This is my first attempt at an AAR and as you will see it is more along the lines of a story, though I am playing on Iron man mode and will surely have to adapt to the constantly changing and extremely dangerous world. I will try and depict as represented by their traits and will try not to play too 'gamey'.
This is, I suppose, a writing exercise at the moment(and I know I'm not the best writer) so I will not be including in-game pictures of the characters as it quite ruins the mystery of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please tell me if you will follow this story because, honestly, I would like to know... Onwards!
Year 867, January 1st
The young Zakharias Azim; King of Nubia, aged only seventeen, stood up from his seat and raised his hand, ordering the chariot to halt. Holding his hand above his eyes to shield himself from the sun he looked down upon the city of Kanisah, the only city in the lands of Hayya. A broad crescent of glistening white teeth peered through his thin goatee as he surveyed the mudbrick buildings below him.
Jumping from his perch and down on to the hard sand he spread his arms wide as if to encompass it all within his grasp. and he laughed heartily.
“How extraordinary, the structures, the walls... how they resemble our own, it seems the people of Hayya and my kingdom are more similar than I had thought. Their leader Dauid is very lucky to have such wonderful architecture.”
Following behind the king was a thin, tall man, he made his way down from his own chariot, though much more carefully, and stood beside him. He was Nagash, the mayor of the city of Salala and the kings master of intrigue, keeping tabs on anything and anyone of interest. A powerful man in his own right but a man of words and not actions, he swore fealty only to King Zakharias.
“I believe he fashions these lands as a kingdom of their own; and himself, it's king.” Nagash spoke quietly and with only a hint of mockery.”
The kings smile wavered only slightly as he turned towards his spymaster. “Trust you to spoil the moment,” he laughed. “Any man can claim to be a king, but only the few truly chosen by God could ever be recognised by the people.”
The king walked to the water bowl his slaves had rested on the ground and filled two cups. “Thank you my friends, and drink up, we may be waiting a while for chancellor Hakiem to meet us.”
Zakharias headed back to his spymaster, offering him a cup. “Tell me Nagash, what do my people call me?” He took a sip but kept his gaze on his spymaster.
Nagash looked uncomfortable and looked away towards the city. “They call you their King... of course.”
“They do! What a relief” he laughed and slapped his friend on the back, causing an unnecessary amount of water to spill from Nagash's cup. “And what did they call my father, and his father, and so on until time forgotten.”
“They called them all the Kings of Nubia, as they were.” He smiled, feeling more at ease, though holding around half of the amount of water he had originally been given.
“That they did, and what can you say of the people who walk these lands?" He stamped his foot on the ground. "Do they bow to a king or simply a man?”
There was a silence between the two men, Nagash knew the answer but daren't say it. The king was not easily angered but the men and women of Hayya had been under Dauid's families rule for as long as anyone could remember and Nagash knew what his people called him. His mouth opened, not really sure of what words were about to come from his lips; but before he could respond, a call was heard in the distance. Another chariot could be seen heading towards them from the vicinity of the city.
“Ah, this must be my Chancellor, I hope he has amply charmed the populace.” The king stood tall, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted back. “Hello Chancellor Hakiem, what news do you have for us? Are we to be welcomed in to the city?”
There was no more words from the chariot as it made its way towards the kings small convoy. The king raised his hands above his eyes again and took a second look. The cloth that hung from the chariot was not the pale yellow of the Kingdom of Nubia, but the harsh black of Hayya.
King Zakharias scratched his head.”What is this? I supplied him with my two of my own horses and and a chariot. Why would he ride back in a chariot made here?”
Nagash's eyes widened and he took two steps backwards. “I... I don't think Hakiem is in there my king, those are armed men.”
He turned suddenly and clambered up in to his chariot, pushing two men aside. “Grab your bows warriors and be wary!” Nagash shouted, before disappearing sinto the recesses of the small chariot.
The few dozen men that surrounded them grabbed their bows and pulled arrows from their quivers, their eyes fixed firmly on the chariot that was approaching. The young king frowned and stepped forward in front of his warriors holding out his hand, signalling them to lower their bows.
“They are not going to attack us, do not be foolish,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let us see what these men have to say.”
He stood firm, feet rooted to the ground until the chariot had stopped in front of them. The armed men in the chariot seemed as jittery as the kings own, but not openly hostile. The black linen cloth drew back and a middle aged man sporting a thick beard climbed down and walked towards the young king, his head bowed.
“You must be the young King Zakharias, king of all northern Nubia.” He stopped a few feet away and knelt on one knee. “It is truly an honour to meet such a man of immense power.”
The king may have been young, but he was not stupid and understood the man’s subtle mockery, but chose to ignore it for now. “Thank you servant of Dauid, I am honoured by your kind words. Now rise and speak, I wish to know why it is you that has greeted me here and not Hakiem, my chancellor?”
The man rose and reached under his purple robes, producing a small leather package. “I have brought you a gift, as is custom when speaking to one as prestigious as yourself.” He held out his hands offering the package to the king.
The warriors behind King Zakharias murmured to each other in confusion, some of the veterans faces looked enraged but once again they were quelled with a hand movement by the king.
“How strange that is, being that I am a king, and I have never heard of such a custom.” The wary smile of the king was soon fading. “He walked forward, the leather package now pressed against his chest. “Tell me, whose customs have you so comically mistaken with mine?”
“Oh king, so young and unlearned you are. It is the culture of the kingdom that your feet walk on right now. The Kingdom of Hayya, sometimes know as 'Southern Nubia'” The bearded man smiled glibly, surely anticipating Zakharuis' anger. But it did not come.
The young king laughed and swiped the gift in one motion. “So foolish, am I not?” The man was quite taken aback with the response and almost stumbled over his robe, watching as King Zakharias quickly unravelled the package. Inside the leather was a small clay statuette of a horse accompanied by a man holding a bow.
“How delightful! It is for my future children I suppose? I think a bag of flour is surely in order for the man who crafted it.” He wrapped it back up and pushed it unceremoniously into his pocket. “Now I will ask again, where is Hakiem? I asked for him to meet me here but instead I am greeted by a gift-giver and a chariot full of armed men. I'm sure you can imagine my confusion.”
The man was now visibly nervous and confused, he pointed down towards the city of Kanisah. “He... he is in commune with the... with King Dauid. He has come to no harm, I assure it, but King Dauid insisted that he stay to speak with him.”
“Then I will meet with your... king,” the last word lingered on King Zakharios' lips before dissipating over the dunes. “And I will certainly be joined by yourself Nagash,” he shouted behind him.
The rustling of linen came from within the spymaster's chariot and Mayor Nagash's head appeared from within. “Of course my king. I was just finding my... proper garments.” A look of shame overcame his face and his head slowly disappeared again.
The king smiled and turned back to the bearded man, “Well, head on gift-giver. I've been in anticipation of this meeting for some time.”
King Zakharias returned to his chariot and clambered back on to his seat, he groped in his pocket for the statuettes and unwrapped them again. Looking down upon them he admired the craftsmanship, the intricate lines that were carved in to resemble a horses tail, the way the sun hit the man’s arms and body, showing his perfect muscular frame as he pulled at the string of his bow, ready to let it loose at a moments notice. it made him smile.
Then calmly and repeatedly, he smashed them both into a thousand pieces.
This is, I suppose, a writing exercise at the moment(and I know I'm not the best writer) so I will not be including in-game pictures of the characters as it quite ruins the mystery of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please tell me if you will follow this story because, honestly, I would like to know... Onwards!
Ater Reges: A Nubian AAR
Year 867, January 1st
The young Zakharias Azim; King of Nubia, aged only seventeen, stood up from his seat and raised his hand, ordering the chariot to halt. Holding his hand above his eyes to shield himself from the sun he looked down upon the city of Kanisah, the only city in the lands of Hayya. A broad crescent of glistening white teeth peered through his thin goatee as he surveyed the mudbrick buildings below him.
Jumping from his perch and down on to the hard sand he spread his arms wide as if to encompass it all within his grasp. and he laughed heartily.
“How extraordinary, the structures, the walls... how they resemble our own, it seems the people of Hayya and my kingdom are more similar than I had thought. Their leader Dauid is very lucky to have such wonderful architecture.”
Following behind the king was a thin, tall man, he made his way down from his own chariot, though much more carefully, and stood beside him. He was Nagash, the mayor of the city of Salala and the kings master of intrigue, keeping tabs on anything and anyone of interest. A powerful man in his own right but a man of words and not actions, he swore fealty only to King Zakharias.
“I believe he fashions these lands as a kingdom of their own; and himself, it's king.” Nagash spoke quietly and with only a hint of mockery.”
The kings smile wavered only slightly as he turned towards his spymaster. “Trust you to spoil the moment,” he laughed. “Any man can claim to be a king, but only the few truly chosen by God could ever be recognised by the people.”
The king walked to the water bowl his slaves had rested on the ground and filled two cups. “Thank you my friends, and drink up, we may be waiting a while for chancellor Hakiem to meet us.”
Zakharias headed back to his spymaster, offering him a cup. “Tell me Nagash, what do my people call me?” He took a sip but kept his gaze on his spymaster.
Nagash looked uncomfortable and looked away towards the city. “They call you their King... of course.”
“They do! What a relief” he laughed and slapped his friend on the back, causing an unnecessary amount of water to spill from Nagash's cup. “And what did they call my father, and his father, and so on until time forgotten.”
“They called them all the Kings of Nubia, as they were.” He smiled, feeling more at ease, though holding around half of the amount of water he had originally been given.
“That they did, and what can you say of the people who walk these lands?" He stamped his foot on the ground. "Do they bow to a king or simply a man?”
There was a silence between the two men, Nagash knew the answer but daren't say it. The king was not easily angered but the men and women of Hayya had been under Dauid's families rule for as long as anyone could remember and Nagash knew what his people called him. His mouth opened, not really sure of what words were about to come from his lips; but before he could respond, a call was heard in the distance. Another chariot could be seen heading towards them from the vicinity of the city.
“Ah, this must be my Chancellor, I hope he has amply charmed the populace.” The king stood tall, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted back. “Hello Chancellor Hakiem, what news do you have for us? Are we to be welcomed in to the city?”
There was no more words from the chariot as it made its way towards the kings small convoy. The king raised his hands above his eyes again and took a second look. The cloth that hung from the chariot was not the pale yellow of the Kingdom of Nubia, but the harsh black of Hayya.
King Zakharias scratched his head.”What is this? I supplied him with my two of my own horses and and a chariot. Why would he ride back in a chariot made here?”
Nagash's eyes widened and he took two steps backwards. “I... I don't think Hakiem is in there my king, those are armed men.”
He turned suddenly and clambered up in to his chariot, pushing two men aside. “Grab your bows warriors and be wary!” Nagash shouted, before disappearing sinto the recesses of the small chariot.
The few dozen men that surrounded them grabbed their bows and pulled arrows from their quivers, their eyes fixed firmly on the chariot that was approaching. The young king frowned and stepped forward in front of his warriors holding out his hand, signalling them to lower their bows.
“They are not going to attack us, do not be foolish,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let us see what these men have to say.”
He stood firm, feet rooted to the ground until the chariot had stopped in front of them. The armed men in the chariot seemed as jittery as the kings own, but not openly hostile. The black linen cloth drew back and a middle aged man sporting a thick beard climbed down and walked towards the young king, his head bowed.
“You must be the young King Zakharias, king of all northern Nubia.” He stopped a few feet away and knelt on one knee. “It is truly an honour to meet such a man of immense power.”
The king may have been young, but he was not stupid and understood the man’s subtle mockery, but chose to ignore it for now. “Thank you servant of Dauid, I am honoured by your kind words. Now rise and speak, I wish to know why it is you that has greeted me here and not Hakiem, my chancellor?”
The man rose and reached under his purple robes, producing a small leather package. “I have brought you a gift, as is custom when speaking to one as prestigious as yourself.” He held out his hands offering the package to the king.
The warriors behind King Zakharias murmured to each other in confusion, some of the veterans faces looked enraged but once again they were quelled with a hand movement by the king.
“How strange that is, being that I am a king, and I have never heard of such a custom.” The wary smile of the king was soon fading. “He walked forward, the leather package now pressed against his chest. “Tell me, whose customs have you so comically mistaken with mine?”
“Oh king, so young and unlearned you are. It is the culture of the kingdom that your feet walk on right now. The Kingdom of Hayya, sometimes know as 'Southern Nubia'” The bearded man smiled glibly, surely anticipating Zakharuis' anger. But it did not come.
The young king laughed and swiped the gift in one motion. “So foolish, am I not?” The man was quite taken aback with the response and almost stumbled over his robe, watching as King Zakharias quickly unravelled the package. Inside the leather was a small clay statuette of a horse accompanied by a man holding a bow.
“How delightful! It is for my future children I suppose? I think a bag of flour is surely in order for the man who crafted it.” He wrapped it back up and pushed it unceremoniously into his pocket. “Now I will ask again, where is Hakiem? I asked for him to meet me here but instead I am greeted by a gift-giver and a chariot full of armed men. I'm sure you can imagine my confusion.”
The man was now visibly nervous and confused, he pointed down towards the city of Kanisah. “He... he is in commune with the... with King Dauid. He has come to no harm, I assure it, but King Dauid insisted that he stay to speak with him.”
“Then I will meet with your... king,” the last word lingered on King Zakharios' lips before dissipating over the dunes. “And I will certainly be joined by yourself Nagash,” he shouted behind him.
The rustling of linen came from within the spymaster's chariot and Mayor Nagash's head appeared from within. “Of course my king. I was just finding my... proper garments.” A look of shame overcame his face and his head slowly disappeared again.
The king smiled and turned back to the bearded man, “Well, head on gift-giver. I've been in anticipation of this meeting for some time.”
King Zakharias returned to his chariot and clambered back on to his seat, he groped in his pocket for the statuettes and unwrapped them again. Looking down upon them he admired the craftsmanship, the intricate lines that were carved in to resemble a horses tail, the way the sun hit the man’s arms and body, showing his perfect muscular frame as he pulled at the string of his bow, ready to let it loose at a moments notice. it made him smile.
Then calmly and repeatedly, he smashed them both into a thousand pieces.
