#Jeddak
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Una princesa de Marte
PREFACIO
AL LECTOR DE ESTA OBRA:
Al presentarse el extraño manuscrito del capitán Carter en forma de libro, creo que os interesarán algunas palabras referentes a esta notable personalidad.
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I
EN LAS COLINAS DE ARIZONA
Yo soy un hombre muy viejo, pero no sé la edad que tengo.
-Edgar Rice Burroughs
#Novela de Ciencia Ficción#Novela de Aventuras#Fantasía#Barsoom#John Carter#Tars Tarkas#Tharks#Jeddak#Gozava#Pulp#Edgar Rice Burroughs#Una princesa de Marte#Dejah Thoris#Ras Thavas#Ulysses Paxton#Jack Carter
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The vicious Thark leader, Tal Hajus (Thomas Hayden Church), from the 2012 film John Carter.
ADDENDUM:
My bad. It's been a millennia or so since I've seen this flick. This is actually Tars Tarkas (Willem Dafoe), NOT Tal Hajus.
I should've remembered that Tal Hajus has a broken left tusk.
Man, it's hell getting old and forgetful.
#John Carter#John Carter of Mars#Tal Hajus#Thomas Hayden Church#Thark#green man of Mars#Mars#Barsoom#Edgar Rice Burroughs#Tars Tarkas#Jeddak of Thark#Willem Dafoe
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Tharks Omatikaya
Jeddak Oloektan
Princess
Home
#avatar#pandora#neytiri#john carter#sola#barsoom#tharks#na'vi#omatikaya#tars tarkas#eytukan#james cameron avatar
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Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark by Paul Martin Smith
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Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of the Tharks
John Carter
#john carter#tars tarkas#john carter 2012#willem dafoe#tharks#martians#barsoom#a princess of mars#edgar rice burroughs#sci fi#pulp fiction#sci fi fantasy#video#edit#dreamatbash
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(more Sonic of Mars. :D)
Sonic risked a peak around the rock and cringed. The black and red thing was hideous. Immensely tall, four arms, no nose, and curved horns on the sides of its head all combined to make it look quite intimidating. The creature then began to speak in a language Sonic had never heard before in his life.
“Kaor!” the thing called, shedding his various weapons in an attempt to lure Sonic into a false sense of security. “Kaor.”
Their gazes met and Sonic considered trying to run again.
At the slightest movement from him, the creature cried out. “Jah mu tet! Satav . . .” He crept closer, arms spread wide. “Satav. Jah mu tet.”
This thing wasn’t going to let Sonic go. He might as well increase his chances of survival by giving himself over willingly. Slowly, he stepped out from behind the rock, hands raised above his head.
“Alright, you got me,” he said. “I surrender. Don’t kill me.”
The creature paused, tilting his head in curiosity as his ruby red eyes burned into the hedgehog. It seemed the black warrior had finally realized they didn’t speak the same language at all. Regaining his composure, the creature smiled a wicked smile full of knife-like teeth. He brought two of his fists to his chest with a dull whapping sound.
“Jeddak.”
It was Sonic’s turn to stare in confusion. “Jeddak?”
The creature nodded eagerly. “Shadow Shaddas!”
“Shadow?” Was that this creature’s name?
‘Shadow’ nodded. He then pointed towards Sonic with two hands.
Oh. This was introductions then?
. . . Okay.
Sonic brought his hand up in a salute - it seemed this guy was important, so that was probably appropriate. “Captain Sonic the Hedgehog. Virginia.”
“Vir . . . gin-ya . . . ?” Shadow said awkwardly. His eyes suddenly brightened in understanding. “Virginia!”
Wait. Did Shadow think . . . ?
Sonic shook his head. “No. My name is Sonic the Hedgehog. I’m from Virginia. Understand?”
Shadow grinned, pointing to Sonic again. “Virginia.”
Sonic blinked with a sigh. This was gonna be a long experience getting home.
#too late Sonic your name is Virginia now!#Sky Queen#Sonic the Hedgehog#Sonic AU#Sonic of Mars AU#Sonic#Shadow the Hedgehog#Thark Shadow#writing
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All Appearances of Earth 3 Martian Manhunter
JLA Earth 2 2000 Ultraman states that a White Martian was his first rival before he killed him, we can assume that the White Martian was the counterpart to Martian Manhunter on Earth 3. Superwoman tries to bargain with Martian Manhunter after ultraman's defeated, assuming Ultraman was a member of the Crime Syndicate when he fought the White Martian we can assume she tryed to do the same to the Earth 3 counterpart.
52 #52 2007 only appeared in one panel after Mr Mind corrupts a universe with the Justice Society into the Crime Society.
DC Comics Legend 2007 is an interpretation of the White Martian mentioned by Ultraman in JLA Earth 2. The text on the bottom of the card states "When you are the strongest being alive, there is no need to hide your appearance." Something that will be echoed through multiple interpretations.
Justice League Crisis On Two Earths 2010 Martian Manhunter counterpart is one of the heads of the Crime Syndicate before he dies in an explosion by Jester at the start of the film. His name J'edd J'arkus and look are reference to Tars Tarkas, the Jeddak (king) of the Green Martians, from the Edgar Rice Burroughs's novel A Princess of Mars.
Trinity Of Sin: Pandora #4 2013 is a member of the Crime Syndicate who was injured and left behind when the other members went through a port onto the main universe. He states that he is the last again which means a similar Martian plague happened on this universe's Mars. Although injured his appearance gives off a royal appearance with the ornamentation to his outfit.
Beach Blanket Bad Guys Summer Special #1 2018 has a couple of waiters dressed as Martian Manhunter at the Dependence day party at the White House.
Crime Syndicate #2 2021 shows in one panel Miss Martian in her white Martian form after being taken over by a Starro.
#comics#dc#dc comics#earth 3#crime syndicate#martian manhunter#jon jones#ms martian#ultraman#superwoman
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Not me googling Star Wars trivia at 4:30 in the morning...
Obi-Wan is living under the name Ben on Tatooine, but Babbel spoke to Express.co.uk about where his real name came from.
"Like the word Jedi, this is another homage to the samurai films of Akira Kurosawa and to Japanese culture.
"An 'obi' is the sash used to tie a kimono, 'ken' is Japanese for sword and 'wan' sounds somewhat like the Japanese honorific 'san'.
"The history of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s casting also suggests Kurosawa’s influence on Star Wars.
"Before casting Sir Alec Guinness in the role, [George] Lucas approached Japanese superstar Toshiro Mifune to play Obi-Wan.
"Mifune starred in many of Kurosawa’s jidai-geki, including The Hidden Fortress and Seven Samurai.
"When Mifune turned down the offer, Lucas offered him the part of Darth Vader, but the actor was simply not interested in being in a 'film for children'.”
As for the Jedi collective, the name for the order of knights who protect the galaxy from evil has more than one source.
Babbel experts added: "Sci-fi geeks will likely claim that the word was inspired by the lords of Barsoom in Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Mars novels, who are addressed by the honorific Jed or Jeddak.
"On the other hand, many film buffs contend that Jedi is a shout-out to Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa.
"Kurosawa’s biggest hits stateside were his samurai films, and the Japanese word for this kind of costume drama is jidai-geki.
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John Carter (2012)
There’s something not quite right about John Carter. The original material shines through enough to make Andrew Stanton’s live-action directorial debut worth seeing, but only for those who are basically already sold on this space opera.
Civil War Confederate Army captain John Carter (Taylor Kitsch) is suddenly transported to Mars, where the planet’s lower gravity gives him incredible strength. Captured by the insect-like Jeddak, he discovers that a massive war between the human-like population is about to engulf the entire planet in catastrophe. Allied with princess Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins), he sets out to save what is left of the planet.
There’s a lot more to this story than my brief summary. We're introduced to multiple alien races, all vastly different from our own civilization and each other. There are many characters and locations, plus the flora, fauna and religions of Mars (called Barsoom by its inhabitants) to keep track of. There are so many alien names to remember that certain aspects of the film - namely most of what happens on Earth - feels wholly unnecessary. You wish Carter’s nephew Edgar Rice Burroughs (Daryl Sabara) would go away so the film could have more time to explore and patch up some the plot holes. They’re not huge, but on Barsoom Carter meets the Therns, immortal schemers led by Mark Strong who have tipped the balance of the thousand-year war. With their abilities, the Therns seem so powerful it’s a wonder Carter stands a chance against them, regardless of his super strength and leaping abilities.
Whether native to the book or not, many aspects of the film don’t feel right. You’ve got this huge, epic story with the fate of a dying world in the balance and mixed in are these attempts at whimsy (Carter has a loyal dog-like creature named Woola) and comedy, neither of which mesh well with the action. The battle sequences should be counterbalanced with some romance, but Taylor Kitsch and Lynn Collins don’t have much chemistry. In fact, Kitsch doesn’t have much presence in the film. His character mopes and complains about being transported to a world that’s far cooler than ours and receiving superpowers for at least half the movie. I know there’s a big war going on and death lurks around every corner, but Barsoom is still better than the mess you had back on Earth, plus there’s a hot space babe begging you to go on an adventure. You should be excited, courageous, eager and confident, not begrudgingly following her and looking for a way back to your homeworld at every turn. The audience is interested in Barsoom. He should be too.
The story and character flaws are even more apparent when considering what's done well. The art direction is awesome. All of the alien creatures look really cool and you can feel the richness of this world even when the plot is blazing past important aspects to give us more exposition. The action sequences are exciting and memorable. When the film works, it’s fun. Too bad for every enjoyable scene there’s another that hobbles the pacing or reminds you of another movie that pulled it off flawlessly.
I’m sure some day there will be a terrific adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs pulp space opera adventures. This film should’ve worked when you consider the amount of money and effort sunk into it, but the end results don't impress. I enjoyed watching John Carter, but over and over kept thinking “this should be so much better”. (On Blu-ray, January 29, 2018)
#John Carter#A Princess of Mars#movies#films#movie reviews#film reviews#Andrew Stanton#Mark Andrews#Michael Chabon#Edgar Rice Burroughs#Taylor Kitsch#Lynn Collins#Samantha Morton#mark stron#ciaran hinds#Dominic West#James Purefoy#Willem Dafoe#2012 movies#2012 films
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Lost Kingdom by Laurel Black - ARC Review!
Trusting him is the only way to save the kingdom.Betraying her is the only way to keep them both alive.
Stripped of her memories and her magic, Raven has been left for dead.
As a prisoner in the enemy’s mineral mines, her only clue to who she is and where she came from is the mysterious map tattooed on her hand—a map containing hidden secrets that some people would kill for.
Jeddak is one of…
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A PRINCESS OF ALL THE KNOWN PLANETS.
PIC(S) INFO: Resolution at 1032x1566 -- Spotlight on textless & published cover art to "Dejah Thoris" Vol. 3 #12. February, 2021. Dynamite Entertainment. Artwork by Joseph Michael Linsner.
"She has come to Helium to end the tyranny of Jeddak Kurz Kurtos. To reclaim her dynasty's stolen throne. To reunite Barsoom so it can stand strong against the looming doomsday of the Longborn. But doom is here too."
-- "DEJAH THORIS" Vol. 3 #12 (story/script by Dan Abnett, after Edgar Rice Burroughs)
Sources: www.dynamite.com/htmlfiles/viewProduct.html?PRO=C72513028694912141 & Previews World.
#DejahThoris:APrincessofMars#ScifiFri#ScifiArt#DynamiteEntertainment#Mars#APrincessofMars#DejahThorisVol.3#Sci-fi#DynamiteComics#ScifiFantasy#DejahThoris#JosephMichaelLinsnerArt#RedMartianPrincess#PrincessofHelium#BarsoomSeries#EdgarRiceBurroughs#Scifi#JosephMichaelLinsner#Dynamite#PrincessofMars#KingdomofHelium#ScienceFantasy#RedMartians#Sci-fi Art
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Chapter I
TARAN IN A TANTRUM
Taran of Helium rose from the pile of silks and soft furs upon which he had been reclining, stretched his lithe body languidly, and crossed toward the center of the room, where, above a large table, a bronze disc depended from the low ceiling. His carriage was that of health and physical perfection—the effortless harmony of faultless coordination. A scarf of silken gossamer crossing over one shoulder was wrapped about his body; his black hair was piled high upon his head. With a wooden stick he tapped upon the bronze disc, lightly, and presently the summons was answered by a slave boy, who entered, smiling, to be greeted similarly by his master.
"Are my mother's guests arriving?" asked the prince.
"Yes, Taran of Helium, they come," replied the slave. "I have seen Kantos Kan, Overlord of the Navy, and Princess Sorah of Ptarth, and Djora Kantos, daughter of Kantos Kan," he shot a roguish glance at his master as he mentioned Djora Kantos' name, "and—oh, there were others, many have come."
"The bath, then, Uthio," said his master. "And why, Uthio," he added, "do you look thus and smile when you mention the name of Djora Kantos?"
The slave boy laughed gaily. "It is so plain to all that she worships you," he replied.
"It is not plain to me," said Taran of Helium. "She is the friend of my sister, Carthoris, and so she is here much; but not to see me. It is her friendship for Carthoris that brings her thus often to the palace of my mother."
"But Carthoris is hunting in the north with Talia, Jeddak of Okar," Uthio reminded him.
"My bath, Uthio!" cried Taran of Helium. "That tongue of yours will bring you to some misadventure yet."
"The bath is ready, Taran of Helium," the boy responded, his eyes still twinkling with merriment, for he well knew that in the heart of his master was no anger that could displace the love of the prince for his slave. Preceding the son of The Warlord he opened the door of an adjoining room where lay the bath—a gleaming pool of scented water in a marble basin. Golden stanchions supported a chain of gold encircling it and leading down into the water on either side of marble steps. A glass dome let in the sun-light, which flooded the interior, glancing from the polished white of the marble walls and the procession of bathers and fishes, which, in conventional design, were inlaid with gold in a broad band that circled the room.
Taran of Helium removed the scarf from about him and handed it to the slave. Slowly he descended the steps to the water, the temperature of which he tested with a symmetrical foot, undeformed by tight shoes and high heels—a lovely foot, as God intended that feet should be and seldom are. Finding the water to his liking, the boy swam leisurely to and fro about the pool. With the silken ease of the seal he swam, now at the surface, now below, his smooth muscles rolling softly beneath his clear skin—a wordless song of health and happiness and grace.
Presently he emerged and gave himself into the hands of the slave boy, who rubbed the body of his master with a sweet smelling semi-liquid substance contained in a golden urn, until the glowing skin was covered with a foamy lather, then a quick plunge into the pool, a drying with soft towels, and the bath was over. Typical of the life of the prince was the simple elegance of his bath—no retinue of useless slaves, no pomp, no idle waste of precious moments. In another half hour his hair was dried and built into the strange, but becoming, coiffure of his station; his leathern trappings, encrusted with gold and jewels, had been adjusted to his figure and he was ready to mingle with the guests that had been bidden to the midday function at the palace of The Warlord.
As he left his apartments to make his way to the gardens where the guests were congregating, two warriors, the insignia of the House of the Princess of Helium upon their harness, followed a few paces behind him, grim reminders that the assassin's blade may never be ignored upon Barsoom, where, in a measure, it counterbalances the great natural span of human life, which is estimated at not less than a thousand years.
As they neared the entrance to the garden another man, similarly guarded, approached them from another quarter of the great palace. As he neared them Taran of Helium turned toward him with a smile and a happy greeting, while his guards knelt with bowed heads in willing and voluntary adoration of the beloved of Helium. Thus always, solely at the command of their own hearts, did the warriors of Helium greet Dejan Thoris, whose deathless beauty had more than once brought them to bloody warfare with other nations of Barsoom. So great was the love of the people of Helium for the mate of Jane Carter it amounted practically to worship, as though he were indeed the god that he looked.
The father and son exchanged the gentle, Barsoomian, "kaor" of greeting and kissed. Then together they entered the gardens where the guests were. A huge warrior drew her short-sword and struck her metal shield with the flat of it, the brazen sound ringing out above the laughter and the speech.
"The Prince comes!" she cried. "Dejan Thoris! The Prince comes! Taran of Helium!" Thus always is royalty announced. The guests arose; the two men inclined their heads; the guards fell back upon either side of the entrance-way; a number of nobles advanced to pay their respects; the laughing and the talking were resumed and Dejan Thoris and his son moved simply and naturally among their guests, no suggestion of differing rank apparent in the bearing of any who were there, though there was more than a single Jeddak and many common warriors whose only title lay in brave deeds, or noble patriotism. Thus it is upon Mars where women are judged upon their own merits rather than upon those of their grandams, even though pride of lineage be great.
Taran of Helium let his slow gaze wander among the throng of guests until presently it halted upon one he sought. Was the faint shadow of a frown that crossed his brow an indication of displeasure at the sight that met his eyes, or did the brilliant rays of the noonday sun distress him? Who may say! He had been reared to believe that one day he should wed Djora Kantos, daughter of his mother's best friend. It had been the dearest wish of Kantos Kan and The Warlord that this should be, and Taran of Helium had accepted it as a matter of all but accomplished fact. Djora Kantos had seemed to accept the matter in the same way. They had spoken of it casually as something that would, as a matter of course, take place in the indefinite future, as, for instance, her promotion in the navy, in which she was now a padwar; or the set functions of the court of his grandmother, Tardah Mors, Jeddak of Helium; or Death. They had never spoken of love and that had puzzled Taran of Helium upon the rare occasions he gave it thought, for he knew that people who were to wed were usually much occupied with the matter of love and he had all of a man's curiosity—he wondered what love was like. He was very fond of Djora Kantos and he knew that she was very fond of him. They liked to be together, for they liked the same things and the same people and the same books and their dancing was a joy, not only to themselves but to those who watched them. He could not imagine wanting to marry anyone other than Djora Kantos.
So perhaps it was only the sun that made his brows contract just the tiniest bit at the same instant that he discovered Djora Kantos sitting in earnest conversation with Olvian Marthis, son of the Jed of Hastor. It was Djora Kantos' duty immediately to pay her respects to Dejan Thoris and Taran of Helium; but she did not do so and presently the son of The Warlord frowned indeed. He looked long at Olvian Marthis, and though he had seen him many times before and knew him well, he looked at him today through new eyes that saw, apparently for the first time, that the boy from Hastor was noticeably beautiful even among those other beautiful men of Helium. Taran of Helium was disturbed. He attempted to analyze his emotions; but found it difficult. Olvian Marthis was his friend—he was very fond of him and he felt no anger toward him. Was he angry with Djora Kantos? No, he finally decided that he was not. It was merely surprise, then, that he felt—surprise that Djora Kantos could be more interested in another than in himself. He was about to cross the garden and join them when he heard his mother's voice directly behind him.
"Taran of Helium!" she called, and he turned to see her approaching with a strange warrior whose harness and metal bore devices with which he was unfamiliar. Even among the gorgeous trappings of the women of Helium and the visitors from distant empires those of the stranger were remarkable for their barbaric splendor. The leather of her harness was completely hidden beneath ornaments of platinum thickly set with brilliant diamonds, as were the scabbards of her swords and the ornate holster that held her long, Martian pistol. Moving through the sunlit garden at the side of the great Warlord, the scintillant rays of her countless gems enveloping her as in an aureole of light imparted to her noble figure a suggestion of deity.
"Taran of Helium, I bring you Gatha, Jed of Gathol," said Jane Carter, after the simple Barsoomian custom of presentation.
"Kaor! Gatha, Jed of Gathol," returned Taran of Helium.
"My sword is at your feet, Taran of Helium," said the young chieftain.
The Warlord left them and the two seated themselves upon an ersite bench beneath a spreading sorapus tree.
"Far Gathol," mused the boy. "Ever in my mind has it been connected with mystery and romance and the half-forgotten lore of the ancients. I cannot think of Gathol as existing today, possibly because I have never before seen a Gatholian."
"And perhaps too because of the great distance that separates Helium and Gathol, as well as the comparative insignificance of my little free city, which might easily be lost in one corner of mighty Helium," added Gatha. "But what we lack in power we make up in pride," she continued, laughing. "We believe ours the oldest inhabited city upon Barsoom. It is one of the few that has retained its freedom, and this despite the fact that its ancient diamond mines are the richest known and, unlike practically all the other fields, are today apparently as inexhaustible as ever."
"Tell me of Gathol," urged the boy. "The very thought fills me with interest," nor was it likely that the handsome face of the young jed detracted anything from the glamour of far Gathol.
Nor did Gatha seem displeased with the excuse for further monopolizing the society of her fair companion. Her eyes seemed chained to his exquisite features, from which they moved no further than to a firm pectoral, part hid beneath its jeweled covering, a naked shoulder or the symmetry of a perfect arm, resplendent in bracelets of barbaric magnificence.
"Your ancient history has doubtless told you that Gathol was built upon an island in Throxeus, mightiest of the five oceans of old Barsoom. As the ocean receded Gathol crept down the sides of the mountain, the summit of which was the island upon which he had been built, until today he covers the slopes from summit to base, while the bowels of the great hill are honeycombed with the galleries of his mines. Entirely surrounding us is a great salt marsh, which protects us from invasion by land, while the rugged and ofttimes vertical topography of our mountain renders the landing of hostile airships a precarious undertaking."
"That, and your brave warriors?" suggested the boy.
Gatha smiled. "We do not speak of that except to enemies," she said, "and then with tongues of steel rather than of flesh."
"But what practice in the art of war has a people which nature has thus protected from attack?" asked Taran of Helium, who had liked the young jed's answer to his previous question, but yet in whose mind persisted a vague conviction of the possible masculinity of his companion, induced, doubtless, by the magnificence of her trappings and weapons which carried a suggestion of splendid show rather than grim utility.
"Our natural barriers, while they have doubtless saved us from defeat on countless occasions, have not by any means rendered us immune from attack," she explained, "for so great is the wealth of Gathol's diamond treasury that there yet may be found those who will risk almost certain defeat in an effort to loot our unconquered city; so thus we find occasional practice in the exercise of arms; but there is more to Gathol than the mountain city. My country extends from Polodona (Equator) north ten karads and from the tenth karad west of Horz to the twentieth west, including thus a million square haads, the greater proportion of which is fine grazing land where run our great herds of thoats and zitidars.
"Surrounded as we are by predatory enemies our herders must indeed be warriors or we should have no herds, and you may be assured they get plenty of fighting. Then there is our constant need of workers in the mines. The Gatholians consider themselves a race of warriors and as such prefer not to labor in the mines. The law is, however, that each female Gatholian shall give an hour a day in labor to the government. That is practically the only tax that is levied upon them. They prefer however, to furnish out a substitute to perform this labor, and as our own people will not hire out for labor in the mines it has been necessary to obtain slaves, and I do not need to tell you that slaves are not won without fighting. We sell these slaves in the public market, the proceeds going, half and half, to the government and the warriors who bring them in. The purchasers are credited with the amount of labor performed by their particular slaves. At the end of a year a good slave will have performed the labor tax of her master for six years, and if slaves are plentiful she is freed and permitted to return to her own people."
"You fight in platinum and diamonds?" asked Taran, indicating her gorgeous trappings with a quizzical smile.
Gatha laughed. "We are a vain people," she admitted, good-naturedly, "and it is possible we place too much value on personal appearances. We vie with one another in the splendor of our accoutrements when trapped for the observance of the lighter duties of life, though when we take the field our leather is the plainest I ever have seen worn by fighting women of Barsoom. We pride ourselves, too, upon our physical beauty, and especially upon the beauty of our men. May I dare to say, Taran of Helium, that I am hoping for the day when you will visit Gathol that my people may see one who is really beautiful?"
"The men of Helium are taught to frown with displeasure upon the tongue of the flatterer," rejoined the boy, but Gatha, Jed of Gathol, observed that he smiled as he said it.
A bugle sounded, clear and sweet, above the laughter and the talk. "The Dance of Barsoom!" exclaimed the young warrior. "I claim you for it, Taran of Helium."
The boy glanced in the direction of the bench where he had last seen Djora Kantos. She was not in sight. He inclined his head in assent to the claim of the Gatholian. Slaves were passing among the guests, distributing small musical instruments of a single string. Upon each instrument were characters which indicated the pitch and length of its tone. The instruments were of skeel, the string of gut, and were shaped to fit the left forearm of the dancer, to which it was strapped. There was also a ring wound with gut which was worn between the first and second joints of the index finger of the right hand and which, when passed over the string of the instrument, elicited the single note required of the dancer.
The guests had risen and were slowly making their way toward the expanse of scarlet sward at the south end of the gardens where the dance was to be held, when Djora Kantos came hurriedly toward Taran of Helium. "I claim—" she exclaimed as she neared him; but he interrupted her with a gesture.
"You are too late, Djora Kantos," he cried in mock anger. "No laggard may claim Taran of Helium; but haste now lest thou lose also Olvian Marthis, whom I have never seen wait long to be claimed for this or any other dance."
"I have already lost him," admitted Djora Kantos ruefully.
"And you mean to say that you came for Taran of Helium only after having lost Olvian Marthis?" demanded the boy, still simulating displeasure.
"Oh, Taran of Helium, you know better than that," insisted the young woman. "Was it not natural that I should assume that you would expect me, who alone has claimed you for the Dance of Barsoom for at least twelve times past?"
"And sit and play with my thumbs until you saw fit to come for me?" he questioned. "Ah, no, Djora Kantos; Taran of Helium is for no laggard," and he threw her a sweet smile and passed on toward the assembling dancers with Gatha, Jed of far Gathol.
The Dance of Barsoom bears a relation similar to the more formal dancing functions of Mars that The Grand March does to ours, though it is infinitely more intricate and more beautiful. Before a Martian youth of either sex may attend an important social function where there is dancing, she must have become proficient in at least three dances—The Dance of Barsoom, her national dance, and the dance of her city. In these three dances the dancers furnish their own music, which never varies; nor do the steps or figures vary, having been handed down from time immemorial. All Barsoomian dances are stately and beautiful, but The Dance of Barsoom is a wondrous epic of motion and harmony—there is no grotesque posturing, no vulgar or suggestive movements. It has been described as the interpretation of the highest ideals of a world that aspired to grace and beauty and chastity in man, and strength and dignity and loyalty in woman.
Today, Jane Carter, Warlord of Mars, with Dejan Thoris, her mate, led in the dancing, and if there was another couple that vied with them in possession of the silent admiration of the guests it was the resplendent Jed of Gathol and her beautiful partner. In the ever-changing figures of the dance the woman found herself now with the boy's hand in hers and again with an arm about the lithe body that the jeweled harness but inadequately covered, and the boy, though he had danced a thousand dances in the past, realized for the first time the personal contact of a woman's arm against his naked flesh. It troubled him that he should notice it, and he looked up questioningly and almost with displeasure at the woman as though it was her fault. Their eyes met and he saw in hers that which he had never seen in the eyes of Djora Kantos. It was at the very end of the dance and they both stopped suddenly with the music and stood there looking straight into each other's eyes. It was Gatha of Gathol who spoke first.
"Taran of Helium, I love you!" she said.
The boy drew himself to his full height. "The Jed of Gathol forgets herself," he exclaimed haughtily.
"The Jed of Gathol would forget everything but you, Taran of Helium," she replied. Fiercely she pressed the soft hand that she still retained from the last position of the dance. "I love you, Taran of Helium," she repeated. "Why should your ears refuse to hear what your eyes but just now did not refuse to see—and answer?"
"What meanest thou?" he cried. "Are the women of Gathol such boors, then?"
"They are neither boors nor fools," she replied, quietly. "They know when they love a man—and when he loves them."
Taran of Helium stamped his little foot in anger. "Go!" he said, "before it is necessary to acquaint my mother with the dishonor of her guest."
He turned and walked away. "Wait!" cried the woman. "Just another word."
"Of apology?" he asked.
"Of prophecy," she said.
"I do not care to hear it," replied Taran of Helium, and left her standing there. He was strangely unstrung and shortly thereafter returned to his own quarter of the palace, where he stood for a long time by a window looking out beyond the scarlet tower of Greater Helium toward the northwest.
Presently he turned angrily away. "I hate her!" he exclaimed aloud.
"Whom?" inquired the privileged Uthio.
Taran of Helium stamped his foot. "That ill-mannered boor, the Jed of Gathol," he replied.
Uthio raised his slim brows.
At the stamping of the little foot, a great beast rose from the corner of the room and crossed to Taran of Helium where it stood looking up into his face. He placed his hand upon the ugly head. "Dear old Woola," he said; "no love could be deeper than yours, yet it never offends. Would that women might pattern themselves after you!"
#Taran of Helium#public domain#genderswap#self-indulgence#Barsoom#The Chessmen of Mars#book 5#chapter 1#Why yes#I do suspect that Edgar Rice Burroughs had a foot fetish.
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First Meetings, cont'd
/– LOCATION: AIRBORN MOBILE COMMAND CENTER [GPS COORDS UNDER SEAL] –//–DATE:2012/06/21 [17 DAYS POST-INCIDENT] –//–
MISSION: ASSET RETRIEVAL -//- MISSION STATUS: IN PROGRESS –/
[ cont'd from here]
@tangleweave
“Then it sounds like a proper introduction to coffee and beans is in order,” Coulson replies, and then he hesitates momentarily as he considers that statement. “Though… maybe not so much at the same time. Which I don’t think was ever a thing back then, but I can assure you it’s definitely not a thing now.”
He watches as she picks through her food, seeming to assemble bites that incorporate a little bit of everything. Even with a fork, she still manages the practiced elegance of a true noble, and yet again he’s struck by how similar certain cultural standards are between them. Was it a galactic constant to sit up straight and craft perfect selections on one’s utensil of choice? To chew thoroughly? To close one’s eyes and moan approval over a delectable morsel?
He takes another bite of his food, making sure to keep pace with her. It wouldn’t do for either of them to think the other was eating either too slowly or quickly… though surely she’ll have an advantage, if her late husband had anything to teach her about expectations from Earthlings.
“I may be a bit late on the draw, but don’t let me overwhelm you with selection,” he counsels. “Most of this stuff, you probably won’t have a frame of reference for. And I hope you’ll have many days with us ahead to try them all at a pace of your choosing.” He lifts his water glass towards her in another toast. “To the Jeddak, long may she reign.”
Again, he bodies her with such a simple remark, it almost takes her breath away. Coffee. And beans.
Before John Carter came to Barsoom, coffee had been a staple of his existence. It was the first thing he'd drink every morning, and from what she'd discerned, it was mildly addictive. At the very least, she knew the ritual of preparing and drinking the brew was something her husband dearly missed. She'd spent years trying to replicate it. Different herbal brews, trying to narrow down the flavor profile. Every time she brought him a new cup with a look of hopeful expectation in her eyes, he'd bravely sipped and made a face, uttering quietly, 'It's perfect.' It was such a bold-faced obvious lie to spare her feelings, she couldn't help but laugh in sympathy. They were bonded in the Voice, so he knew she could tell it was a lie. She could taste the thing as easily as he could, and even knowing what his memory of the flavor was, she never managed to make something palatable enough to replace it for him. It became a running joke.
Him saying 'it's perfect' through gritted teeth, just to make her laugh. He'd always kiss her right after, both of them laughing and sighing like two lovebirds hopelessly smitten with one another. The memory was over a hundred Earth years old, and yet it was just as fresh as if they'd spoken yesterday.
She had to lower her fork and take up her drink in answer to his toast. Tears threatened, but she managed to blink them away. "The selection is wonderful, as is your inestimable hospitality. Now, if you keep toasting with every bite, I will never make it through the end of this meal."
That came out a bit colder than she meant. He certainly didn't mean her any harm, she could tell that much even without the Voice. "Forgive me, that was harsh. I apologize."
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😶 [For Phil]
What's on your most embarrassing music play list?
Have you ever been pranked? Have you ever pranked anyone?
What was your most embarrassing moment as an agent?
[ Uncomfortable Questions / Accepting ]
The inquiries posed by the Jeddak leave Phil hesitating on the next bite of his dinner, a Blue Burger from the Courthouse Pub -- a fixture of his Wisconsin hometown. Being a high-level agent of SHIELD with his own ride did grant certain benefits; among them, the ability to exercise his own prerogative on where the Bus was going to land for the evening. The crew were dining in cycles, and to nobody's surprise (though clearly to Dejah's delight), he'd invited her to join him at the restaurant. They've been on outings before, though he'd made the effort to clear the locales to maximize security... not so, here.
He sets the burger down and his lips curl upward at her. "Bold of you to think I find any of my music embarrassing," he says through his smirk. "I'll have you know I've cultivated my interests carefully. But, if you were to ask any of the others what they roll their eyes at, I do have those answers. Parliament-Funkadelic's 'Give Up the Funk', 'Concrete Jungle' by The Specials, and 'Go To Sleep' by Radiohead. A couple of them think that last one is maybe a little too on the nose for me. And there's also Frank Ocean's 'We All Try'."
With regards to the question about pranks, he blows a scoff out through his nostrils and shifts his gaze to one side before bringing it back to her. "Little things, back and forth. Nothing harmful, nothing that screams 'leak', but... inconveniences. Sometimes you have to create your own fun. A briefcase gets filled with cereal. A nice tie gets replaced with an ugly one. My favorite sunglasses once got replaced with googly-eye specs. I wore them anyway. Maybe the Tesseract winds up on your keyboard, slathered in what smells suspiciously like vomit. What do you do? New keyboard. Maybe a new desk to go with it. And a change of office. And maybe, someone replaced Agent Mackenzie's shampoo with a tonic that inadvertently scorched his follicles." His mouth twists at the memory. He feels bad about that one, truly. Karma's a bitch. Mack looks far better bald than Phil ever will going bald.
Her last question draws another wry smile on his face. "Oh, I got that one out of my system early. This was back in the 90's, when the Kree tried to attack Earth. Came to a Blockbuster Video to investigate this strange woman wearing alien armor, and I went inside to look around. Needed to use the restroom, so I did, but when I came back out, everyone was gone. Turns out in those thirty seconds my pants were down, I'd missed all the action, and then-Agent Fury left me behind without realizing it."
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Thuvia, Maid of Mars
Thuvia, Maid of Mars
Thuvia, Princess of Ptarth, is betrothed to Kulan Tith, Jeddak of Kaol, in an arranged marriage. She spurns the advances of a suitor, Astok of Dusar, who then plots to abduct Thuvia and frame Carthoris, son of John Carter, for the crime, igniting a war between Kaol, Ptarth, and Helium.
This is book four of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom series.
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