#ziata

[hangszerelem]

Ezt sajnos már nem lehet összehúzni. Fúgrepedés javítás spándlizással.

#Ziata #repedésjavítás #spándlizás #ragasztás #hangszerész #luthier #gitárjavítás #guitarrepair

[c-decoco]

Ziata Mangafic photographed by Greg Kadel for Vogue Germany

[darkspear-dancers]

beautiful!! ^^

Character (Ziata) belongs to @osyra

Tumblr   ●  Instagram   ●  Twitter   ●  Furaffinity   ●  Deviantart

[aclovers]

Ziata: The twin headed cobra of the Nightmare Realm......small, fast.... deadly....there is no cure for it's venom....and no escape from it's gaze.

Nightmare: I expected bigger....

Ziata: the most monstrous beings are not always the biggest

[darkspear-dancers]

One’s Measure - An Emissarial Missive

Passed down to you by the War Dancer Zul’Jawa, the Shrouded Jaguar, the Descending Eagle, the High Emissary and Speaker of the Darkspear Tribe.

It occurs to me now that it has been some time since I have offered any background information of myself. In the case that these records are archived for historical purposes or discovered in some thousand years by archaeologists seeking to understand the Darkspear, it is nothing short of an honour to describe myself. I make my efforts known through my words and deeds in this life. I should hope that my legacy lives on far after I'm gone.

I am the War Dancer Zul'Jawa. I serve as the High Emissary and Speaker of the Darkspear Tribe. So, too, am I a Spear of Vol'jin, a devoted Claw of Har'koa, the Shrouded Jaguar, the Descending Eagle. Each of these titles, I have accrued over my years of service to my tribe and to my people. Each, I bear with pride and honour. 

But what, you might ask, is the War Dance, itself? 

It is all that I am.

It is a philosophy and a state of being, in mind, body, and soul. Specifically, it is a martial arts system, passed down through my bloodline, which prioritizes constant movement, unsurpassed agility, and decisive strength. It is a source of inspiration for entire armies of troll warriors, and it is the method through which I become a living weapon, a godbreaker. It is my burden and my blessing. It is my namesake and my purpose. Through it, all things are possible.

I was born upon the Darkspear Isles, upon a barely-hospitable cluster of rocks beset by torrential rain and insatiable bands of naga and murlocs constantly. My father was a bastard; he deserves to be forgotten, unmentioned in the annals of history for his sins. My mother is Zael'aka, who now oversees the orphanage on the Echo Isles. She had me at a very young age - she is yet to reach her fortieth birthday. It is from her I inherit my good looks and my charm.

It is from my greatfather that I inherit all else. A War Dancer before me, Zul'izotl instructed me in the art of the War Dance and raised me properly, teaching me all he knew, not just of the world, but of how to be a good mon. I strive to embody his legacy still. Ah, what else to tell. I am mated to Ahuatli, Leopardess of the Echo Isles. Though I am a wordsmith by trade, words fail me to describe her kindness and love, which I strive to return every waking day. The two of us are raising the son of my late blood-brother, Dar'Kran, a bright Zandalari boy named Zugon. We live in our Emissarial Estate, nestled comfortably into the Terrace of the Speakers in the glorious golden city of Dazar’alor. My favoured activities are surfing, reading, and collecting artifacts of trollish civilizations. In my household, Har'koa is worshipped, and I travel alongside a loaborn spirit leopard, Azteotl, the pride of Har'koa's pride. I have also come to revere Xuen as I would any others.

I count a host of others among my friends. The War-Philosopher Xiao-Zen, who saw me through the Hundred Trials of the Artistry of Warfare. Leah Sid'he, a fellow Spear of Vol'jin, the greatest huntress and the most steadfast friend one could ever ask for. Azae'latl, the Jaguar Warrior, who trains under me. Sophie, as true a troll as any. Catristine, Algrubel, Splintze, Suota, comrades I met in service of the Kor'kron. Ziata, Khu'lulli, Taerzah, trolls from every tribe. And Soriya, who surfs better than any troll I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.

And I would be lost without the assistance of my voodoo golem, Rokh, who is holding my inkwell as I write. A finer scribe, there has never been. And I should know, I was one.

I strive for peace above all else in this world - it is this that I have dedicated my life to, in peacemaking and diplomacy on behalf of the Darkspear. There are many causes that I am prepared to fight for - though I pray for peace, I am ever prepared for war. I place high premiums on respect, loyalty, freedom, happiness - if i am to make the world a better place than I found it, i wish to have a positive impact on all I come to know.

Peace shall be its own reward.

And as for the rest of who I am - I believe one's spirit is one's measure. 

And though my journey may be long, I move in stride with battle-song. My beating heart; a drum of war. My battle-cry; the jaguar's roar.

- The War Dancer Zul’Jawa

[ Recently got some asks from @xakkir and @kuzi-the-hunturr, and I figured it’s been a while since I’ve given a re-introduction to Zul’Jawa!! A shout-out to a few of those mentioned in Zul’s record! @zandalarki @leahdarkspear @algrubel @ziata-mists @draikaina @simplysoriya]

[draikaina]

Does your character remember names or faces easier? | Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not? | Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

Does your character remember names or faces easier?

Faces. Always faces. Ki’razi is adept at hearing a name and remembering it, but she’s not particularly skilled at linking the name and face together unless it’s someone she’s going to be in constant contact with.

Is your character preoccupied with money or material possession? Why or why not? 

The only one who might have that tendency is Jib’yu. Coming from a prominent Gurubashi family, she would have grown up around things like that. That said, she would rather keep a low profile for now, just to keep herself protected. Taerzah and Khu’lulli both have pasts that involved them practically losing everything, so they don’t worry about material things. And Ki’razi prefers traveling light, something you can’t do with a lot of material possessions.

Which does your character idealize most: happiness or success? 

An interesting question since it requires determining what success is to each of them individually. For Taerzah, success -is- to be happy: happy with who she is, happy with her life. Khu’lulli feels like she has her success, now she’s working on happiness. Ki’razi idealizes nothing, feeling she simply exists to serve - be it by healing or protecting. Jib’yu’s mind is only on happiness and if she’ll ever find it.

Thanks for the asks!

[mustafaasir]

Harput Kalesi - Elazığ Tarihsel kaynaklara göre Harput Kalesi, MÖ 8'inci yüzyılda Urartu Krallığı tarafından kurulmuştur. MÖ 6'ncı yüzyıldan itibaren Persler'in hâkimiyeti altına girmiştir. MÖ 1'inci yüzyıl ile MS 11.'inci yüzyıl arasında Part, Roma, Sasani, Bizans ve Abbasiler arasında büyük mücadelelere sahne olmuş, 11. Yüzyılın sonuna kadar Bizans hâkimiyeti altında devam etmiştir. Bu süre zarfında Ziata Castellum ve Kharpete, Arapça'da Hısn-ı Ziyad adıyla anılan kale, 1085 yılında Çubukoğulları, 1112 yılında Artukoğulları, 1234 yılında Selçuklular'ın egemenliği altında kalmıştır. Kale, Çubuk Bey'in, Artuklu Beyi Belek Gazi'nin ve Selçuklu Beyi Alaeddin Keykubad'ın hükümet merkezi olmuş, 1366 yılında Dulkadiroğulları ve Akkoyunlu devletleri arasında sık sık el değiştirmiştir. Kale, 1465 yılında Akkoyunlu Hükümdarı Hasan Bahadır Han (Uzun Hasan) tarafından ele geçirilerek Akkoyunlu idaresine alınmıştır. Harput Bölgesi ve Kalesi, 1515 yılında Yavuz Sultan Selim zamanında Osmanlı İmparatorluğu'nun idaresine geçmiştir Harput Kalesi hakkında çeşitli efsaneler anlatılmaktadır. Bir rivayete göre kalenin yapımı sırasında yaşanan su kıtlığı nedeniyle, zamanın hükümdarının emriyle harcın hazırlanmasında su yerine süt kullanıldığı, bu yüzden de kaleye “Süt Kalesi” dendiği söylenmektedir. İç kale ve dış surlar olmak üzere iki bölümden meydana gelen Harput Kalesi'nin özgün bir yapı olarak günümüze kadar korunabilmesinde Artuklu Dönemi’nde yapılan onarımların katkısı büyüktür. Kale daha sonra Dulkadiroğulları, Akkoyunlular ve Osmanlı Dönemi’nde de onarımlar görmüştür. Kalesinin dış surları tamamen yıkılmıştır. Yalçın kayalar üzerinde inşa edilen ve kuşatılması oldukça zor olan kale, içerisinde hastane, tahıl ambarı, darphane, su sarnıcı, cephanelik, cami ve çok sayıda sivil yapının bulunduğu büyük bir mahalledir. #harputkalesi #urartu #kale #dulkadiroğlu #akkoyunlu osmanlı #uzunhasan #part #pers #sasani #abbasi #artukbey #artukoğulları #beyliklerdönemi #tarih #Aşir https://www.instagram.com/p/B8g9QhTF7PG/?igshid=q7vtaz8nbfnk

[hangszerelem]

* Ziata klasszikus gitár újrabundozás közben és után.

#Ziata #Ziatas #bundozás #újrabundozás #hangszerész #luthier #gitárjavítás #guitarrepair

[magicinthe--making]

Always reblog @ziata

Maybe some time you could talk about Susan and what it would be like if she didn't desert Narnia

How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan?

What if, instead of sending a stag to lead them astray, the Pevensies had been given time to end their first rule– to have finished their reports, their negotiations and treaties, that letter in the bureau Lucy was half-done penning to Mrs. Beaver to thank her for the fruitcake and to ask about her grandchildren. 

They had lived there more than a decade then, grown from children to kings and queens, to brave young adults with responsibility heavy on their shoulders. They had lived through storms and wars, peace and joy, lost friends to battle and old age and distance. They had made a home. What if they had been given time to say good-bye? 

What if we didn’t tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn’t have again. 

There is nothing wrong with Lucy loving Narnia all her life, refusing an adulthood she didn’t want for a braver, brighter one she built herself. But there is also nothing wrong with Susan trying to find something new to fall in love with, something that might love her back. 

You can build things in lipsticks and nylons, if you don’t mind getting a few runs in them. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be pretty, especially when pretty is the only power left to you. 

Let’s talk about being the last one left. No, really, think about it. You get a call in the middle of the night, in the little flat you can just barely afford, and you are told there has been an accident. 

Think about it, that moment– you scramble over everyone you know, everyone you love, and try to figure out where they all are that night. There are things rushing in your gut, your fingertips, your lungs, your ears– there are words in your ears as the tinny, sympathetic voice starts to tell you: it is everyone. 

They were on a train. Something went wrong. They probably died instantly. A rushing sound. A bright light. (You try to imagine it, for years. You try not to think about it. You imagine it, for years–a rushing sound, a bright light.)

Your little sister, who you always felt the most responsible for, who you never understood, really– Your big brother, who disapproved of your choices but loved you with a steadiness you could never regret leaning into– Your little brother, a smug and arrogant ass except for the days when he drowned in self doubt– Ed was going to go far and you knew it, were waiting for it, were shoring up your defenses and your eye rolls for the days when he’d think he ruled the world–

Your mother is gone. Your father, with his stuffy cigar smell and big hands and the way he got distracted telling stories– he is gone. Your cousin Eustace, who suddenly lost that stick in his ass one summer. That friend of his, Jill, who you’d never actually quite met. Gone. A rushing sound. A bright light. 

Go on. Walk through this with me. You can’t sleep all night long, because you still can’t understand it, still can’t quite breathe in a world where you are the last Pevensie. You finally fade sometime between midnight and dawn and when you wake up you don’t remember for half a second. You think ugh and you think sunshine why and then you remember that you are an orphan, an only child. You remember there probably isn’t anyone else to handle the funeral arrangements. 

Get up. Make tea. Forget to eat breakfast and feel nauseous and empty all day. Call the people who need to be called. Your work, to ask for the time off. The mortuary, to ask about closed caskets. Distant relations. Friends. Edmund’s girlfriend and Peter’s boss. You listen to Lucy’s friends weep hysterics into the phone while you stare out the kitchen window and drink your fourth cup of tea. You call Professor Diggory, out at the old house with the wardrobe that started it all, and it rings and rings. You don’t find out for three days that he died in the train crash too. When you do, you stare at the newspaper article. You think of course. 

You are twenty one years old. You have ruled a kingdom, fought and won and prevented wars, survived exile and school and your first day as a working woman. Nothing has ever felt worse than this. You have a necklace in your dresser you meant to give your mother, because she loves rubies and this glass is painted a nice ruby red and it is all you can afford on your tiny wages. 

Excuse me, a correction: she loved rubies. She is dead. You never wear the necklace. You cry yourself to sleep for weeks. The first night you don’t cry, the first morning you wake up rested, you feel guilty. You wonder if that will live in the pit of your stomach all your life and you don’t know. The years reach out in front of you, miles and eons of loss. You are on the very shore of this grief and you do not know how you will survive feeling like this for the rest of your life. But you will survive it. 

Get up. Make tea. Make yourself eat breakfast. Make plans with a school friend to do lunch. Go to work and try to bury yourself in the busyness of it. Remember that you’d promised to lend Peter a hand with some task or other, but you don’t even remember what it was– Collapse. Hide in the bathroom until you’re breathing again. Redo your makeup and leave work the moment your shift is over. Drop your nylons and your sweater and your heels in the apartment hallway. Fall into bed and pull the covers over your head. 

Get up. Make tea. Eat. Don’t think about them for weeks. Don’t feel guilty when you remember. Feel proud. Spend an indulgent weekend in your pajamas, reading Lucy’s favorite novel and making Ed’s favorite cookies and remembering the way your mother smelled and how it always made you feel safe. Love them and miss them and mourn them. Keep breathing. Cry, but wash your face after in cool water. Wake in the morning to birdsong and spend three hours making breakfast just the way you like it. 

Imagine the next birthday, the next Christmas, the next time you hit one of those days that herald the passage of time, that tell you how much you’ve grown and how much they haven’t. 

Lucy, Peter, and Edmund will be at the same height for the rest of your life. Lucy will always be seventeen for the second time. You see, you think you know, when you lose them, what the dagger in you feels like. But it grows with you, that ache. You grow with it, too, learn how to live with that at your side but it grows, that ache, finds new ways to twist– 

At the first friend’s wedding you go to, you cry because it’s lovely, those two smiling and promising and holding hands– but you also cry because you wonder what Lucy would have looked like in white, joyous and smiling and promising the rest of her life to a boy who deserved her. 

Go on. You tell me if Susan deserted a world or if a whole life deserted her. You tell me who was left behind. 

So yes, let’s talk about it– what if Narnia hadn’t deserted Susan? What if lipstick and nylons were things worn and not markers of worth? 

What if we had a story that told little girls they could grow up to be anything they wanted– all of Lucy’s glory and light, Susan’s pretty face and parties, the way Jill could move so quiet and quick through the trees? 

Because you know, some of those little girls? They were the little mothers, too old for their age, who worried and wondered, who couldn’t believe like Lucy or charge like Jill. Susan was reasonable, was hesitant and beautiful and gentle, was pretty and silly and growing up, and for it she was lost. She was left. And when Susan was left, so were they. 

The little girls who worried louder than they loved, who were nervous about climbing trees and who would never run after the mirage of a lion, who looked at the pretty women in the grocery store and wondered if they would grow up pretty too– some of them looked at their little clever doubting hands, after they read Peter and Eustace and Jill scoffing at Susan’s vanities, and they wondered what they were worth. 

Imagine a Narnia that believed in all of them. Imagine a Narnia that believed in adult women, lipsticked or not. Imagine Susan teaching Jill how to string a bow, arms straining. Imagine her brushing blush on Lucy’s cheeks, the first time Lu went out walking with a boy she was considering falling in love with. Imagine that when the last door to Narnia was shut, there was not a sister left behind. 

[digital-zandali]

Ziata - Atal'Shadra by osy-nya

[darkspear-dancers]

8 Facts About Zul’Jawa

Very gratefully tagged by @peachykaty​!! 

1. While Zul’Jawa might not necessarily define it as a nervous tic, it’s a very noticeable trend - when he’s thinking deeply, trying to jog his memory, or anything similar, he’ll tend to tap his carved tusks.

2. Zul’Jawa’s chosen companion is Azteotl, a spirit-leopard of Har’koa’s pride. Zul saved one of Har’koa’s cubs from a troupe of Drakkari god-hunters - and was rewarded by Har’koa with her boon and blessing, while also tasked with raising the leopard cub.

3. Zul’Jawa was given the title of ‘Black Arrow of the Kor’kron Legion’ during a friendly series of intra-guild duels between fellow Kor’kron soldiers. He faced The Butcher and then-High Warlord, @githnji, in the confines of the Thunderdrome. As for how the bout went... you might have to ask him to find out.

4. While he’s obviously very proud of his dancing ability, he’s also not shy to reveal his excellent singing voice at any opportunity. 

5. Zul’Jawa began his career as a meager scribe for the tribe - and rose through the ranks to serve now as a High Emissary of the Darkspear Tribe, a Spear of Vol’jin, and a few other positions in the service of his people.

6. Zul’Jawa lied about his age upon his enlistment into the Kor’kron Legion, joining their ranks at the young age of fourteen. (Just don’t tell @korkrunchcereal)

7. Zul is an avid surfer and practitioner of the art of He’ethraze. Like the War Dance, he recognizes its cultural importance, the athletic ability required, and the practicality and purpose behind it - as a child, he would surf from his home to the mainland village on the Darkspear Isles.

8. Zul’Jawa’s name literally translates to ‘master of dancing’ in old Zandali, with his greatfather bestowing the title of Zul upon him. Suffice to say, dancing runs in his bloodline.

Tagging: @neleko, @draikaina, @amccrescentmoon, @ziata-mists, and @sajira, as well as anyone else who might wish to do this. ^^

[harvardmoderngreek]

Αλλως Πως/ Allos Pos

By: Christos Ziatas

Toronto: 1994

(source)

Φανερόφυλλα : ποιήματα/ Phanerophylla : poiemata

By: Vasiles Athanasiou

Toronto: 1996

(source)

Ποιήματα δοκίμια/ Poiemata dokimia

By: Chrestos Demas

Toronto: 1992

(source)

New at the Modern Greek Collection, a selection of vintage Greek poetry books published in Toronto. 

[magicinthe--making]

@ziata well crap, I even had a crush on the actress who played Kim Possible 😂

if you’re a girl and had an unnatural obsession on any of these characters growing up:

Ariel from Little Mermaid

Mulan

Shego from Kim Possible

Kim Possible

Sam from Danny Phantom

The Hex girls from that Scooby Doo movie

Meg from Hercules

Raven from Teen Titans

Almost every female in Avatar the Last Airbender

chances are you’re gay now

[hangszerelem]

* Ziata klasszikus gitár nyaktő kidolgozás, én személy szerint nem látom semmilyen létjogosultságát, de kíváncsi vagyok a véleményetekre.

* The heel design of a Ziata classical guitar. I don't see the point of this, but I'm open for explanations.

#Ziata #nyaktő #neckheel #hangszerész #luthier #gitárjavítás #guitarrepair

[lesleylycan]

Character Sketches: Round #6

❤ Watch the speed paint here ❤  Elaianna belongs to @whimsicallyart, Laereth belongs to @ma-at-thought, Ziata belongs to @osyra. Thank you for letting me paint your characters. 

My art || Commissions || Instagram || Youtube || Facebook

[feralfoundry]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cK7QlN-OutU)

!T.O.O.H.! - Aura & Ziata