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Thread: Lotharingia -- A tale of resurrection

  1. #101
    Blasted Conniving Roman General_BT's Avatar
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    I personally like the frame on the maps.

    And I'm more than willing to wait - I know exactly what you're going through with the schoolwork piling up. Its the end of the semester and cram time. Take as much time as you need - we'll be waiting for your next update!
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  2. #102
    Zealous Firebrand Snugglie's Avatar
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    Just wanted to show that I am alive.

    The mini-mocks will go on this week and next, and the week after that I will be holding a presentation in Theory of Knowledge that constitutes half of my grade. And after that, dear readers, I will come back to you. The next chapter is already half-written, and this is not abandoned by far.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
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  3. #103
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    Glad to hear from you, Snugglie! We will wait a few more weeks. But then you have to promise us a whole bunch of updates! You have months of catching up to do.
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  4. #104
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    I was canonized late yesterday evening by canonized, the author of Timelines: What if Spain Failed to Control the World?. Now, this came more or less unexpected to me, and the irony that I haven't posted for ages here is noted. I am confident that you'll get your chapter before the weekend, less something unexpected shows up.

    No writing is better than its readers, so I want to thank you all! Without you, this thing would have died ages ago.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
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    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
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    Let racist ignorance be ended,
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    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  5. #105
    Crazy Reactionary crusaderknight's Avatar
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    Just read the interview, Snugglie! Congratulations!

    And may I add that I, too, am a big fan of Conn Iggulden and Valerio Massimo Manfredi. You have a natural talent for narrative writing. I think you should use Lotharingia (and perhaps a few AARs after this one is finished) to hone your skills, and then you will be ready to join the ranks of published authors. But unlike most authors who start out with just their family and close friends as fans, you will start your career with a well established fan base!
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  6. #106
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    Quote Originally Posted by crusaderknight
    Just read the interview, Snugglie! Congratulations!

    And may I add that I, too, am a big fan of Conn Iggulden and Valerio Massimo Manfredi. You have a natural talent for narrative writing. I think you should use Lotharingia (and perhaps a few AARs after this one is finished) to hone your skills, and then you will be ready to join the ranks of published authors. But unlike most authors who start out with just their family and close friends as fans, you will start your career with a well established fan base!
    Kind words as usual canonized, and I hope that you have looked into Iggulden's new series about Genghis Khan. I've only had time to read one of the books there, and that one was great. Thanks for your patronage.
    ---

    And now, something will happen, that has not happened in an age...
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  7. #107
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    Congrats on the canonization!
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  8. #108
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    Chapter XIV





    Since the call to arms from Emperor Henrik von Franken in September, 1083 A.D., five months had passed. The mobilization of the troops of Lower Lorraine had taken more time than expected; no-one had gotten completely used to the fact that the duchy, since the success in the Revolt of the Four Dukes, now was one of the largest in all of Europe. More people saw the irony in that the duke of this thriving economy and military power was very unwilling to go to war, and preferred to remain among his books.

    Thiedric could feel the cold wind whip the parts of his face that were uncovered as he rode in the middle of the long procession that was one of the two Lorrainese armies. He had shivered when they rode out from Andernach where they had assembled but had quickly lost what sensitivity he had in skin and flesh. The winter was harsh at the soldiers that had entered the very inhospitable march across all of Germany and down into Italy, from where they would take utility of a merchant fleet in Pisa specifically bought for the purpose of transporting them to the other side of the sea; the land of Our Saviour. This had cost duke Godfried a staggering amount of 160 ducats, which was many times the sum that had been payed as a tribute by Thiedric to Godfried after the revolt.

    He had grown accustomed to being the vassal of another ruler than the Emperor during the past years, and felt that it had changed him for the better. True, no longer was he counted as a mighty man of great standing, but at the same time he was freed from all expectations of participating in the feeble intrigue-making of the dukes, their women, mother-in-laws and dogs. Thiedric had been tired of going to large feasts and banquets all since he started with it, and the numb feeling of his skin was far better than the numbness of his mind that he had felt at the end of each banquet, at what time he tended to be beyond his senses in a world of ale and wine.

    The road to Pisa was long, and as he felt the movement of his horse under his romp – he insisted on going on horseback rather than in a coach – he had a lot of time to think back on the years that had passed since he found a new lord in Godfried d’Ardennes. That was nine years ago, and as he let his gaze wander aimlessly over the forest surrounding the road on both sides he thought to himself that he could have been very much worse off – you do not get to choose your liege, just as you do not get to choose your parents. He and Godfried had little in common more than that they both were male and human, neither appearance-wise nor personality- or interest-wise, Godfried being a hunched, silent intellectual that felt most at peace with his books and the memory of Charlemagne and Pepin the Great, and Thiedric being a warrior of tall stature and with a difficulty to read.

    But Thiedric respected Godfried, and that was the main point. Godfried was a calm and thoughtful person with a lot of empathy, all too much empathy to ever be a warrior. This was of course not a problem since he had men like Eckhard von Blankenheim and Thiedric himself in his service that could do his bidding on the battlefield, and his qualities in management of the duchy far overweighed his ineptness in combat. Despite never having had a conversation with him, Thiedric felt that he liked the duke.

    He flinched a little on his horse as the wind grew stronger for a moment, only to calm down afterwards and be replaced by the light tumbling down of snowflakes. If ever there was a bad time to march through Germany, Emperor Henrik von Franken had been able to choose it as the start of his crusade.

    ---



    “Do not blame yourself Camila, it is not your fault that our son has turned out the way he has.” Godfried had taken to never mention Guntram by name, but instead simply call him ‘our son’. Folkhard was always mentioned by name however.
    “But Godfried, then whose fault is it! He can impossibly be a product entirely of his environment and a series of unfortunate events, some of it is bound to be our fault.”
    “Camila, come to your senses and stop shunning yourself!” Godfried bellowed. She quieted. “Our son is a knave and could I, I would disown him. And no, don’t you protest! That is my firm opinion of him, and he is lucky to be the first-born son of a duke, for if he had not been I would have thrown him out on the high road a long time ago.”
    “Godfried, that is your son you are talking about!” Camila cried.
    “He is not our son. We just happened to breed him.”

    ---


    Despite Godfried’s rather clear opinion of his oldest son – opinions that were known all through the duchy and also to Guntram himself that could not care less what his ‘inept, cowardly father’ thought about him – the time was approaching to find Guntram a bride. This had caused Godfried great distress, for he had a hard time engaging to find a good bride for his bull of a son. It did not become better by the fact that Guntram hardly was very good at his trade as a diplomat, and that he was perfectly content with having the kitchen-maids mounting him.

    After many hours in his study, Godfried had reached the conclusions that the bad parts in Guntram would be equalled out if he got children with a woman of better moral composition. The temptation of giving Guntram a Bohemian widow of forty only to cause him distress was tempting, but in the end Godfried decided to find the best bride possible for the son he did not any longer mention by name least he had to.

    Godfried’s studies of Charlemagne and his travels and doings had kept momentum since the start, and although a war with France was impossible and highly undesirable Godfried felt that there would never be a Lotharingia without the blood of Charlemagne. Heavily, he heaved himself up from the cushioned chair of dark oak that he sat in and lurched over to the large book-case next to the fireplace. After a short while of pulling thick books out and putting them back in again, he finally found one that contained what he was looking for; the old family-tree of Charlemagne that he had sent for years and years ago.



    If the contest stood between trying to get a daughter of Vermandois or one of Amiens, Vermandois was definitely to prefer for Godfried. The reputation of the Vermandoises was far better than that of the other family, and the count happened to have two daughters approaching suitable age for marriage; Godfried did not feel like marrying his son to an eleven-year-old.

    The two ladies in question were fifteen-year-old Constance and fourteen-year-old Sophie, and according to what information Godfried had on them, they both had their advantages and less practical traits. Constance, the oldest, was a clever and idle girl that was skilled with many things. Her general temper was that of a very suspicious and introverted person though, something that was not always of an advantage for a duchess. Her younger sister, Sophie, was a believing and very kind girl, sadly not as good neither in diplomacy nor in the art of numbers.

    Godfried comforted himself with the notion that none of the sisters were eligible for marriage yet anyhow, and as long as Guntram was happy enough with the maidens of the court, Godfried could not care all too much. He returned to his chair, and sank down into his own sphere of comfort, alone in his library. He had only sat there for a short time, when a young page came running in to the room. Only when he stood before the grand table, strewn with parchments, maps and books, he realised his mistake to interrupt the duke, and started to sweat noticeably.
    “If you have to storm in here, pray tell why you do it, boy,” Godfried said, irritated at the interruption.
    “D-d-duke s-sir,” Typical, Godfried thought. The lad is stuttering. “T-t-the p-p-p-p-pope has…”
    “Yes, the pope has what, spit it out, lad!”
    “…died.” Godfried got silent. “He h-has b-b-been s-s-s-succeede-ded by bishop Va-valentino de V-v-ver…” The boy looked puzzled for a while. “I k-know that I d-don’t sp-p-eak very well s-sire, b-b-but even if I d-did, I c-c-could not p-pronounce t-that.”

    Godfried sank into deep thought for a moment.
    “I never met Anselm de Lucca, and I probably won’t meet Valentino de Whatever either. Now leave me be, squire.” And with those words, he closed his eyes again and returned to resting in his chair.

    ---


    When they marched through Bavaria message had reached the Lorrainese army that Pisa was full of Germans from all corners of the Empire, and that the chaos was one of Biblical measures. Soldiers were sleeping in the streets, occupying houses, and skirmishes frequently occurred between all sorts of different factions within the city and the army since there were not enough ships to transport everyone away from there. It was quickly decided by Thiedric and the other commanders that they instead would go via the city of Trieste on Istria, and so they marched towards Venice.

    They reached Trieste in August that year. It was much smaller than both Pisa and its neighbouring Venice, but also here had a large crowd of soldiers started gathering as a result of the lack of ships. It was rumoured that the duke of Brandenburg and the duke of Thuringia, the Emperor’s son, were going by land via Hungary and Byzantium to the Holy Land, something that was dangerous and took a lot of time but at least kept the army moving.

    Thiedric had the advantage of having a fleet of his own, being the one Godfried had bought that was planned to take them from Pisa. After only a week’s stay in Trieste – during which more and more soldiers arrived and the small city seemed likely to collapse under the pressure of soldiers and their weapons, as well as of the huge demand for food – the fleet arrived in the harbour, and the whole Lorrainese army was loaded onto it. The bulk of the conscripts of the duchy were already in the Imperial army under Eckhard von Blankenheim, and Thiedric’s army consisted of about four thousand men, his sub-commanders being a few of the counts of the duchy.

    Thiedric was the last to board the ship, and the stress he felt at a voyage of many months – and he was used to nothing more than short trips on lakes – mingled with the tingling sensation he felt at the thought of the adventure that was to come. Glory would be won, and losses would be suffered; but by all Gods and by Godfried, the battlefield was where he was supposed to be.

    ---


    Thus endeth the fourteenth chapter.

    Last edited by Snugglie; 27-06-2008 at 00:00.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  9. #109
    Zealous Firebrand Snugglie's Avatar
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    Would also like to point out that any comments on the new format of maps will be very appreciated.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  10. #110
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    Very distinct maps.

    The family tree was a bit hard to read, maybe make it bigger?

    Sucession - the biggest baddest thing about monarchies. It seems to me Godfired's just running away from resolving it instead of really resolving it.
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  11. #111
    Zealous Firebrand Snugglie's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by RGB
    Very distinct maps.

    The family tree was a bit hard to read, maybe make it bigger?

    Sucession - the biggest baddest thing about monarchies. It seems to me Godfired's just running away from resolving it instead of really resolving it.
    Well, I guess that is due to the font of it, but it's mainly just there for decorative purposes. To be honest, I can't read it too clearly either.

    And yes, it is a tough matter to resolve. But then again, there are few things to do about it more than killing the poor sod, which sadly goes completely against Godfried's personality. But you'll never know, of course.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  12. #112
    Blasted Conniving Roman General_BT's Avatar
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    I really like the new maps.

    “He is not our son. We just happened to breed him.”
    Very very powerful line. Oh, how so many of us have had that feeling in CK when we have a wonderful ruler who breeds a slew of runts! I really enjoyed this update... your writing and story is excellent as always!
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  13. #113
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    Quote Originally Posted by General_BT
    I really like the new maps.



    Very very powerful line. Oh, how so many of us have had that feeling in CK when we have a wonderful ruler who breeds a slew of runts! I really enjoyed this update... your writing and story is excellent as always!
    Glad to be back, glad that you like them, and glad that you liked that line! I was quite happy with it myself. In fact, Guntram is not entirely useless. He just happens to be a mischievous blackguard, which does not go together with the good Godfried's personality.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  14. #114
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    Chapter XV



    The previous wave had broken a part of the starboard gunwale and taken three men with it down into the roaring sea. Thiedric stood by the helm, fumbling with a rope with which he tried to bind himself to the mast and on the other side of it the captain, a Frenchman from Provençe, was doing the same thing. The storm had been wreaking havoc for only twenty minutes but seemed as if it would last all through the night. The men aboard the Lotharingian fleet could do naught but watch the waves crash down and try to save themselves. Thiedric finally managed to fasten the rope with a good knot, thus keeping him in an uncomfortable, half-sitting position by the mast. At the sound and sight of the next wave he braced himself, closed his eyes, and reminded himself that as soon as he got home to Holland again, he would never ever set his foot on a ship another time.
    The morning light seemed to pierce his eyelids, but despite the bright light Thiedric felt very cold. He squinted at the sun and waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dazzling rays of light and then looked around himself. His clothes were wet and his body stiff, and many a joint ached from the uncomfortable position he had been half-sleeping in.
    After a while of struggling when he tried to loosen the knot that held him to the ex-mast – it had been violently broken during the night just a few decimetres above Thiedric’s head – he lost patience and managed to get his dagger up and with small, jerking motions cut through the rope. He straightened his back, hearing his whole body give creaking sounds, as he surveyed the scene of catastrophe. The other mast was also cracked, and debris laid spread all over the deck. Without effort he managed to spot four bodies that lay suspiciously still, although he assumed there were more.
    He turned around and buffed the French captain with his right foot, causing the corpulent man to stir in his sleep. Thiedric buffed him again, and his subordinate finally opened his small eyes, squinting at the light just as Thiedric had a few minutes earlier.
    “Dieu, that was one storm worth its name,” the shipper yawned, rather stating than exclaiming the fact. “It seems as though we managed rather well though.”
    “Well? You are saying that we managed well? Open your eyes, man! The masts are both broken and there are lying corpses down on deck, and you say we managed well?” Thiedric growled. The tension in his neck during the night had caused a severe headache, vaguely reminiscent of the feeling that you get after a too long night of too fine wine.
    “You sure have not been sea bound for too long, lad!” the captain chuckled. “I have been through far worse storms, and as you can see I have survived all through all, even though it was close once. That time I luckily had this,” the captain patted his stomach, “to keep me alive.”
    The work with cleaning the ship and noting down the damages started in a slow, sleep-walking pace but grew more effective as time went on. Most of the men working on the ship were used to tough sea, and most of the inexperienced ones had managed well too. The Lorrainese soldiers that had been on deck when the storm started had, with few exceptions, also managed to cling to the ship. Miss Fortune had turned her back on one of these soldiers however, and he had been crushed by the down-falling front mast. Also noticed was that the count of Ostfriesland, one of the more prestigious members of the expedition, had not tied a knot hard enough to stand the hard sea when he had anchored himself to the front mast, and had thus been flushed away with a large wave. In an absurd manner his foot had however been properly anchored, and he was thus found hanging upside down with his entire upper body under water. Thiedric grimaced at the sight of him; his skin had gotten a sponge-like, grey appearance and the smell from the body was not a flattering one. It was decided that the body should be wrapped into oilcloth and stored in a crate in the armoury, due to the general lack of space. Thiedric and the captain then decided to set sail for Crete, which could be seen at the horizon; hopefully they would be able to rendezvous with the rest of the scattered fleet there.

    ---


    The guests were many and the seats of the great hall full when Folkhard d’Ardennes, the duke’s second son, turned sixteen years of age and finished his education. Few of the German counts under the age of fifty were left in Europe, but many nobles of lower standing, as well as the wives, successors and in-commands of the departed counts had arrived. Godfried felt very content with the whole arrangement, and as he walked across the courtyard he enjoyed the sound of drum and flute in the flickering light from the torches that stood all around the courtyard. On the meadow on the other side of the rather shallow moat a large crowd of local peasants and townsfolk had gathered for feast with games and food, all courtesy of the duke; Godfried knew how popular Folkhard was with the lower classes in Andernach, for he always payed them proper respect and never required anything more than the necessary respect for a duke’s son in return.
    During the past two years Folkhard had been taught by his mother, Camila de Bourges, in the art of diplomacy and his talent for rhetoric was evident since earlier. Whilst Guntram had spent most of his younger teens plotting and creating intrigues, as well as using all his privileges to the fullest, Folkhard had taken the message of the tongue before the sword as his philosophy. And above all, thought Godfried, he was awfully good at it.
    He heard a cheering from by the drawbridge, and saw Folkhard riding in on the chestnut horse that had been his since two years earlier. He had a wide grin taped on his face and quickly dismounted to the sound of the cheer of the crowd. He walked straight over to his father and Godfried could not help but smile when he felt his son’s hard handshake. Truly, his youngest had now become a grown-up. He and Camila had once mourned that they never got more children, especially when Guntram’s less pleasant personality traits had become evident, but Folkhard was a son to be proud of; tall, handsome and charismatic.
    “So the day finally came, when you outshine me in my own court,” said Godfried with a taunting smile.
    “Nonsense father, no-one can outshine a d’Ardennes, even less the oldest one!” Folkhard answered with a wink. When young, he had spent most of his time in silence, reading books, but had then turned out to be a very outgoing and social character. Godfried led the way into the great hall, and with hearty discussions they sat down at the honorary places at the head of the middle-table of the three that had been put up in the hall.
    The rest of the guests eventually seated as well, and the loud chatter filled the relatively small room. Camila came as one of the last, giving a smile to Godfried and a kiss to Folkhard before she sat. Guntram was nowhere to be seen.
    “Peers, neighbours, and friends!” Godfried said, his voice easily loud enough to fill the whole room. Few of the guests had ever expected such a voice capacity from the small duke, but his mood was evidently very good “We are gathered here today without many of our friends, fathers and husbands, that are fighting for the cause of Christ in Outremer, but we all know that they would be very disappointed if we would not manage to hold feasts without their presence! It is a memorable day today, for today my youngest son has become a man. You all know him, and to my knowledge you all like him. I think it is time for Folkhard himself to say a few words. Stand up, lad!”
    The crowd cheered loudly as Folkhard stood up, a wide smile the most prominent feature of his face. He let his gaze wander over the room for a while, waiting for silence, before he started to speak.
    “It is in many ways a privilege to stand here today, and I thank my father for this great arrangement. I am not significant –” At this, the crowd laughed and jeered. Folkhard laughed in response: “No, in this, I am not significant, for I while not rule this great place. I am not the hereditary ruler of Lorraine.” The crowd booed. “I am not her future duke.” The screams in protest got louder, and Folkhard had to shout: “What I am, however, is her ever faithful servant. I will take the blows to protect her; I will give my life in her name. So let us now all, be we of French or German heritage, or as I am, of both, exclaim: Vive Lorraine! Lebhaftes Lothringen!” The noise of the crowd was close to deafening as they joined in as he asked them to cry out the name of Lorraine, and for Godfried it was hard not to be both touched and honoured at his son’s speech.
    Guntram did not arrive until much later, although judging from his sulking facial expression he had been in the room at least since Folkhard’s speech. The feast that had been held when he became a man had been significantly smaller, and definitely of a lower cost. The contact between him and Godfried had been cold before it, and was now close to broken. As Guntram walked towards his seat he seemed to hesitate for a while, but then walked behind the chairs of Godfried and Camila, over to Folkhard. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and smiled as he felt Folkhard jump slightly at the touch.
    “Oh. So it is you, brother,” he simply stated in an uninterested tone at the sight of his older brother.
    “What a nice speech that you held, little brother,” Guntram said through teeth tightly pressed together. “And what a relief I feel that you are not aiming to become the duke of Lorraine.”
    “My aims are set for the heart of the sun brother, and I would rather one day sit as king of Lotharingia than duke of Lorraine,” Folkhard answered in a voice cold enough to kill cattle. “If you are there to witness it by then of course, brother.”
    “It is at least a huge relief to know that you are ready to give your life for the glory of this duchy, mark my words when I say that I will put that on my memory!”
    “Do you want it hand-written?” Folkhard said, his eyes note laving Guntram’s. After a few seconds of silence they almost simultaneously broke the eye-contact; Folkhard returning to his plate and Guntram marching off out the door. When he saw his oldest son’s shoulders shake with indignation and anger, Godfried gave a smile so scolding that Camila almost flinched at the sight of it.
    “That is your son, Godfried, whether you like it or not!” she whispered to him in a slightly frightened tone.
    “Do you not remember what I said before, Camila? He is not our son. We just happened to breed him.”

    ---



    As the German fleet sailed in to the harbour of Acre, count Thiedric Gerulfing felt nothing but relief. They had managed to meet with the rest of the fleet in Iraklion on Crete, and had then spent close to two months in harbour repairing the ships. Now, more than one year after the departure from Trieste, the first Lorrainese soldiers stepped on the soil of the Holy Land. He once again told himself that except for the trip home, he would never again be on a boat.
    News had reached them in Iraklion that Jerusalem had fallen to the troops of Kuno von Nordheim, the oldest son of the Bavarian duke Otto. Thiedric had mixed feelings about this; on one hand, he was happy for the success of the German troops. On another, however, he was worried that there would not be any fighting left to do for his troops when they arrived, and in that case the whole crusade would have been in vain. With the next courier that passed Crete it turned out that there would not be any risk of the Muslims running out of soldiers anytime soon however, so the purpose of Thiedric’s army was still justified.
    Before walking off the ship, Thiedric put on his armour as well as the red cape he had once worn as the duke of Holland, a title now held by Godfried. He had spent the past few days cleaning the armour after the long time in storage, and as he walked out on deck again, helmet under his arm, he smiled at the sharp reflection of the sun in the metal suit. As soon as he set foot on the dock he was confronted with an angry harbour official speaking German, which was screaming that there was no message of arrival of a whole fleet during that week, and that he would bring the count himself to get rid of them if they did not immediately leave port. Thiedric dismissed him without any larger interest and told him that if he had a problem with the arrival of this army, he had a problem with one of the mightiest dukes in all of the Empire. The official grew quiet at this; although he swore under his breath as he ran away to find someone to help him with the mess caused by a smaller fleet of uninvited ships docking in his port.
    Leaving the organization of the troops to his subordinates, Thiedric decided to have a look at St. Jean-de-Acre, and started walking from the harbour up towards the inner city. The city was surrounded by a high wall, and by the north end of the harbour, next to a pier, stood a castle from which two banners flew; one being the Imperial flag with the black eagle, and one being the royal French blue banner, sprangled with golden fleur-de-lis. Ahead of him was a narrow street, going zigzag into the centre of the city where something reminiscent of a market could be heard. Everywhere red-burnt German soldiers in cuirass crowded the streets together with white-dressed Orientals of different kinds – to Thiedric, the small differences in the tones of their skin made only a negligible difference. The houses of Acre where, to the largest part, rather low and white-washed with the exception for official-looking buildings, that were all built in the same sort of grey-brown stone as the city walls, and the castle by the harbour. All in all it gave an impression of disorder and lack of leadership and organization, and in some peculiar way, despite the now very warm edges of his armour that threatened to burn the uncovered parts of his neck skin, Thiedric felt that he liked it.

    ---


    Thus endeth the fifteenth chapter.


    Last edited by Snugglie; 27-06-2008 at 00:00.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  15. #115
    Human Enewald's Avatar
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    I jsut begun 'reading' this aar.
    And it is good.

    Well, I didn't read all, but I have still some ideas what is going on.
    But I follow this aar.

    Why just not kill the son`?

    and the pic of Acre is from some game?
    Was it some Assasins something?

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    Quote Originally Posted by Enewald
    I jsut begun 'reading' this aar.
    And it is good.

    Well, I didn't read all, but I have still some ideas what is going on.
    But I follow this aar.

    Why just not kill the son`?

    and the pic of Acre is from some game?
    Was it some Assasins something?
    Y halo thar, Enewald! I was waiting for you, since you're lurking in basically every AAR in CK-land now.

    Well, I don't know how much you've read, but it becomes clear after a while that it does not go together with the duke's personality really.

    And yes, the pic is from Assassin's Creed.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  17. #117
    Zealous Firebrand Snugglie's Avatar
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    Rejoice, you readers that I have left! I seem to have entered some sort of stride (Ain't nothing gonna break my stride, ain't nothing gonna hoold me down...) and if alll goes well, I'll ahve the sixteenth chapter up tomorrow. Stay tuned.
    Stand up, all victims of oppression,
    For the tyrants fear your might!
    Don't cling so hard to your possessions,
    For you have nothing if you have no rights!
    Let racist ignorance be ended,
    For respect makes the empires fall!
    Freedom is merely privilege extended,
    Unless enjoyed by one and all.

  18. #118
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    Aha, so the other brother won't take it quietly.

    Kingdom of Lotharingia, eh? Ambitious.

    I liked the sea voyage description a lot.
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  19. #119
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    An excellent set of chapters ! “He is not our son. We just happened to breed him.” really made me laugh , but it's really clever at the same time XD . Also , the description of a voice cold enough to kill cattle was very well done . Your diction is wonderful as always , Snugglie !
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  20. #120
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    Btw, what was your realms capital?

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