The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

Bard the “Incomprehensible” Skulesson Crovan
(also known as the Second Heretic King)

King of All Norway of Sweden and of Denmark


Wefwections on his weign, 1333











Wewwhul, now the Duke of Fwinwand has decwawed indepwendance. At weast he did so wiffout the usuawwll cwaiming of my thwone, so he may go in peace.

(The Duke of Finland has deserted Bard, but did so rather politely, so Bard will just let him go.)












Nice twy bwishops, I know how this game goes…I give you mwoney and you kweep it!

(Bard does not fall for the old “give us 1,000 pounds of gold and maybe we can stop your kingdom from degenerating)










Hmmm…pwague and webewwwssll….weebbeeeewwwww…twaitows.

(Bard makes a rather dull comment on the fact that his realm is troubled with both the plague and rebels.)











It is quite a stwain managing my giant estates fwom my swick bed, but I wiwwlll swowdurr own. Whawwt cwould pwossiby go wowng?

(Bard somehow thinks it is a good plan to manage an unruly and rebellious empire from his bed without assistance, you know, in between bouts of puking up intestinal worms.)

I can weed you know…they tweach that in cowwwrrt skoowwwl.

(Oh. Sorry.)











It wowwwld sweem Vwikwen Cwastwel is haunted. Foweer the wast week, the wawwwllls…wawwwww…ww. *Sigh* Stwones hwave bween oozing bwood.

Awwwso, Baawlzwebuub has twaken up wesidwence in my cwoset.

(On top of everything else, Bard has gone bat-sh!t crazy.)












Swodwermmannwand has suwwendwered two my invwincibel awwms. I thwink the wegions of fwying mwonkeys fwinished them owff.

(Bard appears to be suffering from hallucinations. Also, the Count of Sodermanland has yielded. There were no flying monkeys involved anywhere.)












Now the Duke of Bwegswegwwen suwwendwews. He may kweep his wands so wong as he stays away fwom cwourt, because I thwink it wouwd kwill me if I had to say that name ewewy dway.

(Bergslagen surrenders. Bard finds his title difficult to pronounce.)









Wuwffhewe, heiww to my thwone, has expwessed a desiwure fwor mowweeerrr wands.

What? Is waiting fowwrr youwwrr pwuague infwested king to die taking twoo wong?

Ingwate.

(Bard is offended that Wulfhere is so disloyal, especially considering that all he has to do is sit around, do nothing and wait for plague, worm, and wound-ridden Bard to die and he gets everything.)












I wiwwwwlll tweach him. Hewwerrrr Saxon: Hawve awwwl of my Engwish wands.

Swucker.

(Bard has inherited, from his father, a distaste for England. Giving these lands to Wulfhere is a backhanded compliment, since any good Crovan knows how vile and traitorous the English are. Wulfhere may not get the intended slight.)













Wow Bishop…do you weewwwy think so?

(Bard, excommunicated by the church several years ago, is making a sarcastic reply to his Bishop’s urgent warning.)
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Bard the “Incomprehensible” Skulesson Crovan
(also known as the Second Heretic King)

King of All Norway of Sweden and of Denmark


Wefwections on his weign, 1333-1334











Wewwhul, apawwantwey it is a non-weffullwwll fowm of de pwague, since a bedwidden, sickwy king can wivwee…wwiiivvvvewww...wiiiiiii. Exist fowwr yeaws wiff it.

(Bard is not especially concerned about news of the plague spreading, since it hasn’t changed his life very much.)












Good god pweopwwweeell. Doesn’t this get owwlld awftwerrr a wiwweeelll.

(The constant rebellions seem to be wearing on Bard. He is wondering if the participants ever get as tired of rising up against him as he does dealing with them.)










*sigh*

(Apparently not.)











You know what? I hawve fwound that I do no need these pawacwes, jewewwweells, vwassawwwls or any of it. Awwwl I wewwwy need is my wife Gunhiwww…Gunhiwwwwwweeeeww. Gunny.

I shawwwl summon heweerr to my bedside so we can spwend evwey waking moment togetheww.

(Disillusioned, sickly and –probably- filthy and infected, Bard has decided all he needs is a good woman by his side, apparently unaware that all she feels she needs is a few stout stable hands by her side.)











But waiwt! I thought we awere in wove!

(Gunnhild declared that she would need much in the way of gold and jewels to spend even a moment in Bard’s filthy-stench of death chambers listening to his mad ravings and, since the Kingdom is bankrupt, she would be returning forthwith to her stables and Hans, her personal trainer.)












So dats it. I am abandoned by my wiwwev. I am betwayed by my vwassawws. I have spwent the wast decade wotting in this bed fwom a bunch of stab wounds. I vwomit intwestinal wowwwms evewy day. I have a hacking cough. Wucifwer wives in my cwoset. I have the pwague. Awso, no one understands anything I sway.

Oh yeah, and I am a hewetic.

I guess if awwwl that cwannot kiwwwll me, I wiwwwll wive fowevwer!

*hack*

*cough*

*blech*

*gurgle*

*flail*


(Bard having lamented his unfortunate life has either chocked on intestinal worms or phlegm, or possibly been strangled by Baalzebub.)
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Wulfhere “The Saxon” Haraldsson Crovan

King of All Norway of Sweden and of Denmark


Ruminations on the early years, 1334-1336











Now, then, my first act as King will be to secure my line –such as it is- on the throne. I’ve given my whiney son enough lands to ensure he will be elected once I pass and, bonus, I have made sure those lands are as far away from me as possible. Maybe living in England for a while will help man Thurcytel up.

I should never have agreed to that name. It’s no wonder.












Olaf of Jamtland has been permitted to return to the fold, after a suitable period of groveling. Unlike certain diseased monarchs, Wulfhere will not tolerate nonsense from his vassals.










The Papal Nuncio popped in this afternoon. He insinuated that things go much better in the world for Crovan Monarchs who show the church proper respect.

I think he wanted a cathedral or Naumadal, but screw that. I went and listened to one of his endless sermons and I can’t see donating anything that would keep that guy in Norway any longer than necessary.











Svein stopped in yesterday. He wanted a private meeting, very hush-hush. Apparently, he was planning to overthrow a kingdom and needed some financial backing.

While he was busy laying out his scheme to poison his ruling half-brother, murder the man’s children and marry his widow, something clicked in my head.

I bludgeoned him with Royal Scepter until he collapsed, lifeless, at my feet.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” I growled, “I am your ruling half brother!”












I stalked down the hall, wiping bits of Svein off the Royal Scepter, my day thoroughly ruined, when who should I see? Yet another of my pansy-children Leofwine.

He was doing just what he is named for: whining.

“Daaaaadddddeeeee…I don’t waaaaannnnnnaaaa go to bed…I’m scccaaarreeed. There’s a mooonnnnnnnnsstttteerrrrr in my closet.”

I decided to fix this in one shot, so I shoved him in the closet and blocked the door so he couldn’t get out.

“Keep whining and the monster will find you real quick, wimpy.”

I’ll let him out tomorrow.












Well well, Skule. Great name for a usurper. You can kiss Trondelag goodbye.












I have promoted Skule’s ex-vassal Hakon to the Dukedom of Trondelag.

Skule’s head mounted on Trondelag Castle should remind him to stay loyal.









Just to prove that I am not just a bloody, heavy handed despot, I would like you to meet my cousin Asta. She is a murderer. Everyone knows it.

By all rights, she should be put to death.

But no, I can spot someone useful a mile away. Instead, I sent her to her brother’s court to live while things settle down.












The Arab Duchess of Meissen has offered to pledge loyalty to me. She lives in the heart of what was Germany, so I can’t see any reason to say yes, but still, maybe something will come of this…













And now Nassau has come along too. This is unexpected, but okay.
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