#clong

[alien-daydreamer]

I did a search and replace on one of my conlangs, replacing x with ʁ, and forgetting that English sometimes uses x in words. I got some fun results

Erecutioner

[ouroboros-clong]

Finally, after 3 days of work, I present you The Tower of Babel in Semecéṫṫab

¹Neṗımbód ıne sıḋeṗ ḋızéṗ gırpha ıneṅ, sıḋeṅ gırhenh ınenthı. ²Ḃáreḋ gótulbóttus gó laḃíṅıṁ Sınaréḋ súdec píḋġı ṫangabóttun gó sıḋeṗ otummheṗ pırımhéḋ ḃáreḋ reheḋbóttun dıloġımh tupreḋ. ³Gırhebóttunrus, “É, ḋupoıl puzeṅ báreḋ ġéthıılduṅ um sútcıṁ sáṫtuṅ céstıṗeṅ.”—Somóttus puzeṅ ın tíṁnuleh, ḃáreḋ somóttus tenhac ín suméḋı.—⁴Ḃáreḋ gırhebóttunrus, “É, luteıl tıphe, nıġıng sód neṗım sıḋe pulhótuṗ sıḋeḋ nuḋatéṫthı, síṁ nupópıılıh núna, síṁ munoċépııl uṗatphımh ıṫ ınıṁ sıḋeṗ ḋızéṗ.” ⁵Ṫangabód Ró eċtuḋ síṁ ṅópıtur sıḋe tıphe sıḋe nıġıngthı sódun sıḋe díhamṗá lutebód, ⁶ḃáreḋ gırhebódruṅ Ró, “Ú reheḋbód turhen sódul ong ın ímbareḋ ngá ġırhpha ıneṅ dupómh sıḋı, nétthuḋ sí ḃehétun dupómh ıne sód culotır dupómh. ⁷É ġóruıl eċtuḋ ngáṫurh ḃáreḋ hıngurıl gırhphatut tupreḋ síṁ ṁunoċéṗıtun uḋehımh gırhpha sıdeṫ sángeṫ.” ⁸Uṗadbód Ró turhen nétthuḋ ıṫ ınıṁ sıḋeṗ ḋızéṗ; ḃohodbód lutémh sıḋe tıphe ngáṫurh. ⁹Song turhe ngá sódrıṁ Baḃel nólhephód sıḋı ngá sódrıṁ Ró ıngurbód sıḋe girhpha enıṗ sıḋeṗ ḋızéṗ; ḃáreḋ Ró uṗadbóttun ıṫ ınıṁ sıḋeṗ ḋızéṗ.

[ˈneɸimboːd ˈine siðeɸ ˈðizeːɸ ˈɡir̥pʰa inẽð̞ siðẽð̞ ˈɡir̥en̥ inentʰi] [βaːreð ˈɡoːtulboːttus ɡoː ˈlaβĩːð̞ĩβ̞ ˈsinareːð suːdek piːðɣi ˈθaŋaboːttun ɡoː siðeɸ ˈotum̥m̥eɸ pirim̥eːð βaːreð ˈreheðboːttun ˈdiloɣim̥ tupreð] [ˈɡir̥eboːttunrus ˈeː ˈðupojil ˈpuzẽð̞ βaːreð ˈɣeːtʰijildũð̞ um ˈsuːtkĩβ̞ ˈsaːθtũð̞ ˈkeːstiɸẽð̞ — ˈsomoːttus ˈpuzẽð̞ in ˈtĩːβ̞nuleh βaːred ˈsomoːttus ˈten̥ak iːn ˈsumeːði] [βaːreð ˈɡir̥eboːttunrus ˈeː ˈlutejil ˈtipʰe ˈniɣiŋ soːd ˈneɸim siðe ˈpuɬoː tuɸ nih ziðeð ˈnuðateːθtʰi sĩːβ̞ ˈnupojilih ˈnuːna sĩːβ̞ ˈmunoxeːpijil ˈuɸatpʰim̥ iθ ˈinĩβ̞ siðeɸ ˈðizeːɸ] [ˈθaŋaboːd ˈroː extuð sĩːβ̞ ˈð̞oːpitur siðe ˈtipʰe siðe ˈniɣiŋtʰi soːdun siðe ˈdiːhamɸaː ˈluteboːd] [βaːreð ˈɡir̥eboːdrũð̞ ˈroː ˈuː ˈreheðboːd ˈtur̥en soːdul oŋ in ˈiːmbareð ŋaː ˈɣir̥pʰa jinẽð̞ dupoːm̥ siði ˈnettʰuð siː ˈβeheːtun dupoːm̥ ine soːd ˈkulotir dupoːm̥] [ˈeː ˈɣoːrujil extuð ŋaːθur̥ βaːreð ˈhiŋuril ˈɡir̥pʰatut tupreð sĩːβ̞ ˈβ̞unoxeːpitun uðehim̥ ˈɡir̥pʰa siðeθ ˈsaːŋeθ] [ˈuɸadboːd ˈroː ˈtur̥en ˈnettʰuð iθ ˈinĩβ̞ siðeɸ ˈðizeːɸ ˈβohodboːd luteːm̥ siðe ˈtipʰe ŋaːθur̥] [ˈsoŋ tur̥e ŋaː ˈsoːdrĩβ̞ ˈbaβel ˈnoːɬepʰoːd siði ŋaː soːdrĩβ̞ ˈroː ˈjiŋurboːd siðe ˈɡir̥pʰa ˈeniɸ siðeɸ ˈðizeːɸ βaːreð ˈroː ˈwuɸadboːttun iθ ˈinĩβ̞ siðeɸ ˈðizeːɸ]

Images below have the interlinear gloss for each line:

[melonmard]

Latin does have a bit of ergativity, e.g.

verto -are -avi -atum, i/to turn is a transitive verb, so it needs an object.

however, like in english, you dont always turn something, sometimes you just turn. the way latin expresses that is

Argus ad cenam se vertit, Argus turns towards the food, but more literally Argus turns himself towards the food.

because when you turn around, you are both doing the action, and experiencing the result of the action. which is what the sole argument of an intransitive verb does.

now, in latin, this is just to account for the languages accusative alignment, but maybe in a clong descendant of it (or in your own clong) that has more ambitransitive verbs,

Argus sē vertit becomes Argussē vertit becomes Argissē creating an ergative case

puer (nom) → puessē (erg)

puerī (nom) → puerīsse (erg)

penna (nom) → pennasē (erg)

pennae (nom) → pennaesē (erg)

flūmen (nom) → flumense

flūminēs (nom) → flūminēsse (erg)

hoc (nom) → hossē (erg)

haec (nom) → haessē (erg)

[ouroboros-sys]

what's this? more conlang?????

[roseboy-in-training]

WotD (won't be doing this consistently)

Samīdima means "relative" or "family", specifically people one is related to by blood (so spouses, step-siblings, in-laws etc don't count). It's a participle form of the verb samīdi ("to be blood-related"), itself made of sa-, meaning "to have", mī, meaning "blood", and the comitative suffix -di, so literally meaning "to have blood with someone" or "to share blood". Being a verbal form, it can be inflected for person (which is used to mark the possessor) and the obviate is marked with an infixed -i- before the participle suffix, instead of the usual tu- prefix, although the 3rd and 4th person possessor forms samīdima and tusmīdima are obviate by default and don't need an explicit obviate marker. It is theoretically possible to inflect it for tense as well, with the forms samichīma (< *samichutma < samichu-t-ma, where samichu is the past form of samī and -t is an allomorph of -di) and saminyandima (< saminya(n)-di-ma, where saminya is the irrealis form of samī) potentially meaning "former family" and "future/would-be family", though I don't imagine those being widely used. Here's a sample sentence:

Kismīdima ritsanyānīma turak kimunanifus ki-smīdima ri-tsanyānu-i-ma tu-rak ki-munan-ifu-s-Ø 1s-family 1p-pick.PST-4-PTC OBV-flower 1s-give.IRR-go.PST-IND.APPL-3

I brought my family the flower(s) we had picked.

[ivebeensetonfire]

okay but you know knights would absolutely just be hitting each other on the helmet with sticks all the time right. The clong is so satisfying and humans have always been humans

[reborrowed-archive]

a mouse in the basement, part 2/?

prev | Kíkítok masterpost

(i'm estimating maybe 5 to 6ish parts? You know how it goes)

David gets a chance to speak, but there are no good conversation partners around. That doesn't stop him from trying. tagging - @whumpsday (dm/comment to be tagged please) word count: ~1500 contains: kidnapping / captivity, blood/injury, restraints, brief manhandling, fear. (everything here is nonsexual, if that's not obvious)

David didn’t know if the basement’s other occupant took advantage of the blanket or not. She wouldn’t come out of the corner while David was watching, so David had once again trudged back to the cot. At some point, he’d fallen asleep because now he woke up with someone throwing him to the floor.

Time for breakfast.

Also, lunch and dinner.

A plate of breakfast scramble was already waiting on the ground beside him, along with a spoon. It was better than what David had expected to be fed as a prisoner. Nothing special, some eggs and potato with a little seasoning, but it was leagues better than the stale bread and gruel in his previous, cartoonish idea of what a kidnapping entailed. But lest he lose track of his situation, there was a masked and muscle-bound goon that waited attentively the whole time David’s hands were untied.

As if David had any idea how to go about picking the lock around his ankle.

Really, what he really liked about breakfast was the chance to stretch out his aching arms and work out his jaw. He chatted at the masked man as soon as the tape came off. It was stupid stuff, mindless stuff, and his guest never answered, but he savored the daily reminder that his voice still worked. He could still talk. He wasn’t lost yet.

He was also convinced that there was a woman the size of a pill bottle hiding in the corner, but that was probably fine.

David wasn't actually sure if it would be better or worse if she was real. Better, because it would mean he wasn't losing his grip on reality. Worse, because it meant there was an injured, terrified woman running around the shadows. Worse, because he still didn't know where she had come from or what she was. If she had been somehow shrunk or if the same fate awaited him upstairs. If someone was looking for her, or what they’d do.

Actually, no, it would be worse if she were real.

He thought about asking the goon about her while his mouth was free. He'd never gotten an answer to anything before, but he'd never gotten in trouble for questions either. If she was from upstairs though, he might get her into trouble. He was still working out the risk when the doorbell upstairs rang. The masked man's eyes flickered towards the stairs. The bell rang again, again, again, with less time between each new ring.

"For the love of…it's 5 in the goddamn morning," the creep grumbled, snatching the cuffs off the worktable. “You. Hands.”

"I didn’t have time to finish,” David protested.

He hated when his mouth worked faster than his head. He automatically put his hands up and flinched as the big guy stomped towards him. The masked man’s hand dug into David’s forearm and whipped it behind his back. 

“I’ve been nice, don’t make this difficult.”

Nice was a stretch, but so far no one had gone out of their way to hurt him. Even his kidnapping had been a quiet affair, with a drugged drink and what David had assumed was his Uber home. He’d blacked out and woke up here in chains. 

“Sorry. I just--I don’t want to waste the food,” David said.

The first cuff clicked closed and the captor let go with a sigh. 

“You know what, fine. Compromise. I’ll tie them in front for now,” the masked man said. “But if you try anything, I’m coming back with a gun, I don’t care what you’re worth.” 

“Y-yeah. Of course. I just want to eat,” David said.

He held back the obvious line of questions—since when was he worth anything? Most nights he barely made minimum wage. Were they just after a body? Organs, maybe? Or maybe the girl really was an experiment and David was next. He shuddered as the masked man stomped back upstairs, slamming the door behind him.

“Uh, hey, little…um, miss? You still down here?” David called softly.

A few seconds passed and a pair of tiny eyes reflected back at him from that far corner. David smiled at her. He waved his bound hands head toward the plate, fingers splayed, to invite her forward.

“Sorry for scaring you so bad last night. If you come here, you can eat some of my breakfast. I was gonna tuck it up my sleeve to share later, but now you might as well just help yourself,” he said. 

The woman stepped into the light, anxiously tugging on her sleeves. David gave her a smile as he scooped up a few bites for himself. After a few tries, he gave up on the spoon entirely and let it clatter to the floor. She flinched back into the shadows and he paused, flicking the food in his hands towards her instead.

"Hey, it's okay," David said.

She limped forward, stopping well out of his reach and about a foot away from any food. She held a hand to her side, where her pale dress was shredded and stained red-brown.. Something had hurt her bad. Probably someone, all things considered.

“N-nába pen mómókitainomu pokyó yá? Ne bó kyách yá? Tik yá?”. 

“Right, you speak…that,” David said with a frown. “I can’t understand you, do you speak English? You did a little last night. Can you understand me?”

She backed away as soon as his smile disappeared.

“Pease don’t hurt me,” she whispered.

It was a learned phrase, David realized with a wave of sympathy. He didn’t want to know what had led her to pick that up over English greetings or introductions. Thinking about how injured she was, he didn’t really want to. 

Her eyes kept flicking towards the promised breakfast but her attention was fixed on David with suspicion. David took a breath and softened his expression again. 

“I won’t hurt you. It’s okay. It’s okay. Really,” David said gently.

“Tsokay?” she echoed.

David nodded, “Yeah. It’s okay, go ahead.”

“Kró óqou, yichísóts,” the mouse-woman murmured as she stepped forward.

In the light, she was less human than David had first thought. Her ears were large and expressive and a bandaged tail stuck out from between the layers of her dress. She moved with the same twitching suddenness as a mouse as she tore up scraps of egg and stuffed them into a roughly sewn shoulder bag. It seemed natural on her, though it was uncanny to watch on a humanoid frame.

She jumped and fled again as something crashed upstairs. The masked man and whoever was at the door were yelling at each other. The woman threw herself into the shadows under the cot like a startled cat.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s still just us down here. The stairs creak, you’ll know when he’s coming back. I’m not going to hurt you. You can come out,” David said.

She stared. The poor thing was shaking as she tried to hide behind the crooked leg of the cot. She looked past David towards the stairs and inhaled sharply. The yelling dulled and her shoulders fell slack.

“You know them? The guy upstairs? Did they do this to you? Did they hurt you?” David asked.

“I’m sorry, rúmisira wun. Iqichówóts wun chítisikú béqehyúmenki” she said. Her face curled into a frustrated scowl as she looked up at David. She made several wide-armed gestures as she spoke, none of which made sense without whatever context her words might have provided. “Pópapópamarus wátskou wun tón kuh…fwiyécá pó. I’m sorry. Tyáwou kyirówén.” 

David shook his head and went back to eating as they spoke more or less at each other. He really did want to finish his meal. It was all he’d get for the next twenty-four hours, after all.

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. Uh, I mean, it’s okay. Really. I know you don’t have any idea what I’m saying. I was just…I don’t know, I like to think out loud and I want to know what’s going on and you’ve been out of the basement more recently than me. It’s okay.”

She tilted her head and David had to wonder how much she understood, if anything. She had to have at least encountered English, if she knew her two little phrases, sad as they were. 

“Do you…you have a name, right? I’m David. David” he said emphatically, gesturing to himself, then down to her. “You?”

There was a long pause. 

“Chón? You David?”

“Right. That’s me. David, yeah. Yes,” he smiled.

He raised his brows to suggest it was her turn. Her hands clutched at her bag again and she closed her eyes, looking like she was preparing to jump off a cliff. She nodded slowly, and took a step back into the light towards him.

“Kiwi. Chón sou bó Kiwi,” she whispered. 

“Kiwi? that’s cute. Good to meet you, Kiwi. Here’s hoping we can both find a way out of this.”

And for a brief second, she smiled back.

[garliccmonster]

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