The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

[Snugglie]

And look, I have achieved my goals. I only married a Crovan, I didn’t turn into one of the beastly hammock-dwellers.

Call me heathen and smite me with a sword, but in my world the Crovans are reaching as much cult-status as the Knýtlings!

[Alfred Packer]

Call me heathen and smite me with a sword, but in my world the Crovans are reaching as much cult-status as the Knýtlings!

Heathen!

(but thanks for the compliment - ill deserved though it might be! )

[Alfred Packer]

Hakon Skoftesson Crovan

King of Norway


The vacant musings of the early years, 1186-1189











It is a new year, and my mom has departed the mortal coil, leaving me in charge of Norway. Frankly, she scared me, so I don’t really miss her as much as I probably should.

It does mean that suddenly I have to face things like this Papal “Request” for the revoking of lay investiture alone for the first time.

Since I am still embroiled in a war with my sister’s Irish enemies, it seems like a good idea to go along with the Pope on this one.










The Irish Crusade is over and I have placed Beli of Freysey in charge of my new Irish lands as Duke of Leinster. I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t really have much choice in the matter. He is a big and scary man and I’m actually quite happy he has gone elsewhere to live.










I saw a huge comet burning brightly in the sky. I decided it meant that a Crusade against the Pagans would be successful.











But what it really meant was that Spymaster Peder was going to go bat-sh!t crazy.










And that my sister was going to die.


So maybe the comet wasn’t good news after all. But then, I guess they never are.











I had a great idea today. I gave all of Scotland to Beli, the big scary Irishman. His Irish lands make Scotland even stronger, plus Beli is a big, strong guy who should be able to keep the new nation together. Also, this means I probably never have to see him again.











To celebrate the new King of Scotland, and my new goal – to liberate the British Isles from the tyranny of the Muslims and restore local Christian rulers – I host a lavish dinner party.

Beli celebrates his new Kingdom by declaring war on the Sultan of Qarakhnid. Even with an atlas, I could not figure out who that is, but I’m sure Beli can handle them.











Today, I am a man.











I’ve married Astrid, the sister of the Swedish King. Not for any real political reasons mind you, but because she is really keen.











And here is our first child – little Gunnar.

Oh no. Caitilin leaves and we are already back to nothing happening. At least Skofte was smarmy. The author probably won’t develop a personality for this loser until his death bed! Prepare yourselves for a shockingly dull episode next time on The Adventures of the Crovan Clan!

[rastak]

Oh, I'm sure all he11 will break loose shortly, it always does in CK!

[Farquharson]

I suggest going after the throne of Sweden on the grounds that having two King Hakons next door to each other is criminally confusing.

[Iudex]

I suggest going after the throne of Sweden on the grounds that having two King Hakons next door to each other is criminally confusing.

especially if you consider that they even have the same hairdresser

[phargle]

Call me heathen and smite me with a sword, but in my world the Crovans are reaching as much cult-status as the Knýtlings!

That smell in your bed?

That's me.

[phargle]

And is it just me or is this channeling Phargle somewhat?

Haha.

It's all good. You have my blessing, you Crovan bastard you.

[Alfred Packer]

rastak: indeed it does, and will!

Farquharson and Iudex: There will be war in Sweden, just the King of Sweden won't be invited to join in!

Phargle: Huzzah! An offical stamp of approval for this plagarism! Time to steal even more....hmmm...maybe a vengeful dead ruler wreaking havoc on the living?

[Alfred Packer]

Hakon Skoftesson Crovan

King of Norway


The vacant musings of the early years, 1190-1194











My insane spymaster dumped a sack full of rotting bones in my lap, an insult I tolerated for only two reasons.

First, he is crazy and just might kill me if I annoy him.

Second, the bones belonged to Saint Aslak of Tir Connail, famous as the man who drove all the frogs from Ireland. I understand we are related. But that is not important. What is important is that we can plant these bones in the Viken Cathedral right next to the bones of St. Franklin and double our tourist industry overnight!










Sweden, you might have noticed, has been completely overwhelmed by Spanish Saracens.










It is so bad that the Swedish King, a disgrace to the name Hakon, has fled with his court to this God-forsaken no-man’s land.











These Saracens have doubtless gotten soft beating up on the hapless King of Sweden, so you know what that means: Crusade!










Here is my son Inge. You’ll notice in the background that Ealmund the Steward has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle in Varmland.











The rest of the army arrived in time to save his bacon. We also shattered the Moor’s army. When I say “we,” what I mean is “my generals.”

As the King, I gave myself the critical task of guarding the escape routes, you know, in case anything went wrong.

I also have the vital task of taking official charge of all the lands we’ve conquered, so it’s not like I’ve been avoiding danger, no sir! I’ve just been busy with my critical duties.











Dear Astrid gave me another son, Haldor. I welcome any of you to guess why he can never be king.











1193 has been a really trying year. The Moors of Toledo would not make peace with me, so some genius at the court had the bright idea to sail the army down to Spain and break his power-base. We broke it alright. He still didn’t make peace, moving his court to the Western Isles, for some fool reason.

So, to recap, I spent a hot, miserable, and dusty summer tramping about Spain with the army all so I could add some new hassles…I mean vassals…thousands of miles from home.


I sweated like you wouldn’t believe and bathing isn’t “cool,” so I’d like you to take a guess at how the army smelled, marching about in full battle array, day in and day out for over a year.

Plus, all the natives spoke some gibberish language I didn’t understand and the food was all weird. Not a single Walrus Bladder Soup to be found anywhere.

Then we got lost and spent a month – a month mind you – marching in circles around Calatrava before we could find someone – anyone – who could give us decent directions to Toledo. And you know they didn’t speak Norse, damned heathens, so we spent another two months wandering around arguing about what the shepherd meant by “turn left two goat paths after the fork in the road.” I said that meant we should pass two goat paths and then take the next left, but nooooo, everyone else insisted it meant we should take the second goat path. Well who wound up being right, smartasses? The King, that’s who!


I swear before God that I will kill myself before I ever return to another miserable Mediterranean province. I hate this place.











We did stop off on the way home and take back my ancestral homeland. So, I spent the holidays on an island my ancestors fought like wolves to escape from.

I swear, I am never leaving Viken again if I can help it.











My experiments with Vassals have so far gone as well as dad’s did.

So Hakon went on Crusade and all he brought home was the same lousy attitude he left with. This is always the same old thing, let me guess, more vassals rebel? Hakon complains? Nothing at all purposeful happens? You know what. I quit. Well. Not really, but I should. Hopefully, Hakon gets the plague in the next “exciting” episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

[Rex Angliae]

Alfred, Not commented for a while but I continue to enjoy this epic tale hugely.

[rastak]

"So, to recap, I spent a hot, miserable, and dusty summer tramping about Spain with the army all so I could add some new hassles…I mean vassals…thousands of miles from home.
"

[Alfred Packer]

Rex and rastak: thanks you guys, I'm glad you've enjoyed it and I hope you keep enjoying it!

And now, more rich, Crovany goodness:

[Alfred Packer]

Hakon Skoftesson Crovan

King of Norway


The vacant musings of the middle years, 1195-1203











Here is my new Kingdom layout. I’m not going to bother taking you on a tour of the Spanish March since I doubt I still own it.










Haldor suffered a rather tragic accident today. He was leaned into St. Aslak’s tomb, trying to kiss the relic’s hand (the Miracle of All Kinds of Warts Removal has been attributed to this Saint – we do a brisk business with the local prostitutes!), when the lid snapped shut rather suddenly, maiming the lad rather severely. He walks quite funny now.

The bones of St. Joseph the Thigh-man are said to cure shattered limbs. It is a shame the mad spymaster did not acquire those instead!










Beating up the Heathens dominating Sweden was so easy last time; I’ve decided to have another go at it. The Jamtland Pagans own no Mediterranean lands. I checked.











My marshal sends tidings that the crushing of Jamtland is proceeding according to plan.










A Finnish Count, pledged his undying loyalty to me today, which was great. Also, my ex-marshal decided to take Jamtland and the Polar-Bear infested wasteland next door and keep them all to himself, which was less great. And also not part of the plan.











Oh great, and now Varmland just rebelled.











For some reason, the nit-wit in charge of Sweden has decided that this is a perfect time for his eviscerated country to get into a war with their arch-nemesis.

Since this is a “major war” and that means I have listen to tedious daily war reports from the generals, the Swedes had better not expect much in the way of mercy.











Dear Astrid died today. I am a bit hazy on the details, because I was busy attending to Varmland’s total capitulation, but it would seem she was found dead in the Viken Cathedral Church near the tomb of St. Aslak. Apparently she suffered a heart attack and fell, dashing her head repeatedly on the ground. A real tragedy, I tell you.











Here is the Kingdom of Norway after the Swedish War. Notice how much Sweden I’ve acquired? The generals tell me it was even easier than slaughtering pagans! I shall have to make war on them again sometime.











You know something weird? In Oppland you aren’t allowed to saddle up serfs and ride them about as if they are ponies. I mean, you can, but boy do they take it the wrong way!

Next year, I will have to move the Great Oppland Steeplechase elsewhere.

Well there you have it, Hakon fights a major war with the Crovan’s great foe, the King of Sweden, and he can’t even be bothered to pay attention to anything but the peace treaty. Seriously, I don’t think he even changed out of his pajamas the whole update! The AAR continues it’s dull death spiral in the next soporific episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

[RGB]

Perhaps dear Astrid's multifarious illnesses were too much even for the holy relics.

A terrible loss, in other words.

[Junkyard_Pope]

Hakon needs to find courtiers that are less clumsy. It seems they are always falling down and hurting themselves

I seriously love this AAR and I've been following it closely for a week now, but I just to comment on this one!

[General_BT]

Kingdom of Norway, clumsiest courtiers in Europe! Nice update, I giggled at Astrid's fate.

[Alfred Packer]

This was a very unfortunate upadate for courtiers. Maybe they've been waxing the floors of Viken Cathedral too much?

And welcome aboard Junkyard_Pope! Hopefully Hakon will die before his antics bore you away!

[Alfred Packer]

Hakon Skoftesson Crovan

King of Norway


The vacant musings of the middle years, 1204-1208











Little Inge came to me today and asked how he could best serve God. This is a reasonable question, since he is in Church School and all. I told him that the best way to serve God is to rule over a nation with an iron fist, crushing all opposition before you, this way there will be plenty of meek to inherit the Earth. Failing that, I pointed out that God also seems to smile upon massively overstrength Crusading efforts directed at puny Heathen nations, in this way your gigantic armies will get lots of absolution from piously killing heathens, piously ransacking heathen homes, piously pillaging and burning heathen cities and towns, and piously bringing back many fine heathen treasures which can be piously used to pay taxes to the crown and tithes to the church, expanding the wealth of God’s Earthy workers.










Uppland just rebelled, which should not come as a shock to anyone out there familiar with the Crovan brand of Feudalism.










Crazy Magnus has taken to wearing nothing but a pair of pants on his head. When I approached him, carefully, and requested he not do this, he said that St. Aslak had been coming to him in dreams, warning him that he must do this until all the frogs, toads and polar bears in Norway had been destroyed in a great Crusade.

I have ordered St. Aslak’s bones moved to another cathedral very far away from my castle.











Beli popped by my court today. He looked a little tattered and worn. His body stunk terribly. He walked very stooped over. His eyes were bloodshot. He clearly had not shaved in quite some time. His cloak was quite threadbare, and instead of the jewel-encrusted crown I had commissioned for Scotland, he was wearing a crown made of aluminum foil. The courtiers and attendants he brought were obviously the same beggars and cripples who lollygag outside the castle gates every single day.

He insisted that all was well in Scotland and he was merely popping by for a 5 or 10 year visit. I offered to let him stay in the stables with the grooms, so long as he got rid of his “entourage” and took a proper bath. I suspect Beli may be hiding some vital truth from me.










I don’t know who this guy is or how we ended up at war, but his damned envoys come by almost weekly demanding tribute for peace. I’m so sick of listening to them that I’ve dispatched a pair of regiments to 1 – find out where this guy lives and 2 – kill him.











Little Gunnar, my pride and joy, has grown up. I must be getting old, because this whole “giant collar fad” the kids are all into just plain looks silly to me.











Hopefully, this taste of Responsibility will convince Gunnar that smaller collars are much better suited to running a Kingdom!











Inge Stencil-Kitten, or whatever his name is, reports that he has found and killed the heathen who kept harassing me. He also reports that he has personally appropriated all the heathen’s land. I have rewarded him with the title Duke of Iceland.











And here is the Kingdom of Norway. See all those vassals? Not a single one is rebellious! A Crovan first!

Don’t get me wrong, I do have disloyal vassals, but they all live very far away, like Spain and wherever Inge wound up.











Hey wait a minute! What’s Inge doing in Varmland?

Inge sure does get around. See how Hakon avoids doing anything next time as the reign of the laziest Crovan ever continues on the next episode of The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

[Rex Angliae]

Now you mention it those collars are very Harry Hill!