The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

Half-Dan “the Man” Gunnarsson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales, The Terror of the Moors, the Pocket Monarch (not said to his face)


Ruminations on the later years, 1256-1263











Today I am hosting a great Royal Feast in York to celebrate the destruction of Toledo’s British Empire, among other things.










First off, I have returned the Ancestral Title to the Crovan family, yet again. It has been assigned to my cousin Finn. He made a very nice acceptance speech, only marred when he thanked me graciously and, touching on all my conquests noted that “big things come in little packages.”

If we weren’t still at a Royal Feast, I would have had him strung up.









I am also celebrating the acquisition of these Spanish vassals, of course, since I plan to fight more of these Spanish Moors, I hope these little sacrificial lambs aren’t too attached to their castles!












You will also note that I’ve really consolidated my hold on the British Isles.










For some reason, King Otto the Random decided to show up at the feast and lay formal claim to the Earldom of York. Then he passed out in the topiaries. Clearly, the ravings of this quite drunk King of Italy are not a concern to me.











No, I have much bigger concerns than which country plans to rule Central Europe before collapsing in turn. I am heading back out on the Crusading Trail. The Fatimids will be driven from what remains of their British possessions.











Today, I am crowned King of Ireland. The scope of my latest holy war became somewhat expanded.











And now I am King of Wales.










It’s like potato chips. You can’t just seize one Muslim province.

I now own every piece of land every Crovan before me has held, claimed or even dreamed of possessing. I am the greatest and mightiest warrior, general and commander that Christendom has ever seen. Truly I have earned my sobriquet “the Man!”

I’ve matched the greatest conquerors of all time. But Half-Dan is not satisfied with equal! No, He will be the greatest of all time!












My dear wife Ragnhild died last night. Some of you might think we had become kind of estranged, since she went to live in another county far away from the capital several years ago during my “fathering Bastards” phase, but that is simply untrue. In fact, we were working through our problems just great.

In fact, on her last night, Ragnhild and I were really making progress. I convinced her to come over to Viken Castle and enjoy a nice candle-lit dinner on the roof. It was a starless night, but breezy. When the candles blew out during a particularly strong gust of wind, we were left alone in the darkness. It would have been very romantic if she hadn’t tripped over me and fallen off the tower.

Not only did I lose my wife, but I sprained my back.

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Half-Dan “the Man” Gunnarsson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales, The Terror of the Moors, the Pocket Monarch (not said to his face)


Ruminations on the later years, 1263-1267











I have remarried. Sviatoslava is a rather pretty young lady who has been living at my court for a while. She told me she was really into short guys, which pretty well clinched the deal.










Norrland has requested my help. It would seem he is troubled by a rebellious vassal. Duke Hakon is a Crovan, so I am pretty sure that the vassal problems that have plagued this family are genetic.









I know, I know, I’m an addict.












The Bishop of Vannes has wisely decided to hitch his wagon to a star.










And Osterbotten falls to my marshals, who split the Earldom between Norrland and Finland.











Oh my, dealing with this warfare in France and issues at home is really wearing me out. Maybe I need to sit back and take a break from these endless conquests.











And here is France after my latest Crusade. I know it looks like I won a lot of stuff, and I did – and you better believe this is being billed as another in a long series of Half-Dan’s Wars of Glorious Conquest, but between you and me, attacking Mosul proved a mistake. Technically, I won because the Emir gave up has claim on Bedford, but I’d conquered a lot more of France before his armies arrived in force and I only saved Brittany by giving it all to that Bishop.

I think it is time that Half-Dan the Man spends a little quality time at home, enjoying his hot new bride.











And enjoy her I did. Meet my new son Skule. My darling Svia thinks he should be King over my doddering old son Svein. I agree. Plus, giving him all the titles he needs to take precedence insures he will be out of the house so Svia and I can spend even more time together!










Guttorm MacLeod, of the ancient MacLeod Clan just rebelled against me, proving once and for all that the MacLeod Clan has lost their mojo when it comes to great names.












I personally crushed the rebels, but it took a lot out of me. I still led the charge, but it was from the seat of my Rascal Scooter, which isn’t as imposing as you might think.

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Half-Dan “the Man” Gunnarsson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales, The Terror of the Moors, the Pocket Monarch (not said to his face)


Ruminations on the later years, 1267





I roused Svein the Big Oaf early today. I may not feel up to a walk about the grounds, but a ride about the Castle Grounds on the shoulders of my trusty bodyguard, well, that is always invigorating!




Hey Svein! You dropped me! Hey Svein! Damn it. I can’t get up. I seem to have re-injured my back.



Oh well. I’ll just wait. He’ll notice I’m gone any moment. Ah, see, here he comes, running back along the path. Hey Svein! I’m over here! Hey! HEY! LOOK DOWN YOU LUNATIC! AAAAAHHHHHHH




*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*


















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Skule Half-Dansson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales


The Regency of Svia, 1267-1274 (ages 1-8)











Hello, I am Sviatoslav. I am a Russian woman who fled to the court of Norway when my homeland was destroyed. In the last year, I have married a megalomaniacal midget, become the Queen of more countries than I can spell, given birth to a son, and convinced my sexagenarian husband that his nation would be better served by making this newborn infant his heir over his 30 year old son who has been managing a sizeable domain for over 20 years. Also, I have buried that husband and taken over the regency on behalf of my son Skule. I’ve been busy.










I can’t see any practical reason not to continue Half-Dan’s plans for France, so I have sent the marshal Edmund off to overrun a small sheikdom. He gets to keep it for himself.









Of course, it fell quickly to Half-Dan’s experienced armies. You should all be delighted. Half-Dan conquers England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, Sweden, and Denmark and you get to see pictures of his children and his whores.

The conquest of the County of Thouars, you get in full detail.












The Count of Arques was away on Crusade, so it seemed a fine time to add his lands to Skule’s domain.










Now it is time to plan for my little Skule’s education. He wanted to join the army so he could become a great hero like his father, but I sent him to Court School instead. I’d like to be able to keep an eye on the tyke.











The Count yields. As expected. Things are going well for us now, with luck I will add France to Skule’s domain, thus securing myself a place in history equal to my late husband. Father always insisted that our family must not die in obscurity, in spite of our impoverishment. Fear not father, your Svia will be known as an Amazon, a Conqueror equal to her famed husband!











VIKEN – (AP) Today tragedy struck the King of Norway when his regent slipped on a cat and fell down the stairs. The cat survived the experience. The Regent, not so much. This reporter was unable to locate the name of the deceased, but that is not important. What is important is that the Royal Cabinet has already chosen a successor. Rumor has it that the successor to the dead person is one of Half-Dan’s generals, so everyone should look out! The Crovans will doubtless soon be on the warpath!

There are probably funeral arrangements for the old Regent, but who cares, we’ll all be basking in glory again soon!



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Skule Half-Dansson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales


The Regency of Marshal Orson, 1274-1277 (ages 8-11)











Hello, I am Orson de Donges, Marshal of the Kingdom of Norway and Regent of the same. My last name, before you start snickering, does not me “of the Weiner.”

Although if it did mean that, you could safely assume it is because I am what the kids call “a tuna under the cod-piece.” Tuna are very big fish, in case you were unaware of this fact.










My first move in France, because I do have some plans there, is to sweep up a potential vassal.









Possession of Avranches will give me total domination of the English Channel. Plus, as a Muslim, there is a decent chance I will get to claim this land for my own.












King Rupprecht the Monkey Boy of Italy offered us an alliance. Rupprecht, there is a reason your nation is in total collapse. If you think we are going to ally with that reason, you are more insane than I suspected.









Now this is a concern to me. Carcasonne I am claiming for myself. Frankly, I deserve it. Not only did I serve Half-Dan long and loyally and receive crap in return, but now I’ve conquered most of France for his sop of a son. In fact, I shall depart Viken to take a tour of my new estates immediately, but don’t worry Skule, I’m sure you’ll be fine until I get back.












Oh yes, before I leave, I need to dispatch an army to drive Mosul from this war, since most of these conquests have come at their expense, they should be just about broken and I will be enjoying some fine Mediterranean living.


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Skule Half-Dansson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden of Denmark of England of Scotland of Ireland and of Wales


Thoughts on the Civil War – the early years, 1277-1278 (ages 11-12)











Today I had a grand reception at Viken Castle. I invited all the great vassals. I know that Marshal Orson said that I would do great and all as king, but I’m a little scared because we are still at war with Mosul and also the Steward said we have no money at all, in fact he said we are in debt up to our eyeballs. He said the only way we can recover is for the nobles to all pitch in and pay a lot of taxes for the next few years. Plus, my new marshal told me that the whole army was tied up in Spain and he was sending all the troops he could find to fight in south France, so I was going to have call up the feudal levies to keep pace in the war. I told all the great nobles about the problems of the crown and asked if any of them would like to be regent while I get the hang of being king.

After the laughter died down (I guess I made a joke?), I went to check on dinner. When I came back, they’d all left. The head butler said they all suddenly remembered things they needed to do back at their estates. For example, the Duke of Iceland left the oven on.

One vassal was nice enough to leave his Herald behind. Unfortunately, the Herald merely announced that I was deposed and his lord would be assuming the Kingship shortly.

I don’t think the grand reception went as well as I’d hoped.










My own Heralds told me that the guy claiming the throne was the Count of Laigin, which is apparently in a swamp in Ireland. Come on. I am eleven years old and even I know that this guy doesn’t have a chance.









News just reached me that Carcassonne was just overrun by the heathens from Mosul. There was no word on ex-Regent Orson or if he survived.

I really, really hope he died.












The Irish Lords seem to be mad about something. The Archbishop of Meath just claimed the throne of Norway too.










The armies just captured Granada, the Mosul capital. Unfortunately, this did not end the war like Regent Orson insisted it would. It just made them really mad, bankrupted the treasury and let the heathens invade my French lands.

I think there was a reason dad never gave this guy anything important to run.











I won a war! The Archbishop of Meath surrendered all of his lands to me. Or, rather, he surrendered to one of my loyal generals. I guess. I don’t really know. I just know that Meath is mine again.











Now the Archbishop of Brittany just rebelled. I don’t know why the priests are so upset! I go to Sunday School every week and I’m signed up to play Joseph in the Court School Christmas Pageant.

Don’t they know I love the Baby Jesus?











The Count of Laigin realized his mistake today. All it took was touching off a series of violent rebellions followed by the total plundering of his ancestral homeland, but yeah. He remembers know that he was just a backwoods petty lord and, even if a little kid, I’m still the King of, like, almost everything.










I don’t get it. I offered to yield every one of Brittany’s claims. What on Earth could he possibly want? I even said “please!”

The Duke of Ulster was visiting the castle, so I asked him what the Duke of Brittany could possibly want. He just shrugged and then mumbled, “beats me…I was just here to lay formal claim to your throne…I wasn’t even listening.” I just thought he was embarrassed to be brought into the conversation unexpectedly, so I let him go.

When my Royal Officials in Ulster were all bloodily massacred, I realized he might not have been joking.










I’m kind of scared to call up my vassals’ troops, since with the way things are going, they would just march on Viken Castle and kill me, so I’m sending demesne troops after Ulster.

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