Yeah, disclaimer the same
This might help – Goa'uld pronunciation: Wee-tsee-loh-poch-tlee
// Denotes Vision
---------------------------
// The boy swallows, his eyes wide and hungry for the images before him as he tightly grips his master's hand. He speaks softly, his words painting a picture in the old man's mind of the many diverse and stimulating sights this new world offers. The landscape seems abundantly green and fertile, with a variety of flourishing crops that ripple against breeze sent by the desert that surrounds them.
They move briskly with the others who have journeyed through the stars, the others who have been chosen by Khnemu.
The natives watch them guardedly. Women clutch their plump babies to their breasts, whispering in a strange language that seems to knot the tongue with its speed. The boy looks on, fascinated by the depth of colour of the women's attire from their sleeveless tops to the wealth of contrasting designs that decorate their wraparound skirts.
A small girl, no older than the boy, steps forward and cautiously offers him a small red fruit that somehow seems to bleed against the green of the surroundings. He takes it, warily, but smiles a thank you. The girl laughs and then picks another from the vine biting into it reassuringly. She looks shyly, at the boy, under her luxurious lashes, waiting for him to do the same. He mirrors her action, the tiny seeds from the fruit dripping down his chin, as he samples the mix of sweet and savoury flavour.
He smiles again and the girl shakes the raven's wing of hair that falls unbound down her back, unlike the older women who bind theirs in cotton scarves. Daringly she takes the potter's other hand and walks with them, her head held high in confidence, pointing at different objects and naming them in her foreign tongue.
Men stop from their daily chores watching the new arrivals depart from the mothership. Some are dressed as brightly as the women with muted gold hanging from their ears and feathers in the thickness of their blue, black hair. The boy suddenly feels under dressed and insignificant. He grasps the bag he is carrying closer to his chest, trying to find some comfort.
The potter stops and touches the boy's cheek, feeling his anxiety. He takes off the gold pendant, from around his neck, and places it on the boy, smiling.
"Khnemu will protect us," he tells him, "do not fear, for has he not chosen us to serve him and brought us to this new and opulent land. These are his people too, they will not harm us, for they serve him also."
The boy nods and wipes away a tear. The girl, who has been watching the exchange, moves toward the boy and touches the Khnemu emblem. Both of them look down at it for a moment, linked by the pendant before a soldier ushers them forward. They join hands with the old man again and follow the throng towards a great, terraced stepped, pyramid.
They pass under the supports of a vast wooden deity dressed as a warrior. The boy stops and raises his head, to take in the immensity of the image from the serpents that surround the statue's feet to the helmet of bird's feathers, spread like the rays of the sun, on its head. The face has been carved hard and cruel with the lower half painted blue and the upper half, around the eyes, black, making its warlike expression even more menacing. The deity's eyes have been cut from large amber gemstones and glare when they catch the sun. The boy shudders.
The girl rests her hand on his arm and then touches the idol's base with her small palm. She meets the boy's eyes, "Huitzilopochtli", she says, pointing to the deity and then to the sun, before motioning to the pyramid.
She places two fingers to the middle of her forehead and indicates to one of the soldiers, "Huitzilopochtli", she repeats.
The boy follows her gaze. The soldier's brow is tattooed, in blue, with the symbol of a bird that also matches the image on his shield.
She then gathers the pendant around his neck and points to the ram headed god pressed into the gold and then to the idol once more.
"Huitzilopochtli?" The boy whispers in confused understanding.
The girl nods. //
=================
This might help – Goa'uld pronunciation: Wee-tsee-loh-poch-tlee
// Denotes Vision
---------------------------
// The boy swallows, his eyes wide and hungry for the images before him as he tightly grips his master's hand. He speaks softly, his words painting a picture in the old man's mind of the many diverse and stimulating sights this new world offers. The landscape seems abundantly green and fertile, with a variety of flourishing crops that ripple against breeze sent by the desert that surrounds them.
They move briskly with the others who have journeyed through the stars, the others who have been chosen by Khnemu.
The natives watch them guardedly. Women clutch their plump babies to their breasts, whispering in a strange language that seems to knot the tongue with its speed. The boy looks on, fascinated by the depth of colour of the women's attire from their sleeveless tops to the wealth of contrasting designs that decorate their wraparound skirts.
A small girl, no older than the boy, steps forward and cautiously offers him a small red fruit that somehow seems to bleed against the green of the surroundings. He takes it, warily, but smiles a thank you. The girl laughs and then picks another from the vine biting into it reassuringly. She looks shyly, at the boy, under her luxurious lashes, waiting for him to do the same. He mirrors her action, the tiny seeds from the fruit dripping down his chin, as he samples the mix of sweet and savoury flavour.
He smiles again and the girl shakes the raven's wing of hair that falls unbound down her back, unlike the older women who bind theirs in cotton scarves. Daringly she takes the potter's other hand and walks with them, her head held high in confidence, pointing at different objects and naming them in her foreign tongue.
Men stop from their daily chores watching the new arrivals depart from the mothership. Some are dressed as brightly as the women with muted gold hanging from their ears and feathers in the thickness of their blue, black hair. The boy suddenly feels under dressed and insignificant. He grasps the bag he is carrying closer to his chest, trying to find some comfort.
The potter stops and touches the boy's cheek, feeling his anxiety. He takes off the gold pendant, from around his neck, and places it on the boy, smiling.
"Khnemu will protect us," he tells him, "do not fear, for has he not chosen us to serve him and brought us to this new and opulent land. These are his people too, they will not harm us, for they serve him also."
The boy nods and wipes away a tear. The girl, who has been watching the exchange, moves toward the boy and touches the Khnemu emblem. Both of them look down at it for a moment, linked by the pendant before a soldier ushers them forward. They join hands with the old man again and follow the throng towards a great, terraced stepped, pyramid.
They pass under the supports of a vast wooden deity dressed as a warrior. The boy stops and raises his head, to take in the immensity of the image from the serpents that surround the statue's feet to the helmet of bird's feathers, spread like the rays of the sun, on its head. The face has been carved hard and cruel with the lower half painted blue and the upper half, around the eyes, black, making its warlike expression even more menacing. The deity's eyes have been cut from large amber gemstones and glare when they catch the sun. The boy shudders.
The girl rests her hand on his arm and then touches the idol's base with her small palm. She meets the boy's eyes, "Huitzilopochtli", she says, pointing to the deity and then to the sun, before motioning to the pyramid.
She places two fingers to the middle of her forehead and indicates to one of the soldiers, "Huitzilopochtli", she repeats.
The boy follows her gaze. The soldier's brow is tattooed, in blue, with the symbol of a bird that also matches the image on his shield.
She then gathers the pendant around his neck and points to the ram headed god pressed into the gold and then to the idol once more.
"Huitzilopochtli?" The boy whispers in confused understanding.
The girl nods. //
=================