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Splendid organisatory progress so far, but:

a cheap, mass-produced, centrally deisgned tavern building? That seems very, very modern. A but too modern.
 
Splendid organisatory progress so far, but:

a cheap, mass-produced, centrally deisgned tavern building? That seems very, very modern. A but too modern.

Not really, Romans build things around central designs as did the Persians. Dark ages city planning with things like abbeys existed. We just don't think of it much because these buildings are mundane, rarely considered priceless, and often demolished.

Edit: And if all else fails remember that I am a silly engineer who thinks too logically and slept through history in high school.
 
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Edit: And if all else fails remember that I am a silly engineer who thinks too logically and slept through history in high school.

With that background, it's almost a miracle we have you here with us in AARland to entertain us with these very ahistorical historical AAR's, if you get my meaning.
 
With that background, it's almost a miracle we have you here with us in AARland to entertain us with these very ahistorical historical AAR's, if you get my meaning.

I do, and don't worry... it isn't my disinterest in history, I just got sick of learning about the American revolution every year...
 
I'm a nuclear safety engineer/medical physics engineer and used to write about gnosticism and neo-vikings.
 
Sorry guys, slight hiatus: it is exam week this week, so I won't be working on the AAR much. I hoped to have the update out by yesterday but then I found out my fluids exam was today and not tomorrow...

For good measure here is the first few lines of the story:

Sviendorog said:
ien dien bráuláfth een dalish mietena wis se wolgá.
tór kræsáláfáth win ien vienæ wulf sedáfást ám se upa.
"mietena," áizliktáfást se wulf "kápesh sie tháó talus no cot vienægá?"
"æthel kung wulf, min inhird vajádzáf ódæn."
 
Dear Mr Capitalist, i'll need some help to decipher it... please ? :eek:o :p

Or have i missed a lesson in the previous pages of this great AAR ?
 
I totally support a Anglo-Baltic story! should be cool, deciphering it gonna take a while
That it will, unfortunetally even more so because it is in imperfect past tense.

Dear Mr Capitalist, i'll need some help to decipher it... please ? :eek:o :p

Or have i missed a lesson in the previous pages of this great AAR ?
Translations and lessons over it will come after the full update, sorry. But no, you have not missed anything.
 
Homelands
Chapter Eighteen: Loving Father
Part 2


Prelude:
Valikaila Leofriksun was found dead August 3rd, 1185. The circumstances around his death were never truly investigated. Sviendorog was uncharacteristically quiet about it, allowing his son's memory fade off into history. Meinekinus then suddenly fell into everyone's attention. The friendly boy was known to be quiet, reserved, loving and deeply faithful. Raised much of his life in monasteries much of his attitude was one of spartanism. He was never considered for the murder of Valikaila as many historians believe he does not fit the profile of a killer. He was morally against all forms of violence and saw his father's actions in peace as a guiding light to his own behavior. In Bohemia there was still worry about Bozislava, whether she would be included in the list of suspects. She was not, of course, instead Sviendorog planned to have her wed to Meinekinus so that an heir to both thrones might still be born. The situation in castle Memelgrád, however, became bleak and grey for the year between Valikaila's death and Meinekinus's wedding. Sviendorog took to personally observing construction of the Royal road from Riegá in the north through Krákow and Keæv to Chærnigov. Every fifteen leagues a rest stop was built to house travelers and merchants as well as army units. And from them flowed a constant stream of mead and beef stew. The Kingdom's blood was beginning to pump into its new limbs.

November 6th, 1185

An early snow blanketed Poland leaving Sviendorog and his guard snowbound in one of the many rest stops that now dotted the lands. Sabe was off at the bar talking to the barmaid about great heroic deeds he had done for the King, and generally the tavern was a large party as they celebrated a chance to celebrate. Even Sviendorog was edged into the party. His guard found that spiced mead was always the best way to get their leader to join the pack. The mead was good so no one minded the beef to flour ratio in the stew, instead pouring their drinks down their throats and pounding the bar for more.

"Káfæ! Káfæ!" soldiers would shout while pounding on table. The waitresses ran around as quickly as they could filling cups and topping off bowls. It was only fifty men, but they drank up a storm singing songs and telling tales of battle and life outside of Memelgrád. As the night wore on they each took turns telling stories and fairy tales. Sabe spoke of glory and god, like many others, trying to instill inspiration. Eventually their eyes and ears turned to Sviendorog, who until now was silent.

"King, it is your turn to tell a story," Sabe said. Everyone nodded and seemed to inch closer to their lord waiting for a tale that no one had heard outside of the castle walls.

"Well, there is a story I always enjoyed as a boy. I heard it from a monk in Mariengrád while my grandfather was there. It is called 'Wolf on the Volga,'" he said quietly. The room, which had been a cacophony of noise and laughter and music died down to just Sviendorog's voice. He waited until all eyes were on him, "It goes something like this..."

ien dien bráuláfáth een dalish mietena wis se wolgá.
tór kræsáláfáth win ien vienæ wulf sedáfást ám se upa.
"mietena," áizliktáfást se wulf "kápesh sie tháó talus no cot vienægá?"
"æthel kung wulf, min inhird vajádzáf ódæn."
"háp tháó kien bralisæs?"
"næ abæs he sa ár se árma gebráulæn."
"slims. kát cannáj æs in the machæt?"
se mas mietena dómásáfáth un áizliktáfáth
"infind min bralis un átæll him ka we gáslissæt him."
se wulf gálvásmajáfást un átælláfást vim uz se Wolgá náko full-liefæt átgrienáfáth.
se mietena ieránáfáth án cot ár vins spans ódæn.
wán vin bráuláfáth tór vins mátæ wor grim un vins tevá theostor.
"mátæ? tevá? kát ist he?"
"tavs bralis sa án chiná gedeadæn. tu klumáfáth se kurjer."
un se mietena ráudefáth abæs áizmirzáfáth næ vins solit ár se wulf.
durch se náko full-liefæt átgrienáfáth vin uz se tráps kór vins se wulf sástadáfáth.
se wulf wor tór in vim gádisáfást. en hims mut wor vims brailisus swærd.
"hvæt æthel wulf, tu atnæstáp pierádjim uv min brailisus náve?"
"raze næt, vel tavs brailis ist ár æmi sefs."
"kápesh aizliktáp tu swilch letás?"
"raze næt, vel tavs timá ist næ nó.
abæs tu sa gezinon ka se wolgá durch se full-liefæt márá tán ódæn tvernisáf."
un lajá se liefætus kvala se wolgá wor mistæn zilá un ien zemæn mæn kámáfást wis.
shkersám se strámæ stáváfan ien árma uf záudæn kalpæs kercháfan uv cot.
ámang hiem wor se mietenas bralis un he skátiesáfást seriga ad vina no áfer.
se mietena bevæláfáth un ieránáfáth bæk cot uz vins mátæ un tevá átællát.
abæs hie ticáfan næ vim kamer vin se swærd átcertáfáth.
hvæt se swærd wor naletá un vim hiem næ parádæt cánnáfáth.
atcertæt se liefæt vin gádisáfth kamer se full-liefæt un uz se wolgá átgrienáfást.
tór sedáfást ogæn se wulf lepns un æthel.
un en se liefætus kvala turnáfást se wolgá mistæn zilá.
"tu belángás næ hór, he ist næ tavs timá" se wulf áizliktáfást.
"æs zinátáj kán tu bist un kámáj æs uz the izacinájut in min bralis!"
se wulf gálvásmajáfást un smieláfást.
"lá he ist æs, se seglær on se wolgá, se reopær, se sith!"
un thon se wulf párveráfást ánuz ien gárs, lang kalp kán ien sith iznesáfást.
"abæs min deore, tháó cannáp naletá machæt, in tea kán in próshjó dæduth
wuldáp ogæn lebæt uz próshjá strádáp durch vins deocish ór!"
un se lavinek segláfást vina shkersám uz vins bralis.
abæs he cánnáfást wisletá machæt.
he cánnáfást næ runæt.
he cánnáfást næ kustibæt.
he cánnáfást næ mirogæt.
abæs wán dagáz kámáfást párveráfan se kárávursæs ánuz butorfleogæs.
un hie pludináfan dun unlang se wolgá.
"un tór, min deore, hie wuldáp Walhala ræcæt."
se mietena izbrástáfáth bædzot kápesh se wolgá próshjádus áustrumæn vánt wor.
un uz shis dien zoildáso ju næ ien wulf vai ien butprfleog unlang se wolgá láthæt.
hvæt dathær ist se shæhierd se kárávursæsus.
un próshjádus árma uf se braf gadisáf in se dien hie sind ogæn inkállát.

And when Sviendorog finished his tail the soldiers cheered and praised their King, the poet. The King smiled, his men feared so little, even death was a laughing matter. Just something that got in the way. "And now, my soldiers, your King is drunk and tomorrow he shall be hung-over, but now he must sleep." With that Sviendorog excused himself and went to bed dreaming of Valhalla and wolves and butterflies.
 
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For those trying to translate:
  • It is written [mostly] in the literary past-tense (imperfect past to those who remember German).
  • Conjugation is based off of: person, plurality, subject gender
  • Subject gender is either masculine or feminine, but defaults to masculine and only is feminine for things that are openly female (ie everything is assumed to be masculine until otherwise defined as feminine)
  • Sorry about the c/ch discrepancies: c and ch are the samething in Anglo-baltic
  • There are four persons in anglo-baltic: 1st, 2nd, 3rd are as normal. 4th is "formal" and is used between the two main speakers (hence strange conjugations).
 
Isnt Valhalla a bit anachronistic considering he is a saxon, a prussian, and a christian?:)

Eidt: how much is a Saxo-prussian league?

I'll get my language-inventing pal cracking on this.

Btw, my nitpicking is not complaining, its just that if something is very good, then its small falws are magnified, and that I'm a disillusioned, jaded, misanthrope.
 
Its not like I dislike the idea of a german-blooded person dreaming of Valhöll.

Btw, what would Valhalla (hall of the slain) be in saxoprussian?
 
Yep, Valhöll is better:)

Anyways, I'm looking forward to Sviendorog's kingship. Someone who drinks with this soldiers cant and designs a tavern/outpost cant be a bad king.

How much is a league?