The Adventures of the Crovan Clan

Eadbert “The Unhinged” Thurcytelsson Crovan

King of Norway and of Serbia, called “The Mover”


Reflections on the final years, 1376











Ecgwynn, the daughter I murdered my wife, shattered my reputation, and threw away all of my deeply cherished values for, has died.










And Duke Hug is being pulled back into the realm.











My dear brother Alfred, in spite of his status as “next of kin,” has lately taken to plotting against me, even though I keep giving him lands and titles.

You know, it’s not like I’m the first person to ever kill his spouse in the hopes to get an heir.

Something shall be done about his treachery.











Geoffrey The Spymaster has killed Alfred’s Spymaster and taken his place.

Geoffrey is a master of disguise.

Alfred won’t even see this coming.












I am starting to wonder whose side Geoffrey the Spymaster is on. His schemes have consumed over 1,100 pounds of gold and not once has he even come close to killing Alfred. Sure, a couple of attendants and a cat have fallen prey to his plans, but Alfred has eluded my grasp.

I finally had to call off the whole plan when Geoffrey was exposed and had to flee for his life.











Alfred, it would seem, has hired a new spymaster.

Cuthbert would argue that Alfred’s spymaster is very effective.

Or at least, he might, if we could ever find his head.











Not to be outdone, I have hired a Professional Hit-Man to kill that Spymaster.










Okay, well now I know, you need to be specific when you hire contract help. I’ll miss Geoffrey.

This time I have sent him out to kill Alfred’s Spymaster.












Damn! That Spymaster Eadburh is a dynamo! Alas, the Hit-Man was captured and totally confessed my role.

I mean, yeah, we’ve been trying to kill each other all year, but this is the first real hands on proof Alfred’s gotten of my plans.

I wonder, has our little game taken on a new dimension?













I guess it has. Alfred, in is speech about the rebellion, stressed how I’ve tried to kill him like 10 times, totally unprovoked, and I’ve murdered a member of his court, while in retaliation, he’s only killed one member of my court – and that was just to try and warn me off.

You know, when he puts it that way, I kind of feel like the bad-guy in all of this.

I mean, I’m still going to crush his rebellion, but I probably won’t enjoy it as much.
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Eadbert “The Unhinged” Thurcytelsson Crovan

King of Norway and of Serbia, called “The Mover”


Reflections on the final years, 1376-1379











Alfred may say all the nasty things he wants, but it is deeds that matter! And these 40,000 fellows will be committing all sorts of violent “deeds” in Alfred’s lands!










She was going to bare me a son! You bastard! Curse you Alfred! Curse you Alfred’s Spymaster! Oh God…the jig is up…what woman will want to be married to a violent, murderous, oozing, goon?

Good lord! What father will give his daughter the death sentence?

I don’t know…I don’t even want to live anymore.











I’m just going to take to my bed at let my lungs fill with phlegm.











The Generals tell me Alfred has been crushed. I don’t even see the point any more…He is the only heir whether he lives in a dungeon or in a palace.

I guess I could kill him…but what is the point. I’d rather the villain I know get this dump when I am gone than the villain I don’t.












I shall leave him Epirus – it is his least favorite land.











Has anyone stopped to consider that being a bed-ridden, diseased pneumatic with a grotesque and festering wound might – just might mind you – be why I am passive?

Jerks.










I have slowly turned over most of the country to Alfred. I am nearly done.

I can only hope that posterity remembers my struggles to build Crovan Norway into something truly wonderful and to protect our family’s cherished line. Someday, someone will remember the tragedy of the life of King Eadbert. I think it will make a very, very impressive play, one sure to bring people to tears.

*koff* *koff*






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Alfred Thurcytelsson Crovan

King of Norway and of Serbia


Ruminations on the first part of his rule, 1379-1384











So, now I am king. But blah. What’s the point? I have no sons. My wife is dead. I am old and my body is broken from years of fighting for my life against my loon of a brother, so I probably won’t be fathering any more children. The next Crovan in line for the family throne isn’t even Saxon, so I guess our line ends with me. On the plus side, I guess since my chief tormentor is now dead, I can at least relax and enjoy the last part of my life.










As you may imagine, that sociopath has left the nation in chaos, so I’ve given away a large part of the patrimony and remitted Scutage for the near future. Hopefully that will show the people, well at least the people who matter, you know – the ones with swords – that not all Crovans mean trouble.











Okay, so the plan isn’t off to the best start ever.











Of course, he was quickly brought back into line. Corinth isn’t exactly a military powerhouse.












And now, to test our bonds, several of my vassals have declared war on the Kingdom of Germany. “Oh no!” you say, “War with another Kingdom? But only God’s Enemies win then!”

To which I reply: The Kingdom of Germany isn’t exactly the military powerhouse Corinth is.











My Marshal – General Sigebert: dynamo on the field of battle, moron with a map.











The Church of Olaf Crovan Christ has taken hold in my capitol. It would seem that a legend has arisen among the common people that Christ has returned to Earth, but not with Power as foretold, but rather with a rather serious skin condition, a large quantity of cheap wine, and twin Papal Excommunications. Their message is somewhat garbled, as you can well imagine.










And the Pope has decided to save the King of Germany from my righteous…I don’t know…ennui?












Being King roused me enough that I did marry again, and even fathered another child. Of course, it was another girl. So much for that.













I know that murderous Spymasters have long been a part of the fabric of Crovan Courtier life, but, number one, she did just kill my wife and number two, she has told many people “the walking Nose we call a King is next,” so I guess I’ll have to do something about this.

Shame though. If it hadn’t been for the personal threats, I could have easily married a looker like Elfleda.
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