Kalahari Herald Chronicles: Kalahari Herald Chronicles 1 March 2017 3#35

DAILY NEWS FROM MAMLAKAT KALAHARI 1 March 2017 3#35

(http://mykalahariblogaddress.blogspot.com)

((see dara's video of Queen Vi's party https://youtu.be/EtOflO7KktA))

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

KALAHARI STORY TELLING II

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Nada, Adorable Storyteller Hostess

The Syuhada Skybox Among the Stars was again the social center of the medieval universe as an enthusiastic crowd gathered to listen to the second event in the Kalahari Storytelling Series.

Pirate Slave Nada, Palace Slave dara, some unknown man in maroon, and a group of invited dignitaries eagerly looked forward to the stories of Sir Bill LeBrave, Lady Roxelana Chronander, Elyssa Kalaratri, Lady Josie North and Palace Slave Abla.

The first speaker was Sir Bill LeBrave, Head Slaver of the Lost Jungle of Maya. Bill's story takes in many important figures of the history of Kalahari but especially King Hassan, as well as many other adventures.

The Autobiography of Bill LeBrave

Many years ago, before the great famine in the Ukraine, so long it seems like it was another life, I was a rich merchant. Well I must be completely honest, the truth is I was a slaver. There was an Island, (I will not tell the name or location lest you perish trying to find it), with dangerous shoals along the coastline. Often, especially during the monsoon season, there were bad storms which resulted in ship wrecks. The castaways so happy to make it to the shore were rounded up like cattle. Some had to be beaten into submission, but all were sold. I do not know what became of their fate, nor at the time did I care, for I was only concerned with what fattened my purse.

And it was there on that same Island where where I first met his highness, Hassan Ibn Trrrol. We were both bidding on a particularly fine slave when, well... he plainly out bid me. As he was taking possession of his slave, I walked over and complemented him on his shrewd eye and that fine specimen he had just purchased.

From that moment on, His Highness and I were to become life long friends and gambling partners. Stakes were always high, and the contests close. Though I must add that I do think that one belly dance contest was rigged. I surly should have won that contest. But I will let bygones be bygones.

Well at this time I had a huge castle in central Europe along the Austrian border. Built with stone and of course it was built with slave labor. I was flaunting my wealth to peasants and royalty alike when the law finally caught up with me. Imagine my surprise when I saw an officer and his soldiers marching up to my gates. Yes the tax collector (the good for nothing sponge who lived off of other peoples hard work) had come to collect his taxes.

Well with back taxes, duties, fines, tariffs, penalties, interest, fees, expensive lawyers. (clenching my fist) I still get angry just thinking about the injustice of it all, those guys taking what did not belong to them. I mean I earned the money, why shouldn't I be able to keep it? Right?

So to avoid imprisonment I had to flee. After a long voyage across the Mediterranean, two near captures. One by some barbarians from France, and another some assassins hired out of Casa Blanca. After several months I found myself at the door step of the Kalahari kingdom. And His Highness welcomed me with open arms. Provided shelter for me and the few slaves I had left.

In time having learned to take the wealth that international trading provides, not to mention raiding a few pirate camps, I have become rich. No not with gold, but in the rich traditions and friendships of the people of Kalahari.

THE END

Chained to the slaver Sir Bill, Lady Roxelana's story elicited such sadness from the audience as well as anger toward Thorgrim, Minghus, Halim, and the previously revered Lady Malika. Of course, we must wait to hear the full story, but the investigation of the kidnap and enslavement of Roxelana grows darker and darker.

The Sad Story of Lady Roxelana Chronander

I was born Lady Roxelana Sandelin, second daughter and fifth child of my parents. Would have had an identical twin, but she died before we could walk. Blonde of hair and with eyes the color of the sky, it was not difficult to arrange a marriage. Instead of a hale and hearty groom, I ended up with an old, fat, balding man. This knight, with an estate in Finland, was even older than my father. I was the third bride in his life, and I was his last wife.

To the estate I brought a dowry of gold and jewels, enough to adorn a young lady of means. I set to running the estate and making it become more profitable, taking the lessons learned from my own mother in Sweden. I had the land farmed, some of it never before tilled. I made them rotate crops to keep from exhausting the rich soil. The hillsides acquired a flock of sheep and my servants had to learn how to card, spin, and weave. Using that cloth for our household saved money, and selling it brought money in. Astounding no one ever thought of it before.

My husband, Sir Henrik Chronander, had no heirs not even a daughter. For that he blamed his previous wives, one of whom died together with his baby boy in childbed. He thought a young bride would make all the difference, but after the first year he soured on me. He accused me of being the barren girl foisted upon him, silly and useless.

He did not take very good care of his health. It was no shock when he didn't wake up that night, but what was shocking was the speed with which his brother came to take everything. He told me to return to my father, and when I went to pack my own dower jewels, he raged at me. He actually believed I would travel to my childhood home with nary the clothes on my back. The fool.

Late that night I took what was rightfully mine and ordered my servants to drive the carriage south. My father was west across the Gulf of Bothnia, and I was not going to him. I had heard tales of the Mohammedans, that they had many merchants who would not ask too many questions. The carriage only went so far before they questioned me, so I left them behind and traveled by any means I could find. My brother in law would surely try to catch up to take those jewels, the greedy sod.

A week ago I arrived in this kingdom of Kalahari, and very soon met the Lady Malika. She kindly offered to act as middleman and call upon her contacts to find a buyer, no doubt skimming off the top for her efforts. But no matter, she is better positioned to find a wealthy buyer than I in this very foreign land.

I took up a room in the tavern, as small as what my servants in the estate would have slept in if they had the luxury of privacy. But it was clean and cheap, and most all my ready cash had been exhausted in travel, leaving only the dowry.

There I met many people. Odd that in a land where respectable women dress so modestly, that even the King and Queen would attend the opening of a brothel. I soon realized the nature of the establishment, so I will not again darken its door. I have a reputation to think of!

There are not only servants here, but chattel slaves. One in particular, a hulking beast of a man named Marcus, requires much scolding. He is shameless, and does not know how to act. Perhaps a big fellow like him can work, but he would be better yet unseen as he labors, away from people of quality.

Another foreigner was at the tavern at midday, and he was simply awful. For some reason, this Thorgrim got it into his head that any and all women were for sale. That I would make a good housekeeper, that Nada and Aisha would make good slaves. He tried to purchase all these from Lady North, the brothel mistress. A noblewoman and a royal concubine are not hers to sell, and she would not hazard the thought of selling Aisha, one of her dancing girls.

I let him clearly know he had no right to buy me, and that I was not for sale. So then he changed his tactic, thinking I was a loose woman and that he could get into my bed at the tavern. That was not happening either, to say the least! He kept hinting that women should not talk back, that heavy work would straighten me out. Nay. I supervise others who work, while I do light tasks like accounts and sewing. When he started touching my shoulder and handing me his cup to go wash or fill it for him, I had enough. I smashed that cup on the ground and took the jagged shard, holding it up to him as a weapon. I dared him to try that again.

And this is when he set his con into motion. He claimed he was a representative of my husband's family, hinted that I was a murderer and a thief. Claimed to have papers to prove it, but they were on his ship. I challenged him to name even one member of my late husband's family, a task that would be easy if he spoke even an iota of truth. He could not.

Lady Afraa, a minister in the government, sided with me, and for that I am grateful. Thorgrim fled to his ship then, and I thought the matter closed. However, that was not to be. Two days later, I found he was distributing what could only be a forgery, and a clumsy one at that.

This letter, probably still being passed around and gossiped about, claims to be from a Sir A Oxenstierna, the uncle of my late husband. Any uncle of my husband would have to be as old as Methuselah! It was his brother, not his uncle, who was greedy and grasping for everything his brother had, save me for he is already married. It further claims I, a woman who has never even heated water, cooked a poisonous mushroom soup and served it up to my husband. Ridiculous!

Last of all, it lists a random assortment of jewelry that does not match in the slightest the listing of my dower jewels, as Lady Malika can bear witness to.

That is my life story up to now, or that was where the story ended over a week ago. Since then, Lady Malika and I sailed to Egypt on Captain Minghus' ship. Despite my misgivings, neither he nor any of his sailors showed us any disrespect. We went to meet her contact in Alexandria, but when the chest was unlocked and opened, it was empty. For this theft most foul, I accuse Thorgrim. He has been blatantly clear in his avarice.

All my plans, all my struggling, it was all for naught. I was in shock, mourning for the loss. While I processed that, Malika made plans of her own. It seems she had been depending on her cut of the sale for her passage back to Kalahari, and now she was in a lurch. Falling back on the tricks of her husband's trade, she offered me up as a slave to pay for Captain Minghus to sail back to Kalahari, a thing he was reluctant to do since his cargo for Thorgrim was going in quite a different direction.

He suggested a slave trainer to break me of my noble ways, and Malika delivered me up to him. Tearfully she promised to return and pay for my freedom, but I begin to wonder if those words were insincere. As you have seen from the ransom note, the ill treatment began right away. This is the first day I have been allowed to wear any clothing. I have been starved, raped, tortured and humiliated. They say I have to accept my new life, and forget about the past. Forget that I am Lady Roxelana Chronander.

But it does not have to be so! If someone will just pay the ransom! I know 50 lbs. of gold is an astronomical sum, but I will find a way to pay you back. I will have to find some way to start a business if I am to make a life without that dowry. Please, someone, anyone! Give me back my freedom!

THE END

Elyssa Kalaratri shows that there is room for many strong women in Kalahari.

The Proud Story of Elyssa Kalaratri

My name is Elyssa Kalaratri. Elyssa means 'god is my oath' and that was the name my mother chose for me. My father was in rebellion against the King of that land, and his rebellion failed. The situation was such that my mother was in no danger, but I was. My father had sired many children, with the intent of breeding an army for his revenge. Mother had me raised in India, in the village where she grew up. She thought I would be safe there.

Safe, but not loved. Those villagers scorned me for being born of a mixed union, and for being born out of wedlock. It was they who gave me my second name Kalaratri. It is a reference to the goddess of war, destruction, and devastation Kali. As soon as I was able, I returned to the kingdom of sand where I was born.

There I had difficulty finding my mother, as she had been adopted into a Bedouin clan and had a new name. I wanted to cause her to suffer as I had suffered. My father was easier to find, and he happily took me in. Under the tutelage of him and his harem, I learned the ways of war. Yet another soldier in his army, with his other spawn.

But the war was only planned. Disaster struck and leveled the kingdom. I know not who else escaped, but surely little could escape that!

I traveled the world, always fleeing from men and their evil intent. For a time I was a waitress at the Matsubaya brothel in Japan, but made my way out before they could think of making me yet another whore. At the end of my travels across the world, I came here to Kalahari.

Lady Louise Kingbe invited me to be her houseguest, but I slept in the courtyard and prepared my own food. She encouraged me to sleep inside, in a spare bed. I did so but one night, and she then charged me with a bill for room and board. It was all just a trick!

My money was exhausted from my travels, so she decided I would work it off as her handmaiden. She set a collar around my neck and had me help her dress and assist her in the bathhouse.

Her husband, MrKingbe, didn't like my attitude and stripped me naked and left me in a cage in the slave's room. My imprisonment lasted a week, with regular beatings. All because I did not acknowledge him as my Master. A brute he is, truly.

Louise was interested in my time in Japan, and bade me to make a garden for her in that style. I dug the channels for the pond and planted the lilies myself. For that effort, I was freed after only a month or so of shameful enslavement. King Hassan proclaimed me a citizen and granted me an apartment to use, in which I reside to this day.

Minister Magdy found my work at the farm very useful, and made me his assistant, to manage the slaves when he was unable to. In time, romance bloomed and I now count myself as close to a wife as he has. All went well, until the civil war.

Only a few days before the final battle, I encountered MrKingbe, now calling himself Halim. We fought at the arena, after I commanded that he return to his territory. We fought, and somehow he got a second wind in the middle of the fight. (He switched from combat mode to arena mode, which gave him back many of his hit points. It was cheating.) I was knocked unconscious and he dragged me back to that same cage he had locked me in before. He ripped my clothes off my and left me shivering and wounded.

Days later, and I heard the slaves talking. The war was over and he had lost. He, on the other hand, was determined to keep on fighting. He had missed the final battle, and did not count the result as valid. We all know what came of that determination of his. Nothing.

Still I was kept, unlawfully imprisoned. Starved and denied water. Only by tricking some of his slaves did I get any food or water. I would have died in that three week period otherwise. At the the end of the three weeks, probably expecting me dead or too weak to resist, Halim declared I was to join his harem as a slave. He handed some tawdry red silks to wear, and I put them on, glad to have something to wear at last. He foolishly left the front door unlocked and went to sleep. I walked out and ran to my apartment, burning those silks and replacing them with one of my own modest dresses. He was not going to get me back so easily!

I continued my work at the farm, just waiting to see if it would be worth making a criminal case about. When I saw the entire House of Kingbe leave the kingdom, I thought it would not be worth doing, but now that rumors say they may return, I wonder...

THE END

The following storytellers will have their tales told in the next issue of the Chronicles.

Lady Josie North

and Palace Slave Abla

When Kalahari events are attended by King Hassan, two things are sure: one, the King picks up the tab for the Tavern refreshments, and second, no attractive slave is safe. ahahaha.

Slave ibtisam knew enough to hide behind a Tavern pillar

though the new Mine Slave Stephanie Brown didn't know any better, and made the mistake of looking so attractive in the sight of the King

The King himself moved in on newcomer Mimi, but he made the mistake actually of listening to his own line of "Trrrol Talk" and fell asleep at the table