Tales of the Mandé

[Anzonor]

Heya! This is my first AAR, but I just got back into the game now with Holy Fury and I felt I had to try it out. Now with the revamp of Africa, I decided to give it a try as I otherwise mostly play European Catholics.

The goal for my AAR is to roleplay rather than win, but of course I also have some other goals in mind. One of them is to let the Trans-Saharan trade flourish and let the precious gold from the mine in Bure (which I control) turn my realm into a rich kingdom that can perhaps expand northwards.

I am up for suggestions and the like from you guys as I go along.

I'm starting at the Charlemagne start, and we'll see how far I survive...

Introduction

Along the banks of the great river Sankarani, Lahilatoul of the Keita clan reigns as chief of Manding at his capital of Niani. Capital is perhaps an overstatement, for it is more of a great conglomeration of huts. In the future, perhaps, that is to change. The tribe, belonging to the Mandé people, reside on the savannah just on the edge of the great desert of the Sahara.

Among his people, Lahilatoul is known as a hard working man that takes care of his tribe. Despite his young age, he is in particular known for his great wisdom and his ways of communicating with the spirits and the ancestors. His knowledge of the spiritual world is great, and for this the people worship him as a great seeker of knowledge. As befits him, he is proud of being chief and the great power he wields in his tribe. Coming from his more theological nature, Lahilatoul is not the bravest of men… even if this is looked down upon, the people respect him nonetheless and manage to look past this weakness. Should war come, however, they might expect him to stand up with his spear ready for battle.

(Picture is not from the starting date)

War, however, is not what Lahilatoul looks for. Lahilatoul has vowed to lead his people to great spirutal ascension, and for that he sees peace as a requirement for that. War would only come in the way.

Chapter 1 - Meeting the Muslims

"O Great Chief! A man comes from distant realms and wishes to meet the great chief." declared the cunning Mamadi, spymaster and member of the tribal council.

Lahilatoul, helping herd the cattle of a tribal member, turned around and looked at his spymaster. His drive for knowledge kicked in. Apologizing to the cattle farmer, he returned back to his abode, a two story brick house.

Looking extremely uncomfortable, a bearded man lavishly dressed in the Muslim way, stood in the midst of the room. He murmured something to a man of the local stock, who reassured him in his question. Spymaster Mamadi, with knowldge of Arabic, murmured to the chief: "He questions whether the great chief truly lives here."

Upon seeing the chief, the Arab bowed deeply, declaring words in his foreign language. The local-looking man he had brought with him translated to the chief. "O Great One, I come from the distant realm of Andalusia, my master says. He has heard of the great gold you possess, and wishes to intitate trade."

Lahilatoul frowned, for he had no gold. Then it dawned on him. One of his councillors had reported of findings on the other side of the great river Niger, but how investments were required before the gold could be extracted. "That gold will not see the face of the earth for a long time to come, but please, do tell of your distant realm."

The Arab was invited to dine with the tribe, and he told of the spectacular wealth of the distant Andalusia and Africa, and of the course the greatness of God. The last part Lahilatoul was disgusted of, but the rest was of great interest. These Arabs seemed like a wise people possessing great knowledge... When the Arab was to leave the following morning, without gold but with an intitation of cordial relations, Lahilatoul decided to send cunning Mamadi with him to Qurtubah so that the tribe could take part of their superior knowledge.

This mention of gold and trade inspired the construction of a market village in Niani, so that more Arabs could come telling of their distant realms and to let the tribe prosper. Of course, he would also have to look into getting that gold, but that would take some money...

A few months later, the council assembles. As is custom, the Grand Vizier leads the discussion, becoming his position and great age. He tells of how Mamadi has relocated with the Arab trader to Tunis, another magnificent city with a great harbor by the distant Mediterranean Sea. There, he has managed to be invited to the court of great Sultan Umar of Africa who shows great interest in the distant chiefdom of Manding. He is invited to study with the great scholars there, who are keen to speak of their great Allah but equally so to show them the marvels of technology.

Upon discussion, the council decides that Fatta too should leave for Tunis and further engage in cordial relations. Lahilatoul thirts for their knowledge and wisdom, but perhaps also remembers the speak of trade and the riches that it would ensure... Who else to ensure cordiality, if not Fatta?

Again, time passes but this time a new Arab arrives at Niani. This recent exchange has set something in motion, the chief thinks to himself. This time, however, it is not as agreeable an exhange as the first one...

"Great chief," one of the tribal warriors says, kicking an Arab to the ground infront of the chief. "We found this man preaching the word of the foreign Allah. He was aiding the local villagers with their ailments, and in the proccess trying to convert them."

Lahilatoul spits on the ground, glaring at the Arab. "You dare come here, preaching the word of your foreign God?! I RULE HERE!" he roared, hitting the man in the face. "You think you can get away with this?! BURN HIM! Let the ancestors feast on his remains!". Promptly, man was dragged away screaming. Later in the evening, he was burned with the entire Niani watching him be consumed by the flames.

Hopefully this would not affect his councillors up in Tunis too much... nor that the Arabs would stop coming here with their trade, as long as they refrained from mentioning their God. Hm, perhaps that burning was a rash move.

 

[stnylan]

Welcome to AAR writing. Rare to see a CK2 AAR in this part of the world. Will follow.

 

[Anzonor]

Welcome to AAR writing. Rare to see a CK2 AAR in this part of the world. Will follow.

Yeah, I've been trying to find one and I thought what the heck, I'll have to be a first. So far it's really fun with all the flavor events, plus trying to figure out how to relate to the big world out there beyond the Sahara.

 

[Anzonor]

Chapter 2 - Cursed by the spirits?

Trade took a hit upon the burning of the Muslim healer. It turns out the Arabs were not so keen to be burned on stakes. When the little market village outside of Niani was finished, things changed for the better. More caravans showed up, perhaps dreaming of that famous gold, to the point that the village has grown into a small trading town. All seemed well, until one day... After a dry spell, the skys opened over Niani and the rain never ceased. The tribe had at first celebrated, for rain should be celebrated. Rain in excess is not pleasant, though.

"Farbas Lahilatoul!" screamed one of the tribe elders, just as the Farbas was about to enjoy his evening meal. "The market town is about to collapse in a landslide! You must help the people!"

Lahilatoul stood dumbstruck. He had just recently invested so much gold in the market and was well aware of how the trade had improved the lives of the impoverished tribe. "Send builders to secure the markets! Those buildings cannot be destroyed" he said, cold eyes piercing the elder.

"But Farbas, would it not be wise to aid, say, the children and elderly?"
"The market lets the people flourish, o wise one. Do as I command!"

In the end, the markets were secured and left unscathed by the landslides. Unfortunately, an elder perished in the heavy rains, as did the chief's daughter Tekhaye. She had just learned to walk... Lahilatoul would forever see the death as his own fault. And that was only the beginning of the curse.

Only days later, the Diviner of the tribe confronts Lahilatoul. Following the rains and the death of young Tekhaye, religious unrest has broken out in Niani. The people fear that their chief can no longer communicate properly with their spirits. Likely it is so that the murder of the Muslim healer has brought their wrath upon the people, and the chief's family! It is recommended that the marshal and the diviner cooperate in hunting out any unfaithful among the tribe members, so as to avoid great conflict.

Speaking of religious turmoil, the two councillors in Tunis send word to the Farbas.

A young boy claims the lands of the old Sultan. Apparently religious turmoil affects the Arabas as well. This time, their is speak of a great divide among Muslims. This boy, or perhaps his tutors, claims he is the one and only true Calpih, a proper Shi'ite. The councillors are yet unsure what differs the Sunni from the Shiite, but it appears a matter of great importance.

All this turmoil confuses the chief. Do the spirits truly exist, or has he been wrong all the time? What is the correct choice? These questions and the death of his daughter turn Lahilatoul depressed. Life lacks its previous luster.

As the depression continues, the lethargic chief receives word yet again from his councillors in the north. In fact, the Grand Vizier has returned home to Niani, so the word is conveyed fact to face. The two councillors had fled Tunis, for this new Calpih has won the war against the old Sultan. Mamadi has returned to Qurtubah, reports the Grand Vizier, to continue his studies in a much safer city. The Sultan of Andalusia is reported to be a ruler with a more... secure post. He himself however had prefered to return to his people, for these foreigners were an exhausting people.

Meanwhile, Lahilatoul's depression never ceases to be. He belives all this studying of the spirits to be at fault. Life must naturally be filled with more luster if he lives it, and not simply think of it. He decides to focus more on trade with the Arabs, so that these gold mines can eventually be mined from.

Again, no luck. "Chief! I fear the many gifts we sent up to an Emir... have not been satisfactory." reports the Grand Vizier, shifting uncomfortably with his feet as he stared at the mud floor of the chief's hut.

The chief, playing with his young son Demba, looked tiredly at his councillor. "Is that so, is that so..." he mumbled.

"Demba, my son, never let them take the strength out of you. No matter if you fail, you must carry on, my son... You must... be strong, and proud..." the Farbas said to his young son. He hoped his son would not tire of life as he himself had. Oh how in those young eyes, the world was full of possibility...

 

[stnylan]

Things have really taken a turn for the worse for the poor chief.

 

[GangsterSynod]

Interesting AAR! Looking forward to seeing how it develops, but a promising start for sure.

 

[Anzonor]

Chapter 3: the blessing of the Spirits

Things begin to clear up for the chief. The birth of a new daughter cheers him up from his depression. She reminds him so of his lost daughter Tekhaye, and perhaps her a fraction of her young spirit can be found in this newborn child. All this reclusion has changed the chief, though. He has become as shy as a young maiden, afraid of the world out there and the horrors it offers. Still, perhaps joy can be found...

To celebrate this new love of life, and equally so to bless his people with the prosperity they have forgone during his lethargic state of mind, the Farbas prepares a great sacrifice for the ancestors.

The sun is just about to set across the great plains as the tribe assembles by the banks of the great river Sankarani. Dusk is a time when the spirits are close. In the water, crocodiles lurk, eagerly eyeing the tribe as well as the animals drinking from the river. The chief diviner stands with the chief beside him, looking out over the people. Around, the tribe stand ready with masks, spears and shields for their ritual dance. Some among begin to bang on heavy drums, as the rest begin to move in unision with the music.

"O ANCESTORS!" shouts the Diviner to the skies, "MAY YOU BLESS US WITH PROSPERITY! LET OUR PEOPLE FLOURISH!".

As if answering their call, thunder rumbles through the air. Clearly it is a good omen. The diviner turns to the chief.

"And what, Farbas, would you sacrifice to your ancestors, so that they fill you with the wisdom you need to give us this prosperity?"

"... To the great spirits of those who came before, of the great chiefs of my blood, I offer... "

The chief looks out over his people. He sees his people become one with the music, as if their spirits dissolve into the oneness of the world. To him, the entire scene dissolves into a frenzy of intense colors and movement. Prior to the ceremony, he had been heavily drugged for what was to come, and the concotion was just now kicking in.

"MY FLESH!" he screams. The tribe shouts back: "HIS FLESH!".

"SO BE IT!" declares the Diviner. As the chief lies down, the diviner draws a sharp knife.

"With one eye in this world, and one in the next, you shall become the wisest of them all..." the Diviner declares, and begins to chant the ancient words of the ceremony.

With the agile fingers of an experienced shaman, he carves out the eye of the chief. As the begins to writhe, four of the strongest members of the tribe hold him still to the sandy ground. His shrieks echo across the water. The animals around look up in fright.

One-eyed and passed out, the chief was carried away back to the village. Eye held high, the diviner looks out across the tribe.

"HIS EYE!" he shouts. "HIS EYE!" they shout back.

With those words, the diviner tosses the eye out into the water. Within seconds, a lurking crocodile throws itself onto it, devouring it quickly. And with that, the congregation march back to the village, singing, chanting, dancing, drumming. Now, they need only wait for the great wisdom of the spirits to fill the Farbas.

 

[stnylan]

Well one cannot say he is not willing to give his all.