#caucasus-reborn

[buzzdixonwriter]

The Scorpough Document [FICTOID]

The Scorpough Document proved as elusive a text to translate as the Voynich Manuscript or the Codex Seraphinianus, driving several scholars mad, from its original discoverer the Earl of Scorpough to a Jesuit priest in the Vatican library to most recently Professor Harold Branwith, who was Tanisha Jefferson’s mentor at the university.

The Earl found the manuscript in the late 18th century while on an expedition to Turkey.  He could date it back to the 16th century but no further. 

His efforts at solving the secret of the document left him chained to a bedpost in his country estate, waited upon by servants in suits of armor to save themselves from being bitten but the earl when they fed him.

The document passed through several hands, eventually winding up in the Vatican library until Father Kohlo, the ancient document historian, tried to erase Michaelangelo’s painting on the Sistine Chapel by laying flat on his back and urinating straight up.

Father Kohlo fortunately lacked the internal pressure to get the stream to rise more than a yard in the air but it proved sufficient to get him bricked in the wall of the Vatican, fed through a tiny slot.

This prompted Pope Muszak IV to proclaim, “Exi hic fornicando cacas!” and the document made its way across the Atlantic to Professor Branwith’s university, where the pope hoped it would wreak equal havoc among the Protestants.

Tanisha liked Professor Branwith, and seeing him reduced to sitting naked save for a straight jacket in a puddle of his own drool and urine made her vow to crack the Scorpough Document’s secret once and for all.

She employed an advantage none of the previous scholars enjoyed:  Artificial intelligence.  She ran the mysterious symbols through every possible method of scanning them:  Left to right, right to left, up, down, diagonally.  Then she compared the symbols to every known language, reading them forwards and backwards in the hopes of somehow deciphering them.

Nada.

Then her breakthrough came.  Realizing the symbols on each page of the manuscript equaled prime numbers, she figured the exact middle symbol on each page and spiraled out from there.

At last, success! 

The Scorpough Document proved to be written in arcane symbols based on an obscure dialect of the Abkhazo-Adyghean language group from the Anatolian region of Asia Minor.  Using her AI, Tanisha translated the ancient forgotten language into contemporary English.

It read:  “You who are reading this book, rejoice!  This tome has been prepared for thee across the centuries.  Prepare to reclaim thy birthright, oh great one, for thou wert born six centuries ago as a tsar in Anatolia, and are now reborn as a great fighting man of the Caucasus to lead thy people to even greater glory!”

Damn, thought Tanisha, wypipo have always been into some funky ass shit.

  © Buzz Dixon

[rock-you-like-a-hurricxne]

A large teddy bear and a box of sweets were given to Makoto. "Happy Valentine's Day, Mako-chan," Masaru said with a smile.

Oh, she hadn't seen Masaru in a good moment. She always got a little worried when she didn't see her friends for awhile. Happily starting to greet him as her expression dropped to one of confusion when she was handed the gifts? Was...was this really for her? It felt like the heat was rising to her face from the nice gesture.

'..ha... ...y-you didn't really have to get me anything you know...'

Voice got softer as she gave a nervous laugh.

...thanks I love it...'

[traitorous-yellow-kat]

Kazari left the Secret Base Cafe, shoving his hand into his jacket and withdrawing the oft-neglected phone that was stored within. It was more a music player to him, but....someone had handed it to him at some point and was paying its bills. Was it Kazashiro? He couldn’t remember.

The Greeed quickly tapped out a message to the man his mind had gone to first when it came to this whole mess. While he wasn’t sure what exactly the qualifications in this mass disappearance were, so there was no guarentee that Masaru would even reply. 

[text: Other Bug] Are you seeing this shit? Not a soul in sight. We need to meet up, ASAP.

@caucasus-reborn

[vashito]

Your art gives me life. Keep rockin', dude! ,\,,/

ffffffffff thank u so much! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

[rock-you-like-a-hurricxne]

caucasus-reborn replied to your post: “Fine, you can come in, but take off your shoes.”

“Sorry, it’s just, I had this place just cleaned. Here, you can take them off right here, along with your coat. I’ll get some warm tea made for you, alright?”

Head turned back as you was about to turn on yours heels to leave, but upon listening to his apology explanation you could understand to an extent with cleaning. Though you weren’t one to really voice otherwise with others unless they were about to track mud or something.

‘Well.... alright. Though, I don’t have a coat, since it wasn’t really all that cold earlier.’

Door was closed behind you with feet slipping out of your shoes.

[bluehairedshortie-blog]

"If it isn't my cute little mage. It's been a while, huh, Levy?"

@caucasus-reborn

“Yeah, it has. Sorry about that. I hope you didn’t end up missing me too much...” 

[glassesandpassion]

caucasus-reborn replied to your photo: {*whispers* heeeey….wassup…..here’s a big version...

That is some good art, wow!

{*whispers* thank you, my dude....i'm trying to get my art mojo back....}

[thunderinyourheart-blog1]

😃 😊

😃 - To me, you are easy to approach.😊 - I think you are a really friendly person.

//I’m a fun, friendly nerd who is as intimidating as a butterfly. You are not wrong

[jounouchis]

caucasus-reborn replied to your photo: eeeYYYYEEAAH EMU

I’ve missed your Kamen Rider art!

thank you I have missed doing rider art and just consistently drawing in general. I want to do more!

also wow thank you caucasus I don’t know if I’ve thanked you on it before but you’re always so supportive and been following me for my art for a long time really bro thanks

[graceful-cure-swan]

💖

“I don’t know you that well, but I like that you’re kind. You have a nice motorcycle, too! And you’re taller than me so you can reach things up on tall shelves!” Tsubasa said.

[ayearinfaith]

𝗔 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟴: 𝗦𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗴𝗵

“When the Simurgh manifested himself outside the veil, radiant as the sun, he produced thousands of shadows on Earth. When he cast his glance on these shadows there appeared birds in great numbers. The different types of birds that are seen in the world are thus only the shadow of the Simurgh. Know then, O ignorant ones, that when you understand this you will understand your relationship to the Simurgh.” - 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 by Attar of Nishapur in 1177

The Simurgh is a legendary bird in Iranian mythology. It has persisted as an important figure since ancient times, even surviving the cultural transition to Islam. Versions of the Simurgh are found throughout the Caucasus and Central Asia, where the Persian Empire once held sway, and has ties to a number of other mythological birds, like the Arabian Roc or Hindu Garuda. The modern Armenian word for a peacock is derived from this creature.

𝗕𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱

The Simurgh is typically described as an enormous bird, capable of listing an elephant in its talons, which are actually lion’s claws, and with a canine’s head. It is some manner of peacock or pheasant, with it’s long multicolored tailfeathers always a defining feature in its iconography. Due to its mammalian features it is sometimes compared to the Greek griffin, a four-legged eagle-lion hybrid, though the Simurgh has only the talons and head of a mammal, and little else in common with the lore of griffins. Due to its peacock-like appearance and bright colors it is also compared to both the Greek Phoenix and Chinese Fenguang, both also depicted as peacock-like birds of many colors. It does share themes of resurrection with the Phoenix, though where the Phoenix is said to reincarnate itself in flames at the end of its life cycle, the Simurgh is so ancient that it has seen the universe itself die and be reborn three times. This long life and knowledge of the cyclic nature of things has blessed the Simurgh with wisdom surpassing that of any other being on earth. The Simurgh makes it’s nest in the Tree of Life, which is Iranian mythology is known as either the Haoma (cognate to the Hindu elixir of the gods “Soma”) or the Goakerena. Use of the later term is dependent on whether, in this specific tradition, Haoma is the tree itself, or the magical species of tree that the tree of life is. The tree itself is said to have potent healing properties and grows the seeds of all other kinds of trees. On the rare occasion that the Simurgh takes flight from the tree, the tremors it makes cause the seeds to come loose and populate the earth.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗕𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀

The word “Simurgh” is thought to come from Avestan (the ancient language of Zoroastrian scripture, closely related to Sanskrit) for “bird of prey, raptor”. However, in Persian the phrase “Sī Murğ” means “thirty birds” which has become the prominent folk etymology especially with the popularity of the poem 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴, which is quoted above. Written by Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur, this work brought the imagery of the Simurgh well into the folds of Islam. In it, a great conference of birds is held to determine who among them should be king. They decide to go on a quest for the Simurgh, so that they might declare allegiance to it. This quest takes the birds through many valleys, each with there own metaphorical challenges. The birds, representing mankind’s flaws, die off in each challenge until only thirty remain to reach the Simurgh’s throne. However, they find it empty. Instead, looking into the waters of the nearby lake, they realize that they, collectively, are the Simurgh. The Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges compares the tale to an Islamic Dante’s Inferno, the infamous Italian poem about a descent to hell. Both tales make heavy use of analogy and metaphor in a journey through supernatural realm to learn great wisdom about their respective faiths, in a manner that was considered both intellectually satisfying and very entertaining. The two poems parallel further, in that both were influential in forming the literary standards of their respective languages.

Image Credit: https://www.deviantart.com/verreaux

[friendshipstates]

Gold Rush (Caucasus-reborn)

He doesn’t know why ZAIA sent the Battle Raiders to his school. Maybe the head of ZAIA knows that Gentaro has been in contact with the new president of Hiden, and wants to wipe him out. But that’s a question for later. Right now he has the RADAR module up, scanning the raiders for weak points in their armor.

But even he scans, Kengo calls to him through the module. “Kisaragi! You’ve got incoming. Nine o’clock. It’s coming in at supersonic speeds.”

“Supersonic? Are we talking ZECT?” Gentaro says as he blocks an attack from the ZAIA soldiers.

“It has the same speed, but the energy signature is different. Be on your guard, Kisaragi!”

Given the speed the new target’s approaching at, Gentaro decides the best course of action is to switch over to the Rocket and Wheel modules and use the force of the rocket engine to push himself back out of harm’s way as a golden streak enters the scene.

[breveacroama]

“Usually I’m the one that leaves without saying anything, but this time it was you? Do you know how hard it’s been to sleep without you? I don’t even want an explanation, really, it doesn’t matter.” He tossed his keys down on the table.

“I just...really want a hug because you’re still alive and I wasn’t sure if you were or not.”

@caucasus-reborn

[sunny-explosions]

♥

Send me a ♥ and I’ll fill out

If we kissed?

[] Quickie. [ X ] Tongue. [ X ] Softly bite your lip. [] We wouldn’t. [ X ] Long and meaningful. [ X ] Let’s hit up the bedroom. [] You remember last time? [] Awkward… [] Lol no. Would I go out with you? [ X ] Yes, definitely. [] No. [] I want to, but it wouldn’t work. [] Maybe. [] Nope, you’re like family. [] You’re cute, but probably not. [] Just simply not my type. [] If I knew you better. [] Already did. [] I don’t know. If we took a picture together, we’d be… [ X ] Hugging each other. [ X ] Just chilling. [ X ] Holding hands. [ X ] Kissing. [ X ] Acting dumb. [ X ] Normal picture. [ X ] You holding me from behind. You are… [] Cute/Pretty. [] Good looking. [] Sexy. [ X ] All of the above You + me + room = … [ X ] Movies. [ X ] Cuddling. [ X ] Hanging out. [ X ] Kissing. [ X ] Playing games. [ X ] Everything. [] Wouldn’t let you in. You should… [ X ] Hit me up. [ X ] Be mine. [ X ] Marry me. [] Reblog this so I can send you a heart. [] be studying If we got married, I’d… [] Divorce you. [ X ] Make kids. [] Take your money and bounce. [ X ] Smash every day. [] I would cheat on you. [ X ] Be faithful. [] Kill you in your sleep [] We wouldn’t

[thunderinyourheart-blog1]

/ I love the rocker aspect you added to her. It just seems to blend in well with her attitude, and it makes me like her all the more. Keep it up!

//Honestly I had no idea this would work so well. I just thought... this could work but oh my god does it work so well :)

[unfoldingmoments]

Retire is an old school

On my last birthday I was ninety-three years old. That is not young, of course. In fact, it is older than ninety. But age is a relative matter. If you continue to work and to absorb the beauty in the world about you, you find that age does not necessarily mean getting old. At least, not in the ordinary sense. I feel many things more intensely than ever before, and for me life grows more fascinating.

Recounting being at once delighted and unsurprised by an article in the London Sunday Times about an orchestra in the Caucasus composed of musicians older than a hundred, he considers the spring of their vitality:

In spite of their age, those musicians have not lost their zest for life. How does one explain this? I do not think the answer lies simply in their physical constitutions or in something unique about the climate in which they live. It has to do with their attitude toward life; and I believe that their ability to work is due in no small measure to the fact that they do work. Work helps prevent one from getting old. I, for one, cannot dream of retiring. Not now or ever. Retire? The word is alien and the idea inconceivable to me. I don’t believe in retirement for anyone in my type of work, not while the spirit remains. My work is my life. I cannot think of one without the other. To “retire” means to me to begin to die. The man who works and is never bored is never old. Work and interest in worthwhile things are the best remedy for age. Each day I am reborn. Each day I must begin again.

For the past eighty years I have started each day in the same manner.

Ref: The Marginalian, Pablo Cassals, Joys & Sorrows