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Ashantai

Lost in Time
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Aug 4, 2009
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A Blessing and a Curse


Introduction

Hello and welcome to my first EUIV AAR! Like most of my others, this will be an AAR which alternates between narrative and gameplay chapters, but with an emphasis on ‘reasonable’ actions. I will attempt to play the rulers and their countries as their skills and situations demand. I am not afraid of losing, and indeed it can be quite a refreshing change from all of the super successful AARs out there.

There will be two significant changes from normal. Firstly, I will alternate between countries based either upon a random number of years or some measure of gameplay progress, such as a leader dying or a specific war being won. Long-time readers will notice this was how I did my ‘Eternal Exile’ story. The second change is that I will be using this opportunity to explore the EUIV gameplay somewhat. In my gameplay chapters I will try and provide some insights into the game as I learn it.

Finally, I will be playing this pretty much as I write, meaning there will be varying gaps between updates, once EUIV is released of course.
I am open to reader suggestions about future directions and destinations. We have almost 400 years to play with, after all!

I have my first country selected, so now I just need the game to come out....

Table of Contents

Prologue - The Rider (N)
Chapter 1 - Awakening (N)
Chapter 2 - Introduction to EUIV (G)
Chapter 3 - The Countess' Court (N)
Chapter 4 - The Choice (N)
Chapter 5 - The Last Barrier (M)
Chapter 6 - The Sons of Osman (G)

( (N) Indicates a narrative chapter, (G) a gameplay chapter and (M) a mixed chapter.)
 
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The first nation? You shall see in due time. :)

As I said, it will change at certain intervals.
 
Prologue – The Rider
November 13, 1444.

The cold rain had stopped around midnight. Now the clouds cleared to reveal the rays of a waxing moon. The rider leant forward on his horse tiredly as it plodded along the track. A quick glance behind confirmed he was still not being followed. His enemies had given up the previous day, but he could not be sure they would not return.
The rider pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders, sodden though it was, and tried to discern any landmarks in the darkness. His stomach was empty, and for more than two days he had eaten and drunk nothing other than some hastily obtained water from streams he had passed by.
The rider was a fugitive from the disastrous battle fought on the fields of Varna three days before, a Teutonic Knight named Markov Sarmaka. Markov had fought, and survived the battle, but had been hunted as he fled, and was now thoroughly lost in the wilds of Bulgaria. Markov’s side ached from where an arrow had pierced his mail shirt and cut into his side. The wound had not been serious, and he had managed to bandage it, but it still hurt. He wondered if the rumours that the infidels poisoned their arrows was true. He still had his sword though, even if his shield and surcoat had been lost in the retreat.
Three days of no food and little sleep had pushed Markov to the brink of collapse. Worse still his horse was stumbling and he knew the beast would soon drop. He had to find help somewhere quickly, but where? In the darkness all he could see were endless fields interspersed with hills and distant mountains.
As he came over a slight rise and saw in the distance the lights of a building. Instinctively he checked his horse, knowing that such a place would possibly contain enemies. At this point though Markov knew he needed to at least try or die on the road.

When he got within a quarter mile of the building, he saw it was a small castle, but in bad disrepair. As he rode forward his horse let out a whinny of exhaustion and slumped forward. He had barely the strength left to pull his feet from the stirrups before the mare fell to the ground. Looking up at the castle, Markov thought he saw a figure at the top of the battlements, but when he looked closer it was gone.
Stumbling to his feet while his horse lay dying, he staggered on towards the ruins. Combined with his horse, he had not exactly been quiet, but before he could reach the entrance he stumbled and fell onto the overgrown road. The lack of sleep, the lack of food and the wound all combined, and as he lay there he blacked out.
He thought he heard voices and wondered whether he was bound for heaven or hell and whether, in the end, it would matter.
Darkness closed over Markov Sarmaka, and he knew no more.

(I will be playing Ottomans for the first part...sort of!)
 
Interesting first chapter! It has my brain working now. I am wondering if this Markov fellow is important in some way, or if it's just an interesting way to highlight Varna. Or maybe the old castle is important somehow... hmm..
 
Seeing the title, A Blessing and a Curse, I assume Markov awakes to find himself immortal (a vampire, perchance?) and somehow ends up controlling various nations throughout his long and tortured undead existence.

I could be utterly wrong, of course, and I probably am. :)

Anyway, interesting premise and I look forward to what it'll hold.

PS: When you say you'll play as the Ottomans "sort of", does that mean you'll intentionally run them into the ground? ;)
 
gela:A bit of both...but he will be a central figure in this drama for sure.
Gen. Marshall: Many questions indeed! You'll see what I mean by 'sort of' next time.
Avindian: Pleased to see you here! When can we expect to see a random country EUIV AAR from you? ;)
TheKaspa Thanks! Welcome aboard!
Webstantine: No, no. The similarity is entirely coincidental.
Sacco: Thanks! :)
Stuyvesant: <_< Aha...now where did you get all these silly ideas from? Alright fine, you're mostly right! Sort of, you'll see what I mean next time.

Chapter 1 - Awakening
November 14, 1444.

Markov Sarmaka opened his eyes. The mere fact that he could do so was a terrific surprise to him. If nothing else he expected to wake up in heaven or possibly hell, where his soul would be judged, and his faith in Christ would be weighed. As a Teutonic Knight his faith was absolute he believed, and the defeat at Varna had merely been an extension of His will. And now he was awake, he had survived, and he thanked God for his deliverance in that first moment.

He blinked. He was in a shadowy room inside a basement. He surmised that he was inside the castle, as the basement looked old, and the bed he had been laid in was rickety and threadbare. Slowly he sat up and felt his side. A new bandage had been put over the wound and the pain was dulled.
It was at that moment that he realised her felt…odd. There was something unusual going on, for sure, but he couldn’t place it. He felt hungry still, but the bite of hunger seemed dulled. It was cold in the room as there was no fire, but he didn’t really feel the cold either. It was strange, but perhaps that was merely a function of his recovery.
His thoughts turned next to who had rescued him. Clearly it was not the infidels or else he’d have been killed or enslaved. Likewise with bandits or other ruffians. His Order was not popular for its attempts to root out such brigands in his homeland. All in all it was a mystery.

Markov did not have long to ponder this though because at that moment the door opened and in entered an extraordinary woman. Markov hadn’t been sure what he had been expecting, but it was not the beautiful, elegant woman in a black dress who entered the room. She smiled.
“Good day, sir knight,” she said in Latin.
Markov knew the language rather scratchily from his prayers and through talking with the priests. “Good day, Lady,” he said, standing. He found he didn’t even sway as he rose, he felt back to full strength.
“What is your name?” she asked, approaching.
Markov felt a little underdressed in just his stained tunic and hose. “Brother Markov Sarmaka of the Order of St Mary.”
“A Teutonic Knight? How interesting.” She paused, then continued in High German, such as the Knights spoke. “I suspected as much from your sword and insignia. Markov Sarmaka is not a very…Teutonic name.”
Thankful he was able to converse in a language he knew more fluently, Markov shrugged. “My family are from Livland. They kept up the tradition of their names. I was never intended to be a Knight but…it was God’s will, I am sure.”
“Oh of course,” she said with a chuckle. “I am glad to see that you survived, Markov. What are you doing in the wilds of Bulgaria?”
Markov’s face fell. He looked at the floor. “There was a great battle with the infidels at Varna three, no four, days ago. Somehow they were victorious and I was forced to flee to avoid death or capture. I cannot understand how we could have been defeated!”
“Because King Władysław was a fool, and instead of letting Hunyadi lead he charged to his death,”
the Lady said acidly.
Markov stared at her. “You heard of the battle already then?”
“I did. It was most…damaging. All of Christendom’s efforts to throw back the infidel gone to nought. A waste of blood and treasure, and now we shall have to start again.”
She sighed theatrically.
Markov was still staring at her, puzzled at her knowledge and her attitudes. “Lady, if I might, what are you doing in this ruin? Are you alone?”
“Alone? No. My retainers and servants are upstairs. What am I doing here? Well, let’s just say that I wished to lay low and observe the results of the campaign. Sadly, my time has been wasted, it seems. Tomorrow we will depart, heading back to Hungary.”
“And me?” Markov asked.
“You are welcome to come, Markov. I suspect it will be a long journey home either way, and you may as well go with us.”

“Thank you, Lady, I will do so.”
“Excellent. My servants will bring you food, clothes and whatever else you need. Your sword and other items are in the chest at the foot of the bed.”
She turned to go.
“Lady…I do not know your name,” Markov called.
Her smile was somewhat disconcerting. “My apologies. I am Countess Lilith Bathory. Farewell, Markov Sarmaka….”
 
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Bathory - the woman who supposedly bathed in the blood of virgins in an effort to retain her youthful beauty. Markov is in fine company. ;) I believe the saying "Out of the frying pan, into the fire" is most apt here.

So what do we know? Markov has been healed - mysteriously so. And his senses are dulled. Hmm. Oh, and he is now unwittingly a companion to a woman who, at best, is a homicidal maniac. At worst, she some kind of supernatural Überbad. I'm still going with the vampire thesis. Especially, as Webstantine points out, she's a countess. Eastern European/Balkans lower nobility of unusual appearance usually means supernatural trouble.