Hmm, fighting a man eater?
Would have been easier if you were a female... :rofl::rofl::rofl::rofl:
Would have been easier if you were a female... :rofl::rofl::rofl::rofl:
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"Emperor eaten by bear... again!"
I caught up with part I shortly before Gudrod's death. Ah, the memories!
Nice going.
I caught up with part I shortly before Gudrod's death. Ah, the memories!
Nice going.
Birger glanced up a the giant tapestries.
Then he glanced down at the small maps clutched in his massive hands.
Then he glanced up at the giant, and very expensive, tapestries.
:rofl:
I loved this little exchange.
I think Birger is my favourite character thus far.
I like him alot too...I fired him as a minister in-game and actually hired him back just so I could keep him in the AAR"You can't make a saint without splitting a few skulls"
-classic...
Thanks
When I read that stream of adjectives (they are adjectives, right? Never been one for grammatical naming conventions), I couldn't help but think of a puberty-stricken schoolboy who is getting a little too carried away by the mental imagery his raging hormones are creating.
Altogether good progress in bringing civilization* to the godless natives of North America.
*Or death. After all, what's the difference, right?
By the way, have you found some sort of Gothic poem generator online, or are you coming up with this driv... inspired poetry yourself?
While most of the poetry appearing in here is hand-written, Cathaoir's is written using the highly amusing Goth-O-Matic Poetry Generator, which I recommend everyone check out, it is just plain fun. I'd planned to write his all myself and googled "Bad Gothic Poetry" for examples to build from. This generator came up and I never looked back.
We can turn those honed skills loose on another continent!
One has to love the pure logic of Birger...
me too. He's quite a lateral thinker.Hah!
"Emperor eaten by bear... again!"
I caught up with part I shortly before Gudrod's death. Ah, the memories!
Thanks...and thanks to Bard for dying so conveniently close to the Viken Ball!
A Hard-Nosed Snack... I just hope the bear wasn't done any harm...
As with most Imperial Murderers, the bear has been pardoned and allowed to live freely in the Imperial Palace, at least he was until he ate several of the servants. Serfs are one thing, but good servants are hard to come by.
:rofl: Great way to go!
Thanks!
Just feedback...I almost never do that!
Anyway, I have a four hour conference call tomorrow, so I will be shocked if I get a chance to push out another update before next week, but thanks all for reading along. Without your support, I would have quit playing this game ages ago (I started this mega-campaign back in September 2007! - not ancient by AARLand standards, but far longer than I usually can concentrate on a single game!)
Sorry, the Sesquacentennial has made me somewhat misty eyed.
500 years... I don't think social Darwinism is ever going to come in full swing in this timeline - what with the Crovans not getting themselves extinct over all this time.
Actually, there seems to be something of a Blackadderesque evolution going on: the Crovans themselves seem to get more and more devious with each passing generation (tho' they still manage to get themselves killed as banally as always), and their advisors seem to get dumber and dumber... I'm half expecting a short, unwashed cretin to show up crafting 'cunning plans' all over the place!
"Oh Baldrick, you wouldn't recognise a cunning plan if it undressed itself, painted itself blue, climbed on top of a wall and sang "cunning plans are here again" while jumping up and down!"
Also, being a tapestry maker seems like a profitable existance in this Crovan empire of ours...
Alsoplustwo,
Heh heh
Actually, there seems to be something of a Blackadderesque evolution going on: the Crovans themselves seem to get more and more devious with each passing generation (tho' they still manage to get themselves killed as banally as always), and their advisors seem to get dumber and dumber... I'm half expecting a short, unwashed cretin to show up crafting 'cunning plans' all over the place!
"Oh Baldrick, you wouldn't recognise a cunning plan if it undressed itself, painted itself blue, climbed on top of a wall and sang "cunning plans are here again" while jumping up and down!"
Also, being a tapestry maker seems like a profitable existance in this Crovan empire of ours...
Alsoplustwo,
Alfred said:
Heh heh
:rofl: I just noticed this. Nice work with the Book of Mormon photoshop, I didn't even notice at first.
I find this especially hilarious because I'm Mormon, so... yeah.
Anyway, keep writing the adventures of the Crovan Clan!
Wow. Bard sure lost the plot comprehensively (as well as some choice body parts - all of them). There is nothing I can think of to say that will measure up to the utter stupidity shown by Bard, so I'll just leave it be.
Very enlightening to read the bear trainers' exchange.
So we move on to Erik. A blank slate, whose reputation has not yet been sullied. Perhaps this will mark a turning point - perhaps a sane monarch will finally ascend to the throne!
Then again, considering the genetic burden he's up against, the boy has no chance.
Very enlightening to read the bear trainers' exchange.
So we move on to Erik. A blank slate, whose reputation has not yet been sullied. Perhaps this will mark a turning point - perhaps a sane monarch will finally ascend to the throne!
Then again, considering the genetic burden he's up against, the boy has no chance.
Hey all - only time for an update today! But I'll comment on your comments soon.
Here's a flashback-y episode for your perusal.
Here's a flashback-y episode for your perusal.
1567-1570: From Russia With Cannons
Ah yes, nothing is more boring than Crovania at war. And nothing more violent then the descendants of Asta. Will the nobles tire of the antics of Asta's spawn? Will the other Crovans? Find out on the next exciting episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan 2: The World Is Way Too Much!
Erik II “The Pugnacious” Bardsson Crovan
Emperor of the Crovan Empire, King of the East and West Vikings, Pontifix Maxmimus, Lord of the Skraelings, Scourge of the Rus
A Very Retro Adventure
(15 December 1567 – 21 February 1570)
“So here I am, in the first days of my reign, and I have already twice been faced with unsettling news. First, Lord Birger the Navigator has sent word that English ships have been coasting around Skraeling-Vinland coastal areas.”
“And second, we have become so feared and dreaded that I cannot get a single European Lord to part with his beloved daughter. I shall have to take one of these ‘winterized’ Viking maidens Scandinavia is so full of. Make that three pieces of unsettling news.”
“I have also received word that the Sino Expedition, outfitted with 4 cogs, 4 Barques, 2,000 musketeers, 2,000 cavalry and our bravest general and admiral, dispatched with such fanfare on their expedition to open a sea route to China…’”
“found themselves forced to rest and refit the fleet a mere four months later…in Massachusetts.
Yes, Massachusetts.”
“Clearly, the Sino Expedition is cursed. No sooner do they set sail again, and Russia declares war on us. “
“Of course, when you look at Russia’s allies, there is a lot of room for optimism.”
“My elite Imperial Marines quickly overran Wales, forcing them to surrender to us their last Scandinavian lands.”
“Now that the Russians have fully mobilized against us the battles we’re seeing are rather unpleasant.”
“However, as long as the Eastern Armies continue to support each other, we should be able to hold off the juggernaut for a little while longer.”
“As painful as this is, with 4 Russian Armies and 2 Meck Armies running around in my German Territories, I have to give a little…”
“To get something really important.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t get Russia to sign a white peace, in spite of our victories on the battlefield and our conquest of Russian lands, they know they have us.”
“First, General Winter forces my armies, decimated through attrition, to withdraw from our Finnish outposts.”
“Then the Russian armies, emboldened by my armies’ exhausted plight went on the attack, even driving back the famed Imperial Marines.”
“Finally, they accepted a token of surrender. It was a pretty minor token, granted, but it was still galling.
“I was going to send out the Sino Expedition again, reduced now to just 5 ships, to show the world that nothing slows down a Crovan, but their troops were decimated fighting the Russians in the Canaries and the Mecklenbergians in the Azores. Oh, and their fiery general’s ardor for exploration was cooled when he encountered the business end of a Russian lance. So, I’m thinking this undertaking is officially cursed…”
“So sire, have you had a chance to read through that poetry book I presented you with?”
Erik was plainly annoyed. “What? Damnit Charles, you’ve ruined my train of thought.”
“Oh I am sorry, Your Imperial Majesty, only, I know you father never really had the chance to peruse my work and, well, you are so very, very cultured and all and…”
“Forget it Charles, just forget it. I’ve no time for that poetry nonsense and anyway, Cathaoir is still alive, so I’m not in the market for a Laureate.”
Charles’ voice took on a high-pitched, strained sound. “For now sire! For now! Anything could happen and it wouldn’t hurt for you to…*hurk*
Charles looked down in surprise at the spreading red stain on his jacket, the blade sticking from the gushing wound was held by Erik himself.
“Sorry Charles. Too many Emperors have been accidently slain accidently by dueling poets. It’s really for my own good.
Besides, we haven’t had a good reverie around here since 1452 and you just screwed the whole thing up.”
Charles slid off the blade and collapsed to the ground, clutching his bloody, bubbling wound.
Erik decided to interpret the rattling sounds emanating from Charles chest and the startled, pleading look in his eyes as an apology. An apology for forcing the Emperor to kill him.
“Okay, where was I…oh yes. Crovania. Now Scandinavia is truly ours once more…
“…and…uh, the threats are the same. Russia inherited Athens, giving them Constantinople and most of Anatolia. Well shoot. Damn you Charles. I’ve lost it.”
Erik stormed out of the room in a huff.
Emperor of the Crovan Empire, King of the East and West Vikings, Pontifix Maxmimus, Lord of the Skraelings, Scourge of the Rus
A Very Retro Adventure
(15 December 1567 – 21 February 1570)
“So here I am, in the first days of my reign, and I have already twice been faced with unsettling news. First, Lord Birger the Navigator has sent word that English ships have been coasting around Skraeling-Vinland coastal areas.”
“And second, we have become so feared and dreaded that I cannot get a single European Lord to part with his beloved daughter. I shall have to take one of these ‘winterized’ Viking maidens Scandinavia is so full of. Make that three pieces of unsettling news.”
“I have also received word that the Sino Expedition, outfitted with 4 cogs, 4 Barques, 2,000 musketeers, 2,000 cavalry and our bravest general and admiral, dispatched with such fanfare on their expedition to open a sea route to China…’”
“found themselves forced to rest and refit the fleet a mere four months later…in Massachusetts.
Yes, Massachusetts.”
“Clearly, the Sino Expedition is cursed. No sooner do they set sail again, and Russia declares war on us. “
“Of course, when you look at Russia’s allies, there is a lot of room for optimism.”
“My elite Imperial Marines quickly overran Wales, forcing them to surrender to us their last Scandinavian lands.”
“Now that the Russians have fully mobilized against us the battles we’re seeing are rather unpleasant.”
“However, as long as the Eastern Armies continue to support each other, we should be able to hold off the juggernaut for a little while longer.”
“As painful as this is, with 4 Russian Armies and 2 Meck Armies running around in my German Territories, I have to give a little…”
“To get something really important.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t get Russia to sign a white peace, in spite of our victories on the battlefield and our conquest of Russian lands, they know they have us.”
“First, General Winter forces my armies, decimated through attrition, to withdraw from our Finnish outposts.”
“Then the Russian armies, emboldened by my armies’ exhausted plight went on the attack, even driving back the famed Imperial Marines.”
“Finally, they accepted a token of surrender. It was a pretty minor token, granted, but it was still galling.
“I was going to send out the Sino Expedition again, reduced now to just 5 ships, to show the world that nothing slows down a Crovan, but their troops were decimated fighting the Russians in the Canaries and the Mecklenbergians in the Azores. Oh, and their fiery general’s ardor for exploration was cooled when he encountered the business end of a Russian lance. So, I’m thinking this undertaking is officially cursed…”
“So sire, have you had a chance to read through that poetry book I presented you with?”
Erik was plainly annoyed. “What? Damnit Charles, you’ve ruined my train of thought.”
“Oh I am sorry, Your Imperial Majesty, only, I know you father never really had the chance to peruse my work and, well, you are so very, very cultured and all and…”
“Forget it Charles, just forget it. I’ve no time for that poetry nonsense and anyway, Cathaoir is still alive, so I’m not in the market for a Laureate.”
Charles’ voice took on a high-pitched, strained sound. “For now sire! For now! Anything could happen and it wouldn’t hurt for you to…*hurk*
Charles looked down in surprise at the spreading red stain on his jacket, the blade sticking from the gushing wound was held by Erik himself.
“Sorry Charles. Too many Emperors have been accidently slain accidently by dueling poets. It’s really for my own good.
Besides, we haven’t had a good reverie around here since 1452 and you just screwed the whole thing up.”
Charles slid off the blade and collapsed to the ground, clutching his bloody, bubbling wound.
Erik decided to interpret the rattling sounds emanating from Charles chest and the startled, pleading look in his eyes as an apology. An apology for forcing the Emperor to kill him.
“Okay, where was I…oh yes. Crovania. Now Scandinavia is truly ours once more…
“…and…uh, the threats are the same. Russia inherited Athens, giving them Constantinople and most of Anatolia. Well shoot. Damn you Charles. I’ve lost it.”
Erik stormed out of the room in a huff.
Ah yes, nothing is more boring than Crovania at war. And nothing more violent then the descendants of Asta. Will the nobles tire of the antics of Asta's spawn? Will the other Crovans? Find out on the next exciting episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan 2: The World Is Way Too Much!
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Poor Charles - I'm sure that's not the way he wanted to go. At least he managed to apologize for forcing Erik to kill him.
Shame about your Chinese expedition, but clearly the Russian war took precedence. Considering the hordes they could throw at you, I think you made a pretty clean getaway, just giving up some money and a Finnish (Swedish? Let's just call it 'Scandinavian') hellhole.
I wonder if Charles' fate is indicative of Cathaoir's future. One can dream, I guess...
EDIT: Just realized he's descended from Asta. If her particular 'qualities' are genetic, then we can look forward to some serious awesomeness!.
Shame about your Chinese expedition, but clearly the Russian war took precedence. Considering the hordes they could throw at you, I think you made a pretty clean getaway, just giving up some money and a Finnish (Swedish? Let's just call it 'Scandinavian') hellhole.
I wonder if Charles' fate is indicative of Cathaoir's future. One can dream, I guess...
EDIT: Just realized he's descended from Asta. If her particular 'qualities' are genetic, then we can look forward to some serious awesomeness!.
What is this? A semi-detailed report from a war? In this AAR?
Something must be afoot.
Something must be afoot.
Heh, there hasn't been a decent reverie since 1452... so true.
Also, I was surprised that it was for once the upstart poet that bit it, and not the official poet or the emperor.
Also, I was surprised that it was for once the upstart poet that bit it, and not the official poet or the emperor.
Thanks, glad you like it...and those are mad MS Paint skillz!Wow. Bard sure lost the plot comprehensively (as well as some choice body parts - all of them). There is nothing I can think of to say that will measure up to the utter stupidity shown by Bard, so I'll just leave it be.
Very enlightening to read the bear trainers' exchange.
So we move on to Erik. A blank slate, whose reputation has not yet been sullied. Perhaps this will mark a turning point - perhaps a sane monarch will finally ascend to the throne!
Then again, considering the genetic burden he's up against, the boy has no chance.
Yeah, probably not
Poor Charles - I'm sure that's not the way he wanted to go. At least he managed to apologize for forcing Erik to kill him.
Shame about your Chinese expedition, but clearly the Russian war took precedence. Considering the hordes they could throw at you, I think you made a pretty clean getaway, just giving up some money and a Finnish (Swedish? Let's just call it 'Scandinavian') hellhole.
I wonder if Charles' fate is indicative of Cathaoir's future. One can dream, I guess...
EDIT: Just realized he's descended from Asta. If her particular 'qualities' are genetic, then we can look forward to some serious awesomeness!.
And dreams can come true!
General Winter knows the Crovans all too well...........
Indeed he does
It was a surprisingly coherent war - plus I remembered to take screenshots during it (I always forget during wars)
You have no hope against TEH russian juggernaut...
Not now, but if they keep letting weak morons lead the negotiating...
A Crovan Emperor capable of a train of thought... where has the world come to???
It's madness!
Well, I've got to keep you guys guessing...even if you wind up right in the end
Erik really wants to be old school
1570-1571: The Crovan Empire is always hiring
And with that, the Crovan Empire takes a weeks vacation...as do I. (if I can, I'll squeak out one last update by tomorrow morning) So, who will the newest Poet Laureate be? Find out on the next exciting episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan 2: The World Is Way Too Much!
Erik II “The Pugnacious” Bardsson Crovan
Emperor of the Crovan Empire, King of the East and West Vikings, Pontifix Maxmimus, Lord of the Skraelings, Scourge of the Rus
In Which Erik Makes A Second Attempt At Private Reverie
(21 February 1570 – 20 December 1571)
So this morning I was reading through the military report. I couldn’t help but notice the speed of Russia’s recovery from our last war. As usual.
The last time they did this, we were at war within a month, so this bears watching.
Every time we have a war, they storm Osel, so I’ve sent one of the Battle Fleets to the islands as a warning to the Czar and to prevent any landings in case of war.
I wouldn’t be so concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that no other nation will ally themselves with me. Not even Bosnia, Russia’s arch-enemy. I’m assuming it’s just envy.
Now, I have noticed that within the…
“Sire, you have seemed down of late. Nothing darkened the morning of my existence like seeing your father in such a state. You know, one of my poems always helped him.”
Erik bit his lip for a moment, trying to control his rage. Slowly, pausing between each syllable he spoke. “I was in the middle of something here Cathaoir. Since you have seen fit to interrupt me, go ahead and say your poem. But it had better be the finest poem I’ve ever heard.”
Cathaoir swallowed hard. “Of course sire.” Cathaoir swirled his black cloak about. He’d been practicing hard at this, and it showed. “This one is untitled.”
“what have you wrought?
a smothering indistinctness of blackness as memories writhe.
once we were together in wonder,
childlike and childlike,
but your desire soured.
a sickening pool of bitterness -
tears follow bone, follow blood,
love condemned.
in a haze of tears,
i still love you.”
…
“So, uh, that’s it.” Cathaoir sat down nervously.
…
“Okay, I’ll just be leaving then.”
Erik rubbed his temples. “No Cathaoir, I think it’s time we finish this. Do you know why father kept you as Assistant Laureate?”
“Well, I would assume it is because he loved my poetry. It spoke to his soul.”
“No, no he didn’t Cathaoir. How could he. ‘Smothering indistinctness of blackness?’ That’s crap. He kept you because he enjoyed tormenting Charles. Remember Charles?”
Cathaoir was getting very uncomfortable. “Y-yes, I remember Charles.”
“Yeah, funny thing. When I was going through father’s rooms after his death, I found editions of every single one of Charles Bourbon-Bisset’s works. They were much loved, dog-eared pages, underscored passages, notes scrawled all over the margins. They were stacked on his bed-side table for reading.”
Cathaoir was taken aback. “Really! From the way he spoke of Charles, I always assumed he hated the man.”
“Oh Cathaoir, something you must know about my father. He didn’t care enough about anyone to actually hate them. Tormenting Charles amused him, irrespective of the man’s great talent. So, while he loved and respected the man’s poetry, letting him in on this secret would have spoiled the joke and ruined one of father’s minor daily amusements. Far more important than one man’s soul.
To his dying day, he often pretended not to know my brother Dan.”
You see, Charles, the Blood of Princess Asta flows through our veins, but so does the Demon who sired my grand-father. It flowed through father’s veins and it flows through mine. Perhaps stronger in mine.”
“I am sorry sire, I will never interrupt you when you are alone with your thoughts again, I can assure you!”
“No, no you will not Cathaoir. I shall make certain of that,” Erik said thoughtfully, “incidentally Cathaoir, would you like to know where I found all those signed, special copies of your poems you loved to present father with, and over which he made such a big deal?”
“No, sire, I think that…”
“His bed was uneven. Your books were stacked under a bed-post, correcting this problem.”
Cathaoir’s face fell. His jaw quivered. He was lost in such morose sorrow, trying hard to give vent to his pain by thinking up a brilliant poem, that he failed to notice Erik moving towards him.
Emperor of the Crovan Empire, King of the East and West Vikings, Pontifix Maxmimus, Lord of the Skraelings, Scourge of the Rus
In Which Erik Makes A Second Attempt At Private Reverie
(21 February 1570 – 20 December 1571)
So this morning I was reading through the military report. I couldn’t help but notice the speed of Russia’s recovery from our last war. As usual.
The last time they did this, we were at war within a month, so this bears watching.
Every time we have a war, they storm Osel, so I’ve sent one of the Battle Fleets to the islands as a warning to the Czar and to prevent any landings in case of war.
I wouldn’t be so concerned if it wasn’t for the fact that no other nation will ally themselves with me. Not even Bosnia, Russia’s arch-enemy. I’m assuming it’s just envy.
Now, I have noticed that within the…
“Sire, you have seemed down of late. Nothing darkened the morning of my existence like seeing your father in such a state. You know, one of my poems always helped him.”
Erik bit his lip for a moment, trying to control his rage. Slowly, pausing between each syllable he spoke. “I was in the middle of something here Cathaoir. Since you have seen fit to interrupt me, go ahead and say your poem. But it had better be the finest poem I’ve ever heard.”
Cathaoir swallowed hard. “Of course sire.” Cathaoir swirled his black cloak about. He’d been practicing hard at this, and it showed. “This one is untitled.”
“what have you wrought?
a smothering indistinctness of blackness as memories writhe.
once we were together in wonder,
childlike and childlike,
but your desire soured.
a sickening pool of bitterness -
tears follow bone, follow blood,
love condemned.
in a haze of tears,
i still love you.”
…
“So, uh, that’s it.” Cathaoir sat down nervously.
…
“Okay, I’ll just be leaving then.”
Erik rubbed his temples. “No Cathaoir, I think it’s time we finish this. Do you know why father kept you as Assistant Laureate?”
“Well, I would assume it is because he loved my poetry. It spoke to his soul.”
“No, no he didn’t Cathaoir. How could he. ‘Smothering indistinctness of blackness?’ That’s crap. He kept you because he enjoyed tormenting Charles. Remember Charles?”
Cathaoir was getting very uncomfortable. “Y-yes, I remember Charles.”
“Yeah, funny thing. When I was going through father’s rooms after his death, I found editions of every single one of Charles Bourbon-Bisset’s works. They were much loved, dog-eared pages, underscored passages, notes scrawled all over the margins. They were stacked on his bed-side table for reading.”
Cathaoir was taken aback. “Really! From the way he spoke of Charles, I always assumed he hated the man.”
“Oh Cathaoir, something you must know about my father. He didn’t care enough about anyone to actually hate them. Tormenting Charles amused him, irrespective of the man’s great talent. So, while he loved and respected the man’s poetry, letting him in on this secret would have spoiled the joke and ruined one of father’s minor daily amusements. Far more important than one man’s soul.
To his dying day, he often pretended not to know my brother Dan.”
You see, Charles, the Blood of Princess Asta flows through our veins, but so does the Demon who sired my grand-father. It flowed through father’s veins and it flows through mine. Perhaps stronger in mine.”
“I am sorry sire, I will never interrupt you when you are alone with your thoughts again, I can assure you!”
“No, no you will not Cathaoir. I shall make certain of that,” Erik said thoughtfully, “incidentally Cathaoir, would you like to know where I found all those signed, special copies of your poems you loved to present father with, and over which he made such a big deal?”
“No, sire, I think that…”
“His bed was uneven. Your books were stacked under a bed-post, correcting this problem.”
Cathaoir’s face fell. His jaw quivered. He was lost in such morose sorrow, trying hard to give vent to his pain by thinking up a brilliant poem, that he failed to notice Erik moving towards him.
And with that, the Crovan Empire takes a weeks vacation...as do I. (if I can, I'll squeak out one last update by tomorrow morning) So, who will the newest Poet Laureate be? Find out on the next exciting episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan 2: The World Is Way Too Much!
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Maybe Erik should hire that journalist who wrote the news article... he should be some sort of amusement as an advisor...