Tiggurat: Tongue of the Ullammani River Basin

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Inkcube-Revolver
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Tiggurat: Tongue of the Ullammani River Basin

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Sup, nerds. It's been a long time since I was active on here. As we all know, quarantine happened, and I've been making conlangs again — you know the drill. Hope everyone has been healthy and sane in these crazy times.

Background:

Classical Tiggurat is a synthetic language, brushing along the borders between the fusional and the agglutinative; it really depends on the dialect. This page will explore Classical Tiggurat, and will serve as a snapshot of the region before the basin kingdoms fell, before the "present era." Much of the basin has succumbed to millennia of climate change — and some fucky wucky magical bullshit — transforming the once thriving region into yet more land claimed by the Great Sand Sea to the northeast, spreading its greed, its hunger, its heat. The Sand Sea provides solace only in death.

(Flashback noises)

At the height of its power, along the coasts and the rivers that carve through the Ullammani River Basin, great cities and towns flourish, many of them wealthy, beautiful and fertile.
The river basin was dominated by savannah, paving the way for the speakers of the Tiggurat language family to invade and settle. The ancestors of the Tiggurat peoples prospered in the balmy humid subtropical climate, which is almost Mediterranean along the southern waters. The basin itself is surrounded by the Ullammani Mountain Range to the north and east, and Kinmu's Spine to the northwest — they are all poignant (šika), pointy (šwayu), and pretty (katlak kazān). Catching seaside winds (pūmyimlaya), the rolling hills and lush fertile flatlands were all ripe (ī ) for one of the earliest known civilizations in the region.
The lion-lords (hānaslānu) carry the tradition of hunting lions (asla) and tigers (kumša) for power, status, and wealth, while mounted on rhinos and elephants in the Heartlands, the lion's domain (aslāhāli). These are central savanna lands that act as a giant buffer to the Coastal Cities, the Ullammani, and Kinmu's Spine. The home of the Main Dialect is on the shores that meet the Great Sea, lapping in the south and east. Access to the Great Sea allows the Coastal Cities to trade with foreign powers and acquire precious goods not found in the basin, as they also tap into the huge fishing market of the Sea. The basin itself offers ivory, lion pelts, tiger stripes, jade, turquoise and more to the lands beyond the Ullammani and the Spine.
Because of the immense wealth that this coastal region enjoys, the southern sea is known as Kšāylā Pūmyāmū and Kšāylā Tūya, which roughly means "The Great Sea of Immense Wealth and Riches." It is also known as Wāyyālway "The Great Green, The Big Blue," and Mlūkay Tūya, Mlūkūn Tūya "The Indigo Sea."


Phonology:
Stops — p , t , c /t͡s/ , k , (ʔ)*
Nasals — m , n , (ŋ)
Fricatives — s , z , š /ʃ/ , h*
Liquids — w , y /j/ , l , ɾ* , r

Vowels — a, ā , i, ī , u, ū
Diphthongs — aw, āw, ay, āy, iw, īw, uy, ūy

* /ʔ/ is weak in the Main Dialect and the southern ones, more prominent in the north
*/ɾ/ is restricted to certain dialects
* especially in the Southern dialects, /h/ tends to disappear intervocalically
Pretty straightforward. The phonotactics and morphology, however, are bit of a doozy. In the Standard Main Dialect (MD), stress tends to fall on the antepenultimate syllable, but because the stress is so strong, preceding and subsequent vowels and syllables tend to weaken and delete entirely, forcing stress on the penultimate syllable instead. This will be explored more in future posts.
/i/ and /u/ when preceded by /a/ tend to become glides, but because of stress and other phonological factors, this can sometimes be unpredictable. In short, this is not a hard and fast rule, but could still be a handy cheatsheet:
uá → wá vs. úa — stays the same, or /a/ may disappear and lengthen stressed /u/, depends on shape of syllable
uí → wí vs. úi → úy
ia → yá vs. ía ~ ī
iú → yú vs. íw ~ ī
— In some dialects, not the MD, vowel hiatus is much more prominent
In the proto-language, */ʒ/ ~ */ʑ/ was very widespread, and in the present, a rough division can be made between the northern and southern dialects for the reflexes of this sound, surfacing as /j/ in the north, and /ʃ/ in the south. In the central regions and among the lower classes, how either of these two phonemes should be pronounced tends to be ambiguous.
Šākurrat, Šākurra "Tiggurat River, Tiggurat River Valley"
Let's explore one noun and the different affixes that come into play. From here on out, dialectal forms and cognates will be indicated by this line: |
*molor ~ *məlur “dream”
→ *molorkamlūka (v.), (n.) “dream, wonder, desire, hope”
*ɸat- — passive prefix
*ɸatmolorhammalūša (n.) “to be dreamt of, wished for, desired; (n.) that which is dream of, innermost desire”
mlūša (n.) “dream”
mlūšaš | mlūyay (n.) “dreamer”
mlūnā (n.) “dream, reverie, image, idea, thought, imagination”
mlūkaš | mlūkay (n.) “dreamer, aspiring one, hopeful one”
pā- (1st person subject pronoun affix)
pāmlūka “I dream, I have a dream, I hope”
Some more fun with the morphology and compounding:
šippat (n.) “spear,” šippattim (plural) “spears” — -(h)im is the typical inanimate noun suffix for most dialects.
šupu (v.) “cover, hide, protect” + -ayya (noun intensifier suffix)
šupayya ~ špayya (n.) “protection, safety, shelter; shield”
šippat (ai) špayya “spear and shield; weapons” (fig.) “preparation, readiness, alertness; conflict, combat, battle, fight, war; military force”
šippatānu ~ šippānu (n.) “spearman, warrior, soldier”
taškānu (n.) “archer, bowman”
pāšippānu "I (am) a/the spearman/soldier." — Nearly every noun and adjective can be paired with one of these pronoun affixes to make it a verbal phrase. This will also have its own dedicated post, as pronouns tend to be one of my favorite aspects of any conlang.
Plurals vary a lot in Tiggurat and its many sister dialects; this aspect of the language and all the nuance with plurality will also be covered in a later post since there's a lot to unpack here, but for now, know that animacy plays a big part in this.
šippānuya ~ šippānya (plural n.) “spearmen, warriors, soldiers”
šippattim (pl. inan. n.) “spears; warriors, soldiers; attack, onslaught, rain of spears”

linni “wood” + šupu “cover” → linnišupu ~ līšpu (n.) “wooden cover; door; shield; top, cover, lid; barracks; pergola, patio cover, canopy”
— homonym of līšpu (adj.) “wooden, made of wood, covered with wood” (linni + -špu “covered with, made of”)

mūhan mū (“body to body”) “face to face, person to person” (n.) “fight, wrestle, battle”
mūnmū
yamahan yam “hand to hand”
šim yamā́nyam (v.) “to come hand to hand, to wrestle, fight, contest, duke it out, brawl, scrap, battle”
šanti “to meet, connect; join”
šī (v.) “to meet, approach”
šanti kūntinla (v.) “to meet/connect iron, to fight, combat, battle, duel, to war, invade, defend, attack”

ihu- “off, away, against” + *kitu “to stand”
ihuštu | ihuttu ~ ihittu ~ iːttu (v.) “to oppose, disagree, defy, object; to be against; to rival, contend”
īttu + hapu “face” → īttapu (v.) “to face off, face against, to battle, contest; to strive, struggle” (n.) “strife, struggle, fight, battle, combat, war; duel, contest, competition”
īttapucu (v.) “to make war, to fight, feud” īttapcuš ~ īttapcuy (n.) “instigator, aggressor”
īttapucanā ~ īttapucnā (n.) “war, warfare, great battle, great struggle, campaign; civil war”
īttapānu (n.) “warrior; fighter, contestant; enemy, foe, adversary”
īttānu, īttaš | īttay (n.) “enemy, for, adversary”
— in the southern dialects, /ʃ/ is sometimes perceived as /ɕ/ ; in some extreme cases, it’s confused for /s/
— in the northern dialects, /ʃ/ is more retracted, being somewhere between apical and alveolar, to the point where some rural dialects perceive it almost as /h/ (or even /ɦ/ between vowels). This is much more prominent before /k/ and the k’s that were /q/ in the proto-language.
— in some dialects, /w/ is allophonic with /h/, because both tend to descend from */ɸ/
— some conservative dialects in the central and northern regions of the basin retain /ɸ/, it being interchangeable with /w/ and /h/ and succeptible to funky sound changes. The trend throughout most of these dialects is */ɸ/ giving a round color to neighboring vowels.

A prominent example of this can be found in this proto-word: ɸaxno "man, human, person"
Here are the most common reflexes of the word:
wānu “person, human, man” | hānu | hawnu ~ hōno ~ hōnu

*ɸaxnoɸaxno → (Southern Dialect) hānwānu (irregular plural) | hānūnu | wānūnu (n. pl.) “people, persons, individuals”
hān- is reanalyzed as a plural marker for honorifics and culturally important animate nouns

-(C)īnu stems from an adjective that means "many, more," and is used as an animate noun marker in many dialects.

wīnu “persons, humans, people” (a reanalyzed plural for -ānu)
**- didn’t have a specific traceable meaning, reanalyzed as (v.) “to be human, alive, mortal”
wāy (adj.) “human, living, alive, mortal” (n.) “mortal”

šippat špayya yampa kāšimlu
šippat špayya yampan kāšimšim ~ kāšimši
“Spear and shield in hand they came/went.”
The Tiggurats weren't the first group that occupied the region, such a group has either morphed into other distinct faces, or faded into obscurity tens of millennia long before the invention of writing. However, among this multitude of faces, one group of darker skinned natives is believed to have occupied the savannah before the Tiggurat arrival — the Kūmāša. They are one of the only truly indigenous peoples around in this time, though no one else really knows or respects this. Their original heritage and culture survives in the western plains along Kinmu's Spine, where giraffes and antelopes graze and roam. Kudu, oryx, gazelle, impala, and samotheriums are considered sacred to the Kūmāša, who named themselves after the majestic kudu. The majority of the native population that shares ancestry with the Kuumaasha tribes integrated with Tiggurat society long ago, occupying all strata of city life, and would certainly consider themselves Tiggurat in their own right, as would any of the other people that call the River Basin home.
It's unknown how long the Kūmāša tribes have inhabited the basin, maybe moments before the Tiggurats arrived, maybe they came along with their copper-skinned sun-worshipping brethren. Maybe the horned hunters have enjoyed the sun since the dawn of time. Either way, they have a long, proud and bloody history of roaming the savannas, hunting lions, and fearing the hippo demons in their rivers. Yet, long as their history may be, many native lion-lords still refuse the art of writing, adhering to their oral traditions to keep their minds sharp. Some of these western lion-lords view the Tiggurat power of memory as weak and rotting from the vices of convenience and idle minds. They complain how the Tiggurats rely too much on playing with clay, how they bake things they cannot eat, and how ink stories are unnatural, too fragile to carry around on a samothere's back, and how, though they may be cool the first time, ink stories are kind of spooky. Above all, according to these antelope-lovers, the Kūmāša peoples are nothing but Chads, and the Tiggurats are just a bunch of big ol' virgin losers who die in pointless wars and are too stupid to move somewhere else when the flood season begins. And yet the Tiggurats mock the Kūmāša for not wearing robes or dresses, for proudly owning their natural stench instead of masking it with perfumes, for hunting and killing their own food when city folk only need to buy it. Then again, the Kūmāša that became sedentary were in all likelihood already enjoying the fruits of their labor by the time the ancient Tiggurats arrive — and keep in mind, this is on a scale of thousands of years, if not dozens of them. There aren't any archaeologists sleuthing about to get the story straight.

Since the wealthiest cities are situated along the Kišāyla Sea, the Coastal Cities tend to be extremely biased. They deem themselves as the rightful heirs to the Tiggurat cultural lineage, identifying the South as the motherland of the Basin Kingdoms, and the birthplace of all human civilization. In truth, Tiggurat's evolution and her dialects originally ebb and flow from the north, from beyond the great savanna and even the basin itself. A wide strip of rocky grassland divides the Ullammani and the Spine — the Ancient Tiggurat peoples migrated through this elevated mountain pass unknown millennia ago. With them, the proto-language, "Proto-Tiggurat," also flowed from outside of the river basin, and it's very possible that distant relatives of the protolanguage survive just beyond the mountains that hug the savannas. The most conservative dialects of the Tiggurat family are, in essence, sisters and cousins to the Main Dialect, and, if armed with a sharp and careful ear, one can trace all the gradients of the language family, from babbling brooks down to shushing shores. The Coastal Cities harbor many foreign tongues beyond the basin. In the same vein, they are the sites where the rich Tiggurat dialects abroad die, as the harsher sounds of the north soften and erode, leaving behind nothing more than the salty breath of the sea.

Stay tuned.
I like my languages how I like my women: grammatically complex with various moods and tenses, a thin line between nouns and verbs, and dozens upon dozens of possible conjugations for every single verb.
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Re: Tiggurat: Tongue of the Ullammani River Basin

Post by Inkcube-Revolver »

Part 1 — Pronouns

"In order to know who your enemies are, first you must know who you are." — unknown

yazmu nā mū īttayyīttay yā tuman, ai yazmu mātiampu nāššitlan.

/jazmʊ naː muː ʔiːttəjˈjiːttaj jaː ˈtuma(ː)n, aj͜ jazmʊ ˈmaːtjampʊ naːʃˈʃitɬa(ː)n/
(“know”) (“who”) (“oppose”+agentive+full reduplication) (“this”) (“hand; means”+“to/at/on”), (“and/yet/but”) (“strength”+inside) (“who”+“stand”+“place”+“at/to/on”)
Spoiler:
lit. “Know who (is) your enemy in this fashion, yet know well (in strength) who-stands here/who stands before them.”

— underlying form of nāššitlan is nāšša šitlān
"who" + wašša "to stand, to be" + *kitu "to stay" + "home; place" + han ("at/to/on" affix)
These are Tiggurat’s pronouns in the Main Coastal Dialect:
(first person singular subject pronoun) “I”
(first person singular object pronoun) “me”
(1st ps. singular possessive pronoun) “my, mine”

(2nd ps. sg. sbj. prn.) “you”
(2nd. ps. sg. obj. prn.) “you”
(2nd ps. sg. poss. prn.) “your, yours”
As demonstrated in the previous post, these pronouns can be affixed onto the verb to indicate who is doing what to who. The pronouns, demonstratives, interrogative pronouns — and in some dialects the prepositions and numerals — all use this older system, whereas in Classical Tiggurat, the word order is SOV or SVO, with a VSO system still retained in older phrases and typically in the order of the pronoun affixes.
kaz (n.) “eye” (v.) “to see, look”
pākazmī (SVO)
/paːˈkazmiː/
(1st ps. sbj. prn.)-see-(2ns ps. obj. prn.)
“I see you”

kazpāmī (VSO)
/ˈkazˌpaːmiː/ ~ /kazˈpaːmiː/

pāmīkaz (SOV)
All three mean the same thing, though SOV is an innovation in the northern dialects, and a very uncommon one at that. A native speaker would view the SOV order as unusual, and it may indicate that the person using it speaks Tiggurat as a second language.
kazmāpī “you see me”

šapa (v.) "to hunt"
šapapāmī /ʃapaˈpaːmiː/
pāšapamī /paːˈʃapamiː/
“I hunt you; I look for you”

— pronunciation tends to fall on the lexical verb stem, but depending on how loaded the verb is and where the pronoun affixes are placed, pronunciation tends to favor penultimate stress if the syllable has a long vowel, is a closed syllable, or both.

hapu (n.) “face”
pāhapumīpāpumī /ˈpaːpumiː ~ paːˈpumiː/
“I face you, I see you, I look at you, I acknowledge you, I pay attention to you”

— /h/ tends to disappear between vowels, especially if they're the same vowel or if the preceding vowel is a long one.
Now, for the 3rd person pronoun, like in many other languages, it comes from an old demonstrative meaning something like “this one” that, by analogy, took on this system. In the Old Tiggurat, the third person pronoun does not distinguish between singular and plural, and this ambiguity is still present in the Classical language.
(3rd. ps. sbj. prn.) “s/he/it/they”
(3rd. ps. obj. prn.) “her, him, it, them”
(3rd ps. poss. prn.) “her(s), his, its, their(s)”
In the oldest written accounts of the language, the other personal pronouns seem to have also behaved this way — in the Main Dialect, distinction forms for the 1st and 2nd person plurals are present. The Northern dialects don’t use these forms, adhering to the older, more ambiguous system that relies on context.

In the Main Dialect:
(1st ps. pl. sbj. prn.) “we”
(1st ps. pl. obj. prn.) “us”
(1st ps. pl. poss. prn.) “our(s)”

(2nd ps. pl. sbj. prn.) “you, you all”
(2nd ps. pl. obj. prn.) “you”
(2nd ps. pl. poss. prn.) “your, of you all, belonging to all of you”

kaztālī “we see all of you”
kazlātī “you all see us”

tumšī (v.) “to fall” (lit. “to meet the ground”)
(animate n.) “snow”
ayša (animate n.) “rain”

pāli (n.) “child, boy, girl”
pāli tumšīkā “the child falls (to the ground)”
kātumšī | tumšīkā “s/he falls (to the ground)”
but
yū tumšīkā | yū tumšīkākā “the snow (alls on the ground); it snows”
ayša tumšīkā | ayša tumšīkākā “rain falls (to the ground); it rains” — reduplicated 3rd ps. prn.
is understood to be plural in these contexts, and other dialects that have 3rd person plurals express this, as well.

yamšū | šyam (v.) "to help, aid, assist, lit. 'to give a hand'"
yamšūtāmī | yamtāmī | šyamtāmī — “we help you, we are here to help you”
ayša tumšikākātī — "the rain helps us" (lit. "the rains they give hands to us")

In the Kinmu Mountain Dialect:
“we” (from the word that means “home, family”)
“us”
“our(s)”
Adjectives and possessives tend to come before the nouns they modify; this is to help distinguish adjectives, since many of them are still transparently verbs.
muša (inan. n.) “meat, flesh” (that of animals, would be pejorative and offensive if referring to a human)
ālu muša “red meat, bloody meat”
muša ālu “something that is meaty and red; thick blood” → mušālu “thick blood; heavy with blood, very bloody; gore, gory”

Compounding occurs frequently and often
ālu māti (lit. “red strength”) “vitality, energy; health” → ālmātiāmlāti

— in clusters where /l/ is the coda and the following syllable starts with a consonant, metathesis occurs to switch place with /l/, as seen above.
thus, lāti can be reanalyzed as another word for “strength,” or can mean “vitality, energy; health” by itself
I like my languages how I like my women: grammatically complex with various moods and tenses, a thin line between nouns and verbs, and dozens upon dozens of possible conjugations for every single verb.
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