It is the year of the lord, 851, nearly four centuries after the fall of Western Rome. The ashes left behind has given rise to new states and entire peoples changed. Kingdoms arose and conquered surviving and thriving in a new world, a new religion gave birth to the greatest dynasties on earth, Constantinople thrived yet still, determined to see through all misfortune into opportunity.
It is the dawn of the Viking Age in Europe, as men of Scandinavia seek fortune elsewhere from their freezing homeland. The great Kingdom of Francia will soon be split into three middling powers, each crown owned by the sons of Charlemagne, ambitious and wary of others' motive. Eastern Rome, on the other hand, were engaged in the undertaking of defeating their rivals, the Abbasids, from overtaking them. With losses and victories on both sides, it is only a matter of time before the stalemate will favour the other.
But far away from this intrigue of giants, we shift our gazes from the rising north, towards sand-stricken Sahara, through the drying plains of the Sahel, and penetrating deep within the jungles of Western Africa. An unexpected birth will alter history and change the rules of the world, forever.
A birth that will herald the symbol of humankind's unification under one banner.
The night was calm and cool atop the mountain, but it did little to calm his nerves. His eyes were fixated to the small fire in front of the entrance of the hut, blazing balmily on the pyre, crackling once in a while. He liked to imagine that to be his heart, calm and collected on this night… but he still couldn't feel it as he paced around, rumbling within him.
His tribe that called this mountain home were called the Mano. They were part of the Kru clans, sort of… and the Kru were very unliked in this part of West Africa, or The Coastlands as it was aptly known to them. The clans were like any in the Coastlands, a strict hierarchy structure was in place, their center of life was within a village such as theirs, they hunted game, sometimes farm or herd, if there is space available, but they were quite different from their neighbours, the southwestern tribes were infamous, being reavers and raiders of the coasts.
His particular tribe liked to go downhill from the river, raiding their own, but recently, their raids didn't really go as well as they hoped, as their coastal brethren had better spears and more men than them.
Theirs was a pitiful thing, few were fit, they almost had no weapons of iron on their hands, they were disparate, the whole lot of them. Nonetheless, they made do with what few sheep that can graze atop their mountain home, the relative safety from the warring jungles was a blessing in their eyes.
It was better to raid when the lot were asleep, his brother once said.
The biggest hut was owned by the biggest man in the village, and that was him, Guere Yawo. He was their leader, the strongest and the most fearless of their tribe, and he was currently trying his best to not soil his loincloth. His brother in name surely rolled his eyes at his antics, but he didn't give a shit at what he thought of him.
"It will go well, today is the seventh moon. Nothing bad will happen on the seventh moon!" Yoofi patted him on the shoulder.
"Oh, come off it!" he slapped his brother's hands off of him.
"What if Ami perishes!? I am old, Yoofi! OLD! I will not be mocked by the likes of you and your perverted friends for not bearing any firstborn!" he glared at his brother, several of several moons younger than him. At that, the twenty-something man gave a sheep-like grin.
"You know that was a joke, brother-" he started.
"Unhand me, you mischievous usurper!" he slapped his younger brother's hand away and hissed at him.
Yoofi rolled his eyes at the senile man bearing down on him, ignoring the stink of his beard as he peered his eyes at the leather curtain. He raised one eyebrow.
"-ith that! Come on then! Speak up! Let us duel-" he was interrupted by a shush and finger on his lips, he looked at him with outrage, but he did not let him.
"Honoured brother, it sounds like-"
Guere Ami
"Waaaah! Waaaaaah! Waah! Waaaaaaah!" a cry rang out within the small chamber, gurgling in the torchlight. She was thankful that this time…
"It is a girl! Lady Chief! Healthy and hale!" the shaman, announced, holding the baby in the air.
She felt like her body was battered and broken, still that news made her smile in aching repose. Ami felt her eyes become blurry with tears, she had done it, there was no tragedy, no more… and the earth mother had heard and answered her prayers.
"Pass her to me..." she croaked.
The chieftain's wife, proceeded with struggle, to weakly present her sweaty arms to the shaman and a priestess of Asase Yaa, mother-goddess of earth and life. The woman looked at her before peering down at the baby, then back at her, slowly a scrutinizing look was present on her face. As if pondering whether she should show it to her…
"Asì? W-Why are you looking at her like that?" she spoke nervously. Was something wrong? Is her baby truly healthy and hale? Was she-
Did she fail again?
"Your daughter…" Yes! What about her daughter!? What happened to her!?
"She is… different." Asì said, a strange look on her face. She still couldn't see her, she needed to know now!
"Tell me!" she hissed in pain, terror, and hope.
"She has-"
"I've had enough! It is time to see my heir!" a gravelly voiced boomed from beyond the curtain, revealing the large chief that towered over most of all them. He looked to the bundle and commanded-
"Woman, show me my heir! I must look closely." the shaman gave him an unimpressed look, and looked towards the wife for confirmation instead. The chieftain's face only grew more agitated at the gesture.
Sighing, she said-
"Show him, he is my husband after all…" Ami huffed tiredly, head slumping down into the bedding, which she let out a small grunt. The older woman by her side tightened her face at her, then with great reluctance, the priestess of the earth-mother uncovered the bundle.
It was a baby alright, though it was different from their appearance. For one, she had full white hair, covered in the blood of labour.
"You show me a lamb?" Yawo looked at this feisty priestess, incredulous. The old man peering at it closely, it seemed sound asleep, as if it didn't cry minutes ago… her skin was as dark as-
"It is not a lamb, you old fool! She is your daughter!" Asì said, heat radiating from her declaration. At that, Yawo felt something snap inside of him, it all rushed in, the rage in his blood, the shame and sadness that he bore alone, the sleepless nights in the cold dark. He took a deep breath, as much as his failing lungs could muster, and let out a bellowing-
"OF ALL THINGS, WHY MUST ALL GO WRONG, A FAILED RAID, HALF OF OUR TRIBE MISSING, NOW YOU TELL ME THAT MY HEIR IS A FEMALE LAMB!? I AM DISAPPOINTED, SO MUCH SO!" he rumbled, body shaking in poor health and in rage, his spittle dropping over their old carpets, Yawo clenched his calloused hands as he looked in flaring hatred at the object of his ire. Ami began to sob softly, as the woman shaman quickly rushed to her side with the baby to comfort her.
"Brother, calm yourself-" Yoofi attempted to calm them, but that sadly wasn't meant to be. The shaman, after saying gentle reassurances to her blood sister, and gently laying the infant in a nearby crib, she turned towards the distressed old man. She marched towards the bearded giant that was twice the size of her, and began to show off her prowess in the arena of words.
"SHE IS NO LAMB, GUERE! SHE IS AMI'S DAUGHTER AND HEIR, YOU-"
"SILENCE! YOU IRRITATING-"
"-POMPOUS, PRIDEFUL, WHY DID WE EVER AGREE TO MARRY MY SISTER-"
"-THE GODS HAVE CURSED ME! FOR WHAT!? FOR-" he began to raise his hand.
"BROTHER NO!" he yelled, in fear for the consequences of striking an agent of the great spirits, the abasom. Another for…
*SLAP!!!*
"AH!" the priestess fell on her haunches, holding the stinging pain of her rapidly reddening cheek. She lifted her hand on her face to reveal…
Blood.
"YOU DARE STRIKE MY WIFE!?" Yoofi saw red, this farce was over.
Wasting no time, he delivered his elder brother a swift punch in the jaw, before he felt himself suddenly out of breath as something impacted hard into his belly, the meaty punch heard within the chamber. He thought he heard screaming, was it his wife? No it was the midwives, but they quickly left his vision as he stared balefully into the gnarled bloodied face of his beastly opponent. They were in their own little world now, only Yawo and Yoofi existed, and only one of them was allowed to continue existing.
They continued coming to blows, Yawo nearly taking out his eye with his vicious open palm spearing. He made up his mind, and rammed his brother with his incredible speed. The world blurred and darkened.
"Stop this at once, both of you!" he heard someone yell, but that mattered little to him. As he heard pottery breaking under his brother's weight- he felt light, then felt his back-
*CRASH*
"Goddess…!" she watched them crash and break the wall of their wooden hut, she heard the support of the entire dwelling near its limit. The creaking of wood and the flapping of cloth did not give her any sort of goblet for living a fulfilling and long life.
"Oh Goddess, protect us…" she thought glumly, her calloused hand holding her sore and bleeding face, the cries of mother and child echoing in the night.
The village warriors watched conflicted as the two brothers crashed out of the dwelling, fighting with fists and teeth. They almost did not recognize the brothers if not for their familiar grunts and voices of curses and slights on each other's honour.
"At it again are they?" an old man watched impassively while eating half-rotten yam.
At that, the younger one slipped on the mud and began barrelling down the hill, the older sibling diving in to make it even.
The two men rolled down the hill, holding each other in place, dirt and rock scraped skin and broke some bones as they neared the bottom of their tribal holdings. A medium-sized boulder, violently and divorced the two men, both breaking their arms in the process.
…
"Ugh…!"
"Uggghh…"
…
…
…
"Brother…" the younger one spoke, his gaze was cast towards the twinkling stars above.
"Why are you like this…?" he continued, wanting an answer.
"… Heh, you know my time is up. You are stronger than I am now…" the older replied, no longer grumpy, but bemused, like he was… his younger self, so long ago.
…
…
…
"Father was cruel to all of us."
"Maybe this was his revenge, heh. Your fiery wife was right, I am a fool." in response, the younger one laughed in pain.
"You were always a fool brother, irresponsible, reckless, and then-"
"The most beautiful woman in the world presented herself in my eye, then she fell in love with you, I was stuck with her dull sister."
"You are not very tactful, are you?"
"You said it yourself, haven't you? A fool, I am."
They both laughed painfully, together.
…
…
…
"Take care of her brother… she deserved better than a… poor excuse of… a chieftain I was…"
"Don't be silly, you can apologize, then we can pretend this was all just a misunderstanding."
"…"
"We'll have lamb, to celebrate. My wife will berate you as usual, heheh, then we all drink and feast like no day was ever different."
"…"
"We'll be there for the naming ceremony, you can choose a name! A beautiful name for your pride and heir!"
"…"
"Maybe, our days will be happy then, by Nyesoa! Maybe we'll have a successful raid this time! Then we can free the rest of our tribesmen out east! Isn't that right, brother?"
"…"
"I-Isn't that right? Heh… h-heh…"
"…"
"Brother…?"
"…"
…
…
…
When the men found them, only one was alive, his face covered in bruises, blood, and sweat. His eyes, they were glistening, though no one bothered to notice.
Not even him.
Yawo looked at her, her hair was white like the purest ivory, her face had the markings of a beautiful and demure woman in the future, at least that was what his wife told him. For him though, it triggered a mixture of feelings of grief, hope, anger, and… and…
He sighed, as he observed the mother feeding her, a blank look was on her face. Honestly, she wasn't that dull of a woman, but still…
"Antó." Ami said, tightly.
Asì and Yoofi glanced at one another for a moment. Then back at the widow.
"Antó is her name."
At that, they both nodded their heads solemnly, the shaman held her hand as the night wore on.
She didn't see him, indeed.
~ Chieftain's House, Mt. Nimba, West Africa ~
~ 854 Anno Domini ~
Guere Kobbi
She was still staring at him with her weird eyes, locking to his own as she stood from her crib.
He preferred that she didn't.
The sounds of rain was the only thing keeping him company other than her, but it was also the reason he was stuck here standing guard over his cousin, the weather too cold for any substantial raid or hunt. So he and the rest of his friends for the hunt were stuck here until Nyame Above All, (or was it Nyesoa?) deemed it so.
He was the one who was supposed to be watching her, not the other way around!
It felt like she was looking through his very soul, like how a hunter would evaluate their prey. But it was more than that, it felt like she knew his weaknesses, his strengths, his fears and contentedness, his entire bloodline. He was even sure she knew his most deepest and darkest secrets…
What is this feeling… why does he feel… not real-
"Are you scared of her, Kobbi?" Kobbi was scared then, as he let out a shrill cry and dropped his little spear on the ground. The voice above him tittered mockingly at his shameful and embarrassing display, he whipped his head behind him only to be met with an amused brown face.
"Mother! I was not!" his face seemed more red than brown now, presenting the laughing woman with an indignant look on his face.
"You kept looking at her, your little knees were shaking too." she said in bemusement.
"My knees were not shaking!" he said, upset at the slander of his noble character.
Picking up his little spear, she gave it to him with an easy smile on his face.
"Hmph!" he grabbed the spear out of her hands and stood watch, wanting to prove her wrong. He glared at her, wanting to show this scary baby that he was not intimidated by her!
When he first saw his baby cousin revealed to him and his siblings, they all had a variety of reactions. It's not everyday you get to see white hair that did not look aged or gray, it seemed to shine like a flower, so white and pure. But when she opened her eyes, did it cement her status as a… weird baby. At first, he thought that her inner eye had burst and was filled with blood, to which he felt pity for her.
Then… it began to feel unnerving.
Not that he would admit it.
Guere Así
She was amused by her son, but she felt the undercurrent of that feeling again… as she looked at the both of them. Her mind wandered towards the day of the banishment that she and her sister endured, the hatred of that face that she saw staring back at her that fateful day… how she swore vengeance within her heart at-!
"Wah…" she stopped her track as she blinked back to reality, she saw her sister's infant-child staring at her… concerningly?
She was tilting her head at the side. Staring into her red eyes, the priestess felt herself mesmerized once more, there was something about her that made her charmed by her presence. She supposed this was another eccentricity, the gods and spirits have set. Her sister had suffered miscarriages, three sons, lost to the winds of fate. Though the child's appearance was unusual, she felt, in her opinion, that Antó was going to do great things, she never felt this way to any of her own children.
She shook her head and walked over towards the baby, bowl in hand. Her sister was sick today, hopefully she can recover.
The servant gulped, as once again she checked the cloth diaper of the chieftain's heir, and still there was no amount of brown or wet substances present. Now this would be a good thing, except the daughter of the chieftain has not been… doing her business in the last three days! Last time she checked with her own children, they always made a mess without fail when time came to.
Not her, not even once. She has been fed well, she fed her, herself! Yet nothing was coming out!
"Uhnn!" she looked at the baby again, her cheeks pouting and staring daggers at her, her face red as she covered her girlhood with her stubby hands. She felt a sense of danger when she looked into the child's otherworldly eyes again, she rushed to reapply the diaper. She knew that the child was more aware than she let on, and she did not want to find out the consequences of earning the ire of tribal royalty.
Guere Así
Three weeks have passed since then, it was late at night when Shaman Asì was finished with healing the warriors. Loot has come steadily again, but most were barely edible, the tribe was shrinking in manpower and life felt like it was turning back to the way it was back again… As she walked back to her tent, a slight slump to her posture, she was taken aback by the sight of the young heiress.
S-She was standing!
But, what was she in her medicinal chamber?
"Little chieftess? What in goddess' name are you doing here?" she was swiftly right in front of her, bending down to hold her close.
"Bah! Bababu!" the child held up her hands, her eyes gleaming and… smiling?
"Hm?" Guere Asì glanced behind her, where medicinal herbs and other mystical apparatus lay undisturbed. She shook her head, then turned her attention back to the child.
"Come now, my niece." she picked her up from the floor.
"It is time for you to sleep."
"Baaaah! Bu!" the child protested with an indignant shake of her arms.
"Antó!" The girl's mother's voice rang out in desperation.
"Antó! Where are you?!"
It has been three months now, since the girl-toddler has stood on her own, unnoticed, giving the rest of the Guere clan no sign of rest for this intrepid little miracle. A new disaster has developed, one that might cast a long shadow over the tribe, a sign of things that will only go downhill from there.
The clan's warriors, along with what remained of the family, had set out in search of her. Yoofi was out raiding, giving the Toro the slipup when midnight hits. That left only the two matriarchs—sisters bound by sanctuary and blood—and their contingent of loyal men.
They fully searched the village, now they were scouring the entire mountain, for any sign of their child. If she has gone from this world… the shaman's children will make good replacements for the future leadership for the tribe, though it will make the village feel more empty than it usually is.
If the worst did happen, they clung to the hope they could find the body at least.
Wherever she may be…
Guere Kobbi
…
…
…
"Babuu!"
Kobbi stared dumbly at her, her normally wispy and white hair covered in twigs and leaves, he could see bruises on her knees and cuts all over her. She was giving him a stupid smile as she waved around a bunch of plants in her hands. She also had leather slings around her that carried rocks of different colours.
Kobbi wasn't even searching for his cousin, he was busy maintaining his new spear when she inexplicably showed up unannounced with her stupid smile on her face. He now knew headaches, introduced too early for his age, and he dragged her by the arm, ignoring her protests as he put her in the center of the settlement, hopefully with eyes on her this time.
All the villagers left in the settlement were crowding round her, whispering incredulity and some amusement. Kobbi couldn't help but think of the search party who would soon return to a village to learn the news. He couldn't help but shudder.
If he knows one thing, Auntie Ami was not that gentle all the time.
~ Mt. Nimba, West Africa ~
~ 855 Anno Domini ~
"Our chieftain dead? Our tribe in shambles? The heir born with white hair and bloody eyes and is a girl-child? The pigshit is real then, she is the sign of our end! Cursed I say!" the skinny old man huffed with his arms crossed, joining in this encounter was a crowd that began forming.
It was midday, the dry season had come in full force. Heads were aching, sweat was dripping, and mosquitos were hungry for blood.
"Bah, how would you know? You don't commune with the all-seeing spirits, you're a cripple, just like the rest of us!" another skinny, he was much younger.
"Foolish young man, you don't need to be shaman to commune with the ancestors and the spirits!" the old man lectured him, and grabbed from his bag and presented what looked like orange coloured chilli-peppers.
"Old man, why do you have that?" another man questioned, slightly less skinny.
"Focus, young man, it is no time for silly questions!"
"We're not allowed to pick those! The griots told us if we use it without a shaman's help we will-"
"Wah?" all of them then turned towards the voice that broke their tense argument. For standing right before them, was the heir of Guere herself. They have never seen her before, a wave of… something passed through them. Some smiled at her appearance, but others…
"Let us kill her." the old man said unapologetically.
*thud*
"Umphf!" in response, he was backhanded by the slightly less skinny man.
"Hah ud, warba da wah…" she said, picking her nose in contemplation.
"Why did you hit me, you hooligan!?" the old man exclaimed, waving his arm stumps in the air angrily.
"This would be an unwise course of action, grand uncle." the skinniest of them said to him, as the heir apparent, flicked the booger off her finger.
"Nephew, look at you, you are more bone than man with that appearance. You are telling me we must place our trust on some weak girl-child to lead us to victory? Our days were numbered when that old chieftain of ours was bewitched by those piss Akan women." some murmured in agreement, others were cursing him. While a shadow suddenly disappeared from the group of retired raiders.
"Can't you see this was their shitty plan all along!? To see us proud and strong Krumen bow down to their piss ways!? They promised us safety! They promised us peace! Bah! All they do is complain about the fucking mosquitoes! And when they are not, whisper to the chieftain's ear to bring useless battle! To kill more of us everyday!" some more crippled men rumbled in agreement, but others disagreed. The crowd's air became restless.
"Wah wowee wah?" the white-haired toddler seemed more nervous at the gathering before her.
"Remember the time when we were rich with loot! Rich with women! Until, Yoofi, that traitorous cretin, left us to fend for the beasts! He killed his brother! I know it was no accident, he traded his soul to usurp his brother!"
"Wai sho gwe wout." Antó said with a straight face and turned around to get out of this flash confrontation.
"How would you know!?" One pointed accusingly.
"I was speaking to him! I saw him in his dreams! She was no daughter of his, his whore of a wife slept with a chaos god! We must slay her before it is too late!" at that, the old man began to march resolutely towards the girl-child.
"No! Stop!" someone said, thankfully someone stopped him in the crowd, perhaps proving that there is some sense in this world.
"Let go of me! I'll crush that lamb with my bare feet if I have to!" and with surprising strength he shoved his captor and, wrenching himself free, to run towards the Daughter of Mani.
"Stop him!"
"What are you doing!? Can't you see-"
The first punch started it all.
Guere Anto
Looking back, she saw the armless maniac running towards her, as the mob turned themselves upon eachother. The child was otherworldly, but she was undoubtedly human, as the instincts kicked in. To run, fight, or freeze in place. Sadly, the latter won out, and she began to reminisce again involuntarily… like many other times when she awoke.
Yet again, the memories of her first life flashed before her eyes, so vividly real and barely dreamlike. The pain, oh that wretched pain of heat and light, lungs burning into smoke and ash as it all collapsed around her. No voice could be spoken, for there was no more air left to breathe in. It was the most miserable way to die, fitting for the person who had the most miserable way to live.
The spark was alight.
Before that foot hit her, she-
"GET AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!" out of nowhere, her saviour hath arrived on time, still wounded and covered in medicinal herbs, she watched him deliver a fresh spearing into the old man.
"GAH!" were his last words as his intestines were ruptured, and he succumbed from shock. He was dead before he even hit the ground, eyes wide open.
"Wustash wan!" Guere Antó cried and ran towards her hero. She knew she could always count on moustache man to save the day.
Guere Yoofi
"What has happened here!? Do you doubt your brother's chieftain!? Doubt his choice of heir!?" Guere Yoofi was not as big as his brother, but he was just as fierce and vicious. He had survived the rage of the forest after all.
"She is a girl-" one of the crowd said-
"So what? She can have sons when she is older!" he snarled, reminding the men of his role as The Night Jackal.
"Now begone from my sight!" Even covered in bandages and recently lost to the Bassa tribe, they knew they shouldn't mess with the second-strongest fighter in the village, now the first. So they obediently nodded, some quietly spitting in his direction, but they fully honoured his command.
His rage cooled as he stroked the hair of his foster daughter. It was unlike his wife's or sisters, it was smoother for one, the caretakers were obsessed with stroking or brushing her hair, which was already long when she was born. They didn't even bother to tie her hair into knots, it would be a waste, and he could see why.
He could get addicted to this.
…
"Oh brother, you big idiot."
A/N:
My first post in SV and first crosspost from AH, how's it going? : p APR-18-2024: Chapter rework update, and minor expansions, shouldn't change the story too much... I think.
Antó's Lab and Workshop, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
858 Anno Domini
It was yet another hot day, few mosquitos were out and about this time, a new set of faces, yet familiar were standing in the village. The pair were surrounded by a menagerie of things not quite rivalling the priestess' healing hut. Every device ranging from pottery wheels to strange but precise implements and drawings hanging from the walls, to jars and pots filled with water and oil, to curious wooden figures that looked like animals but seemed… off.
A small bucket was sitting right in front of the two children. Kobbi felt threatened about his height, she was only four years younger than him and her eyes met his, at level height, which he did not appreciate as a young ten-year-old boy.
"Ta-daa!" Antó said, saying those made up words again. Kobbi shook his head, before he examined a square white object that was held in her hands. Is that spit? Did she yank it out from the mouth of a jungle hog?
"It's soap, see! Smell!" he recoiled, expecting the smell of fresh saliva, but instead…
"It smells… of flowers?"
"Yeah, I crushed some of the flowers the boys gave me!" Kobbi let out an exasperated breath, slapping his hand on his face.
"Huh, what's wrong?" she tilted her head.
"Nevermind, why did you make that… soo-au-oup anyway?" he said, peering suspiciously at his younger cousin.
"To get rid of ger- um! So we can… uh, smell good?" she said with an unsure smile, teeth shining white.
Kobbi looked helplessly at her.
"Uncle, do you know what furnaces are?" the rest of the Guere clan were having a freshly cooked and luxurious feast of a single piece of mutton, with most of the dishes being some small vegetables and sweetfruit. Uncle Yoofi raised an eyebrow at his foster daughter as he bit into what looked like a smooth orange lemon.
"What is that? An animal?"
"What, no. They are those… things, with a fire inside of them? A stone… campfire?" her eyes winced like she was frustrated with something. As if there were no other words to describe it.
"Ah! You mean our bloomeries. Why? Are you interested in them?" Yoofi questioned, ironically more interested in what she is about to say.
"Well, I found these." Yoofi turned his eyes at her little invention that was hanging around her waist, she called it a "fannipak". It was simply adorable for her to do that. What she got out from the fannipak though was what raised some eyebrows and some widened eyes on the table. It was glinting, it was gray, it was unmistakably…
"Iron." he said in disbelief.
"I found them in the mountains, we can make them into weapons!" she excitedly handed a fistful of iron to her uncle, somewhat amazed at the purity and shininess of it.
"We have iron sitting under us the entire time uncle!" she then proceeded to pull from her back a large bag out of nowhere and ungraciously spill all the contents of into the table. Ami looked horrified.
"Antó! Not on the table!" her birth-mother scolded her, and pulled her ear, earning a yelp from the white-haired girl. The uncle stood from his black stool, in near disbelief.
"This… is brilliant, dear niece!" he gathered all the iron pieces as if they were… well, like currency. He inspected them too, imagining how fine a blade they could become, how sharp and efficient it will be to slice. A devious and dastardly plan was already forming in his head.
"Maybe we should pay the Nouni…a little visit." He wasn't the only one with an evil grin on his table. The family business must go on, after all…
Outer Village, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
858 Anno Domini, A Moon later…
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
"Ughh…." a tribesman opened his groggy eyes, to the sounds outside. He rubbed his head to free it from aching gremlins. It wasn't going away.
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
"Damn that racket." resolute, he stood up from his hammock and shoved the curtain door away, and was presented with the scent of burning wood and smoke. There he saw the commotion.
It was that new area that was built, when the girl-lamb-chief cried about iron under their mountain home. Soon, there was a mine or two somewhere, he didn't pay attention. The weapon forgers have gone out of their minds since, new furnaces, bigger than the ones near the coasts have been erected near them, the cliffside was alive with noise after their completion. These past few suns have always been that annoying clinging and clanging!
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
The raider, already a man grown, crossed his arms in vexation. He supposed those new iron tools would aid them, but still… did it have to be so close to their homes?
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
*CLANG*
He harrumphed, before turning back to his home. A moment later, appearing back out again with a bow and arrow. Maybe some wild game could lighten his thoroughly ruined morning.
The Peaks, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
858 Anno Domini, Two Moons later…
"Are you sure this will work?" the boy said nervously, his eyes cautious for the clouds above. The sky didn't seem that angry, yet. But Nyame was sometimes an oddly cruel prankster, he once saw a herd of their sheep become lifeless dolls from the flash while out learning with his hunter-teachers. He really did not want such a fate to befall him.
Looking pleadingly at the older girl, he pulled his best puppy-dog eyes yet. It worked with his mother and his sisters, maybe it will work on her too?
"Have faith will you?" his older cousin said, patting his head playfully as she readjusted her hands to peer closely at the stick with iron wrapped around it.
"It'll be fine! It'll be on a ten foot wooden pole, I've calculated it correctly!" he wanted to be assured by her words and calculations.
It was about to start…
"So this is a magnet?" the boy, Anené, his anxiety evident, muttered as he gazed at the metal rod, which was now smoking at the end of the pole… or what remained of it, for that matter.
"Why did you pee on me?" Antó looked at him deadpan, untying the magnet stick with her (mostly) dry hands.
"It was an accident! The lightning did it! A-And it was your own fault you brought me here, elder niece!" he cried out, angered and ashamed. He grabbed her with his undried hands, causing Antó to turn a little green in the face.
"Please don't tell anyone! It is most embarrassing!" he pleaded, his loincloth still dripping yellow.
"…"
"… You do know the hunters can tell the difference between human pee and animal pee right?"
"NOOOOOOOOO-"
Village Walls, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
858 Anno Domini, A walk down the mountian later…
"Yup! It even points north! I put this little canoe under it and… see! It moved and stayed in place!" freshly washed, the young chieftess-to-be presented her friends and skeptics alike of the discovery. It was a large clay basin, with piles of toy canoes at the side, within that body of water was a compass! The undeniable proof that there is a great force in the world that controls where birds migrate, and in turn can revolutionize travel inbetween the harsh jungles of Guniea, for the north will always point true, where it lay.
"I don't believe you! You're a fake!" a girl accused.
"That was quick." Antó murmured, her eyes looking behind herself.
"But it worked!" The youngest Guere took out two smaller magnets.
"It sticks!" the two pieces of metal were stuck together in his one hand, also freshly scented.
"You! You have always been running off with her! Do I need to tell your mother about you wandering off!?" she pointed at him accusingly.
"No please! Anything but that!" the boy cried out.
She only raised an eyebrow, not noticing one of the girls was smirking.
"You know Ama, you have been pretty harsh on Anené as of recently. Moreso ever since he was travelling with Lamby." the smirking girl said in a nasally voice called out to her.
"What are you saying?" Ama said, her eyes filled with suspicion.
"Could it be… that you're jealous?"
"OOOOOOHHHHH…!" both girls and boys voiced as one, a few jeering and whispering their theories on the relationship dynamics between the three kids in their minds. Except Antó, who was muttering in that strange language again, something about "greids-skulolouvir ahgenn" or whatever babble that comes out of her mouth.
Meanwhile, Ama, and poor Anené were both doing their best impression of a red sweet berry. Finally, with the boy leaving the blushing dark-haired girl, and hiding behind the muttering white-haired girl.
"I'm not! I…! I…!" she tried to say more.
But with equal feelings of rage, embarrassment, and hurt, she let out a low growl at them, before grunting and throwing her hands up and leaving behind the mocking laughter of children. Not hearing the choking sobs that were emanating from her as she left into the back of the village, her retreating form growing smaller.
Antó watched all the while, finished with her muttering. She gave the kids a raised eyebrow, but they seemed too busy in their own little worlds. Letting out a sigh, she turned to the horizon, the sun was beginning to set.
"Nené," she began gently, "I think it's time for you to go back to your mother."
Curiosity lit up the boy's eyes as he asked, "Where are you going?"
"To help someone, feel better."
"Oh."
Nodding her head at him, she followed the trail left behind. Leaving a curious boy behind, and the gathering of children saying their goodbyes.
"What are you doing here?" she didn't quite pout, but let out an annoyed huff as she looked above her. To see the form of the wonder-child hanging upside down from a branch, her red eyes studying her intently, like she didn't know any sort of privacy.
"I came to apologize." she said, offering her upside down hand to her.
"Leave me alone, Guere." she slapped that hand away and stood up, so she could walk back towards the other direction where she wouldn't be bothered. She ignored the rustling of leaves.
"You know they didn't mean it."
"They are not my friends." she grunted.
"Barely anything happens here, drama is devoured hungrily."
"Stay away from me."
"I won't."
"Why can't you leave me alone!?" she shouted at her, but was taken aback by the remorseful look on her face.
"… Nobody deserves to be alone."
"… Shut up. You don't know me, Guere…! You have everything handed to you! Your an heir of the tribe, you get to get first pick at eating meat! You even have a cot!" she hissed, glaring at the girl resentfully, but why was she blurry?
"I… I have nobody! No cot, no home! They would know! They saw me sleeping outside like an animal!" she was close to her now, her ebony face was sculpted by all of the gods, unblemished, unscarred, clean and healthy. What she could give for a life like hers…! Free of misfortune, free of cruel hatred, then she saw her eyes and…
No…
Why is it like hers?
She was a blessed child, wasn't she? Loved by most of the tribe, in spite of her weird hair and her red eyes…
Eyes full of pain, eyes full of regret, years of disappointment after disappointment, eyes that were oppressed, eyes that were helpless.
She felt herself freeze as the older girl closed in, the scent of flowers and sweat, the feeling of her white hair, fluffy and soft, it almost overwhelmed her senses. Then, her lips whispered four haunting words into her ears.
"… I have a secret."
Mani Village, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
The Next Day…
She was dumbfounded as she saw them bowing and saying sorry. Their looks were uneasy, their smiles crooked, but there was regret for their actions that pooled in their eyes, pity as well, but at least it wasn't scorn or fakeness that paraded most of her life so. They were genuine, she looked towards the older girl, resting by the tree, arms crossed.
"Told you, didn't I?" she said with an easy smile, eyes gladful.
For once, she smiled a little as well.
The Bloody Coasts, West Africa
863 Anno Domini
The women and children boarded back on shore, most held back a sob as their tribe lay in ruin. Dead bodies sprawled on the beaches, with sand colored crimson. The Mani had struck again, stronger than they could ever have known.
It was almost fantastical really, the Mani, they were the unwanted. The ones deemed to glory-hound and cruel, even for Krumen, to conform within the lands of the coastal tribes. They were criminals in all but name, but they were weak, bitterly divided and uncooperative with one another. At least twenty years ago, when one Guere Yawo actually united them as a disciplined force, thirsty not for just loot, but for the sake of wanton cruelty.
The Mani's reputation for a violent and failing tribe was transformed overnight, into the terror from the mountains.
They were almost helpless, doomed to be butchered like animals, had it not been the saving graces of The Traders, giving up everything, even their children to resist the advances of that insidious mountain tribe. The gift of iron, struck back with a vengeance, justice has been made, and they once again banished the unwanted into the mountains. The tribes have their own iron weapons now, not as good as the people from the northward seas. But they could hold their own.
Only occasionally deflecting their pathetic raiding attempts, with the gift of iron. Once more, they were prosperous, free to raid and reave to coasts without fear. Now they can abduct and sell the other tribespeople for their newfound strength, but not the children.
That was something they agreed on.
But then, they came back… with weapons of iron.
How?
It seems they have stolen their tricks from them, now they pay the price for their negligence. The terror has returned, and with it, they left blood and loss.
They… they must fight back.
Chief's House, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
864 Anno Domini
The slave-captive bowed her head towards the fabled adolescent white-haired Daughter of Man. The captive was much older than the girl, a young woman to be exact.
"Sixteen huh? Yikes!" the captive woman couldn't understand a word on what she was saying, but she couldn't help but feel a little insulted.
"Um, how are you feeling?" oh, now she speaks proper Krusu.
"I feel… content mistress."
"Uh…huh…" the girl tilted her head, scrutinizing her, she could smell flowers and something… refreshing on her new mistress.
"Wow, um… you are actually… uh… and I own a… mmm…" more nonsense words, but she could see that she was a little troubled. She supposed, in a strange way, she ought to be grateful that her owner seemed rather feeble-minded.
"You know, I never met people down the coasts. What is it like?" Antó, if she remembered her name correctly, asked.
"Huh… so we were the baddies?"
"If you meant barbaric, despoiling, bloodthirsty, mountain savages, then yes. You are the baddice." Efia responded pointedly, her arms tightly crossed.
"Hmm… our story's different, Auntie Así said that you sent young boys to the mountains for misbehaving, then you just… kinda forgot about them, and they lived here ever since, ignorant of the world below." Antó explained, absently readjusting her white hair.
Efia raised an eyebrow, slightly curious about the origins of the mountain men.
"Then Yawo, my birth-father was out hunting when they found mother and auntie and the rest of our tribesmen. Uncle and father, defended them from another rival tribe and well, since then. They've acted as teachers of the boy colony and… I guess that's where the troubles began, huh?" Antó sat back, nodding her head with the knowledge learned. Efia on the other hand was fully wide-eyed now, the line between enemy and victim becoming blurry.
Soon they sat there, their worlds changed by the perspectives they gave to one another.
"…"
"…"
"You know that I'll be chieftess when I'm a woman grown yes?"
"… yes."
"…"
"…"
"Do you think… peace would be possible between the two of us?"
"…"
Edge of The Jungle of Rage, West Africa
866 Anno Domini, The Final Moon of The Year
There they were… celebrating.
CELEBRATING!!!
Those damn child murderers will get what's coming to them soon. Monsters, monsters the lot of them!
His heart seethed in fury as she looked down upon them from the trees, as the barbarians revelled in their ill-gotten glory. He clenched his fist white at the sight.
But Chief Asomadu Berko was a patient man, he will smite these devils once and for all! Gritting his teeth, he signalled his men to prepare themselves and slip quietly into the shadows. He watched them slip into the bushes, uncaring for the mud and muck, they will have their justice, in one single strike, they shall take from them what they took from theirs, a cruel grin plastered on his face.
This righteous strike that would take from the enemy what they had stolen from their own, and finally, bring an end to this cycle of bloodshed.
He soon joined his kin in the shadow.
Feast Hall, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
He clapped with the others, at his niece's next innovation presented in the hall. It was a device used for telling time, it was large, about as tall as a man and made of wood, but inside were metal parts that worked in sync by that swinging object, called a pendeloom. He can't help but think that she was being a mischievous prankster with her words and sayings. Next time, maybe, he'll tell her to stop such childish fancies.
She was about to become a woman grown.
…and somehow it hurt quite a bit, he wanted her to stay young and aloof. It reminded him of the silly laughter and play once dominated his brother's halls. He would do anything to experience it again, for deep within this man grown, was the heart of a child who never grew up, abandoned by the people he once called his birth-paternage.
His brother wasn't actually his real blood-brother. But it felt all the same. The naivety, the jokes they told, the dangers they fought, the selfish will to survive on this desolate hill.
He was his true brother…
"Father…?" he looked up, the concerned faces of his children staring back at him.
"You are crying, dear…" his wife, most beloved, held his hand. Her face, still beautiful but weathered by time, shone in the gentle moonlight. In that moment, he smiled through his tears, and laughed, laughed like there was no tomorrow.
"Father has gone crazy!" a young voice shouted.
He laughed even harder, soon everyone joined in.
"Everyone has gone crazy!"
"No, I am happy! Sad and happy!" he rose from his seat and walked over to his niece, placing his calloused fingers gently on her shoulders. A proud smile adorning his face, before meeting with the rest of the crowd and turning his honoured niece around to be presented.
"Come and listen to me, brothers and sisters!" everyone halted their revelry, as they obediently listened to the hand of the chief.
"The last moon of our year is coming to a close, and… it is time to see the new face of our chieftess, the heart of gold that must be presented at once." everyone gasped, but then began stomping their feet and clapping their hands with merry enthusiasm.
"U-Uncle…! It's today!? But, I-" her words were interrupted, however.
"Nonsense, honoured niece. Thanks to you, our raids have been successful and loot has been flowing like the river. You working with my wife and the other medicinemen, have reduced the death spiral that we were experiencing since your father passed on." he let go of his shoulders and repositioned himself right in front of her, before kneeling down and lowering his head in respect.
But just as he was about to continue, a shrill cry pierced the air, shattering the solemn ceremony of elevation.
They turned heads to the noise.
The scream was soon replaced by a warcry of bloodthirsty proportion, and everyone knew, that this feast was spoiled utterly and completely.
They were surrounded, outnumbered. Their raids were too ambtious, too daring, now the full price of their actions were reeling back into their souls.
"Men of Man! To me!" Guere Yoofi roared, his spear alight with the reflections of the setting moon, a beacon of their last stand. Letting out warcries of their own, the hunters began shooting poisoned arrowtips at the vengeful horde below.
"Ready your shields, men of the spear! Men of the bow, in safe position! Now!" he commanded, his voice a steadying force in the face of imminent peril. As he peered down the slope, he saw the pinpricks of-
"SHIELDS NOW!"
"AGH!"
"DAMN THEM!"
"MANU NO!"
The most of the men did not get their shields up in time, now the disparity was even greater than before. Then the raiders below began marching up-
"Children hurry! The path is hidden here, follow to where I'm pointing." Así pointed under the eight great furnaces, where there were still trees to hide. Their last hope, that they wouldn't notice beady little eyes staring back at them.
"Sister! They have begun fighting! They are getting near!" Ami yelled fearfully.
"Goddess and God preserve us! Hurry children!" she gritted her teeth, urging the youngsters to descend with all the speed they could muster.
"Antó! Help me with hiding them will you?" the shaman ordered.
No replies were heard, only the shuffling of feet and the yelling of women and boys.
"Antó?"
"Oh please, oh please fucking work. For the love of God, Mary, Joseph, and Johnny Fucking Cash, please fucking work!" sweating hard, and cursing, Antó held aloft a curious bag filled with suspicious and smelly powder. She quickly left her lab, a giant mess of broken glass, powdered rocks and strange herbs, and ran towards the partially completed "gatehouse".
"UNCLE MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!" she yelled, placing the bag beneath the foundations.
"ANTÓ! WHAT IN THE DEVIL ARE YOU DOING!?"
"HELPING YOU UNCLE YOOFI!" she began pulling a long string out of the bag.
"YOU WILL DIE! LEAVE THIS PLACE!"
"I HAVE A PLAN!" she procured a mechanical lighter, setting the strong alight.
"WHATEVER YOU ARE PLANNING CHILD! YOU BETTER FINISH IT QUICKLY!" her teeth were now clenching hard as the spark moved nearer towards the bag.
"THE WALLS ARE GOING TO FALL! GET YOUR MEN OUT OF THERE!" she ran as fast as she could, her eyes on the last line of defence, that thankfully followed what she said, enough to-
*BOOM*
The loose mud gave way to boulders and loose rock, now tumbling furiously below. The men who got away in time watched in awe and terror, as the artificial avalanche came barreling down towards their enemy. Their enemy, which now saw what seemed to be lightning flashing by and now a great torrent of stone coming towards them.
"RETREAT-"
There was no time to retreat as the rocks collided with flesh and bone. Some got the full brunt as their skulls caved in, the rocks now have a new home to stay. Others were littered with pebbles piercing their skin, while most were buried and suffocated under the sodden dirt and gravel.
Cheers and bloodthirsty laughter was heard as the men of Man reformed and chased down the last of their enemies down the slope. Antó fell on her backside in exhaustion, as she breathed a sigh of relief.
But just as things were going to get better.
"Let go of me! Unhand me!"
"Secure the rest of the tribe, we shall make hostages and examples of them!" a man shouted, pleased that the distraction went to fruition.
"Fuck!" looks like her job wasn't finished yet.
She looked at them again from above a tree branch, the same facts relayed to her eyes. The boys, the girls, her aunts, and her mother, closely guarded by a flanking group. She slipped her bushy cloak on and tried to sneak behind any and all obstacles in their sight. Grabbing her slingshot she aimed, and…
"Agh!" the youngest of the bunch held his head in pain, blood trickling down behind his head.
"Enemy!" they let loose a notch of arrows towards the tree branch, and something dropped from the tree. It was a bird's nest and the mama bird, pierced right through the heart with all her eggs a broken yellow mush.
She thanked the lord that she had the deceptive trait, and slithered like the serpent that she wasn't and aimed again, this time, much more fatal. Ah, that old geezer could use a little medicine.
*thump*
"Over there! He's shooting at us!"
"Use the hostages!"
A yelp was heard, she recognized Ama, bound and gagged, the man slipped his dagger underneath her neck.
"Listen here-"
A bolt out of nowhere went through his head, spraying grey matter and red matter all over the grounds.
"Damn! Kill one of them-" another bolt went through.
At this moment the slingshot was absent, a bizarre contraption was in her hands instead, a small bow sitting sideways on a wooden device, and they couldn't even see her.
Only eleven left, show time she guesses.
*Stab*
Her knife was bloody, as the man fell over into the ground face first.
Ten left.
She aimed her crossbow and shot another by the side of his head. A woman's shriek was silenced as her neck spilled into the floor.
"Fuck!"
No choice left, she ran towards them, hastily picking up a chair. The two men met the chair and their legs were brutally maimed and they fell wailing, still alive but out of action.
Eight left.
She didn't even have the time to scream as the old one's blade pierced through her neck. Then her eye by another spear, exiting through the back of her head. Then a club to her skull, bringing her entire body down into the mud, a dozen spears were inserted into her back. They were practically brutalizing the body, as the hostages watched in disbelief as their soon-to-be-chieftess was mobbed and killed.
…
It was over…
???
???
…
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//add_trait_leader 0 |
Ama watched with empty eyes, as her friend lay dead. No one was crying, for it was so sudden and spontaneous, then, she began to think.
What was she going to accomplish? Did she stop thinking? What on earth possessed her to charge thirteen men? The cycle of grief left her and returned, then left again. Erratic, her psyche began to bubble into grief and absurdity.
"Now you know…" the man started to speak, the man who dealt the killing blow.
"The arrogance you showed, has come back to bite you." he said, a smile on his face, he turned to look at a cripple.
"Worry not." the enemy chief closed his eyes.
"Your children shall be spared."
"But, no more child shall be born of the Mani." he opened his eyes again, brimming with hatred and of pity.
"You will not live in these lands anymore, your men will be slain. Your chieftain… he will live. To see all of you depart to lands northward." then he gave a sickly smile.
"And, I will have the pleasure to see his face, experience the pain that I felt when I lost everything…"
"…"
Meanwhile, shaman Así was stone faced, she tried to think of anything to escape this situation. But she knew her time here had been lost. How poetic really, that in her quest for vengeance, she was the target of it all in the end.
But once again, Antó surprised her once again, just like the day that she was born.
"Antó…?" her sister whispered, her eyes growing once again with terror and hope.
The enemy turned their heads, as the sounds of steam and the sight of it was arising from their backs. The corpse was smoking, the wounds were smouldering with and sealing themselves. Then one of her hands twitched, then slowly clenched into a fist, then her other hand. Slowly, she was rising again, steam expelling from her mouth and the hole in her head.
One of the raiders didn't sit back and watch. He plunged his spear into her again, certain it would strike true, but it did not.
With her right hand bloody, she gripped the spear.
Then her eyes snapped open, all of them.
She walked out of the village, her form dripping with the blood of mortal men. She looked down, the last of their fighters were dwindling. She saw the unmistakable face of her foster-father, his head atop a spear.
Then she began to sing quietly, as she marched down the mountain.
"Una mattina… mi son svegliato…"
Her eyes were aflame with violet, the rest of the villagers behind her watched.
"O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao…"
They heard her song, the wounded, and the living. They all heard her sing a song that wouldn't be sung for mortal ears for at least a thousand years to come.
"Una mattina, mi son svegliato… and I found l'invasor..."
The hidden children inbetween the rocks and trees, watched as their big sister, who taught them how birds fly, how the world moved in chaotic harmony in the heavens, how the world was full of wonder and awe. They watched her walk down the hill, into the thick of the fighting.
All of them held their breath.
"Oh partigiano, oh bring me far… Oh, bella ciao-"
She was getting nearer, the violet in her eye spreading all across her body.
"…bella ciao-"
Her hands were sparkling with violet light.
"-bella ciao, ciao, ciao…"
The spear she held in her right hand, the violet light began to encompass it like a flame.
"Oh partigiano, oh bring me far… "
Her spear began to aim where the concentration of enemies were at their highest, then...
Mt. Nimba, West Africa
867 Anno Domini (CKIII Start Date)
Shaman Así and her sister watched as the nearing dawn was bathed in the light of their saviour. She was unsure now of what she was, of what her sister had given birth to. She turned her gaze to Nyame's right eye, the sun, as it heralded the start of a new prime in their lives.
"Sister…" Ami started to say.
"I saw her die…" she continued, looking towards her sister for guidance.
"She did not. She was invincible the whole time." Así gripped her staff tightly, she was no stranger to violence, having been raised in the jungle after all. But those men who held them captive… she shuddered from the act that was burned into her retinas. She vowed that day to never make an enemy out of her niece, so she continued looking down. Watching silently, as the echoes of pain and horror from their enemies burning down quietly from the violet flame that washed the bottom of their mountain.
It slowly quieted, as the sun was full into view, the horizon no longer holding back the glory of his light. The light revealed her, clean of blood, burnt away from the fires she made.
She looked to her sister, and the others. A question on their minds, they dared not to speak.
At once, she came back from that dream, the violet shroud had cleared way from her other eyes to reveal herself back in the material world. The scent of trees, the scent of grass, the scent of burnt flesh, of burnt blood, of burnteverything…
She turned green in her face, and let loose her sickened bile into the soaked mud. She fell, her knees weak from exhaustion and adrenaline. The vomit pooled around her, making her even more sick, she desperately gasped for oxygen, for any fresh air.
She coughed harshly to clear her lungs, disliking the pain of a burnt throat. But it was over, she breathed deeply, turning her gaze upwards to an orange sky, slightly shivering. She heard the pained moans of men, enemy and ally alike, she even heard her own. She closed her eyes again, and took a deep breath from her mouth.
Likewise, she sighed, and got up from her own filth.
Dispassionately, she looked left towards a survivor, a Nouni raider, judging by that single earring of human teeth that he wore. He looked at her in fear, he was a young man, about twenty years old she guessed, and took a step closer.
He gritted his teeth, eyes wide and frightful.
"N-No… stay away! Please!" she ignored his pleas, until her vomit covered feet were close to his face. The burnt man closed his eyes, expecting her to finish the job. A violet light engulfed him, and he knew he was no more…
Oddly, he didn't experience any burning. In fact, he felt a cooling sensation surrounding him, like fresh air passing through his skin, a wonderful sensation it was. He opened his eyes again, to see purple winds orbiting around him, and his horrid burns slowly healing into smooth skin. He looked at her wide eyes, though she had a frown on her face, as if she was sickened by the action she was doing.
He felt his strength return, his lungs began to breathe easy, if you ignored the stench.
He was at her feet now, looking at her in awe.
"Tsk…!" she was disdainful of him, giving him an uneasy feeling.
"Gather the rest of your tribe." she said almost neutrally. Yet it felt as her words held sway, an impact to his very soul.
"We will meet in our village, not to fight, but to talk." she wasn't even looking at him.
"Gather those able to walk still, even your allies." she turned to him, eyes flashing purple. Suddenly he felt heavy, his knees began to buckle, and the instinct to run was screaming at him.
"Don't try to pull tricks on me. Understood?" he nodded quickly, desperately.
"Hmph." then, she walked away, the heavy feeling gone.
"…"
He guessed he could start with Barwuah Yaw, he looks fairly alive?
"Antó…" she almost didn't recognize her. The smell of crisp human flesh and dried blood didn't give her the image of the daughter she once knew. Her firstborn looked at her, then at her hands, caked with burns. Then she turned to her again, as her newly coloured purple eyes became a familiar red. Her tight expression loosened into a small frown.
She looked horrible! Her new clothes and furs were ruined! She quickly ran towards her daughter and hugged her tight, talking rapidly of how worried she was, then moving away to give her the biggest slap!
"Ow!" Antó held her cheek in shock.
"What were you thinking!? You died right in front of my eyes! How could you scare your mother like that!" Ami cried and scolded the bewildered teenage demi-god.
"Honoured sister!" Así exclaimed in alarm, her eyes widened. Did she not see what her daughter was capable of!?
But Ami ignored her and hugged her precious daughter again and shook her back and forth, while crying for a while. Antó looked at her confused, but slowly she hugged her back, a sad smile adorning her face.
"I'm sorry, I was so scared. I just… stopped thinking." she admitted, a little ashamed.
"Don't ever do that again! You hear me, Guere Antó!? Never!" she looked her eyes straight to her daughter's, daring her to override her mother's command (again).
She sighed and said.
"Never again, I promise." she looked at her poor mother, swearing yet another promise that she may or may not break again.
Nonetheless, they hugged tightly.
The rest of the tribe meanwhile, didn't know how to react. With her mother's shocking behaviour, they didn't even know where to start!
She knew that look.
It was the same one she saw when she was a coward, of another life, a miserable life that she left behind.
They were back at the ruined hut, the rest of the tribe uneasy with their mostly revived enemies. Though wounded and burnt, they had honoured the words of the terrifying witch of the flames.
"You killed him." Efia's eyes were bloodshot, her hands on a body covered by leather, her words dripped with betrayal of trust.
"… I'm… sorry-"
"Don't talk to me, Guere!" she held back a sob, and continued to stay beside her former father.
"…" so she didn't.
Purple light began gathering, and Efia was not scared of her fate.
All mountain men were savages after all, what was she even thinking? She closed her eyes, expecting to feel her bones tear from her flesh. But she only heard a cough, a very familiar cough. She opened her eye to see her father, looking at her dumbfounded.
"Efia… is that you, child?" he rasped.
"Father!" she exclaimed in hope and hugged her father tight.
"Oof! Efia! Gently, please!" her father, Chief Berko struggled to breathe as he tried to stand up.
Antó smiled at them, the image of a parent and child reunited after a great war. A romantic image, a heroic tale, a happy ending for the protagonists of a story. It was touching, but then her expression turned grim at the reflection of her own tale. She coughed to get their attention, both of them looked at her, her face not happy, but not quite displeased either.
"Count yourself lucky Efia, I lost two fathers, you got one back, from me cheating the cycle of life and death." Efia looked at her, then turned back to her father.
"Why can't you revive Chief Yoofi?" she asked, not turning to face her.
"The Bassa just had to sever his head from his body." she said, with no amount of bitterness, and crossed her arms. Efia turned to her again, curious to where this was going.
"Your father may have looked dead, but I still felt the tether of his soul, still clinging to his old body. That's how I was able to bring him back and the rest of your tribesmen." she explained with a huff, and shook her head. Then the once dead chief chose that moment to speak.
"I did not know you were shaman, heir of Man. A powerful one at that." Berko stated, looking at her.
"I'm not." she shook her head.
"Hmph, tell us. Why did you bring us back from the brink of death?" he asked, his eyes scrutinizing.
"Hmph, I made a promise to your daughter, for all our tribes to talk, to live in peace." the father turned to his daughter, she looked away, and hid her slightly reddened cheeks. The chief turned to look at Antó and studied the girl, before he stood up without any problem.
"Hmm, so you surrender?" Asomadu Berko closed his eyes in contemplation.
"… Old man, I never said we surrendered." she looked at him, a challenging glint in her eye.
The old man opened his eyes again, and stepped closer to her.
"Hah! Barbarous mountain woman, you think you can make demands?" he snarled as savagely as he could manage.
"I believe I can." her eyes turned violet once more, she let out a dangerous smirk.
Efia looked in between the two, more amazed at her father for having the balls to still challenge an avatar of the abasom after being killed by her.
"I killed you once, was it hard to breathe with my sword in your throat?" he huffed, standing above her in height. But her smirk remained, and she only shoved her face a little closer to his.
"You lecherous old man, I killed you once too! Or did your senile mind forget the wonderful smell of psionic napalm that evening?" she snapped her fingers, lighting and purple flames appearing once again.
The wounded raiders from both sides bared their fists, their weapons not allowed within this tent of healing. The air was tense with challenge and fight.
"I demand a duel, young girl!" Berko said with a fierce grin. Antó's smirk faded, and was replaced with an annoyed look as she backed away.
"I'm sorry old man, honoured mother would scold me again most harshly if a duel takes place." she muttered, deadpan.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! More afraid of your mother's nagging than death!" the chief bellowed out a laugh, clutching his chest in the absurdity of this girl. Efia felt like the world around her wasn't real, maybe she really did get consumed by the flames and this was all a fever dream.
"Or maybe, you are just afraid of losing to me again?" the enemy chief, gave the girl a sardonic shit-eating sneer, to which the girl scoffed.
"Wow… so brave and valiant you are, confident you can slay a poor defenceless little girl. Why, all the women in your village would swoon at your noble deeds." she mockingly wept like a maiden.
"Defenceless! Pah! I do not know what you are, girl! But I do know you are a worthy enemy to slay!"
"Oh, cut it out. Efia! Convince your old man here not to kill me, would you?"
"As you command… mistress?" she turned to her father.
"Can you not kill mistress?" Asomadu Efia said to her father, almost unsure on what she's saying. Berko looked at her unimpressively, then to Antó.
"You made her your slave?"
"She was a gift from my late uncle…" Berko's fists tightened.
"… but I didn't treat her too harshly. I even had plans to free her, should our tribe win."
"Is this true, my firstborn?"
"Yes, she did say that." she nodded, affirming her words.
The Guere heir clapped her hands once, and made a shocking announcement.
"As a show of good faith, Asomadu Efia, daughter of Asomadu Berko and Annan. You are now, henceforth, forevermore a free woman." She even did a little theatrical bow, and Efia widened her eyes before smiling in gratitude.
"I will also free the other slaves, if you free ours." Guere Antó, placed her hands on her hips.
"Ehm… yes, we could… work on that." Efia's father suddenly had a very pale complexion. He almost had the same face as her daughter who, sometime ago, was almost caught kissing a boy her father didn't know.
After a little awkward explanation and the subsequent healing of the remaining enemy leadership, and with a little demonstration of her powers, they agreed to convene on this little war that had stopped dead. Here they were then, sitting around the healing tent, with unarmed guards in each corner and at the entrance.
"So you sold them to The Traders?The Berbers then… or Amazigh." her face was grimmer.
"It is the price to pay after your father's actions, young girl." another enemy chieftain said, his arm in a cast and was quite lanky.
"I know what he did, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with it." she crossed her arms atop the shoddily made table.
Chieftain Ampadu Masah, studied the girl with his remaining eye. He was one of the last chiefs to be revived by the miraculous and destructive powers of the Mani girl. The rumours rang true, there atop the mountain of savages was a great beauty, if ivory hair and ruby eyes, if you looked at her at a glance really did look like the mixture of sheep and man. The fanciful tales of the former chieftain's wife spurning the advances of her husband to instead make love to a sheep, giving birth to her.
But not even simple grass grazers could unleash the fury of mystic fire upon their forces or heal them back to health like some kind of miracle. Even more outrageous was that she wanted to speak to them as equals, all because Chieftain Asomadu's daughter earned her sympathies! Ampadu Masah couldn't help but wonder at the mysterious girl's intentions.
"Why are we even making a deal with you!?" a younger chieftain covered in unsightly scars, erupted in anger.
The sheep girl only looked at him with an eyebrow raised, then lifted her right hand, and snapped it, to reveal purple flames and crackling lightning. The younger chieftain looked resentfully at her before sitting back down and crossing his arms, still glaring most angrily.
She sighed as her eyes swept across all five chieftains, once united in the destruction of her tribe.
"I'm willing to make a trade offer." she closed her eyes, as what looked like parchment, an inkwell, and a feather floated right behind her. The chiefs stared at it like it was a 21st century magician's magic trick, and in a way it was!
"For at least ten years, there will be no more raiding in our homelands."
The room began to become rowdy.
"In return, I will help- pledge, in rebuilding your tribal holdings, with my psionics if I have to."
The outsiders were sounding slightly agreeable, while the Mani looked at her in shock.
"But after that, all of you, who have any available able-bodied men, will work on enriching my tribe."
The outsiders were now giving her suspicious frowns, while the Mani looked placated.
"And what, exactly, will they be working on?" inquired one of the outsiders, his voice laced with caution.
She gave a small smirk.
"A little project, as I said, will enrich my tribe, so they can raid no more."
The outsiders looked at her curiously, while the Mani were unsure of where this was going.
"Instead, they will become caravaneers, traders. To lands far away, and the foundation will start here-" some small gasps were heard at the entrance, as floating scrolls entered the room and began to unroll themselves on the table. Revealing intricate lines etched on each of their pages.
Chieftain Masah couldn't resist the temptation; he reached out and picked up one of the scrolls, his eyes tracing the delicate illustrations that adorned its surface. His fascination was palpable as he examined the map, his fingers gently grazing the fine lines that depicted terrain, landmarks, and even the paths of distant rivers.
"What are these?" Masah couldn't help but admire.
"Maps… my elders. My most favourite passions in this world." she gave them a cheeky grin.
Tribe of Nuon, West Africa 867 Anno Domini, Two Moons Later…
True to her word, Efia watched with sparkles in her eyes as her new friend rebuilt their gathering hall, glowing purple pieces of wood and stone flying in the air with systematic grace, and glowing with a purple hue. It was a sight to behold in her village.
"Hah…!" the teenage psionic gasped, almost out of breath.
"Why didn't you people provide me with blueprints!?I don't even know what a meeting hall looks like!" Antó complained, straining slightly with sweat. Efia, the cruel traitor that she was, let out a small titter.
"Do your best Antó!" she cheered her on.
The children and some of the adults laughed at the strange sight before them. Magic for them at least was a more personal experience, requiring the aid of gods' blessed herbs and the guidance of the shamans to experience it. When she first arrived, they didn't quite know what to make of her. The chieftain of their village announced her to be a new friend, no longer an enemy that raided them. Some were skeptical, but many saw her as a young woman who just had the misfortune of being born in the wrong tribe.
They really changed their tune however, when she began showing off her mystical powers, and helping them.
"Augh! Why did I agree to this!" she cried helplessly.
"Elder cousin is amazing…" Anené said, eyes also sparkling.
"Amazingly useful, more like. She's been used as a common labour-slave rather than a witch with mystical powers." Kobbi said, eating a fruit as he watched her work.
Antó's champions consisted of mostly young men now, the old men long passed from this world from disease and disability. They were poorly trained but were better than nothing, and accompanied their uncrowned chieftess to guard their leader dear.
"I can't help but think we actually lost in the end." the young man shook his head with a sigh.
"No, we didn't lose! We won!" Anené insisted to his older brother.
"We all won!"
Kobbi looked at him curiously, before letting out a smirk. With his free hand, he rubbed his smooth head like the small puppy he wasn't.
"You got one thing right, little brother, one thing."
"Hey!"
Tribe of Nuon, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, A Moon Later…
In the dark of night, two souls who knew the truth spoke.
Tribe of Toro, The Krulands, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, April (?)
Two tombstones sat together atop a hill, a small pyre lit in front.
"…"
"They look beautiful Antó, they look nice together don't they?" Ami said, holding the hand of her daughter. The two women sat next to each other, warmed by the soft glow.
"Yeah… they do…" Antó said, a satisfied smile on her face, eyes glistening.
She and her stone carver friends have been hard at work, ever since the end of the war. It was yet another big building project like the furnaces from before. This time, it was a garden of the dead, a graveyard, but it wasn't any other akomite burial site however, it had that Antó weirdness for strange symbols and organized arrangements. But in a way, it was beautiful in how it was designed. It wasn't like any single communal burial mound, where the bodies were kept under the shadow of the cavern, this one was open, it was free, and it reached around three hundred acres in size. Each plot was unique and usually had family members buried close together, with small ornaments of flowers and gifts, a small pyre was placed with it, usually in the center.
The sound of crackling fire was added by the sound of crunching grass, Antó glanced to her back to see her aunt, with her three sons and daughter in tow.
"Glad you could join us…" the new chieftess said softly, and turned back towards the graves.
The other Gueres sat next to them, looking upon the pyre.
"… The other chieftains are satisfied with the arrangement." Así muttered quietly, her eyes closing in spiritual immersion.
"Good." she said.
"…"
"…"
Around their little hill, more fires have been lit. Voices were sung of remembrance, of sorrow, the smoke seeming like distant souls, leaving them behind to reach and soar to Nyame's eye up above, illuminating the wet highlands. Gone was the terror from the mountains, gone was the anger, the hate that once filled this air.
For now, this was their only hurt…
Sapi Tribe, The Krulands, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, May (?)
It was a new morning, and five moons after the war, the Kru were now seemingly united by the grace of her chieftess. After she rebuilt their homes and with her mystical powers, and created an impressive burial site within Toro lands. They agreed to discuss the intricacies of their new tribal confederacy at Chieftain Sarpon's village, the main hometown of the Sapi Tribe, and used their impressive meeting hall (courtesy of hers truly.) as a sort of new inter-tribal council. Food from all lands were set on the long cummunal table, as all singers and instruments from all tribes of the Bloody Coasts sang together in rapidly harmonious fervour. Their songs were sung as if a new age had dawned upon them, and in a way they weren't wrong, for the first time in living memory, the Kru have united!
Well, at least five of them… the other Kru tribes outside their little war probably were still doing their raiding business, that doesn't mean they haven't heard though.
"Congratulations, on your swearing-in ceremony, Lady Chieftess!" Chief Asomadu Berko said, cutting an avian beast for his gluttonous belly.
The other chieftains' however had differing opinions on the matter. As said before, the Akan people had a mostly matriarchal system in their roles of society, meaning the sons or daughters of mothers were chosen as heirs. The Kru on the other hand, had the opposite arrangement. Which created an interesting dynamic with the tribal chieftess of the Mani and the rest of the peoples of the west.
"So, who are you going to marry?" Berko said, chomping on a leg (thankfully not human).
Antó felt her soul exiting her body.
"You must understand… chieftess. That such an impressive ability should be in more capable hands, no offence!" Chieftain Massa's older brother, not so subtle in his opinions on the fairer sex, brazenly told her. Perhaps, he was a bit drunk, judging by the red on his face.
"We are dead." a pessimistic chieftain shook his head, and chomped on some lamb, downing it all down with fruity wine.
"Well, my peers, you would have no fear of me being incapable. Seeing as how I literally just fixed your house, Mister Massa!" she said with a bit of bite, her arms crossed.
"In just under five minutes, I might add." she puffed her chest most haughtily, raising her chin higher.
Then the drunkard of course, replied in a most graceful and dignified manner.
"It was empty! My cots weren't there! My curtains weren't there either! All my shiny trophies were stolen! Give them back to me now!" Boekṍe whined.
Antó rolled her eyes, "The stolen items are on their way there, don't worry." she said, waving him off.
"Why can't you use your mystics then! Huh!?" he then made dramatic hand gestures, the ones he saw her do, and one that was positively obscene.
"Too lazy to use it, I wanted to rest." she shrugged half-heartedly.
"Damned women, always so lazy and ungrateful, can't you see the sacrifices us men have to-"
"Oh boy… here we go." she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"This is the agreement…?" Chief Akyaw said as he looked at the wooden treaty in suspicion. While the drunk rambled on about how chickens should have given live birth instead of eggs.
"Huh, did someone say something?" Antó questioned.
"You have us as slaves for your mines!" he said, smashing his hand on the table.
"Fixed sum of thirteen shells per hour!" she countered, slapping her hand on the table
More yelling, bribing, backtalking, and a piece of clay pottery to the head later. The agreement was finalized between the tribes, the structure of the new Kru Confederacy was as follows. The heart of this confederacy would be a new "city" constructed near chieftess Antó's home village, protected by the mountains and cliffs. The (still developing) inter-tribal court would be transferred to that place when it was up and operational. The confederated six tribes would send representatives and leaders to discuss matters relating to their new alliance, where to raid next, what resources to extract, which tribe needed help, etc.
The Mani will be in charge of building projects and a thing called logistics. Before the city will take priority, they'll have to establish better connectivity of the five tribes, plotting safe routes and improving the paths walked on. Already, paths and trees were being cleared by newly forged iron tools, which brings us to the next tribe…
The Nuoni will be in charge of crafting and the production of military and civilian goods, Antó repaid them with her illustrated designs of the new furnaces, and supplemented by her new tribal caste of logisticians and mathematicians. They were mostly teenagers and a few adults trained by Antó's little school project back in Mt. Nimba, the influx of new students from the rest of the tribes will present a challenge for the little school. Thankfully, some graduated students (two childhood friends) and a retired medicinal shaman, will help her in her endeavours of quality education.
The Sherbrooi and The Sapi, the two most populous of the tribes, will be in charge of human resources, giving the rest of the tribes the power to manage manpower and slaves...
Yeah… she's gonna have to work on that.
The Torooi will be in charge of the resource extraction in the land, though secretly will be watched closely by Antó. As the history between the Toro and Man, is a deeply personal one, filled with revenge and loss. She hopes that they won't become the weak link in the alliance, and she did her best to make strides in repaying the debt that her birth-father and father-in-all-but-name did to them.
Back to Mt. Nimba, plans are already being talked about for the foundations of the new city, it would be a mega-project (from their perspective) that will need the cooperation between all the six tribes of Kru. Once the city is finally completed, and the territories sustainable enough for raiding to not be a prevalent way of life, then a new agreement would form… a very feudal arrangement.
The treaty was modified the thirteenth time now, and finally after all of this and an unconscious half-brother on the floor. The contract was signed with a pact-of-blood-of-oaths-unbroken, witnessed by an assembly of their respective religious and official leaders. The document of wood and fabric dripped with crimson fluid onto the carpets, as a village crier raised it up for all to see.
It was so long after noon now, with the sun just beginning to set behind the mountains. The evening will soon begin…
"Welp, that's done." Antó thought, exhausted and sucking the blood from her cut finger.
The rest of the signatories and observers clapped with momentous applause. Then the drinking began, and the music became more wild and unrestrained. It finally reached its end however, as the gathered Krumen cheered in final celebration. But, there was one individual who thought it wasn't over yet.
"Chieftess, you must sing!" Berko drunkenly yelled, he was surprisingly a light drinker for a man so big. His daughter tried her best to not let him fall from the table.
"Father!" she said, worried.
"Yes! Just before the moment you killed us and sent us to Nyame, and unfortunately pulled us back. I was enraptured by your haunting melody! I must listen to it again!" the pessimistic chieftain, Kenu Afríyie cried, as stood up and raised his hands with fanatical zeal. Tears running down his bloodshot eyes, his two sisters rolled their eyes at him.
"Sing!"
"Sing!"
"Sing!"
She sighed and said, "Geez, fine then… you better not complain." she stood up from her end of the table and began to breathe deep and…
"... wait a moment." she said breathlessly, and looked around the room, searching for something suitable, aha!
The drunken men jeered, while the drunken women called out their disappointment. The few sobers were watching with trepidation, still having the sense that she was more than human.
"Coward!" a young voice cried.
"You don't have the ball-!" the local village pervert was hit in the head by his god-fearing wife.
"HUSBAND!" She gritted her teeth in fear and outrage, and looked towards the little god-chieftess.
"Just, wait a moment…" she raised her hands at them, as somebody's instrument began floating, purple mist surrounding it. When it finally arrived right in front of her, she dropped it in her hands and began to have a feel of the musical instrument. The drunkards cheered, while the sobers looked on in curiosity.
"I gotta have a mood, rest of the band? Follow my tune." the players eagerly nodded at her command, and prepared their fingers, hands, and feet.
"Alright… you're going to hear this…!"
Then the strings were plucked, a strange but oddly pleasing tune reverberated in the hall, it wasn't a song filled with power, or celebration like they thought it was going to be. It went on for a moment, but pleasing all the same, many were wondering when she was about to let her voice make art, but then it did, and it came out most merrily in Kru…
"There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword!" it wasn't a song they ever heard, they thought she would sing that infamous song at the battlefield, to those who have heard it. But this was different, and… it was catchy!
"He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord! With me now!" she pointed at them, with a small smile on her face. Which made a few hearts aflutter, even the women, and they all followed.
"Ooh leii, Oh laiii, Oooh leiliilooloord! He will tear your city down! Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord!" They sang together.
Mani Iron Mines, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, July (?)
The men from the coasts, the rivers, and the hills and the men from the mountains looked at each other warily. Some were holding their picks tightly to their chest, some were even sneering, but there was a space between the two, no one dared to make a move. Though the treaty encouraged all people of Kru blood to get along, lingering past days of darkness and resentment lingered.
*WHISTLE…!!!*
A Toroii held a hand to one ear from the noise. He turned his head to see a man that wore a curious metal hat, that then promptly spitted out a curious metal ornament from his mouth, then hung loose in front of his chest. Then he spoke…
"GREETINGS EVERYONE! I AM YOUR FOREMAN! I WILL BE IN CHARGE OF THIS NEW GROUP! THE CHIEFTAINS AND THE CHIEFTESS WILL EXPECT YOU TO COMPLETE YOUR QUOTA FROM THIS DAY ON!" his voice boomed in the rubble yard, startling the dumbfounded hires.
"BUT BEFORE YOU GO MINING SOME IRON, WE MUST SET SOME GROUND RULES!"
What on earth is happening…
"FIRST THINGS FIRST! SHAMAN BONAH? GIVE THESE MEN OUR FINEST CRAFTS!"
"Here they are!" Suddenly, a shaman appeared behind them, a few of the gathered men giving out frightened yelps.
*SMASH!*
"The finest helmets in these mountains I tell you!" the hooded shaman cackled with his hands on his hips, seemingly enjoying tormenting the new hires.
"Honoured uncles, their spirits and their will, will be in disarray if you startle them any more…" another man, one soft-spoken, also wearing curious metals on his person appeared behind the first man. He looked deadly tired, as if he hadn't slept for many moons.
"OH DON'T BE SUCH A SOUR FACE NEPHEW," the "foreman" chortled.
"YOU HAVE TO LEARN HOW TO LOOSEN UP, LIKE GOOD CHIEFTESS GUERE!"
Guere Anto's School/Laboratory/Workshop/Warehouse, Mt. Nimba, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, July (?)
"So you loosen them up, and notice how the upside down arches correspond to the right side up arches..." she continued on as she presented the model made a moon ago.
All around the room were scattered and haphazardly pinned "blueprints". They weren't even blue, and made some of the ones gathered concerned that the presenter was colourblind. All of the chiefdoms' builders and architects looked towards the young chieftess in rapturous awe and worrying madness, and sometimes a bit of both too. But all knew their purpose here, the great scheme that was about to be undertaken for the first time in their history. To not just plan a great raid and bask in the riches gained, but to build riches, to build a city of Krumen.
A young man, just shy of twenty picked up a blueprint and his face creased into a frown. He looked at her again as she put pouches filled with sand on hanging ropes and compared them to the wooden arches, and this method, she claimed, could enable them to build even bigger than before.
One man protested, in disbelief of her insane methods. She gave him a look, before she reached her hand and opened the flaps towards the furnaces outside, all eight of them billowing smoke and soot into the sky.
"Can you really make us soar through the heavens?" someone said, and they all turned to look at him, he looked right back, confused about the attention. Then he realized, he was the one who said those words.
"What are you holding?" she gestured to the print in his hands.
Hesitantly, she passed it to her, all those interested turning to look at what was on paper.
"Oh, oh yes... I almost forgot about this." she smiled, and began to point out the details on the illustration.
"It is actually quite simple to make, at least… the materials are very straightforward. Some fabric, a big basket, and a device to store and control the fire." her smile turned slightly bemused.
"Say… do any of your wives have a knack for sewing?"
Somewhere in The Jungle of Rage, The Bloody Coasts, West Africa
867 Anno Domini, October (?)
It was a curious mixture of gravel, but when exposed to sunlight, it hardened into stone. It was perfect for the dry season and these stone paths were being layed everywhere in the jungle. They weren't perfect roads, very uneven and sloppy in their construction. But it certainly made travelling easier, especially with the newly-fangled carts that were spreading across the tribal confederation.
A few settlements began cropping up on these miracle roads, with the possibility of tribal borders finally meeting each other face to face.
Progress was steady. But it wasn't without hardship, and a few whips to the back.
*SLAP*
"KEEP TURNING THE MIXER! YOU LAZY PIG!" a Sherbroii highborn yelled
"I'M SORRY NOBLE ONE!" the captive-slave cried.
It was grueling, especially for those in the bottom of the hierarchy. Strict and with no hope of ever advancing upward, it stayed that way for many centuries.
"Oh why did it have to have teeth at its end." he cursed his luck at that.
He hoped the sun above, and the wind would dry his bleeding backside. He felt himself wobbling in his knees, and he doesn't have a suncap like his custodian, so he felt very delirious from spinning the gravel mixture.
The highborn sneered at his lazy slaves, and dark thoughts began to linger in his head. He was a roadmaster, the Mani called him foreman, but he liked the former title better. He was part of the new constructors' castes and he foolishly boasted that he could complete the new road from Gyapi within the day, and challenged his hated rival over the attentions of the Chieftess of Man. Who has now become a very desirable bachelorette, it didn't hurt that she was strikingly beautiful and young, an alliance with the chieftess-sorceress would be a god-send, and the possibility of a child like hers…
A secret race started between the ambitious highborn of the confederated tribes. But they hit a roadblock, and she seemed disinterested with men with status and power. Many had presented her with lavish gifts—massive boar trophies, the hides of fearsome beasts, and a variety of exotic animal remains. Some had even offered her rare and captivating gemstones, treasures that would have easily impressed the local girls in their villages. She gave them a cordial acceptance and nothing went on from there. Nothing seemed to work, that is, until a maid of hers claimed that she will only desire men who are exceptional at their craft and were steadfast in the contribution of their newborn nation.
Thus starting the near ruthless and merciless run to build the new confederacy on its feet. With bloodshed if they have to and a few duels of honour.
As he started to raise his bone-tipped whip, the sound of wagon wheels almost interrupted his encouragement session, but he whipped him anyway.
*SLAP*
"Augh!" the mixer-man cried again.
"By Nyame, I believe that man needs medicinal attention." a voice said, a woman's.
Raising his brow, the highborn shot a sidelong glance at the cart. Two muscular men were pulling it, and on the back were odd women who wore curious white hats with a red cross on them. Their attire was also white, with red cross markings wherever available, one of them was blindfolded for some reason.
The blindfolded woman disembarked from the cart and made her way toward the exhausted and wounded laborer, completely disregarding the highborn.
"Hey! What are you doing?" she ignored and passed by him, outraged he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder-
"A foolish thing to do, man from Sherbro…" a deep gutteral voice said behind him.
He felt heavy and rough hands on his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and saw the two men pulling the cart, now surround him. But he had three guards!
"Unhand me menial! How dare you touch me!" he seethed, struggling against their grip.
"I am not a menial, little man, I am a professional and a freeman." the man rumbled in his disapproval, alongside his companion. The other two women were doing something in the cart, but he didn't care to look at them.
His three bodyguards were already facing them, bows and arrows aimed poised at their hearts. The rest of the labour-slaves looked at the incident that was about to occur with halted breaths.
"That doesn't matter! Can't you see you are interrupting MY WORK!?"
"The women of the red cross need no reason to heal those unfortunate, only that they do so, without knowing who they are." The freeman said resolutely, holding his fading scar most dearly as he closed his eyes in gratitude, then opened them again.
"GUARDS!" the highborn yelled.
"Heheh, my, my, what are the chances of them killing us, my friend?" the sly one cracked his knuckles, and whipped out a shield and spear from behind his back, grinning.
"The chieftess said we had martial thirty and you thirty one. I'd trust her judgement." he said as he prepared himself, holding his newly acquired weapons and gazing directly at a pointed tip of the arrow, dipped with the deadliest of venom.
"Try not to hurt them too much, boys!" the woman from before said, already applying the salve to the poor man's back.
"We make no promises."
"SHUT UP! ATTACK THESE FOOLS-" he said, as he felt his legs give in, and felt something hard hit the back of his head.
"RELEASE!" the bushman cried, in return he recieved a violent first impression of a foot into his face. All of their arrows missed, not even hitting the shields. The two protectors closed the distance as the archers tried their best to reload.
"Achk! You almost killed us!" one of the women in the cart screeached,
"Sorry…" the scarred man muttered, then began to lunge his spear into one of them.
"You know Antó, if we keep on attacking abusive masters. Nothing will be done, they were working on your roads as you saw…" Ama said, done waving their goodbyes to the new freemen. The highborn and his warriors tied up neatly into the tree, glaring balefully at them.
The disguised chieftess sighed, "I know… it should be… in the shadows. Influenced from under their noses."
"You said it yourself even…"
"Heh, I really am forgetful aren't I…"
"…"
"They'll be captured again you know…"
"…"
"Do you have the strength to ignore them for the greater good?"
"… Yes…"
Ama gave her a look.
"No…"
Ama sighed.
A giggle cut off the two of them.
"You two are so funny." the oldest nurse said.
"Hey, that's your chieftess you are talking too." Antó said glumly, while Ama raised her eyebrow incredulously, as if it weren't true at all.
"That may be true, but without fail. You will always be my silly little girl." the older nurse hugged herself, blushing in delight.
"Mother…" Antó said in pain.
"You know, you look quite good in black hair." she said, touching her chieftess's hair appreciatively, eyes shimmering in delight.
"Yeah, you look normal." Ama said.
"Shut up."
Akyaw Meeting Hall, Tribe of Toro, West Africa
868 Anno Domini, March (?)
A year has passed, and Chieftain Akyaw Kumi will never forgive the Mani, and their leaders, their way of life, and Chieftess Guere and her family. At least, that is what he convinced himself, but something odd was happening to him, a curse that descended into his mind whenever he closed his eyes. He saw haunting visions, nightmares made manifest.
He saw her…
The way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she sings, the way she made his heart beat, in a way he resented so much. Then there were the damned visits, always with the touching! The grabbing of his hand and shaking it! He couldn't stand it! It didn't help that they were almost the same age.
But, whenever another man talks to her, whenever she congratulates them with a handshake, touching her! He feels his heart burn with the blackest of rage.
How dare she! She thought that everything will be fixed by building a grave in their home!? Rebuilding what was lost!? Then the visits, by Nyame! Always visiting them, like a worried mother… it was humiliating!
All of this could've been avoided if their tribe never settled near these barbaric, ruinous, annoying, damned-by-the-gods, monstrous-
"Honoured Chieftain! There you are!" She was here again, and he gripped his hands tightly while he gnashed his teeth with his mouth closed. Here she was standing in his meeting hall, hands behind her back, a soft caring smile on her face.
She gave him a pearly smile, so impeccably white, so impeccably clean.
"AAAGGGHHHH!!!"
What did he do to deserve this?
"You know? The village children greeted me today! I want to thank you for spreading the message!" she bounced happily, a few of his body guards were sweating as they struggled to have a stern demeanour. One of them was even shaking!
In outrage, he hoped.
"I DIDN'T YOU DAFT WOMAN!" he denied in his head, but he didn't say anything in the real world, only giving her a blank stare.
His older brother, a shaman, looked towards the two of them curiously. But he was smiling… that damned annoying smile he was giving to both of them!
It was only a year, and she had grown more beautiful, both in body and mind-
"NO! NO! NO! NO!" he gritted his teeth harder, and said in monotone (as best as he could.).
"Why are you here… again?" come on, he couldn't be scared of a girl like her! He was seventeen years of age! More than enough to be a man responsible for his tribe and people.
"Well… for your quota report! I trust my clerks were well behaved?"
He just couldn't listen, her face was the only thing in his mind. He could imagine the touch of her smooth fingers touching his own, imagined her whispering delicate words to his ear, a small chiming laughter filling his head better than his best musicians. Everywhere, whenever he saw clouds, she was there dancing amongst them in ethereal cloth. This damned curse! It must be lifted soon! But he knew, he knew his brother would sabotage him every step of the way, the new romance in the lands was spoken of.
Two enemy tribes, now at peace because of two star crossed lovers, destined to be together in union of light and darkness. Their matrimony will bring a golden age, whether it be a son or daughter, they will have the same miraculous powers and noble heart of their mother, and the mortal blood of men of the proud Kru and the ever-defying spirit of their father.
"So, what do you think?" she asked.
Now his heart was beating, in building panic. What on earth did she say!? Was this another unfair deal!? He cursed himself for losing once again. He looked to his (dastardly) brother for help and-
"Those terms are most agreeable, Honoured Chieftess!" the shaman nodded enthusiastically.
"Great! Sign here!" she presented the clipboard eagerly. He cursed himself once again for not being able to read whatever she scribbled on the fabric. Too prideful to be taught reading and writing lessons by a girl. She was kind enough to lend him a male teacher though, but… he didn't quite listen to them at all, due to… certain distractions.
Oh how he wanted to end it all here and now.
"Little brother..."
"Shut up."
"You are hopelessly…"
"Shut up!"
"Positively…!"
"Shut your damned mouth, cur!"
"Truly…!"
"I said, shut up!"
"… in love with the girl!"
Screaming internally, the young chieftain bashed his head on the wall repeatedly, while Shaman Akyaw the Elder watched in bemusement. Before, a more grim look was present on the older brother, and he placed his grizzled hands on the young man, stopping his self-destruction.
"She has to be married, brother, and my spies tell me of hundreds of men jockeying and sabotaging one another for the chance to win her hand." he crossed his arms.
"Pah! Why would I care about that!" the younger brother spat.
"You should brother, if the rumours were correct and to be believed, then any of those who share their blood with her, can have the powers of The Violet." it was what the chieftess's powers were called, what the survivors called it at least. It was a sign, many guessed, that the gods have awoken and have come to interfere with the affairs of mortals. She couldn't give a straight answer, only that it came from a place far beyond the mortal world, and left it at that.
Many tried, many failed…
They wanted it, they wanted it so badly. The capabilities to crush armies, and build huts, the capabilities to have fire and earth to obey their hand, that power… lustful and envious for many.
So they jumped on the only hook that was left, daring and dangerous. That was, to seduce or make love towards the Chieftess of Man and gain a child who would follow your every command, perhaps if you were manly enough, have her follow your commands as well..
But there were some who thought differently. At least, it was a thought in the back of their heads.
"We cannot allow unwise men to take ahold of her. They will be addicted to the power she holds, you brother… are as honourable as our father. You never let power take over your head, you are the perfect candidate as a husband." he whispered into his ear.
"I do not like her…" he muttered, unnerved.
"But she is the key, towards our destiny…" he said reverently, and continued.
"She is powerful… but she is naive, a little girl at heart as she presented herself to us. She didn't kill us when she had the chance, so it is obvious…"
The younger brother did not reply… but his fist hardened.
The Open Sea, The Bloody Coasts, West Africa
Morning, 868 Anno Domini, May 1st (?)
Anené looked upwards to the open sky, admiring the pale sky above. He adjusted his new eyes again, to see a clear view of flocks of birds flying in formation. The clouds were sharper, he saw every colour that could possibly exist. Gone were the days of grainy, blurry vision; now, the world was a breathtaking tapestry of hues and textures.
"Astonishing…" he thought.
It was a wonderful thing, to finally see the world of how other people saw it. It was stark contrast to his childhood days.
"You look ridiculous." came the voice of his companion on the boat, he coughed awkwardly as he looked behind him to see a comparatively more beautiful and feminine individual that was looking at him with mocking disdain. A grin almost threatened to break her flat expression, and he blushed a bit in embarrassment.
"Yes? W-Well, your hat looks ridiculous!" he said back.
In response, the young woman laughed, and he felt more shame and a growing feeling in his stomach. It was way far from the truth, it was a sunhat made of straw, and painted in pure alabaster, it greatly overhauled her charm, contrary to his words.
It has been a year since the tribes have convened together, and much had changed since then. The school in Man has grown, and was able to fit a hundred people by now, but construction has been ongoing since. The intertribal council has been split into two parts when bureaucracy was officially implemented within it, known as the Upper Clan and Lower Clan respectively.
"It is not funny, Ama." he huffed and crossed his arms, his brows furrowed.
She continued sniggering.
He waved his head in exasperation, and looked towards his honoured chieftess. Except, she wasn't on the boat. Nor anywhere where she could be seen for that matter. Where was she?
He looked up and saw her up the mast, and found her. Her lithe form hanging on with one hand and her feet, as she peered across the horizon, her body swaying slightly with the movement of the boat. Her right hand shielded her eyes from the sun as she peered intently across the horizon.
How in Nyame did she get up there?
"Aha!" she said suddenly, and his eyes bulged for a second as she leapt from the mast with reckless abandon.
*SPLASH*
"Ah!" their voices carried across the salty breeze.
"That was rude of her." she harrumphed.
"You're speaking about our chieftess, Ama." he leaned down to pick up a compass, examining it closely.
"As if…" she snorted and rolled her eyes.
…
Silence fell over them, punctuated only by the rhythmic lapping of the sea against the boat's sides.
"It has been long." she spoke, staring into the deep blue.
"Hm?" he had already put down the compass and was now examining a nearby clipboard, made of tropical wood and primitive parchment.
"Do you remember when things changed?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Well… when we stopped living our lives… normally." she said, spotting a fishing boat in the distance.
Anené raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher the illustrations.
"Normally?"
"The furnaces… the city… all those things. Things that were not there when we were just another tribe, living our days…"
Another fishing boat joined, se squinted at the flags adorning the vessel, lost in thought
"Those old days… seem so small now. So far away."
"Heh, yes. Do you remember that time we had to make a gift for my papa?" he gave a wistful smile.
"Antó looked insane when she had to rock that thing back and forth, I couldn't believe she would spend so much time on that." she was talking about the lathe, made of wood and powered by human determination, the way how frantic she looked.
"She made different clocks when we were young, one powered by water, one powered by the sun." he reminisced.
"She took us to many places," she smiled at that..
"-and we usually get in trouble." both shivered at the memories of the face of the wife of Guere Yawo.
Ami's gaze drifted towards the horizon, where more ships dotted the seascape.
"Wonder how Adofo, Ackon and Dede are doing." Ami pondered.
"Huh, which Dede?"
"Both of them." she scratched her neck.
"Siriboe Dede, if I remember is part of the housecraft caste." Anené adjusted his glasses as he put down the clipboard.
"Bemah is busy with her babies, Ackon is still on his northern expedition, I haven't heard from his runner yet. And Adofo is with the soapmixer man." he shook his head and his eyes landed on a jar, it was filled with strange plants suspended in queer liquid.
Ama sighed, taking her eyes from the growing number of canoes.
"What was she looking for anyways-"
The boat rocked at her response, curious, they looked at the brown fingers straining on the sailing canoe. Finally, Antó hoisted herself up, her body dripping with seawater, and in her left hand were three crabs. Anené grimaced as one of the crabs was pinching her skin, drawing blood.
"Does not that hurt?" he cringed.
"Like the devil himself, the salt isn't helping either." she nodded, her expression seemed unbothered about it.
"Wait a moment! How did you spot crabs from there!" Ama exclaimed, as she pointed her finger towards the mast.
"Probabilities." as if that explained everything.
She let out a suffering sigh at that and shook her head.
"Whatever, get those crabs off your fingers before everyone makes fun of you having three fingers." she scooted over and attempted to get rid of the crabs.
"What are we gonna use them for?" Anené said.
"Krabby Patties." she said in a language that wouldn't be invented.
"What."
Far from the trio, a massive fleet (by their standards) plied the waters, their canoes transformed into makeshift fishing vessels and transport crafts. The bustling scene was a symphony of controlled chaos. Men, and even a few women, raised their voices, giving orders that resonated over the sea breeze. Nets heavy with sardines, mackerels, tilapias, and anchovies were hoisted aboard by a mix of slaves and young fisherman apprentices.
There they were swiftly and precariously loaded up into separate barges, where rowers strained and huffed, their synchronized efforts keeping the rhythm with the beat of the drums. Boatmasters bellowed commands, and the resounding "heave" and "ho" of the crew echoed across the water as they propelled the laden barges toward the rapidly growing port town.
As the convoy approached, the air grew thick with the unmistakable scent of fish. The town exuded the odorous blend of fresh fish, drying fish, boiling fish, and the unfortunate presence of rotting fish. It was a settlement primarily inhabited by those of the lower caste, with the occasional highborn figure scattered here and there.
The main feature of this settlement, however, was undoubtedly the expansive compound situated near the (yet-to-be-completed) harbour. Rows upon rows of metal cooking pots exuded steam and odour, as fish flesh was boiled until yellow sardine pus bubbled into the open air. Women wearing masks and aprons did their diligent work as children ran to and fro making deliveries or were needed for assistance. The mixture was then strained, collected, and stored in airtight barrels ready to be transported.
"Industry" Grounds, Tribe of Nuon, West Africa
Late Morning, 868 Anno Domini, Same Date
"BY THE ANCESTORS! What is this SMELL!?" an old woman exclaimed, coughing harshly into her fist, almost gagging. It was enough to pinch her nose in disgust.
"This is the "rendering works" mother…" a younger man calmly rubbed his poor parental figure on her back.
A new domain was present in Chief Berko's tribe, it was built on the other side of the river a few moons ago. A stone bridge connected the land from the other side, it was well constructed by the standards of the tribe's builders. It was graciously accepted as a useful gift, serving a vital link between the two river banks, courtesy of Chieftess Guere. The site had five massive pots, forged from good Nimba iron, a brick furnace was built under them to heat the pots. Where men with thick masks filled with charcoal and cloth were stirring the boar tallow (sometimes hippo, when one appears in the river) into a consistent porridge, filling the air with heated fats.
This mother-son duo was perched on a cart full of ashes, which was turned into lye for the preparation of the soap. The mother wanted to see what her recently missing son was up to, and came along for the ride. To which, the son was starting to regret.
The ash cart finally stopped at their destination, in front of a building which looked like a small Western European-style barn with a thatched African-style roof. When its doors slammed open, it revealed a small swarm of young men and boys rushing towards the small convoy to pick up the barrels of ashes and dead animals. The mother and son got off from the court, stepping on morning mud and dirtying their bare feet.
*squelch*
"What obscene labour is this used for?" she sneered, marching forwards closer despite the smell, and uncaring of a surprised boy-slave slipping into the muddy field beside her.
"For the soaps mother…" her son caught up to her, the fallen slave-boy was then covered in more mud by the son's puddle rain, his complaints went unheard.
"SOAPS!? THIS!? SOAPS ARE MADE OF THIS BOILED ROTTEN SOUP!?" she screeched at him, all males within in the vicinity wincing from the sudden sensitivity of their precious eardrums.
"Mother…" he hissed painfully.
A new luxury was taking the tribal nobility by storm, and that was that miraculous-scented bar, that did away any sweat and grime. It left a fresh cooling feeling that provided much-needed relief in the tropical heat. It came in many shapes and sizes, including long bars for the new wooden bathhouses, or exquisitely scented and meticulously shaped ones reserved for those who could afford to pay a princely sum.
"How did you even know what soap is made of, son of mine?" there it was, that look of opportunity, of greed… The son lowered his eyelids in exhaustion, and shook his head.
"You won't tell your own mother?"
"Chieftess Guere tasked me to-"
"YOU HAD AN AUDIENCE WITH CHIEFTESS GUERE!?" she cut him off, her eyes filled with stars as she held her offspring's shoulders tightly.
It seems he may have made a mistake…
He coughed, and cleared his throat. "-as I said. Chieftess Guere tasked me to help her make soap for her tribal healthcare project, in exchange for my freedom. Myself, and several others who were captives, were-"
"Why haven't I heard of this!? Why did you not tell me that first!?" she demanded, her eyes boring into his with unwavering intensity.
"You were… distracted." he shivered.
"Hmph." she let him go, but the Kru noblewoman adopted a calculating look.
"What specifically is your relationship with her, my son?" ambition and avarice glinted in her eyes.
"Cordial, mother." he lowered his eyelids in deadpan. The older woman, though, remained unconvinced and crossed her arms at him.
"Fine! Yes… she is… beautiful." he admitted.
"But she didn't seem all that interested in me specifically, she was open to the rest of the captives, she was more friendly with people her age or younger." If he were twenty years younger, he would have made a fool out of himself, or dead. No matter what, even if you were a barbarian tribe, you did not mess about with a chieftain's daughter, alive or not.
That was what he believed, as a proper man.
During his captivity in slavery, he had thought of her as a wistful and naive girl, but a very powerful one at that, when she revived the fallen warriors with her spells. What astounded him most about the young woman though was… how far she had thought ahead. Ridiculously so, he would have thought there was a very interfering abosom or a blabber-mouthed ancestor spirit helping her along. Her knowledge seemed without end, every move, every scenario real or imagined.
How plague spread through the land and your body, how much you can build high up, before it collapses, how many people you can remember before you start forgetting, how to find the culprit of a crime…
It was almost… terrifying.
Somehow though, they all swore a contract in her name as second-class debt slaves, not a bad deal for them, it was better than becoming two-footed livestock.
"Hmph, keeping her options open, I see." she said with a mix of disappointment and what seemed to be mild respect. He shook his head at that.
"Other than that mother, she-"
"Ah there you are, this your mother, Jojo?" a female voice interrupted his words. Both of them to a woman, wearing one of those newfangled sunhats.
"I wonder where that piercing scream came from." she said casually, hands on her hips.
"Who is she?" his mother said with a blank look.
"Ah, honoured mother, she is my charge. Her name is-"
The Market Village, Tribe of Sherbro, West Africa
868 Anno Domini, Same Date
A deep, resonant horn call reverberated in the village of Sherbro, both freemen and slaves listened to its call. They knew that ominous sound all too well. For the trueborn, it signalled yet another lucrative business venture; for the slaves, it was the sound of doom for their homelands…
Out of all the Kru, the Tribe of Sherbro was most infamous for its captive-taking tactics. Other Kru only stole anything shiny and valuable, with the occasional slaves. For this tribe, they exclusively swore in spriting men, women, and children far from their lands of birth.
"Come, my son, it is time..." the father lazily grinned.
"Yes, honoured father…" the son licked his lips.
Culinary Arts School (Under Construction), Tribe "District" of Man, West Africa
868 Anno Domini, Same Date
Foundations for the city were underway, as the mountain side was beginning to be dug and reshaped into terraces for agricultural purposes. Upon these newly completed terraces, the first seeds were being sown, notably sorghum. Sorghum is a versatile crop with many uses, from the making of alcoholic beverages and bread, to an important component in brooms, and even be a delectable syrup. It can even be consumed directly, tasting a bit nutty with a chewy texture.
"I still do not believe that making food is a science." Ama said, sitting by the window.
"Utterly unconvinced, are you? Whatever… but now it is time to make the buns, with our new ovens!" the chieftess said to Ama, while fastening her new apron around her waist.
Ama frowned while she was listening to the whispers of the students at the other end of the table, failing to be discreet.
"Can you imagine? A highborn cooking their own meals!"
"She must be high ranked if she can speak to her chieftess oh so casually!"
"It is as the legends say! She is so captivating!"
Ama rolled her eyes at them, then looked to the chieftess and her rapidly reddening cheeks.
What an easy woman.
Speaking of women, the new students were all that, mostly from highborn families of each respective tribe. Seeing as no boys would ever want to be caught dead in here, they'd rather have much more dignified crafts like building and hunting. A true shame really, Guere Antó would have liked teaching and moulding a Krumen Gordon Ramsay. But alas… it will take some time.
During the confederation process, an amendment for education was mandatory… at least for freemen and those that had the time. The chieftess really fought hard for all to be universally educated, but there were many things to do, children were expected to help their families first than seeing them become independent and capable. Those modern ideals were non-viable in an age before industrialization, and the chieftess conceded defeat and went with the forlornly realistic decision the other chieftains outlined in the agreement.
"Alright girls! Now you form it into a smooth round shape, practice makes perfect!" the ten female students followed the chieftess, poised and confident in their abilities to follow.
The school, really, was a collection of long huts filled with classroom facilities from whatever an iron-age tribe could scrounge up. It was its own little gated community with gender-specific dorms and for what limited amount of teachers they had, which was cutting it close.
"Ah! Undergraduate Anené, did you bring the nuts and seeds?"
Often, the more learned students served as part-time teachers, passing on their knowledge and guidance to their peers. They got the name of "undergraduates", as the line between teacher and student was thin for them.
"Now unto the meats! We'll be using crabmeat, but first…! We must tenderize it so…"
Hall of Elders, Tribe of Toro, West Africa
868 Anno Domini, Same Date
Shaman Akyaw Afúom looked resolutely at the gathered shamans, in solemn regality. Deep within the heart of their sacred gathering, a central fire cast its flickering light upon each of their stony faces, ravaged by time. The eldest of them, Shaman Kwame stood among the rest, his bony fingers holding his healing staff tight.
"My honoured brothers…" Shaman Kwame's aged voice carried across the sacred chamber.
"It has come to our ears that the world of spirits has begun intertwining with the living once more, and it has been for these lasting moons, since she appeared." the men rumbled in agreement, men who saw realities beyond imagining.
"The cycle is coming to an end…" a blind shaman, muttered.
"We must act, honoured brothers, so that the land of all men shall live on…!" the lead shaman proclaimed. Knowing all too well the dire consequences that could arise when the realm of the unseen interfered with the world of the living.
The gods possessed immense power, but that did not mean they were steady with it, often leading to immense disaster. Often, they bought curses instead of blessings, when one's prayers were misunderstood by their divine minds, which were beyond human understanding and often lacked the sensibilities of puny mortals.
Though the memory was nearly forgotten, the oldest of the gathering remembered ancient whispers of a great temple of wood and vine, adorned by the finest jewels, where crimson wine cascaded down its grand steps.
All of it brought down by a devastating storm, triggered by a long-forgotten wish, the names of those responsible and the nature of their wish lost to the annals of history, destined never to be unravelled.
If they were to exist more than mere whispers, they had to do something about the anomaly in their midst.
Witnessed by many, the miracles and altruism of the Chieftess of Man has shifted their powers over her own domain, with "medics" and "engineers" replacing many of their positions that they have held for thousands of years. But that wasn't the problem, sure there were those threatened by the changes she brought with her inventions and institutions. Yes, it was scary, but what made them sleepless at nights was if she were to abuse her powers, and threaten not just their way of life… but all mankind.
There was a reason why Nyame, the brightest one of all, ascended into the heavens and left the realms of mortals alone.
"We must destroy her!" one declared.
"How!? She is nigh invincible, you old fool! I was there to witness her fiery rage!" a shaman from Bassa sneered at the warhawk.
It was something he never forgot, burned deep into his memory as men cried like babes as they were engulfed by the purple. He was no stranger to burned men, but fire, for him, was a small thing, that could be managed. The battlefield at Man saw no hope in quenching the otherworldly flame.
"Must we truly bow our heads to the girl-child?" a considering shaman said with a frown.
"A girl-child of her calibre, that undoubtedly can make us bow our heads with just but a thought." one flatly said.
More rumblings between old rivals sounded, only three were not giving any trouble, that being Shaman Akyaw himself, the blind shaman, and of course-
"Silence, honoured brothers! Silence!" the most eldest croaked.
At that, they quieted, fearful and respectful of the warrior grandfather.
"Though she is blessed, gifted by great and terrible power. We must not be too hasty in bringing the doom upon us all. First, we must acknowledge of what we know of the Chieftess of Man." at that, the oldest gave a pointed look to the elder Akyaw, and he stood at attention and began to speak the facts.
"I thank you, honoured brother." Akyaw bowed and he began to explain.
"To comprehend the true extent of her power, it is crucial to grasp the abilities she wields. She possesses formidable mastery to move things with her sorcery, able to complete an entire gathering hall faster than our most skilled builders. She displays a mastery of the purple flame, seemingly without end, and carries with it desolation." at that the shamans looked grim, a few nodded their heads at that.
"No mind is safe from her heart, of which she reads through the mind and soul. So it will not be easy to lie or deceive, she can sense the whole of our soul." an incident at Sherbro saw two men convicted to death after the Chieftess sensed their malice within their hearts, saving the lives of a family.
"Most of all, she has power over people, ensnaring those who hear her sing." to them, it was the most terrifying of her abilities, to rob ones' senses and make it her own.
"It was shown time and time again, at the feast of unification, the mining chants, her own place of learning…"
"That is our adversary, honoured brothers, if we give her reason to be." Akyaw bowed, and sat back down.
Murmurs were shared, one wanted to find a way to banish her, another saw to it to reel her in through binding spiritual contracts, from marriage, to blood pacts, and more.
"Shaman Yaw, honoured brother, if you would please." the elder asked of him.
"Yes, most honourable brother." he stood and bowed like the rest, and the blind shaman gave his report.
"My spies have been diligent, and have found a great a many things." he spread his arms wide.
"As what honourable brother Akyaw has said. My shadows have told me of the influence Chieftess Guere has been in her learning place. The daughters of the highborn, are no doubt being exposed to her abilities, whether they have become slaves to her will remain uncertain." some shamans swore, truly what a travesty for those of high birth.
"She also travels in disguise, usually having her eyes covered whenever she goes upon excursions of our new confederacy, mostly visiting the new industries, then going back to her village, where the trail lies dead." the blind shaman sat back down having said his piece.
They weighed many different options, and more arguments began to erupt but were cut short when Kwame glared at them. Plans were formed, and secret pacts were made far from the light of the fire. Still, if they were planning on taking on a demi-goddess, perhaps help could be found elsewhere. Suddenly two smoking bowls were raised, suspended by the threads of the bony fingers of the eldest.
At that cue, they began searching for their answers.
They chanted the words of blessing to open the gate between the veils of the mortal world and the spiritual one. The room quickly filled with smoke, their lungs breathed it in deeply and soon their physical beings were infused by the wisdom of the spirits of past, present, and future.
Shaman Akyaw breathed in most heavily of all, the chemicals infusing with oxygen to feed his blood, to begin its divine and holy work.
Then, he began to see.
He saw a tree, burning in the rain. Its fruits were once plentiful and pure, but soon overtime, they all fell one by one, becoming useless and rotten, for no one was there to see the value in them. For that sorrow, the tree lost all its lustre, its branches dry and brittle. When the fire came to, there was nothing left of the tree, but its ashes that once held forgotten fruit.
The other was a mountain, greater than any mountains he had seen, its peak had risen to the moon, creating a spectacle one could never forget. But soon, that moon, that beautiful midnight sun, drifted away from the mountain, leaving it behind. Soon the mountain began to crumble, little by little, its mighty peak withered away, until it became a small hill, then it collapsed further, leaving behind nothing but an empty meaningless hole.
The nest vision he had was that of a flower, a flower that sang with the most beautiful voice, but it was a fragile flower, and it only grew weaker as it matured. Soon, its songs were becoming seldom to hear, its voice becoming muter as it wilted. Then, all of its petals and leaves have fallen off, leaving behind an empty husk that could never sing again.
Finally, came the last vision, he saw a weeping storm, that converged into a massive whirling hurricane, but what terrified him was that it wasn't made of water.
It was made of blood.
He was once a young man who gave violence freely to anyone who sought it, now an old man who gave violence to those in need, he killed with precision and grace. He had seen many scenes of viscera in his life, of gore and horror, and he was unfazed by it all.
But somehow, this was the one that made him lose his nerves, he felt himself get pulled by the winds and screamed for someone to save him. He felt his body stretch into impossible proportions, and he screamed even more.
But, it was over.
All that was left, when he opened his eyes, was a sore pain in his head. Grunting he stood up, to see the hall in shambles, the rest of the shamans were delirious, and he shook his head to focus his mind.
Mudfield, Tribe of Grebo, West Africa
868 Anno Domini, May 12th
Kwateng Owusu, chieftain of the Grebo tribe knew that his end had come. Shouts of men being beaten bloody and his son's forces being routed let him know that it has finally come to a close.
The Sherbro, he imagined. Thought that they didn't much care for them, other than being a buyer of their goods of working hands. Decades ago, they even worked together to reel in a big haul from the eastern tribes, further east than they have ever rowed, to become fat with riches. No, they had the rest of the spoils, and they were content, the bigger tribe had organised most of it after all.
But then, strange rumours and, even stranger developments have occurred while they were planning their own little raid themselves.
All four of the most powerful and influential of the tribes -Sherbro, Bassa, Nuon, Sapie-, and a few others lost a retaliation war in a single night. He chalked it up to arrogance and bad luck, dismissing the outlandish tale of a female goatman who spit fire from its hooves, or something similar to that.
Then, the news of a new tribal confederacy reached his village. From a runner from Bassa, saying that they should join in as well and become united as a country. The concept of a nation state, defined by their shared culture and solidarity was present as clans and tribes within the jungles. But to apply it to multiple highborn families, joining together willingly for the good of their people?
They said no thanks, when he mentioned taxes.
Still, they learned a lot. A say on their tribe, to be seen as equal on an over-council, lackeys on the below-council to jockey your position for you. To become more than raiders, to share infrastructure and technology with one another. But they were fine on their own, no need for overcomplications.
Days turned to months, and wounded scouts came into his hall.
An army was coming for them, led by the chieftain's son, looking for glory for himself, and they just happened to be the target. He called for his best warriors, his best healers, and sought to face them on the field. As the war drums pounded and sweat ran down their war paint, they knew they would not make this out in one piece.
When the first battle cries of the Sherbro warriors pierced the air, they did as well. He led his warriors into the heart of the conflict, their war chants blending with the frenzied shouts of their adversaries. Hearts were pierced by the minute, as spears and arrows flew from both sides, but the Sherbro had more of it than them, and the tide soon overwhelmed them. As the hours passed, the number of Grebo warriors dwindled, and hope began to fade. Chieftain Owusu could see the desperation and fear on the faces of his mean, and the situation was a lost cause.
As he lay bleeding on the ground, his last thoughts were that of his son, and wondered if he survived.
It was surreal to sense all around you, with no body to feel nor lungs to breathe. But he could hear the snot from this man, as he revelled in his "noble victory". The beheaded son gave a sneer, the enemy crowd was pointing at him as the light expanded.
He would soon be with Nyame, but he didn't want to be.
