An early sketch of King Hoarfoot, being the second of that ilk (aka Old King Stoutgild, r. 1402-1429), for Newt's Hearts in Glorantha. He wears the united crowns of the Durulz Valley, and leaning by his 'throne' is the magical shield Thunderwell.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Old King Stoutgild...
An early sketch of King Hoarfoot, being the second of that ilk (aka Old King Stoutgild, r. 1402-1429), for Newt's Hearts in Glorantha. He wears the united crowns of the Durulz Valley, and leaning by his 'throne' is the magical shield Thunderwell.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Keepers and Gabbungs: durulz politics
Those that are fortunate to spend a little time at the court of the durulz kings and queens will hear frequent use made of a couple of strange words in the quarrelsome, warbling argot that constitutes the tongue of that place. (The durulz speak a dialect of Theyalan that is very similar to Heortling, even if at times their enunciation might indicate otherwise.)
These two terms are Keeper and Gabbung, and refer to what we might crudely label political parties at the durulz court. Both appear to date back to the later 1300s S.T., around the time of the so-called Duck Wars, when the Heortling migrations led to conflict between the Durulz Tribe on the one hand, and the Colymar and Lismelder on the other.
The word Keeper is a corruption of the older Theyalan form ciepa, or 'merchant'. There is much speculation that the durulz only succeeded in defeating the invading Heortlings through the aid of Delecti, that foul necromancer of the Marsh. In durulz legend, this treaty or 'trade' is pejoratively titled 'Giltwit's Bargain', though many wereducks flat-out refuse to believe that King Giltwit ever made such an enterprise, the idea being abhorrent to them.
Be those charges real or imagined, it is known that Giltwit made and received an embassy with Delecti in 1382 S.T. Those who supported Giltwit's parlay with the Necromancer were called ciepas by their detractors, accused of 'selling out' the durulz to their often-times enemy. It is ironic that the modern form, Keeper, indicates retention, whereas the original intent had been to indicate deprivation.
The opponents of the Keepers were known as the Gabbungs. Gabbung (and the cognate gaffetung, in older dialects) was a contemporary word that meant 'scoffing' or 'mocking'. As durulz then, as now, tended to voice their opposition vocally in very loud, fractious terms, those who opposed Giltwit's counsels gave good return for their moniker.
These two terms have persisted through to the current day, but the events, characters and persuasions they have described over the last two centuries have often been quite different to those that marked the original Keepers and Gabbungs all those years ago. Indeed, the very nomenclature itself can be more problematic than helpful.
In addition to the specific reasoning vis-a-vis Giltwit's Bargain--the association of the Gabbungs with a more rabidly anti-Delectiite stance, relative to the Keepers--Keeper came to mean an associate of the 'court party' of the time, close to the king's confidence and patronage; while Gabbung came to mean a general 'opposition party', typically constituted by those thanes opposed to the king and/or his court, and usually out of favour.
Thus, if a new king came to the throne, those that were once called Gabbungs by some could soon be reconstituted as Keepers, and vice versa. Indeed, after the death of Giltwit, the new king, Hardshins the Leperbeak, was brought in on a tide of Gabbung support. Those Gabbungs that had decried Giltwit and his Keepers now formed the core of the court, and gave the king his counsel.
As might be expected, the terms Keeper and Gabbung enjoyed a renaissance at the time of Sartar's Promise, and more recently with the Lunar invasion and pogroms. In the former case, the term Keeper was used to define those most favourable to Sartar; whilst in the latter, the Gabbungs have constituted that most violent and implacable font of durulz opposition to the Moonmen.
These two terms are Keeper and Gabbung, and refer to what we might crudely label political parties at the durulz court. Both appear to date back to the later 1300s S.T., around the time of the so-called Duck Wars, when the Heortling migrations led to conflict between the Durulz Tribe on the one hand, and the Colymar and Lismelder on the other.
The word Keeper is a corruption of the older Theyalan form ciepa, or 'merchant'. There is much speculation that the durulz only succeeded in defeating the invading Heortlings through the aid of Delecti, that foul necromancer of the Marsh. In durulz legend, this treaty or 'trade' is pejoratively titled 'Giltwit's Bargain', though many wereducks flat-out refuse to believe that King Giltwit ever made such an enterprise, the idea being abhorrent to them.
Be those charges real or imagined, it is known that Giltwit made and received an embassy with Delecti in 1382 S.T. Those who supported Giltwit's parlay with the Necromancer were called ciepas by their detractors, accused of 'selling out' the durulz to their often-times enemy. It is ironic that the modern form, Keeper, indicates retention, whereas the original intent had been to indicate deprivation.
The opponents of the Keepers were known as the Gabbungs. Gabbung (and the cognate gaffetung, in older dialects) was a contemporary word that meant 'scoffing' or 'mocking'. As durulz then, as now, tended to voice their opposition vocally in very loud, fractious terms, those who opposed Giltwit's counsels gave good return for their moniker.
These two terms have persisted through to the current day, but the events, characters and persuasions they have described over the last two centuries have often been quite different to those that marked the original Keepers and Gabbungs all those years ago. Indeed, the very nomenclature itself can be more problematic than helpful.
In addition to the specific reasoning vis-a-vis Giltwit's Bargain--the association of the Gabbungs with a more rabidly anti-Delectiite stance, relative to the Keepers--Keeper came to mean an associate of the 'court party' of the time, close to the king's confidence and patronage; while Gabbung came to mean a general 'opposition party', typically constituted by those thanes opposed to the king and/or his court, and usually out of favour.
Thus, if a new king came to the throne, those that were once called Gabbungs by some could soon be reconstituted as Keepers, and vice versa. Indeed, after the death of Giltwit, the new king, Hardshins the Leperbeak, was brought in on a tide of Gabbung support. Those Gabbungs that had decried Giltwit and his Keepers now formed the core of the court, and gave the king his counsel.
As might be expected, the terms Keeper and Gabbung enjoyed a renaissance at the time of Sartar's Promise, and more recently with the Lunar invasion and pogroms. In the former case, the term Keeper was used to define those most favourable to Sartar; whilst in the latter, the Gabbungs have constituted that most violent and implacable font of durulz opposition to the Moonmen.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Did you know...
... that we owe several Western and Theyalan words to the wereducks?
Take sordid, for example. There are some that claim this word has a Western etymology, coming via the Seshnegi sordide from some ancient perfect tongue in the Land of Logic, or whatever those weirdos believe. Boulderdash!
As any good Grey Sage will tell you, the wereducks (and their cousins, the keets) tend to describe groupings of themselves using rather colourful collective nouns. Unfortunately, this is particularly true in the case of those given to criminality.
Many of the durulz of Dragon Pass and Maniria are of such bloodlines that they favour the collective noun sord. Originally, the adjective sordid--actually coined by God Learners in Slontan, that meeting ground of Western and Theyalan--just referred to anything connected with such a group and lacked any pejorative sense; sordid and sordide were used simply to mean (of a group of) fowl.
Only later did the the sord became so associated with thievery, brigandage and general purulence, that it took on its current meaning. In some Theyalan dialects this reflected upon the character of the durulz themselves, such that in certain useages fowl degenerated into the present spelling and meaning, foul, likewise embraced in the West.
Another example is the Theyalan noun sluggard, typically used to describe someone or thing that is habitually sluggish--slow, lazy and disinclined to work. There are fanciful ideas that, in Old Heortling, it derived from slug, meaning slow and heavy, and slothfulness personified--and that only later was slug used to define those poor molluscs. This is, unfortunately, incorrect.
Slug (usually pronounced 'szhlugg') is a durulz word and has always been used to define said molluscs. The slow characterisation derived from such, and not vice versa. Sluggard is actually a contraction of 'slug-herd(er)', i.e. that durulz that makes his slow, patient living herding the monstrous slugs that thrive by the Marsh. In durulz, there is the cognate snallard, which naturally derives from 'snail-herd(er)'. Used together, in sluggardly and snallardly, they form a phrase commonly used to indicate considerable slowness of thought or action.
Take sordid, for example. There are some that claim this word has a Western etymology, coming via the Seshnegi sordide from some ancient perfect tongue in the Land of Logic, or whatever those weirdos believe. Boulderdash!
As any good Grey Sage will tell you, the wereducks (and their cousins, the keets) tend to describe groupings of themselves using rather colourful collective nouns. Unfortunately, this is particularly true in the case of those given to criminality.
Many of the durulz of Dragon Pass and Maniria are of such bloodlines that they favour the collective noun sord. Originally, the adjective sordid--actually coined by God Learners in Slontan, that meeting ground of Western and Theyalan--just referred to anything connected with such a group and lacked any pejorative sense; sordid and sordide were used simply to mean (of a group of) fowl.
Only later did the the sord became so associated with thievery, brigandage and general purulence, that it took on its current meaning. In some Theyalan dialects this reflected upon the character of the durulz themselves, such that in certain useages fowl degenerated into the present spelling and meaning, foul, likewise embraced in the West.
Another example is the Theyalan noun sluggard, typically used to describe someone or thing that is habitually sluggish--slow, lazy and disinclined to work. There are fanciful ideas that, in Old Heortling, it derived from slug, meaning slow and heavy, and slothfulness personified--and that only later was slug used to define those poor molluscs. This is, unfortunately, incorrect.
Slug (usually pronounced 'szhlugg') is a durulz word and has always been used to define said molluscs. The slow characterisation derived from such, and not vice versa. Sluggard is actually a contraction of 'slug-herd(er)', i.e. that durulz that makes his slow, patient living herding the monstrous slugs that thrive by the Marsh. In durulz, there is the cognate snallard, which naturally derives from 'snail-herd(er)'. Used together, in sluggardly and snallardly, they form a phrase commonly used to indicate considerable slowness of thought or action.
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
Known durulz bloodlines (c. 1613)
As part of the background for my projects, I was pottering about with a few durulz family names--which I could draw upon as needs be. There are six-dozen names here, which will ultimately be pared down and refined a little (probably to sixty or so, of which only about two-dozen will probably show up in my background).
Amberdrake, Bittersord, Blackscap, Blinkmottle, Bluebeak, Bogwatcher, Boldbladder, Brackblood, Brightfeather, Clearwhistle, Deftwaddle, Drydottle, Duskwort, Fairflanks, Fatleaf, Fierceplume, Fozzlebeak, Giltwit, Glowstalk, Goodshrooms, Greenbeak, Greenface, Grubcatcher, Hardshins, Hoarfoot, Honeyrump, Keenwarble, Longneck, Midgeflower, Mildgizzard, Mistcall, Mizzledown, Mosswig, Mudcrown, Nettlebeak, Palespeck, Pinfeather, Plumshank, Pucewattle, Quagbanter, Quickpaddle, Redcrest, Redmurk, Reedsong, Ringeye, Ruddy Shoveler, Rudepebble, Rushwallow, Rustmantle, Screwpipe, Shagflax, Shrewdbill, Silverhead, Slopbank, Smaltstaff, Spintail, Spleengurgle, Sprypole, Starmolt, Stoutknob, Surefoot, Swiftlore, Tarscaup, Thricepeal, Thunderthroat, Truedive, Wetnape, Whitetail, Wildwheat, Wisemustard, Woadcheek, Yellowbelly.
[Many of these draw upon exisiting Gloranthan sources, particularly Tales of the Reaching Moon.]
Amberdrake, Bittersord, Blackscap, Blinkmottle, Bluebeak, Bogwatcher, Boldbladder, Brackblood, Brightfeather, Clearwhistle, Deftwaddle, Drydottle, Duskwort, Fairflanks, Fatleaf, Fierceplume, Fozzlebeak, Giltwit, Glowstalk, Goodshrooms, Greenbeak, Greenface, Grubcatcher, Hardshins, Hoarfoot, Honeyrump, Keenwarble, Longneck, Midgeflower, Mildgizzard, Mistcall, Mizzledown, Mosswig, Mudcrown, Nettlebeak, Palespeck, Pinfeather, Plumshank, Pucewattle, Quagbanter, Quickpaddle, Redcrest, Redmurk, Reedsong, Ringeye, Ruddy Shoveler, Rudepebble, Rushwallow, Rustmantle, Screwpipe, Shagflax, Shrewdbill, Silverhead, Slopbank, Smaltstaff, Spintail, Spleengurgle, Sprypole, Starmolt, Stoutknob, Surefoot, Swiftlore, Tarscaup, Thricepeal, Thunderthroat, Truedive, Wetnape, Whitetail, Wildwheat, Wisemustard, Woadcheek, Yellowbelly.
[Many of these draw upon exisiting Gloranthan sources, particularly Tales of the Reaching Moon.]
A word (or several) on duck names
The following was written up as background for the King List Project--the copy might be a little tangential for Hearts in Glorantha, so I'll put it up here for now.
The wereducks are an expressive folk, and this is especially true in their choice of names. Much like ourselves, they tend to have at two main parts to their name: what some call a hatching name, which is similar to a Western European first or ‘Christian’ name; and a bloodline, family or nest name, which is akin to our own surname. (Of course we’ll pass for now on the frequent suffices like ‘the Big’, ‘the Hard’, ‘the Great’ the ‘Broo-Butcherer’ that tend to attach themselves on a frequent and often scarcely justified basis.)
Hatching names are chosen by the parents, and are typically used by close relations, to distinguish between individuals of the same family—or, indeed, to refer to hatchlings and fledglings before they take a family name (of which curious process, see below). There is a bewildering variety in hatching names, which often vary from clan to clan, and family to family. Popular names include Geoffri, Godfrey, Joseph, Penelope and Walt (all transliterated into the Sartarite dialect of Theyalan, naturally). Such choices are often quite strange and, in great contrast to their surnames, tend to show little connection with suggested etymologies.
Family names, however, tend to be quite apposite. Indeed, once, they were the only names that durulz went by. In ancient times, there weren’t many ducks at all, but those that lived displayed a considerable variety in physical and personal characteristics. Surnames functioned much like Roman cognomina—descriptive nicknames that later became fixed and handed down to subsequent generations. Relative to our own surnames, those of durulz tend to favour personal, physical origins over those derived from their occupation or the landscape. Unlike the Heortlings, the durulz rarely use patro-(and indeed matro-)nymics, except perhaps in Sartarite company.
The peculiar thing with ducks is that they don’t actually possess a family name until they are a couple of years old. A duckwife doesn’t take her drake husband’s family name, nor vice versa. After all, a grey-bellied Blackscap suddenly going by the name Yellowbelly would just be silly. Instead, juvenile durulz tend to take their name after that part of the inheritance that is strongest–which usually becomes quite apparent during fledging.
Now, ducks inherit characterstics from both parents, but it’s usually quite clear if a juvenile duck is a Honeyrump or a Bluebeak, irrespective of where they live, and which parent was of which family—though with family names like Fatleaf and Shagflax, there’s often a little room for interpretation.
Usually the family name is confirmed by a gaggle of relations, friends and elders, not shy of giving their opinions. It’s much like the, “Ooh, he’s got his mother’s eyes!” that we feel the need to indulge in. Well, if that mother is a Ringeye, that settles it! If there is some room for argument, its usually resolved by the interested parties squawking loudly at each other until one side gives in. Double-barrelled names are rare, but occasionally resorted to in situations where it really is difficult to decide. Dominant family traits are remarkably robust, persisting through the centuries. Sure, a few Yellowbellies have underfeathers the colour of dull straw, and some Reedsongs sing a touch flat, but it would be churlish to deny the link.
In addition to using hatching names to refer to ducks of like family, quite a few further descriptive nicknames spring up, much like they did in the earliest times. These bear many similarities to Roman agnomina and just as commonly reference deeds and occupations as physical characteristics. Indeed, such an agnomen can take root and replace an existing bloodline name, often to distinguish between two branches of an existing family, or in response to some feud or social mobility. Most of the ‘less physiological’ family names—such as the Grubcatchers, Sprypoles and Slopbanks—represent cadet branches of older bloodlines.
Durulz usually consider a hatching name to be an informal, family affair—and if used by strangers it can be considered presumptive and rude. Contrastingly, they really don’t mind being called by their family name alone, irrespective of their schooling practices.
Durulz kings and queens are always referred to by their family names, as it is a matter of great import and reflection upon the bloodline. To distinguish between different monarchs of the same bloodline, the suffix being the X of that ilk is usually added, e.g. King Thunderthroat, being the fourth of that ilk. In this scheme, there is no distinction by way of gender: kings and queens alike are accounted on the same roll.
The wereducks are an expressive folk, and this is especially true in their choice of names. Much like ourselves, they tend to have at two main parts to their name: what some call a hatching name, which is similar to a Western European first or ‘Christian’ name; and a bloodline, family or nest name, which is akin to our own surname. (Of course we’ll pass for now on the frequent suffices like ‘the Big’, ‘the Hard’, ‘the Great’ the ‘Broo-Butcherer’ that tend to attach themselves on a frequent and often scarcely justified basis.)
Hatching names are chosen by the parents, and are typically used by close relations, to distinguish between individuals of the same family—or, indeed, to refer to hatchlings and fledglings before they take a family name (of which curious process, see below). There is a bewildering variety in hatching names, which often vary from clan to clan, and family to family. Popular names include Geoffri, Godfrey, Joseph, Penelope and Walt (all transliterated into the Sartarite dialect of Theyalan, naturally). Such choices are often quite strange and, in great contrast to their surnames, tend to show little connection with suggested etymologies.
Family names, however, tend to be quite apposite. Indeed, once, they were the only names that durulz went by. In ancient times, there weren’t many ducks at all, but those that lived displayed a considerable variety in physical and personal characteristics. Surnames functioned much like Roman cognomina—descriptive nicknames that later became fixed and handed down to subsequent generations. Relative to our own surnames, those of durulz tend to favour personal, physical origins over those derived from their occupation or the landscape. Unlike the Heortlings, the durulz rarely use patro-(and indeed matro-)nymics, except perhaps in Sartarite company.
The peculiar thing with ducks is that they don’t actually possess a family name until they are a couple of years old. A duckwife doesn’t take her drake husband’s family name, nor vice versa. After all, a grey-bellied Blackscap suddenly going by the name Yellowbelly would just be silly. Instead, juvenile durulz tend to take their name after that part of the inheritance that is strongest–which usually becomes quite apparent during fledging.
Now, ducks inherit characterstics from both parents, but it’s usually quite clear if a juvenile duck is a Honeyrump or a Bluebeak, irrespective of where they live, and which parent was of which family—though with family names like Fatleaf and Shagflax, there’s often a little room for interpretation.
Usually the family name is confirmed by a gaggle of relations, friends and elders, not shy of giving their opinions. It’s much like the, “Ooh, he’s got his mother’s eyes!” that we feel the need to indulge in. Well, if that mother is a Ringeye, that settles it! If there is some room for argument, its usually resolved by the interested parties squawking loudly at each other until one side gives in. Double-barrelled names are rare, but occasionally resorted to in situations where it really is difficult to decide. Dominant family traits are remarkably robust, persisting through the centuries. Sure, a few Yellowbellies have underfeathers the colour of dull straw, and some Reedsongs sing a touch flat, but it would be churlish to deny the link.
In addition to using hatching names to refer to ducks of like family, quite a few further descriptive nicknames spring up, much like they did in the earliest times. These bear many similarities to Roman agnomina and just as commonly reference deeds and occupations as physical characteristics. Indeed, such an agnomen can take root and replace an existing bloodline name, often to distinguish between two branches of an existing family, or in response to some feud or social mobility. Most of the ‘less physiological’ family names—such as the Grubcatchers, Sprypoles and Slopbanks—represent cadet branches of older bloodlines.
Durulz usually consider a hatching name to be an informal, family affair—and if used by strangers it can be considered presumptive and rude. Contrastingly, they really don’t mind being called by their family name alone, irrespective of their schooling practices.
Durulz kings and queens are always referred to by their family names, as it is a matter of great import and reflection upon the bloodline. To distinguish between different monarchs of the same bloodline, the suffix being the X of that ilk is usually added, e.g. King Thunderthroat, being the fourth of that ilk. In this scheme, there is no distinction by way of gender: kings and queens alike are accounted on the same roll.
Saturday, 12 April 2008
The Kings and Queens of the Durulz
There's been a slight change of plan on the durulz King List Project. As you might know, Newt Newport is starting up a new fanzine: Hearts in Glorantha. So rather than just slap the material on here, I thought it'd be best to try and help support Newt's endeavour as well. I'll still post abbreviated mathoms and snippets on this blog, but--all being well--the meat will appear in Hearts in Glorantha.
My hope is to tell the tales of between one and three (in)famous kings and queens in each issue, with assorted accompanying nonsense. Three such monarchs have been lined up for the debut. In a large part, the series draws upon the work of a famous durulz skald, with each monarch's life told in verse. Two examples are appended below:
O hoaried feet did cast thy princely tread,
On star-dew'd ground knit tight with sorrows sewn,
Over a kinship lost and kingdom fled.
Away, away, thou errant drake hast flown,
In a bratchet's basket thou made'st thy throne;
Of its sweet suckled milk we poets write,
For thy gold's grave lay in that cup of night.
By iv'ry path thou didst thy passage mark,
Through mizzle's masque afore a rotweav'd wake,
Thy bows the reaping gale of Grambletark.
No twice-lost sight could fail to catch thy drake
His thrusting blade thy scabbard's own to take;
From loy'lty's pearl the sword-sons three did spring,
Each doom'd to die alone and ne'er be king.
My hope is to tell the tales of between one and three (in)famous kings and queens in each issue, with assorted accompanying nonsense. Three such monarchs have been lined up for the debut. In a large part, the series draws upon the work of a famous durulz skald, with each monarch's life told in verse. Two examples are appended below:
O hoaried feet did cast thy princely tread,
On star-dew'd ground knit tight with sorrows sewn,
Over a kinship lost and kingdom fled.
Away, away, thou errant drake hast flown,
In a bratchet's basket thou made'st thy throne;
Of its sweet suckled milk we poets write,
For thy gold's grave lay in that cup of night.
By iv'ry path thou didst thy passage mark,
Through mizzle's masque afore a rotweav'd wake,
Thy bows the reaping gale of Grambletark.
No twice-lost sight could fail to catch thy drake
His thrusting blade thy scabbard's own to take;
From loy'lty's pearl the sword-sons three did spring,
Each doom'd to die alone and ne'er be king.
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
Keep it tight, Geoff...
Over the coming weeks, I'll be 'tightening up' a few of the past entries, mostly those that accompany the sketches done in late 2007. These were written in a very small space of time, and I'd only just started to explore some of my thoughts on the durulz of Dragon Pass and northern Maniria. New ideas come; old ones are restyled in the light of them and further explorations. Nothing major, and certainly nothing to change the imagery [forward the artistic proletariat of Glorantha; the words of bourgeois hackery have been defining things for too long], but some of the finer points might differ.
'Research' proceeds on my little King List Project. Which, truth be told, isn't a list, isn't always about kings and is not much of a project. The aim is to produce perhaps up to a dozen character-picture studies of past durulz kings and queens--who do and did exist in Glorantha, but we hear little of. Some are heroic, some... not. I've been carefully rereading the later Tales of the Reaching Moon, especially.
The aim, as you might have noticed with more recent contributions, is to attempt a slightly more deft, careful and applicable investigation of some aspects of ducks than I have attempted in the past. Which is not to say such are without humour or whimsy, but that they are hopefully a little more nuanced than the intentionally focused farce, pastiche and comedy (sub judice) that has preceded. I'd just like to try something a tiny bit different. Being a pole can be tiresome. Apparently.
'Research' proceeds on my little King List Project. Which, truth be told, isn't a list, isn't always about kings and is not much of a project. The aim is to produce perhaps up to a dozen character-picture studies of past durulz kings and queens--who do and did exist in Glorantha, but we hear little of. Some are heroic, some... not. I've been carefully rereading the later Tales of the Reaching Moon, especially.
The aim, as you might have noticed with more recent contributions, is to attempt a slightly more deft, careful and applicable investigation of some aspects of ducks than I have attempted in the past. Which is not to say such are without humour or whimsy, but that they are hopefully a little more nuanced than the intentionally focused farce, pastiche and comedy (sub judice) that has preceded. I'd just like to try something a tiny bit different. Being a pole can be tiresome. Apparently.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)