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Oh wow, what happenings!
I like the blaming afterwards especially :)

but there is one thing to do that remains for the coming 20 years...

machete_057-535x327.jpg

CROM VULT
 
It appears that KoM might just make it in EU3, now that Egypt has collapsed. Can't wait for the next session.
 
in next session egypt migth collapse even more...(the player is destined to be away)

which doesen't automatically mean that no one wouldn't be after Byz by default ;)
 
in next session egypt migth collapse even more...(the player is destined to be away)

which doesen't automatically mean that no one wouldn't be after Byz by default ;)

Should we take back France and Rome?
 
A Dying cough​

A cough.
Was it? A real cough, not just a revoke of slime from his throat, which mocked this paranoia?
Susi lay silent in his bed. He felt his breath and listened. Was always this hard? Or was it just the excitement?
A rush it certainly was. He could feel his heart jumping as he periodically looked under his armpits for any remarks…
There wasn’t anything there. No abscesses, nothing out of ordinary.

Oh my Jesus!

Susi let his breath moderate itself. He sighed hard and relaxed his body. It was a mere cough nothing more. No need to worry, no need to write down anything terminal. He wished for the sleep to come and completely numb his weary thoughts, but everybody knew that a man of such age, falling asleep was not matter of haste.
He sighed again; it was going to be one of those nights again.

He woke up sweating and breathing hard. Oh my Jesus! The sticky feeling run across his upper body and he threw the pelts away, rising up to hold his chest. The heart…it drummed like a madman and if Susi wouldn’t have had lot worse seizures in the past, he could have though this is it, the end…
But it was not. Susi knew that it would pass away; once he would concentrate… it was just excitement and the dream that caused it. Nothing to be afraid of.

But the dream…
Those words…
1399
It was approaching.
Oh my Jesus

Susi lay back again to his bed and to his thoughts. It was approaching. 25 years. Susi knew that he wouldn’t be there to see it. But his children, the Children of Dôn… they would be. Reko II would reign then if God forbid it. But the dream told him otherwise.

Well it didn’t exactly but it was confusing; like a riddle or divination. The king shall speak English by 1399… or else…

And then there was lot of death…Black Death in the dream. Is if the plagues wouldn’t have wrecked the nation so hard already. Or did it mean that if by 1399 there would be English king, the Wrath of God would pass away? The plague was showing already signs of defeat… it had almost passed Denmark, and lots of the coast in the Cornwall tended to have gotten immune.
What did it mean?

Reko was a good son and good king to be. But he spoke Finnish as every other Dôn had done for almost 200 years. How could these haunting thoughts lure him to treason against his own kin?

Susi laid there in the bed. George was a good lad. His grandson… one of them. A ominous little boy who had spend his early years so close to his mother that he barely spoke the tongue of Härmä anymore… but his English was flawless.
Could he be the Dôn in the throne by 1399?
Would he prevent the new plague that was to come?
Or was there?
Was it just a dream?

For the first time Susi had seen it, he had passed it by as silliness caused by stress and dealing with the nation’s affairs during the plague seasons. A second time would have been just memorizing a dramatic of his subconscious, as would have been the third…
…but how many nights there had been now? eight? …or even nine…
Susi had lost the count. And more he dreamed, more lively…or deadly the dream had begun to appear… and as if the original message was fading away, the fear of plague did not. It had begun toil his senses. His sanity…oh Jesus! Save me!
A paranoid fear of the plague catching him and revealing him from the duties to his crown, and to his family.
Reko was a good son; he didn’t fear the realm trembling away once his own time would be up.
 
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I have a feeling that it should say Irish instead of English. Or some nutty welsh dialect of sheep shaggers.
 
the ways of the crom are not considered civilised here in Dônmark court
 
I am a Jesuit in your Japan! Crom Wills It!
Francis_Xavier_3.jpg

I'm afraid the unnaturally fast expansion of your religion will hold up once the bug is fixed.

You know, the one making it impossible to convert to anything else, which would eventually flood the world with Pagans.

I daresay we did pretty well in containing the Pagan Menace.
 
The Awakening of Gregori Rasputin – Text Update II

Returning to the status of the room itself.

Being Koschei's study maybe it is revealing of the character of the archmage?

The room was cold, cold enough to cause even the dust to forsake its surfaces.

There was not a single item out of place, every item, every book, and page and tome was precisely positioned.

Ornamented. Not unlike a tomb, never touched, never used, never sought after.

For Koschei was dead. This much was clear to Rasputin after years sitting and studying within the frozen confines of this room.

Rasputin may not have signed it, may not have witnessed it for it was before his time, but dead he was sure of.

Rasputin was sure of many things now, everything, the world, reality itself held new meaning and new clarity to him.

How could he know Koschei was dead? It is but obvious, for Rasputin is his sole student, his sole follower, his ally and sole servant and errand boy. Every monotonous task the cost for each scrap of knowledge the wizard held out to him just barely out of reach. There may have been no funeral, no widows nor grieving family for Koschei walked the halls of the tower, visited far corners of Rus' with no issue and to all rational observation very much alive and the picture of health.

But he was dead, dead inside, dead of soul, the flame of life and vigour squashed.

Clarity was everything, perspective the key, knowledge the door.

And the Test, the hand that opens it.

The Test of High Sorcery was held once every eight years, and could only be undertaken when the Conclave considers after much discussion the aspiring acolyte worthy. The reward is power and status and the punishment is swift death to those unsuited to wielding the torrential forces of magic itself.

And Rasputin had taken it secretly.

Koschei had lied.

Koschei The Immortal was using him for his own ends.

Koschei using his influence as Magister of the Tower of Novgorod had sent him to take the test without the Conclave's approval, but Rasputin was growing ever suspicious of his Master.

Words did not match up with the gestures, there was something odd if not eldritch about him and in a moment of instinct went to take the test while the Master was away on business in Bhadgad.
It was a grueling affair stretching his knowledge to the limit, but it also showed him the truth and ripped open his eyes and his soul. Penetrating his spirit challenging his determination.

His family had survived the demon attack.

And Koschei was indirectly responsible.

Who are you? The magic would ask. Appearing before him, robbed in imperial purple, dark and forbidding.

“I am Rasputin.”

Who are you? It asked again. Your family is alive and well, they miss you... Why not go to them?

Rasputin was torn. He had spent years studying magic, nearly all of his resolve disappeared in that instant.

Rasputin stared into the eyes of the magic, seeing in it the reflection of himself, and saw the path before him.

Saw the power he could attain.

The power Koschei wanted to plunder from him.

Who are you? It beckoned, louder.

“I am the Great Magician Gregori Rasputin! My family already died once and if needed they shall die again, I will not give up this power, magic is my one and only purpose.” His soul tore up in great pain staggering him to his knees.

“So it is done.” The voice of the magic said, almost sighing.

“Gregori Rasputin as of this day you are now a full wizard of the Moon Unseen, your spells are your feet, magic is your strength, your robes your shield and your mind your sword.”

The form of the magic yet formless withdrew an arm from its robes drawing forth a green container.

“Within this phylactery is the knowledge of Merlin. I shall grant it to you for a short time so you may have a chance to slay Koschei while he is unawares, his plans threaten the very existence of magic itself.” Bored.

“Steal away Koschei's soul and smash it, and it shall be destroyed forever along with all of his knowledge.”

A choice will then lay before you, choose wisely.

And with that Rasputin was back in the cold, dark study empty and noiseless except for his own breathing.
 
A Time to Mourn

To every thing, (turn - turn - turn)
there is a time (turn - turn - turn)
and a season
for every purpose
under Heaven.

A time to build up;
a time to break down.
A time to dance;
a time to mourn.
A time to cast away stones;
a time to gather stones together.

The wisdom of Ecclesiastes is timeless; but time and again it is forgotten. In Rome, it is no longer a time to plot, nor a time to scheme. The exiled court at Nicaea, looking forlornly across the Strait at the lost City of Men's Desire, instead finds time to reflect, and to reconsider.

The Will of God is manifest in all things. If the City has fallen, if Rome has come on hard times, this has not been allowed without reason; but there is a lesson in them. Surely such defeats do not come about except as punishment for sins; for the strength of a righteous man is as the strength of ten. And even in defeat Roman record-keeping has been meticulous, and the report of Roman veterans is not to be discounted; and it is clear that the kataphrakts were never outnumbered more than three to one, even at the height of the disasters.

And for what sin can God have allowed the wild Croatian tribesmen, the very scourge of the faithful, to take His hallowed city? The form of His punishment makes it clear: Rome plotted with the infidel to bring down its brothers in faith; and as a result, those who had kept faith were given the Hagia Sophia, and those who were false to their faith had it taken away.

Even as we have planned to do to the least of the little ones, it is as though we had plotted it for the Lord himself; and in consequence those who were meek have inherited the Earth - or at any rate, its center and greatest city.

Yet all is not lost; for the Lord takes away, but he also gives, in overflowing abundance. He has opened the first seal against the infidel, and the spirit of rebellion has entered the emirs, sultans, beys, pashas, and all the innumerable other ranks of the Caliphate; and from Damascus to Morocco the land is aflame with rebellion. The Komnenoi may be miserable sinners, but they can take a hint when the Lord verily whacks them over the head with the beam of His Cross! And victory has crowned their repenting; for the ancient fortress city of Antioch, lost these two centuries ago to rebellion and dissent in the Christian ranks, again flies the Two Lions banner. Thus does the Lord reward those who turn away from sin, and return to His fold: He bathes them in the blood of the infidel, and makes them clean as lambs and fierce as lions. God Wills It!

There is a time for war, and a time for peace; and this is both. Let there be peace within Christendie, and war, to the very knife, with the infidel. Ancient wrongs, long suppressed in the interest of expedience, shall be avenged; the martyrdom of Italy, and the oppression of pilgrims in the Holy Land, shall not be suffered to continue.

And as for those lands which have already come under the Imperial banner, and have ceased their rebellion against rightful Roman rule, and for which the Caliph threatens and glares: We shall draw a lesson from our ancestors, who were not Christian but who, for all that, faced bravely the overwhelming power of an Eastern tyranny. Asked for their weapons and their submission, they sent in reply only the two words, molon labe.

Come and get them.
 
Edits:

  • Blayne AAR: Fix vR's king.
  • Golle AAR: Courtier move.
  • KoM AAR: Educate heir. Also, because he had become Catholic!Pagan by bug, removed Pagan. Hope nobody minds.
  • Immortals.
  • Ragusa to Croatia.

Ok, having trouble with the uploader here. Try this elegant and finely-crafted link.
 
denmark king gets plague...
gets healed
gets illness
gets a new plague...
(he is also severly wounded)

... he wont die, but instead he makes daughters to the dynasty...


But he died!!
King is dead! Long Live the King!!
 
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byzantium declares war upon Egyptian (few remaining) Vassal!!!
 
Sounds like it will be almost as dramatic a session as last week.

When the dust has settled I would love to see mupdates.

Hopefully nobody gets annexed either way.