotallo’s brand of dramatic, regardless of whether he was conscious or not! She clasped his thumb, hard, pulling him away from the bruises. “You’re not dying today. And if you did, I would make you sharpen every weapon in the Grove.”

Kotallo flinched, fumbling in her grip. Confused. The tangle of needles and cut and fingers was probably more than he could parse right now. But he returned the grip. So faint it felt like a brush of wind. “Y…yes…Ch…”

His strength was almost gone. He’d spent so much just getting here, and then making the Ten proud under Teharra’s teeth. Dekka felt him losing cohesion, fingers slackening. She forced herself not to panic. Kotallo was breathing. He showed no sign of stopping. If the pain took him under, it would be a reprieve for all of them.

Still, she hated him fighting to see her. Dekka pressed her thumb to the deep pain lines in Kotallo’s forehead, joining her sweat with his. “The chief still needs your report after this. He’ll want to know what happened to Grudda.”

The pressure nudged Kotallo’s eyes closed, as she’d hoped. He shuddered, each breath he took climbing into her wrist. “S-she…killed…him.” A faint smile dragged at the corner of his mouth. “S-strength…o-of the…Te…”

He went still, head sagged into her hand. Finally, finally out. He still protested faintly to each dip of Teharra’s thread, but the sound was so soft it was barely a hum in Dekka’s fingertips. She let herself breathe, and stay. And wait.

The thick blood smell leveled, pierced with balm-sour and char.

She checked Kotallo’s pulse, even though she could see him breathing perfectly well. “Teharra?”

Teharra wrapped his tools. “He’s survived this far. He should be clear if he wakes up tomorrow.” He paused, reaching to run his hands over his face, but caught it before he smeared himself bloody. Instead, he blinked at Dekka. “He will…”

Dekka took a moment to turn to Teharra, fully meet his eyes. She didn’t want Regalla’s fear to reach any farther than it already had. “Yes. He knows we need him.”

Teharra nodded, teeth grit. Seeing a marshal carved this deep shook him, even after all he’d seen. Dekka had her work cut out for her once she finished here. Teharra stood, lifting the bloody wrapped bundle of Kotallo’s arm. “I’ll report to Chief and see to this. If…he’ll ask for you.”

Dekka shook her head. “He won’t. There are no marshals to keep the Watch. No clanmates he’d recognize.” She traced the mountain lines on Kotallo’s forehead, trying to smooth some of the pain there. “Tell Chief I’m ready to report. And send anyone in need of guidance here to me.”

Teharra saluted. “Walk with the Ten, Chaplain.”

“And Hekarro can wait for you to wash!” Dekka called after him. She settled, half an eye on Kotallo’s short, wincing breaths. They all needed her. Everyone in the Grove, even Hekarro. And she'd do it. She’d see to them all. That was her duty as Chaplain. Tonight this was the tip of her spear.

Dekka gathered Kotallo’s breastplate off the floor. Sitting by his head, so he’d see her if he woke, she picked the dried blood out of the tines. By morning, maybe this would be something she could give back to him, for all the things no one ever could.

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 13 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

HIMBO: Aloy, did you ever meet up with Talanah again?

Zo: Where did this come from?

HIMBO: Kotallo and I were talking about Carja in the Clan Lands. I assumed they'd be killed on sight, but he says they're not.

Marshall Kotallo: They are hardly welcomed, but as long as they do not cause trouble, most outsiders are allowed to walk free.

FlameHairSavior: Her life would still be easier if she stopped wearing her Carja armor.

Marshall Kotallo: Tenakth armor is complex, and her lack of tattoos would give her away.

FlameHairSavior: She doesn't have to dress like a Tenakth, but even Oseram armor would be better.

FlameHairSavior: Anyway, the thing with Talanah got a little... tricky.

FlameHairSavior: Turns out she was looking for an old love, who was looking for HIS old love.

FlameHairSavior: She was supposed to be dead, but wasn't.

ForgeLordAleMaster: WAIT, TALANAH FAKED HER DEATH?

FlameHairSavior: What? No, the other woman was supposed to be dead.

Marshall Kotallo: Did your friend kill her? Perhaps change her mind at the last moment and send her into exile instead?

Zo: That idea seems to have come to you far too quickly.

Marshall Kotallo: [ShiftyEyes.png]

Marshall Kotallo: I will admit, not all Tenakth stories are about hunting and besting your foes in combat. Sometimes there is romance.

Marshall Kotallo: Usually involving fighting machines together.

HIMBO: Huh. Kotallo, remind me to show you these “romance books” I found. I think you might like them.

Zo: They're the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen.

ForgeLordAleMaster: [ForumWeaponLiteralSubjectChange.png]

ForgeLordAleMaster: WHY DID THIS WOMAN FAKE HER DEATH, ALOY?

FlameHairSavior: She didn't, she was pretending to be a man, and was serving in the Carja army. She was thought killed in an attack.

Marshall Kotallo: Why you people would cut off half of your population from serving in the military, I will never understand.

HIMBO: None of us are Carja.

Marshall Kotallo: Fair point.

FlameHairSavior: Anyway, she got captured, Fashav offered her a place as a soldier, she took it. She's been serving ever since.

FlameHairSavior:Then her fortress got captured and she got thrown into the prison.

HIMBO:But you cut through the enemy like dry grass, overthrowing an impregnable fortress by yourself.

ForgeLordAleMaster: AGAIN.

FlameHairSavior:  I had help! Talanah and her... whatever he is were there.

Zo: So Talanah's old love found his old love alive. Did they reignite their relationship? I am hardly an expert in Carja customs. What would be considered the right move in this situation?

FlameHairSavior: I have no idea what the Carja would normally do. The woman insisted she's Tenakth now and the Carja is dead. Talanah isn't sure how she feels about her old love any more. She's big on loyalty, so she might take him back, but I'm just not sure.

Marshall Kotallo: Varl, how would those romance books you found handle this?

HIMBO: I think about half wool have the protagonist pick the mysterious wandering heroine who arrived to help in the hour of greatest need.

ForgeLordAleMaster: HA!

Marshall Kotallo: And the other half?

HIMBO: The protagonist picks all of them. Everybody is happy.

ForgeLordAleMaster: ...DOES THAT WORK?

Zo: NO.

Marshall Kotallo: Sometimes.

ForgeLordAleMaster: HA!

β: im glad i dont have to worry about any of that

β: romance is weird and complicated and stupid

Zo: Don't be so sure.

Zo: Based on what I've read about your mother and observed about your sister, once you start going outside approximately ninety percent of the people you meet will fall in love with you.

Zo: I believe the term is “you'll have to beat them off with a stick.”

β: definitely never going outside then

FlameHairSavior: [ForumWeaponDisapprovalEye.png]

FlameHairSavior: Thanks, Zo.

Zo: ...oops.

Chapter 13 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[aamusedly]

@cheatdeaths is looking for Kotallo.

Kotallo had been sitting at a table at this ruin of a bar for days now.

The owners had offered him a place to sleep, although it wasn't much more than a cot on the floor in the back rooms. They'd offered it out of pity for the still-bandaged and swollen stump on his shoulder, or maybe out of fear from the steely look of cold fury on his face.

His people were duly feared out in the Terminus Systems, considering every time they'd shown face off of their home planet it was with a river of bloodshed coming with it. And he made it no secret that he was Tenakth-- and a Marshall at that. His body was a mural of Tenakth tattoo work and paint, armor of repurposed machine parts, pallid grey skin visible between its seams. At least it earned him the respect of nobody bothering him to pay his mounting bar tab.

Nobody quite bothered him at all, really. It made it all easier to think, as silver eyes fixed on the far wall and he sipped his beer.

But no matter how many drinks he had, or how much he focused inwards, Kotallo had made note of the new face that had entered the bar-- and it seemed like she had clocked him just the same.

Intentional. Instinct had the Marshall bristling, turning his vice of a gaze over to her.

[pikapeppa]

Alright, why wouldn't Hekarro wanna use Carja glyphs as the Tenakth writing system? The Phincian alphabet is the basis for most of the writing systems in Western Europe - if you got a writing system that works, why not adapt it?

I'M FINALLY ANSWERING THIS ASK TWO MONTHS LATER 😂

For anyone who's curious, the context for this was a post I made a while back in response to an ask regarding whether the Quen might be able to read Chinese, since the Focuses they would have found in the Great Delta would plausibly have been formatted in Chinese. In the tags on the post, I remarked that I had a rant about Hekarro wanting to borrow the Carja writing system. Everbright has asked me to elaborate, and now I'll finally be writing the essay that's been sitting at the back of my mind for like a year LOL.

My thesis here is as follows: it's not the idea of the Tenakth borrowing the Carja writing system that bothers me, necessarily. I take umbrage with the fact that Hekarro seems to think the Tenakth are inferior to the Carja because they aren't a literate society. 

This post is going to get long, so I will put the rest behind a cut to give anyone a break who wants to scroll on past LOL. Also, please note: trigger/content warning for mentions of residential schools in Canada.

First things first: I'm writing this as a non-indigenous Canadian, so I may be writing with biases of my own that I will apologize for in advance. If any members of the cultural groups I'm going to mention should read this and take issue with anything I've said, please do feel free to write me a message here on Tumblr!

Okay, let me set the context here. When Aloy first meets Hekarro, a piece of their conversation is as follows, with the transcript to follow:

Aloy: I’m sorry about Fashav. He seemed like a good man. Hekarro: More than a man. A bridge between Tenakth and Carja. No outlander ever earned our respect as he did. I had hoped he would be my voice in Meridian. That peace with the Carja might become something more. A: An alliance? H: An exchange. The Carja have much we lack. Our deeds are written in ink upon our bodies. Our memories die with our flesh. But the Carja never forget. Their deeds are written in book and scroll. A:  You wanted to learn from them? H: As I learned from Fashav. He will be missed.

This conversational exchange has always bothered me, because inherent in this exchange is the idea that Hekarro views the Tenakth as being lacking compared to the Carja -- that the Carja are superior to the Tenakth because of the fact that they're able to read and write, rather than tattooing their history on their skin. This statement reflects a bias that feels very 'colonizer' to me in an icky way. Being a literate society does not inherently make you superior to a society that doesn't use writing, but that exact idea has been used tons of times in history to argue that the indigenous cultures of a place are less advanced/less intelligent/less valuable than the people who are coming in and trying to force their ideals, including literacy, on the indigenous group(s). In the context of Canada, for instance, Kirmayer et al. (2009) wrote that "aboriginal peoples were viewed as incapable of understanding and participating in democratic government, thereby motivating efforts to 'civilize' and assimilate them into mainstream Canadian society," with that mainstreaming process including residential schools: institutions that took indigenous children from their families and communities and placed them into segregated spaces where they were forbidden from speaking their native languages, practicing their traditional customs, and from contacting their families at all.

This is especially irksome to me because the Tenakth tradition of tattooing (or "ink", as they call it in-game), is based on tattooing traditions IRL with an extremely rich historical and cultural background. The most obvious similarity is to Polynesian tattoo (or "tatau") practices, which I'll focus on here, but similar methods with equally rich histories exist in the Philippines and in Japan. 

One of the most striking things about Polynesian tatau practices is that it's not just the act of striking ink into the skin that matters; it's the meaning behind the act of getting a tattoo, and the embracing of community and identity inherent in the practice. As one Samoan tatau artist said, "it's important to know the meaning behind the symbols of our traditional tatau so you have a deeper understanding of the significance of what you're wearing. Each 'maman' or each pattern has its own meaning and story behind it." Polynesian artists also highlight the fact that these traditions are passed through the generations for thousands of years, and that those who wear tatau are "wearing the maps of our ancestors." As another artist said, Polynesian tatau is "a reconnection to all my ancestors and everybody behind me, because I'm not only speaking for me, but a whole generation of kids that are like me, that are getting Polynesian tattoos to reconnect." 

Tenakth tattoos, like Polynesian tattoos, are a way of recording history and lore -- not only one's own stories and victories, but those of the people that are important to a warrior, as evidenced by Kotallo stating that he plans to ink Varl's deeds on his own skin in tribute. I also personally think that it's culturally fitting for the Tenakth to record important history on their bodies, since the Tenakth place such emphasis on physical strength. It makes logical sense that they would record their proudest deeds on the thing that they view with such pride, i.e. their physical bodies. Hekarro's statement that the Tenakth are "lacking" because they don't record their history "in book and scroll" feels like a devaluation of the Tenakth's culturally-specific method of recording history, much in the way that colonizing societies have devalued the oral traditions of North American indigenous groups. Oral traditions are an extremely important aspect of many indigenous cultures; a group that provides indigenous culture training has stated that "certain stories are never written down, which preserves the tradition of sharing knowledge, culture, and history orally. These stories are the fabric of the community’s history, knowledge and culture, and some are thousands of years old. In some cultures, if a story is written down it is degraded." By ignoring this rich tradition and imposing written records of those stories, they would be degraded and rendered less than what they're meant to be.

Now, some of you might be asking whether it was an oversight/mistake on the part of the Guerrilla Game writers that Hekarro made this accidentally-denigrating comment toward his own tribe. Honestly, I do think it was an oversight, and one that I find disturbing, because it seems to stem from a blind spot that GG isn't aware of. This isn't the only time that content coming from the Horizon world seems to follow this 'colonizer'-like idea of certain societies being more advanced and superior to others. In the concept art book for Horizon Zero Dawn, for instance, there's a description of the Carja as follows (p. 47), transcript below:

 [Transcript: Among all the tribes of Horizon Zero Dawn, the Carja Sundom boasts the most advanced culture. Using the advantages of their geographical position, the Carja have developed agriculture and trade while other tribes still rely on hunting and gathering. The Carja's impregnable capital, Meridian, provides security for a civilized population. Artisans and traders flourish here, serving sophisticated, well-to-do citizens. Carja civilization towers over the other tribes, just as the Sun of their religion rises above the horizon of their mesa valley.]

Even worse, there’s this passage from p. 48, where the non-Carja tribes are called “primitive”.Transcript below:

[Transcript: Through ages of perfecting the techniques of machine plate-working, the Carja have developed the most sophisticated way: to apply the materials of mechanical fauna. While more primitive tribes would roughly affix more or less useful machine parts on their garments, Meridian artisans interweave fine fitted machine elements into comfortable and functional pieces.]

Quotes like this make me worry that there are people at GG who aren't recognizing their own bias inherent in the description of the Carja compared to other tribes. There seems to be a lack of awareness here about the dangerous underpinnings of seeing one culture as more "advanced" than another just because it is more dominant or mainstream. As Shaw (2001) states, "in not according recognition, let alone respect, to the distinctive linguistic and cultural identities that have shaped First Nations peoples, the majority culture continues to exert a significantly negative influence on identity, on self-esteem, on pride in one's cultural heritage, and on one's sense of self and of place in the broader society."

To summarize to some degree: I don't have a problem per se with the Tenakth borrowing the Carja writing system. My qualms come from the idea that the idea of the Carja being superior will come along with that borrowing, thereby devaluing the rich tradition of Tenakth tattoos. As Hale (1992) states, "while it is good and commendable to record and document fading traditions, and in some cases this is absolutely necessary to avert total loss of cultural wealth, the greater goal must be that of safeguarding diversity in the world of people. For that is the circumstance in which diverse and interesting intellectual traditions can grow."

TLDR: Tenakth tattoos are just as valid and important a method of recording lore and history as Carja writing, and the Tenakth are not inferior or primitive for not having a tradition of reading/writing. I think Hekarro's comment about the Tenakth being "lacking" is reflective of a blind spot at GG that I hope will be addressed in future games. 

If you came this far, THANK YOU FOR READING and accept this cookie as thanks for staying with me! 🍪😂 A friendly final note: do be warned that any replies or comments to the effect of "but literate societies ARE inherently better than illiterate ones" will be removed and the writers of such comments may be blocked, depending on their intentions as I read them. 🥰

-- love from your friendly neighbourhood Pika xoxo

[cicadaknight]

Rehashing a pain point with the Horizon franchise…

Why is there no mention of any real tribal nation in the game? No reference at all. The erasure of APOLLO didn’t remove the visions at the Grove, or any of the artifacts Aloy finds in her exploration. You’re telling me it makes narrative sense to have 30 minutes of Dutch artwork analysis and its historical significance, but not a single mention of any indigenous society? There are ZERO datapoints or ruins related to native people throughout the entire world that could have influenced Horizon-era culture?

😒 SIDE EYE 😒 It is that way because the devs made it so. Everything in a narrative is a choice.

[fogsblue]

Kotaloy Celebration Week - Day 2

🏹 Tenakth or Nora courtship ~ Marriage rituals 🏹

💙 ART 💙

getting wedding tattoos together by @alexadark13

Kotallo pokerface by @alexadark13

Courtship by @astralpaint

Courtship or Marriage rituals by @i-lavabean

Day 2 ~ Tenakth courtship by @fantasy-girl974

“Unless… you would wish to be bonded” by @hannahmationstudios

Something old. Something new. by @gnollgrin

💚 FICS 💚

(It's Gonna Be) Till the End of Time (T) by @grexigone Autumn 3040. Aloy makes a decision after a particular event and triggers an age-old tradition.

An Oath Upon her Skin (T) by @bonjourviolette And so they stood, in front of those they had come to call family and pledged themselves to one another, an oath declared in both body and blood.

Since the Kulrut? (G) by TheArtseeWinks Kotallo wakes to a certain flame haired huntress braiding his hair. For what reason in particular?

Bound to You (E) by @destinysembrace-oblivion Kotallo seeks guidance on how to propose to Aloy from Zo, and they get drunk. Later, they journey to the Sacred Lands for a fertility blessing.

come in from the cold (G) by @kotaloy Kotallo keeps being so nice to Aloy, but that's not new, right? So why is she feeling so nervous all of a sudden? Or, five times Kotallo courts Aloy, and one time she responds in kind.

Masterlist || Ao3 Collection

[gangrel-pride]

ok ok ok

consider

Team GAIA gets Tenakth tattoos to commemorate their victory over the Zeniths at Kotallo’s insistence— and by that I mean he just looks at everyone like a sad puppy until they all agree

[alabyte]

HORIZON!AU (posting again cuz changed things + added clean version!)

On a journey through the wildlands with machines, Tech deciphers old data archives with records of different tribes and their traditions. At one of the stops, he enthusiastically talks about the ritual paintjobs of the tenakth people, and purely out of interest, he and Crosshair apply similar drawings and patterns to each other's faces.

Crosshair wasn't thrilled and was skeptical about the idea, but... Actually, he missed something so simple and stupid. He will never admit it, but he even liked it.

[RP based!]

Upd: Added a version without paint and art so you can see Crosshair's scars and tattoos better. These are not full-fledged references, which I still cannot bring myself to translate and prepare for tumblr, but already something.