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King of Men

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Rome: Introduction

Olaf - so it is said - was King in Norway after the death of his brother Magnus... but no. It is a thrice-told tale. Are we not primates? Like any monkeys, we hunger for novelty, for a new source of fruit to sate the tribe's appetite and bring us fertile females. Let us follow our ancestors, then: We will pass out of the safe territory of the tribe; we will go over the hills and into unknown lands, either to perish or to bring back the wealth that founds a great dynasty. And those who die will be forgotten; but the founders of dynasties will beget more children than those who stayed safe behind, and so monkey-kind will become all the more curious, until we have covered all the Earth with our progeny. Thus our destiny was written from the first time a big-eyed mammal passed out of the trees, evaded the great lizards, and returned with the meat that fed his mate; and if we have learned one thing during our long sojourn in the North, surely it is this: No man can long escape his Wyrd.

We go south, then: Out of the barren northlands which bear no crops but pride and young men, south across the iron sea, into Germany. But we will not stop there; the deep forest holds no attraction for men tired of cold. We pass through their darkness, ever southward. The Danube is no bar to our faring; the sun warms our faces as we cross the much-disputed Balkans, and we lift our heads to scent the wind. Yes... there is a tang of salt in the air; the ocean is near. But not the cold grey widow-maker we have left behind, on which the long dragons glide in deadly silence. It is the wine-dark water, the very Midworld Sea, around which men have dwelt for long millennia. Here is the place; we will settle in the lands where olive and wine-grape grow, on the shores of the inland sea... our sea. For we have no taste now for the western lands, settled by warriors close kin to those we have left behind; no desire to squat with unwashed barbarians in the ruins of great cities. No, we will take our new homes with the rightful lords, in the still-civilised East; we shall become citizens, not subjects, and our ambitions will run to Senate and Imperator, not folk-moot and King. The question rises, "Are we not... Romans?" The answer: "We shall see". But the question has a ring to it, reminiscent perhaps of a different motto, now left behind.

And speaking of mottoes: "Our sea". Ah, now there's a phrase. The bearded warrior tribes we have left behind make no such boast; the wild sea they sail belongs to no man. And in any case, why brag of ownership when the substance is in your hands? Alfred is long dead; no new ship-builder has risen to challenge the sway of the dragons. In the south matters stand differently. Once the Eagle flew from Gibraltar to the Two Rivers; once men of patrician rank held it a good life's work to have crucified pirates. Now ship-owners borrow money at 50 per cent, and the lender counts himself barely compensated for the risk. The Two Rivers are ruled by infidels; Egypt and the African provinces are gone; the very cradle of Rome is under the muscular thumb of a barbarian garrison. "Our sea", indeed. A monkey seeking wealth, indeed an entire dynasty of monkeys, can settle happily here; for there is much work to be done.

--------------------------------------​

Index of full AAR posts:

Mikael of Antioch
The Antiochene Intrigue
Goals and roleplay
To Hold the East
The Tragedy of Ioannes
The Beacon of Christendom in the East
A Border Skirmish (and response)
The Komnenos Restoration
The Death of Arkadios
Thomas the Conqueror
A Roman Triumph
A Triumph in Rome
The Deeds of Thomas
Citizen and Barbarian
The Average Child
The Boy Emperor
The Palaiologos Deluge
The Olive Tree
Patient is the Eagle
The Strength of Rome
The Weakness of Rome
Two Emperors War, part I
Two Emperors War, part II
Two Emperors War overview
Strategic geography
Don Cossack War
Fighting Screenies
The Breaking of the Don, part I
The Breaking of the Don, part II
The Military Frontier
The Reforms of Mathias
Demesne statistics
The Devil and the Taxman
These Things Happen
On Heraldry
A Time to Mourn
Defiance, part I
Defiance, part II
Defiance, part III

Index of ruler/session information posts:

1066-1077
1077-1086
1086-1093
1110-1116
1093-1100
1110-1116
 
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Information about the game​

Children of the Fatherland is a multiplayer conversion game, intended to end in nuclear flames sometimes around 1955. There is, however, no safety net: If any of the players, through skill, ruthlessness, and machination, should succeed in attaining hegemony in spite of all efforts to maintain the balance of power, the rest of us will grit our teeth, congratulate him on his skill, and start a new game.

We play at 1000 Central time on Saturdays. There is a limit of 12 slots for the CK portion, because our experience is that any larger number increases the instability badly; there is currently a waiting list for joining. The current player list (dynasty and main title in parens):

  • King of Men (Komnenos, Antioch)
  • Varyar (al-Akbarzib, Sevilla)
  • Gollevainen (Don, Gwynedd)
  • Von Rundstedt (Rurikovich, Pereyaslavl)
  • Carillon (de Flandre, Flanders)
  • Ulmont/Foelsgaard (Abbasid, Baghdad)
  • Fasquardon (de Toulouse, Toulouse)
  • Edzako (de Hauteville, Apulia)
  • Kolibri (Knautshcling, Slesvig)
  • Fivoin (Goldstrand, Saxony)
  • FrozenWall (Fatimid, Alexandria)
  • Blackmist (Tilius, Silesia)

In addition to the full players, we have 'Immortals', AAR writers who do not play the game as controllers of dynasties, but who are represented in the game by immortal characters (at the beginning of every session they are restored to youth and if necessary life), and who have various powers. Specifically the powers of the Immortals are thus:

  • Immortals begin the game with all stats at 5 except Fertility, which is -10.
  • Immortals have two additional statistics not maintained by the game engine, named Prestige Power and Piety Power. They begin at 10 and 0 respectively. These are the amounts they add every Mifkad to the prestige and piety of their host.
  • When an Immortal leaves a court, he subtracts 3 times his prestige and piety powers from the court he leaves, provided he has been there for at least two Mifkads.
  • Immortal birthdates will be edited so that they are always 20 years old at the beginning of a session, unless we find a better way of making them Immortal, such as the Canonized trait.
  • All Immortal moves or uses of power are to be made by PM to the GM, and must be in his inbox by Wednesday midnight his time, or they will be applied the following week, or ignored completely, as seems reasonable to the GM. An Immortal who is granted a title and becomes the vassal of a player is still considered to be attached to that player's court; however, if the Immortal later leaves, he takes his lands with him. If the Immortal's character becomes disloyal enough to DOW the player, this is not considered leaving his court, but also won't be edited back due to the potential for abuse.
  • Immortals may write AARs and get the usual rewards, which they can give to players if they like. Additionally, the following AAR reward is only available to Immortals: "Increase a single stat of one character by one." Prestige and Piety power may also be increased by this use; they increase by 5.
  • Immortals may duel each other by invoking the ritual phrase "THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!" In a duel, either character can survive without harm, be hurt (add 'Seriously Wounded' to the ingame character), or be killed. The chances of each are determined by their stats according to a method to be published later.
  • An Immortal who is killed (either through ingame events or by a duel) will be resurrected at the next edit time (with such traits as wounds wiped out, but with the loss of one point from a random statistic), and meanwhile cannot move and does not give any prestige; however, he may still write AARs. Example timeline:
    Wednesday 14th: Jakalo PMs me to duel Blayne.
    Thursday 15th: Editing time. I resolve the duel, and Jakalo wins; Blayne is killed. Jakalo's court receives Immortal prestige; Blayne's does not.
    Saturday 17th: Game session. Kazmir is killed by an assassin.
    Wednesday 21st: Deadline for Immortal orders. Kazmir and Blayne, being dead, can do nothing, although they can still write AARs.
    Thursday 22nd: Edit time. Kazmir and Blayne are restored to life, with slightly reduced stats. Their courts receive prestige.
    Notice that Kazmir's death is more temporary than Blayne's; he gives prestige both weeks. This is to avoid keeping track of who was killed in a duel and who was killed ingame: Just edit everyone back to life at the same time.
    Immortals can go into hiding by moving to the court of a non-player character, who does not get prestige. (This is not considered leaving the host court.) In this case they cannot be dueled. However, they also cannot give their AAR rewards to players, and they must come out of hiding after a week.
 
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AAR's of the Radomirs

Rise of the Radomirs - Teosodii

[post=11582079]Part 1 - 1131-1134[/post]
[post=11611460]Part 2 - 1134-1140[/post]
[post=11655066]Part 3 - 1140-1149[/post]
[post=11682144]Part 4 - 1149-1159[/post]
 
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The Fatimid Caliphate: Index


islamy.jpg


Four hundred and forty four years ago the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, rode out of Mecca to deliver the truth and light of Allah into the darkness of the world and unite the Arab tribes. After him came the Rashidun, rightfully guided Caliphs. Abu Bakr, Umar ibn al-Khattab, Uthman ibn Affan expanded the ummah to Mesopotamia, Persia, and the Caucasus.

After the three came the fourth and last of the Rashidun. Ali ibn Abi Talib, great Imam and true successor of the House of Muhammad. This reign was just and Egypt and Syria was brought into the fold.
But the arch traitor and secret pagan Muawiya, who had been destined to rule Mecca before Muhammad came, grew greedy and resentful. He allied with the Sunnis, sinister men who would deny Muhammad's descendants their divine right to rule. They had Ali assassinated with a poisoned blade as he prayed in the mosque, and with blood on their hands declared the Ummayyad Caliphate, and their rule was harsh and unrighteous.


Betrayed and beaten the loyal Shiat Ali retreated into the deserts and mountains, but it was not long before they returned. Championed by Abu al-'Abbas as-Saffaha, a descendant of one of Muhammads uncles, the Shi'ites strook from the far reaches of Persia. With righteous fury the false Caliphate was torn down like a rotten building, the graves of their Caliphs desecrated and the survivors chased all the way to Al-Andalus.

But it was not long before Abu al-'Abbas to was corrupted by greed. Turning his back on the true Shi'ite teachings he instead proclaimed himself ruler and declared the Abbasid Caliphate instated in the Ummayyads place, and their rule was harsh and unrighteous.

At long last, after 250 years of darkness and kinslayers, a Hero appeared. His name was Abdul'Allah al-Mahdi Billah by Allah's grace the 10th grandson of the Prophet, through Ismail, great great grandson of Husayn, son of Imam Ali and Muhammads daughter Fatima. From his base of power in Tunis and Sicily he soon swept the apostate Abbasids from Africa and the Holy Cities of Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. Only by throwing themselves at the feet of their once-slaves the Seljuk Turks did the Abbasids escape their just punishment.

Long did the Fatimids fight the kinslayers and apostates of the false Ummayyad and Abbasid Caliphates. The last Ummayyad was finally and appropriately strook down by a hassassins knife, and now the Akbarzids; Righteous Emirs of Sevillia, stand ready to claim al-Andalus in the Caliphates name. But still the black banners of apostasy flow over Baghdad and Mosul. Still greedy bureaucrats dream of collecting Caesars due wherever there is coin. In Sicily believers chafe under Italian trade princes. Zirids and petty Syrian Emirs question dare question the wisdom of the Ahl al-Bayt when they think no one is listening!

But the Caliphate is stronger than they understand. It is the heart of learning and innovation. It is the home of architecture, of poetry, literature and culture. A guiding light unto a barbarian world trapped in strife and superstition. The Righteous Caliph of the Isamili Imamate and Ummah will once again assert the will of Allah, we have been underestimated before.





Index of posts:
The Fatimid Caliphate: Index
Mupdate Session 1
-Righteous claims, The Seljuk Problem
The Fatimid Caliphate: Resurrection
Mupdate Session 2
-Levithan: Stories from Egypt
The Fatimid Caliphate: Defiance
Mupdate Session 3
The Fatimid Caliphate: Blades in the dark
Mupdate Session 4
The Fatimid Caliphate: Showdown across the Mediterranean: The Command
Mupdate session 5
The Fatimid Caliphate: Showdown across the Mediterranean: The opening shots
Mupdate Session 6
Mupdate Session 7
Mupdate Session 7; Neustrian Correction
The Fatimid Caliphate: At the dawn of the 12th century
Mupdate Session 8
Mupdate Session 8; The AI Realms
The Fatimid Caliphate: The 7 triumphs of Ala'i
Mupdate Session 9; Mare Demi-Nostrum! and The end of England!
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Andalusi reaction
-A response to Komnenid slander
Mupdate Session 10: The Caliphates place under the Sun!
The Fatimid Caliphate: The state of things
The Fatimid Caliphate: The state of things pt2
Mupdate session 11:In which absolutely nothing goes King of Men's way :D and the Empire ends Galicia! :eek:
The Fatimid Caliphate: Antioch
Mupdate session 12: The Croatian Debacle
The Fatimid Caliphate: Old Glory
Mupdate session 13
The Fatimid Caliphate: The dawn of a new age
Mupdate session 14; in which everybody jumps the Empire!
-The Great Fiat of 1170
The Fatimid Caliphate: Peacebringer
Mupdate session 15; The peacetreaty to end all peacetreaties!
The Fatimid Caliphate: Gold and Troubles
Mupdate session 16; In which there are many bad excuses for stealing other peoples rebellious vassals
The Fatimid Caliphate: Hegemony
Mupdate session 17; In which not much happens.
The Fatimid Caliphate: Factions
Mupdate session 18; In which the assassins war over the isles continue
The Fatimid Caliphate: the Isles and the Sand
Mupdate session 19! In which the assassins war expands and there is bickering over treaties.
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Afzali Edict
Mupdat Session 20; In which absolutely nothing goes KoM's way, again!
The Fatimid Caliphate; The last will of Afzal
Mupdate Session 21; In which the Caliphates uppance hath come!
The Fatimid Caliphate; The Emperors Crusade
Mupdate session 22, the year 1231; In which they finally come for Russia!
-Having backstabbed all his benefactors and allies Ike is left to the questionable mercy of von Rundstedt in the Russian peace
Mupdate session 23, the year 1240 In which Poland gets it, and Finland is freed!
-Persia is found to have been exploiting game mechanics!
Mupdate session 24, the year 1251; in which Russia demonstrates what happens to disloyal buffer states.
The Fatimid Caliphate: In the shadows of those who came before them.
The Fatimid Caliphate: In the shadows of those who came before them II.
-Remembering the fallen, and Ynglings!
-Recognizing those who still Stand
The Fatimid Caliphate: The lead up to War
Mupdate session 26: In which the Oriental war ends in compromise
The Fatimid Caliphate: Pax Orientalis?
Mupdate session 27, the year 1271: In which the cartographers can't be arsed.
The Fatimid Caliphate: The last battle of Jerusalem
Mupdate session 28 yr 1283: in which Malta is regained
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Gawfur Doctrine
-Logistics
Mupdate session 29, yr 1287: The second Russian war!
-WritAAR of the Week
Mupdate Session 30, yr 1291: In which they simply walk into Mordor!
The Fatimid Caliphate: Everybody's at war but me :(
-Round 2, Fight!
Mupdate session 31, yr 1299: In which Russia loses its coast, and Imperial-Caliphate tensions escalate
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Seventh Branch pt.1
-Base Wealth pt.1
-Base Wealth pt.2
Mupdate session 32, yr 1310; I which the Empire is chastened
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Sicilian War
-Clowntech
Mupdate session 33, yr 1319: In which there is much campaigning in Italy, and Persia goes for Siberian hegemony!
-Calipha loses all faith in Paradox AI programers
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Seventh Branch pt.2
-International contract law
Mupdate session 34, yr 1327: In which the Western Empire is partitioned!
The Fatimid Caliphate: The Seventh Branch pt.3
Mupdate session 35, yr 1336: In which the French flee to Ireland, and the Calipha becomes Pope!
-Golle knows to much..
The Fatimid Caliphate: A new Caliphate pt.1
Session 36, yr 1350: In which there is plague and inheritance!
Session 37, yr 1361: In which absolutely nothing goes KoM's way ep.III; Revenge of the Croats!
The Fatimid Caliphate: Look a Mupdate!
Session 39, yr 1382; In which the Greeks spark the last great war of the CK part of our game
 
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Reserved for an index of AARs, starting from Alexandria.
 
CHILDREN OF DÔN
-A quest for love's revival in the midst of soldiers feorcious roar

Index:
Part one: Gwynnedd
1. Children of Dôn An introduction
Book one: Gwydion
2. It's a Boy! 1066-1077
3. Ice age 1077-1086
4. Constance 1086-1093
5. Choices of Gwydion Dôn 1093-1100
6. Throw Down the Sword 1100-1110
Book two:Foulques
7. Gwynnedd, Wales and Britain 1110-1122
Epilogue: Eudes
8. England's Pyre Part-II (Part-I) 1122-1134

Part two: Finland
Book Three: Arnoul
9. The Rocks knew his name 1134-1140
10. Look to the East 1140-1149
Book Four: Pierre
11. The Cure 1149-1165
12. Procession 1165-1170
13. Jean Dôn 1170-1178
Book five: Reko
14. Where's a cousin, there's a cuisine 1178-1182
15. Gollevainen tells Prince Reko about St. Jesus the Carpenter1182-1188
16. Crossings 1188-1197
17. Bacchus 1197-1205
18. Curtains 1205-1218
19. Excerpts of the 10 sons of Prince Reko 1218-1224
20. 100 years of Peace 1224-1231
Book six: Jurva
21. A Child of A Dôn 1231-1251

Part Three: Denmark
Book Seven: Jurva, St. Valta and Väinö
22. King Dôn 1251-1310
23. Cornwall...or war! 1310-1336
Book Eigth: Susi
24. Defender of the Faith 1336-1360
25. A dying Cough 1360-1374
EPILOGUE : GEORGE, KETTU & HINTSA
26. A Farefell to Dôn 1374-1399
 
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Well since Blitz's head wasn't torn off when he posted, :D I'll go ahead and subscribe.
 
Children of Dôn

Sun rose from the west. It took up from the evercalm sea, pass the silver shores, rising above the trees that never drop their leaves unless the Queen of Fairies herself would die…and naturally, in the land of eternal youth, that didn’t take place…Ever.
Still…the thought of mortality had often passed on Dôn’s mind. More often than the sun of the fair side had rose and set in its never ending course. It made her restless. Not the thought itself but how it had occupied her mind so often these days. Immortality? What it was without comparison to the mortality? To the death? She didn’t feel immortal, undying, deathless… Those were words of the other side, from human tongue that had often hard to adapt the idea behind the fair folk’s deeds. What meaning had words deprived from the concept of death for folk that didn’t know about death?

Perdition and oblivion, those she knew. Any fairy did and feared them. The end of the soul and oneself…something lot more than mere death of the flesh. It was hard for people in the other side, in the weary side to understand how death was such a petty thing for fair folk, mere permanent separation of body and soul to those who were destined to be imprisoned by each others; soul captivated by a physical body and flesh needing the guidance of the soul. But for fairies like Dôn, it didn’t matter. Their body and soul was one, inseparable, thus immortal in the eyes and words of the people in the weary side.

But it haunted Dôn’s thoughts. She felt pity over those who were bound by the death. Living was the one thing that connected the two people. Men sought pleasure as did a fairy and both ate, breathed, slept and bred just like any other living thing, even those without oneself, an inner soul, like animals and idiots. But death destroyed that life from the men. The souls existed and kept wandering, but all things felt as lively had vanished from them and only thing left behind was a mocking memory of something that would never again be. Thus the fair folk often despised them. The dead.
And the dead felt agony and amaze in front of such contempt but seldom did they recall their own living selves’ contempt for those wandered the earth without mind and thoughts.

And Dôn used to think exactly the same.

Until her children were born and each by each she had been shocked by the realisation how each one of them had been destined for mortal life of a man, not one of fair folk. She had grieved their fate more than she had laughed with them for their deeds and doings. She had cherished and indulged them as she knew that their visit in her never ending life was but a brief encounter, a raindrop that cooled her skin for a small moment before fading away in the face of the summer sun. Their childhood had been like a spark from sword dashing against the stone, bright and dazzling but soon gone and forgotten. For fair folk, who was accustomed for long dragging adolescence, they were like flowers blooming just one season and never appearing on the meadow again.
Now her sons were grown men, greatly appraised among the people on the weary side; her daughter had borne children for new generations and the fair blood in their heritage had been blend with human lineages, if not did her grandchildren produce miracles and marvels where ever they go.
But she still missed them. She didn’t admit for loving them; or anyone else in the course. Never again. For love had never brought so much misery and bitter longing for the fair folk as had the fate of the Dôn’s children and their passage to the weary lands.
But condolence and pity of the others didn’t bring back her love into her heart. It just made her mourn her loss even more, and when the Queen wept, rain fell hard upon the hills of the fair lands and on the weary side, storms tattered the mortal lands as her rage for the mockery it gave to her...for the theft of her happiness and joy.
But if love had died...perished, caring and fondness still occupied Dôn. She didn’t abandon her breed. Arianrhod, her daughter would still seldom come to the fair side, but the marvels and power of the middle lands had took her sons, Gwydion and Gilfaethwy into their grip so overwhelmingly that they hardly recon that brisk lady of shining light that appeared once and while in their path as their mother. But Dôn didn’t see it as against them. The weary side had its price. And besides, would a son be obligated to call her a mother, if she didn’t greet him with tender love in her gaze?
She tried her best but every lock of beard that grew upon the faces that she had just stop whipping clean a blink of an eye ago made the gap bigger and bigger. But still did Dôn care. Death brought peculiar things into life itself, which the fair folk were so utterly unaware of. When one knew his time upon the earth was limited, he often begun thinking the concept of eternity in different angle...looking for the future in the eyes of his children to be born, and from their children and beyond... A Family begun to mean something more. Not just a cosy lap of love and caring, but something that was before oneself and existed, if luck permitted, beyond one’s death. Such was hard for a fairy to understand...but it had a cruel sense, and more Dôn pondered the concept of mortality, more sense it begun to make. If not as an idea that she would or could adjoin, but something that brought her little condolence as a fact that her children, whom she was destined to lost so prematurely didn’t felt themselves looted so much. If one accepted humanity as one’s kin, he accepted the fate of man and that her children, each by their own way, but still, had accepted.

So it left Dôn little alternatives but to accept it herself too. Not the fate itself, but understanding of it. At least in best sense she could. Her sons had claimed fame and fortunes. They were rich princes among the men and their position in rule had grown so strong, that Gwydion had even placed a crown upon his head. A Crown of men, but the weary lands were so stubborn to accept only one rule and one king with one crown. There were many crowns on those lands. And the mountains where Dôn’s sons had taken their estates weren’t among the rich lands that bear fruits and harvest close in the richness of the fair lands. But Dôn couldn’t see their desires for power out from children’s play. Something that good mother should always smile upon, never forbade, but hardly taking seriously either. Let them rule and crown each others. Dôn was more interested of their blood, and how they would pass it on, how they would pass their heritage on to secure the fortunes of their own deeds to grow, and provide their weary old, but undying mother a glimpse of happiness by each newborn child as a recollection of that brightness she once knew. She wanted to learn to think of herself as a tree that would spread her branches wide upon the middle lands and roots deeply into the fair side of immortality and eternity. She wanted to see herself, her family, to grown. Perhaps, even some day, she could learn to love again.


For reward: prestige
 
index

#1 - Mainchín Scotus
#2 - Laídech Mainchín

#3 - Show me a man's friends, and I'll show you what kind of man he is
#4 - Speculation, or, A study of Politics, one level up.





# 1 - Mainchín Scotus

It had never been easy for the children of the fatherland Ireland, and this particular time was not a particular good one for this particular son. Though he should not complain; he had been lucky again to escape with his life. But he had to leave his books and life behind again, and his friends too. It was not the first time he had to flee; that was part of his curse. Not the actual curse of course, but a consequence of the curse: people could never quite cope with his unnatural long life span.
He dreaded what might have happened to his friends in the Connemara abbey because of him. They didn’t know this about him- they might have suspected some things-, but that might not matter to that new diocese bishop, who was one of the zealous kind. Of course his friends could deny the+y knew anything about him. That could be one solution. But this new bishop might take that for lying again. He could send a letter to the new bishop confessing everything and through that saving his friends at least. The downside was that this gave a trail, and his current escape upon this Welsh fisherboat might be for nothing. Alas, he knew he had to do it; doing nothing would be assisting in his friends’ demise. And through the curse, would also lead to his own downfall.
Now his life of green martyrdom had come to an end, and he knew there were not a lot of other options to take. The Irish soul had never been too comfortable with much dogma and rigidity. He could not stay in a place where they would question his abnormality. He could not risk the life of a warrior, or the old ways might bubble up to the surface in combat, over which he would have no control. And so, he could only do one thing: he had to continue as a white martyr, travelling the lands, saving souls, bringing peace and compassion, using his knowledge to the best of his abilities, as praise to creation and hopefully securing salvation of his soul in the process.
Oh! The life had been so peaceful in the abbey, reading, gardening, writing books and songs. A hard life but not an unfair life, the monks had paid enough attention to the more merry parts of creation. The abbots’ firm conviction that Creation is Grand had been responsible for that. It had been good to read some of the views of this fellow Aristotto, or Aristolo, or whatever it was. He knew his kind would not be read on the continent: Too much Plotinus. And so another option was crossed out in his mind. Best stick to those regions where the oral tradition of bards would be valued for now. Maybe the Franciscaner friars might be interested, he should see if there would be a monastry of them near this Caer Gwydion to which this fisherman is going.


# 2 - Laídech Mainchín

After a few days at sea and in town, the hooded monk arrived at Caer Gwydion before Duc Gwydion. The fisherman and his family had provided pleasant company and he had not been in a hurry. If he had been, it might make him look suspicious and it was in his interest to befriend the fisherman and close off any possible trail. But now the time had come to request some assistance. He knew his skills in writing and reading would be valued at any court, and his practical knowledge about illnesses and cures were held in high esteem. He also knew that with skill and knowledge come prestige and attention, and those two things were not desirable as of now. So how could he convince Duc Gwydion to give him a place without giving his cover away?
Some research in the village showed that wise women were allowed to practice some – he could buy some dye to change his haircolor to black-, and the current clergy was not pursuing this actively. That must mean that they enjoy a certain amount of protection from the bishop at least. And the bishop takes direction from the lord. Puzzling this together, this lord would not be averse to those old ways. And since he had read the stories of the old ways; the folkways of Eíre, of Cymru; the histories of Dal Ríata, of Alba, since he remembered – though dimly – Arturio of Kernow, maybe he could seduce this Duc Gwydion with his historical knowledge to hire him? Any martial enthousiast will always listen to histories and epic deed from before. That was his best and safest option: to hide in plain sight. Besides, it would be such an opposite image to the docile, clerkish, withdrawn monk life that he lived before that nobody could possibly suspect them of being the same person. To the bard life we drink then!
“Mighty Gwydion mac Dôn, of Briton ancestry, noble knight, I have travelled from far to see you, whom they call Cedyrn, the Mighty. It has been said that when you combat Goliath, you are the favourite of the crowd. In my travels I have heard and told many a great stories of heroes, of many great Britons before you – would they happen to be your ancestors? I come here before you as travelling bard, and can liven up the court at your evening fires with epic tales, if that is to your liking. Or if you prefer me to do other work, I am equally skilled in historiae, those of our lands and others on this island and across the sea, and can read and research your heritage, to which lands your family might have a claim. Have you ever considered to tell the story of your family, do you need a biographia singing your deeds, a hagiographia for your mother, may she rest in peace? In conclusion Cedyrn Gwydion, can you afford to extend your famous hospitality to one humble traveller, a skilled bard with many uses?”


reward: prestige, as much off it as is allowed, transferred to my Liege, Golle
 
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We finished our first session today I got to tag along as a sub for Pereslavyl which hopefully I can continue "subbing" for the indefinite future.

We tried different hosts though Golle seemed a little crash prone which I think a reinstall of his CK client may or may not fix so we moved on to try me out, we made about 12 years progress although we started an hour late waiting for the late comers.

Under me people seem to crash "en mass" after about 3-4 years we should probably check the multiplayer thread on how to reduce crashes and apply it vigouresly.

Otherwise nothing much of interest happened, I will be putting up my Ootsstyle comic aar sometime this week.