Oh, the pain. A headache this bad can mean only one thing: I must have died. Last I remember I was fighting alongside the loyal retainers of the Minamoto clan at the Battle of Dannoura, what a fight it was, the current raging as badly as the implacable enemy. An arrow of mine had just connected on some Taira scum when I thought the ship was veering dangerously close to the rocks...I hope I went down to the enemy rather then being thrown from the boat and drowned, such a dishonorable way for a warrior to die. But where was I now? Once, a long time ago, I had been studying history in the 21st Century when someone, angel or demon I know not, asked me if I would rather live history than merely read of it, ever since I have lived one life after another, different ages and lands, taking part in the workings of history in one way or another. For those who wonder what it's like to be reincarnated, it's a lot like a hangover--you wake up in a strange bed with a splitting headache and not the least idea who you are or where you are. Now, through the stabbing pains I espyed through my window that dawn was just breaking, whoever I was, maybe I could sleep in today. Then I heard the stentorian call of the muezzin, and I knew I had left Japan for the Islamic lands. I forced myself out of bed, whoever I was, it would look bad if word got around I was sleeping through morning prayer. I took my first full breath in my new surroundings--a big mistake, as the unmistakeable stench of dead fish reached my nostrils. I must be on the coastline somewhere. Once I find the local mosque I'll know my position relative to Mecca. After prayers I rejoice inwardly to find one of God's most precious gifts, coffee. Totally lacking in medeval Japan, I can hardly say how much I missed the glorious bean. The coffee tastes Turkish, which is also the language the shopowner uses when he brings me my cup. I soon learn from the voluble coffeeshop propreitor everything I need to know: I am now Kemal Reis, supreme admiral of the Ottoman Navy, a skilled hand at maritime warfare (4/4/4). I am living in the city of Smyrna, where the Turkish fleet is docked. It is first day of Rabay' al-Awal in the year 897 AH (or January 1, 1492 by the Gregorian calendar) and I am soon to report to Istanbul to meet Sulatn Bayezid II in person for discussion of strategy. This should be interesting...
ICG v. 2.3
Traditional Majors (Turkey, Russia, Spain, France, England, Austria, Portugal, Poland)
CoTs Moscow, Copenhagen, Astrakhan
Tax setting: Chaos Hurts