"Guess-the-Author" Analysis and Critiques

[Amric]

A Rival Is Embroiled In War​

Shadows flicker from a lone candle in a room with no windows.

The six men and women in this room are very much not in this room. The steward, for example, is visiting his mother in Flanders, the General is inspecting troops at an un-specified location, and the Bishop is en route to the Holy See. If word of their meeting reaches unpleased ears, their own ears will be detached from their bodies…if they are lucky.

Precautions have been taken, to include well-publicized alibis.

“Were you followed?”

“Sire, we were not.”

“You were.”

They turn, their surprise quickly rising to alarm as they can not find the source of the voice. The steward, his hand shaking, holds the candle above his head in an effort to illuminate the room’s darkest corners. The Count, however, is relieved.

“Sooki?”

“My Lord.”

Sooki drops gracefully from under the table, and stands before her liege. Sooki is ancient…children whisper that she is older than the King himself…but she still moves with the grace of a swan and the strength of a tiger.

“We were concerned, Sooki. We had not heard from you in some years.”

“Shadows to attend to, my Lord. Shadows to attend. But now it is your shadows to which Sooki can provide her talents.”

“It makes my heart full. But you say they were followed?”

“By Sooki herself, my Lord. Sooki herself. To ensure they were not followed by someone…less adequate.”

“And?”

“They were not.”

The Count nods, stroking where a beard would be, were he of an age where a beard would be. He turns back to those he prays are most devoted to his cause.

“Then what news?”

The General, standing a solid six inches taller than his liege, with squinty eyes hidden behind a bushy uni-brow and bulbous nose, clears his throat.

“Sire. The King remains at war with both duchies. The fact that the King has not been able to put down these rebels already means that…even if he ultimate recaptures their land…he has already lost.”

“What of the rest of the Kingdom?”

The young Isabella…to whom the Count has already given his heart and will one day give his ring…responds.

“They watch from the safety of their castles, Lord. I have contacted every Count and every Duke. They are unlikely to join the rebels…but, likewise, they are also not rushing to the King’s defense.”

“Our coffers?”

“Full, Sire,” replies the elderly steward, wiping the burning wax from his hands. “Full. Overflowing, even. With no shortages in the future.”

“And what of the men?”

“Ready, my liege. Merely waiting for the word.”

“Their numbers?”

“Not enough,” admits the General, “if we were fighting on our own. But now, after the War of the Two Dukes, we nearly outnumber the King. And we will only be fighting on one front. The King will be facing assault from three sides.”

“Then there is only one question left. Is it the right thing to do?”

The Bishop steps forward, tapping a carved wooden staff to ensure that he does not bump into the table.

“I have not seen for many years, as you well know. But I see this: it is time for good Catholics to be free of the scandalous King.”

“And the Pope?”

“He must remain indifferent to the affairs between men, but you know he does not count the King amongst his friends.”

“Then it is settled. As of today, we are independent of the King!”

“And what of tomorrow, My Lord?”

“Tomorrow, Sooki? Tomorrow, I become the King.”

 

[Amric]

Obviously, dearest wife, you have heard of the boars around here. Let me try to explain a bit about them. I can report that the males of their species do indeed grow impressive tusks, which are sometimes employed to impale their adversaries, but are primarily used to burrow their living quarters. Mysteriously, these animals are nowhere to be seen during daylight hours, aligning themselves as they do with bats, owls, and other ominous creatures of the night. Though they have been known to gore to death those unfortunate enough to stumble unwittingly upon their territory, and yes, it is may be that this is the fate that befell Angus’s dog last month, they are altogether rather more passive than it is commonly assumed. They subsist largely on a diet of grasses and berries.

Naturally—if you will let me continue for a moment, and I am going somewhere with this—with all the intimidating lore that shrouds and surrounds these wild beasts, one can understand why Harold felt it such a brave and daring feat to “slay” one, as he did Tuesday. He did this on my estate, I might add, so one might call it poaching, although I personally don’t consider myself so petty as to ever suggest such a thing. I can say, however, that having killed a half a dozen of the things myself over the years, it is obvious that for a properly armed human being it is not a task of any extraordinary nature.

Yes, dear, Harold was properly armed.

Right, yes, let’s examine Harold’s side of the story. Supposedly, when he heard of the death of Angus’s dog, he fearlessly set out to find the beast responsible and destroy it, before it struck again, this time killing a child; or worse—and now I quote him exactly—that “our dear Father Daniel might fall prey to this great boar whilst hunting in the wood.” Am I not justified in feeling the slightest bit degraded when Harold, of all people, implies that he is taking it upon himself to rescue me from this imagined threat? Is it that I’m too feeble or too stupid, in his venerated estimation, that I am apparently a sitting duck imminently to be mauled by a pig?

Harold spent much of the next month searching for this legendary beast, a matter about which I was quite sympathetic in light of the fact that the time he was spending on his noble quest was causing him to shirk, advertently or not, his actual duties in the court. Of course, I never directly mentioned this to him; I only made the subtle and frankly quite helpful suggestion that he try hunting at night instead of in the middle of the day, noting, as I did to you just now, the nocturnal tendencies of his coveted prey. And in no way am I taking credit for Harold’s success, but he finally killed a boar that night after I offered him my advice, although obviously there is no way to be sure that it was the same boar that killed Angus’s dog, or even that Angus’s dog was killed by a boar in the first place, and not a bear or a wolf. So, having heard that, I hope you realize the stark and inherent irrationality in suggesting that I would be somehow envious of Harold for killing a wild boar, having already stated that I have killed several of the creatures myself and that I consider the effort to be menial.

No, this has nothing to do with any of these alleged “lingering grudges” of mine which you are always so keen to completely fabricate. I have only spoken well in the past of Harold—yes, and if I haven’t, it’s only because of certain carefully formed judgments I have made concerning the man’s behavior. Considering his countless foibles and misadventures which have often had consequences greatly to my own personal detriment, I find it eminently reasonable of me to behave as leniently and as magnanimously toward Harold as I have. In response, he has paid me little respect and has treated me with mockery and contempt. If I were to lend any credence to his taunting, he would have me believe that my own wife were unfaithful, and frankly, though I feel confident of their falsity, I can’t say as though your conduct tonight serves much in the way of refuting such assertions. Why, I might also mention that only just after I offered him my sound counsel on the subject of boar hunting Tuesday afternoon, Harold took it upon himself to sneer in response and utter some flippant advice of a very crude nature on sexual matters, the content of which I shall most certainly not repeat unto your delicate ears.

No, it was not “probably good advice!”

I only wish I could understand why you are so wholeheartedly impressed by the mundane exploits of a man who is a known philanderer and an established liar, whereas you no longer seem to pay any attention to the qualities, or respect to the virtues, of your own husband.

My dear, you are beginning to behave quite outrageously. If you will allow it, let me return to describing the physical attributes of the wild boar, as I think some details over which I earlier skimmed rather briefly may be able to correct this lapse of yours in thinking that shooting a couple arrows into an unsuspecting pig is somehow an accomplishment that commands constant laudation and fawning over the poach—hunter in question. I should begin by mentioning that the wild boar has been known only in extremely rare cases to exceed a total weight of—

I’m telling you this because they are facts relevant to assessing the issue in question. I’m trying to make you form a logical conclusion based on the facts. Now if you will remind me of the matter on which I was presently speaking at the time of your latest interruption, I will continue.

Oh, so I am boring then, I see. After I have just complimented your character and told you in what high esteem I hold you as a wife, I must say it is quite rich of you to remind me of how posh and exceedingly dull I am. Why don’t you go over to Harold’s and discuss something vivid and colorful then. You tart.

Yes, I do suppose that is what I shall call you from now on. Speaking of which, what is it they call him—or rather, what is it he is calling himself now? “Harold the Vanquisher,” was it? Ha! Harold, the valorous warrior who fell a mighty godforsaken hog? Yes, please, do go pay your dearest Harold a visit right now. Perhaps you might be so forthcoming as to make yourself the newest sow to be the object of Harold’s vanquishing. I for one should be rather unsurprised.

A joke. And you haven’t said worse things, I suppose. Yes, you have never made equally wounding jokes at my expense, of course.

Yes, fine then. Right, feel free to just step right out the door like that and leave me. But—but you know, I never did finish to you my description of the physical features of the wild boar, and I would like to do so if you wouldn’t mind. It seems you used to be interested in such things, or at least you would feign an interest, but never before were you so outwardly callous and impolite. So if you wouldn’t mind just—just having a seat again, as I never did get the chance to say—but, right, I suppose you don’t care—very well. Right, slam the door in my face.

So, good-bye then, Catherine.

 

[Amric]

Our next two entries.....start the commenting, folks!

 

[Amric]

Gift to the State​

It was raining when Ulric made his way to the town, a cold, thin drizzle that plastered his hair to his scalp and made him wish, not for the first time, that he had listened to his wife. The town wasn't a welcoming sight - if you could even call Mont-Verre a town. with its single steeple dominating the settlement. But it was the closest thing to civilization he'd seen since he arrived.

The smells of baking wafted past his nose as he neared the inn that marked the outskirts of Mont-Verre and Ulric's stomach grumbled audibly. His hand tightened on his walking stick and he stubbornly pushed on. In the rain it was hard to see what he was looking for; he wandered by it twice before the sign struck him, a faded ochre anvil on a plank that swung freely in the wind. Ulric hammered on the door, stubbornly refusing to go away until at last he heard footsteps from above. The top half of the door swung open to reveal a big man armed with a hammer scowling at him; Ulric would have jumped if he hadn't been so weary. As it was, he put on his best smile and began explaining the situation in fluent Latin.

"Fermé," interrupted the big man. "Revenez demain."

Ulric was taken aback. Latin was supposed to be the lingua franca - he hadn't expected to have language difficulties. Well, not more than the usual, anyway. He hesitated, torn between trying to find a second smithy or trying to pantomime his needs. Before he could force his sluggish thoughts towards a decision it was made for him. The exasperated local undid the latch, pulled open the door and walked inside, beckoning at Ulric to follow.

Once inside, Ulric clumsily closed the door behind him and then hurried to catch up to his host. He stepped into what seemed to be a living room, perhaps, gratefully trying to warm up his hands around a candle the smith thrust at him. In its flickering light, he saw the eyes of his host narrow as he took in Ulric's clothes, noticed his mouth tighten. He asked a question in the same incomprehensible tongue, then repeated it, louder. Ulric raised his hands in what he hoped was a universal sign of 'I haven't the faintest idea'. Then he reached into his pocket - slowly, out of respect for that hammer - and pulled out a stone that glittered dimly even in the candlelight.

"Ah!" said the big man, and let out a breath.

He asked a question, and the tone of his voice made it clear that Ulric had just been promoted from 'potential lunatic' to 'paying customer'. Ulric handed over the ruby. The big man made a big show of examining it, making the occasional indecipherable comment. Then he pulled out a grease board and wrote a figure on it. He probably expected to haggle, but Ulric was already thinking of a hot meal and he simply nodded. The smith reached out one burly hand and solemnly shook Ulric's, then went into the back room to open the safe. He came back quickly and poured a handful of silver coins into Ulric's outstretched palms, spilling them onto the floor. As Ulric bent over to scoop them up he caught the eye of the smith for a split-second and the burly man smirked. He thinks it's stolen, realized Ulric. He probably just paid me a tenth what it's worth. That thought didn't bother him nearly as much as the way the man was eyeing him. He quickly straightened up, said a few meaningless pleasantries, and fled out the door into the rain.

The next morning Ulric felt much better. He had a full stomach and had gotten a good night's sleep. His best efforts to pantomime a bath had led him nowhere, but he had managed some new clothes and some boots that looked a little sturdier than the shoes he'd walked in yesterday. And, he thought a bit anxiously, if anyone's looking for me I might not stand out quite so much. Overall a definite improvement. He yawned, scratched, wolfed down a breakfast of somewhat unidentifiable porridge and set out determinedly for the one person in town he knew would speak Latin.

The church wasn't open when he called, but a knock on the rectory door resulted in a face-to-face meeting with a tonsured young man in brown robes; obviously just the person he had in mind. "Good morning, father," he said, bowing in the way he remembered seeing.

The young monk smiled faintly. "Brother," he corrected Ulric. His accent was so thick it made Ulric wince. "Brother Tomas. You must be a visitor to our fair duchy."

"You could say that."

The monk frowned. "I did," he said.

Ah, the vagaries of idiom. Ulric cursed inwardly. "Excuse me," he said. "Yes, I am a traveller from a...from afar." The monk stared at him uninvitingly, arms crossed. Ulric sighed. "To tell the truth, I am lost."

The monk nodded almost too eagerly. Much was explained, apparently. "I see!" he said sympathetically. "Bandits attacked your caravan?" Ulric took the line and went with it, spinning a tale of nighttime attack and survival by the grace of God. That hit just the right note, for the monk crossed himself at the news and offered a quick prayer on the behalf of his imaginary lost companions. Ulric did the same, taking the opportunity to scratch as he did so.

"You may be in luck," said Brother Tomas. "There's a trade fair not far from here, and you may well be able to find a caravan going your way." He paused. "Where did you say you were headed?"

Luckily, Ulric had a ready answer this time. "Jerusalem," he said firmly. The monk glanced at him, surprised. "I, er, I'm on a pilgrimage."

"Why didn't you say so?" cried the monk. "It is the feast of Saint Christopher this coming week, and my order has a special charge to aid pilgrims. I would be honored if you were to reside with me until then."

A whole week? Ulric wanted to get home as soon as possible. "Thank you, but I have a room at the inn." His scalp itched and he scratched it furiously.

"The dancing bear? You'll get mites." Ulric stopped scratching suddenly. "No, my friend, I insist. Besides, who else here can I speak of Virgil or Caesar to? Other than the Duke - and I only see him on Sundays." He smiled as if sharing a joke.

"Sorry, but I can't. I have to get to Jerusalem."

Brother Tomas looked at him with pitying eyes. "I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, then. The holy city was taken by the Infidel these two years past, and the Saracens now guard it jealously against pilgrims. Your pilgrimage is in vain."

"You don't understand. I have to get there!" snapped Ulric.

"Perhaps I don't," agreed the monk. "I opted for a quiet life, not one of passions. But it's a moot point. No ship will take you to Judea - not even if you chartered it whole. The Berbers have been active in these waters recently - it would take a fleet to protect them. And as much as I hate to believe it, the age of crusades is over. Had the king been willing to take up the cross ten years ago, it might have been different...but now? It would require a great effort of men and an equal expenditure of gold, and the Fuggers no longer give credit to crusaders."

He sighed. "It would take a miracle."

"Or a new element." Ulric paused. "You said the Duke spoke Latin?"
§
The jewels spilled across the table, creating a tableau of red and white over the map. In the sunlight through the window they seemed to wink at you. Then the clouds covered the sun and their spell was broken. They were just a few pretty rocks; any beast would walk right on by them without a second glance. It took a superior race to shed lives over them.

"A man of your word," breathed the duke. "I did not believe it when I heard, but truly, this is a king's ransom." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"I came by them honestly," said Ulric for what seemed like the forty-fifth time that afternoon. "My caravan was attacked, I was the only survivor - but the thieves didn't get our treasure."

"Perhaps," said the duke. "Perhaps not."

He smiled.

"I'll let the priests debate that one. What is important to me is that you are giving them to me," he said, showing teeth in a smile that screamed of a poor diet.

"A gift to the state," suggested Ulric.

"With no strings attached?" asked the Duke sarcastically, looking up at Ulric. "I was not born yesterday."

"I wish to see Jerusalem before I die." The Duke raised one eyebrow and Ulric decided to gamble on the truth. "And...there is...something there that I need."

"Ah." The Duke smiled knowingly. "The True Cross? Or the Holy Grail?"

"Something just as potent," said Ulric with a laugh. Perhaps the wine was getting to him, but he felt at ease for the first time in ages. "It should be in the inner sanctum of the temple there, if I'm not mistaken."

"The holy of holies?" He frowned. "You mean the Ark of the Covenant?" When Ulric did not gainsay him, he pressed on. "Don't you know the temple was destroyed ages ago?"

"But not all was lost," said Ulric. "I know for a fact that it survived."

"Even so - you would need to comb Jerusalem while it teems with infidels. It would take an army!" He snorted. "But for this, I would gladly escort you there myself."

He looked down at the table again.

"This could finance a Third Crusade." He was all calculation again, holding up each stone in turn, thinking out loud. "Not all of it, of course; we'd be lucky to get five hundred ducats for the largest of these. But together they might be enough to start it - and from there, these things have a habit of growing on their own."

He nodded sagagiously, as if he'd personally been on several crusades in the past. Ulric nodded back, as if he believed him.

"We can get the ships from Venice, I know a man there. If I send three of these to Lyons, convert them there - that will get them talking across France. Another six as capital here, the Jews can handle that much - the others to Genoa. This large one to the king, of course, and this one to the dauphin, he loves flattery - yes, it will be difficult, but...this may very well be enough." He looked up, his eyes shining. "Never did I think I would see the day that France raised her arms up to reclaim the Holy Land. You are a man of faith, sir, to finance this expedition."

"Say, instead, a man of science," suggested Ulric, lifting a goblet. "These gems - everything I have in this world, in fact, I made through science."

The Duke looked puzzled, but lifted his goblet in turn. "To Jerusalem, then?"

"To Jerusalem." They drank.

Ulric was content to fade away for a while and let the duke take charge. With the stones gone there was little Ulric had to bargain with, and it took so much effort to get more. He had no desire to find himself becoming an albatross around the neck of his patron - or worse, under suspicion again - and so he did his best to be unobtrusive and uninteresting. He went to mass every day - not exactly a hardship since he ended up staying with Brother Tomas. True to his word, they spent many days discussing the classics. Ulric's knowledge of the old texts amazed the young brother and made up for his clumsy unfamiliarity with the Bible that Tomas loved so much.

In the beginning, Ulric would be summoned by the Duke and asked this or that, but as it turned out that he had no military experience, no familiarity with the region and no more miraculous gems forthcoming, the visits grew more and more seldom. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. The castle was a blur of activity, and it seemed all of Europe was afire with the news of the crusade. Ulric itched to go, but everything took time. Time. Ha.


And so it was precisely thirteen months after he arrived that Ulric stood in plain sight of the holy city of Jerusalem. The crusaders were weary; there had been setbacks along the way, and there was only so much that he could do. It was hot, hot and thirsty, and the sweat dripping down his back reminded Ulric of home, and his mother, and summers by the sea. It made him ache all the more, as he set up his equipment on the hilltop.

The console beeped. "Xiao-Myers readings are negative. No waves present."

Ulric swore. He screamed. He shouted up at the heavens, banged his fists on the ground, cried salty tears until his eyes were dry. Finally he stood up.

"Damn it, Martya," he whispered. "How much longer are you going to make me pay?"

He put away the equipment, carefully, as if his life depended on it.

"I was so sure this time." He gnawed at his lip. "It had to have been in Jerusalem. I know it."

His shoulders sagged. "Perhaps...perhaps you were right, my love."

One of the crusaders arrived, a young man out of breath from running uphill in chain mail. "I...heard someone screaming," he explained. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," said Ulric woodenly in his passable French. "I just realized how much of my life has been spent on this." He started to walk downhill, then stopped.
"You're...a templar, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, milord," said the knight proudly.

"The templars took Jerusalem in 1099," breathed Ulric. "It must have been taken back to Europe." He paused, then began to laugh. "To France. My calculations weren't off - hers were." He laughed harder.

"Milord?" asked the knight.

"The game is on!" he yelled triumphantly. From the hilltop those words seemed to echo for miles. They would echo down the centuries.


fin

 

[Amric]

The Game: Foolish Taunting​

Venice: Is everyone in?

Portugal: Yep.

Spain: Oh yeah!

England: Yo…

France: Burgundy is ready to rock and roll!

England: Burgundy?

France: <blush> Oops, I mean France.

Spain: you believe this guy?

Brittany: Thanks for letting me back in the game, guys.

France: Ready to lose to me again, Dauphine lover?

Ottoman Empire: Hey! What happened to my European possessions?

Hungary: That’s what you get for missing a playing session. Lol

Bohemia: Dude, the AI was soo dumb…even the Byzantines were kicking ‘your’ butt!

Venice: Yeah…so, like…we had to ‘pacify’ the region…enjoy!

Ottoman Empire: Bastards! Just wait ‘til I’ve subdued the Mamlukes, then I’ll be back.

Venice: Sure. Build a real navy first. I like a challenge.

Venice: All right, I’m ready to start the clock. We all ready?

Portugal: Hurry up already…I got colonies to make!

Spain: Easy there partner, you know I’m just gonna take them off you anyway.

Portugal: STFU

Venice: Okay, clock running. Tonight’s session will run for fifty years. Game stop date will be January 1, 1544.

England: God, he is so anal!

Venice: I heard that!

France: Time for some unfinished business. You ready to die Brittany?

Brittany: Umm…you don’t want to do that.

France: Why not? Je suis la France!

Brittany: Erm…because I have friends…powerful friends…

France: Pfft, they won’t be able to help you in time. lol

21 January, 1494. FRANCE DECLARES WAR ON BRITTANY

Brittany: <nervously> guys? A little help?

Brandenburg: To ARMS!

Poland: We have access right?

Lorraine: Yep, Brandenburg is the HRE. I’m in as well.

Pomerania: Don’t forget me! Should I send help?

Poland: You have an army?

France: Damn, forgot about the HRE thing…no matter. You will all cower before the might of my magnificent armies.

Poland: What armies? I’m sieging three of your dutch provinces and you haven’t even shown up yet.

Brandenburg: CHICKEN!! BWACK, BWACK!

France: How is the attrition up there? Just you wait, come spring you’ll be running back across the Rhine. Lol

06 June, 1494. DENMARK ANNEXES NORWAY

Denmark: Perfect, one step closer to recreating the Union.

Sweden: What?

Denmark: We could do an alliance?

Sweden: NO!

Denmark: Aww.

France: There, knocked one of your sieges out. Now on to the next…

Poland [team talk to Brandenburg]: Look out B-burg, here he comes! You got a leader there?

Brandenburg [team talk to Poland]: Send some of your cavalry over plz.

Poland: Ha! Your army is beaten. Make peace worthy adversary.

France: ‘Tis but a scratch.

Poland: A scratch? Your army is retreating!

France: No it isn’t.

Poland: We slaughtered 30,000 men!

France: I’ve had worse.

Brandenburg: YOU LIE!

France: C’mon you pansy!

Poland [team talk to Brandenburg]: Siege Brabant. I’m going to move toward the coast.

Brandenburg: [team talk to Poland]: kk

Brittany: ‘Sup now France? Too chicken to face my armies? Pretty soon I’ll have a few provinces too!

Poland: Victory is mine! I’ve got your Flanders CoT!

France: You call that a peace offer? C’mon then…

Poland: What? You are indeed brave, but the war is ours.

France: Had enough?

Brandenburg: YOU STUPID BASTARD! YOU HAVE NO ARMIES LEFT!

France: Course I have.

Brandenburg: LOOK!

France: just a flesh wound.

Palatinate: He has no armies left? Excellent…

27 September, 1496 PALATINATE DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE

Milan: Dibs on Alsace.

Savoy: I’ll grab Franche-Comte.

Genoa: Provence…

Tuscany: Whatever…let me know if you guys need help.

Wirtemberg [team talk to Milan]: Umm…I can’t afford an army. Let me know if he comes our way.

France: …had enough, losers?

Poland: I’ll take Artois.

Brandenburg: BELGIUM IS MINE! AHAHA!

France: I’ll do you for that.

Brandenburg: YOU”LL WHAT?

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Denmark: Sweden, be my vassal?

Sweden: Eww. I wouldn’t be your vassal if you were the last Viking on earth!

Denmark: Uh, I AM the last Viking on earth!

Sweden: NO!

Denmark: So I guess you’re the April Fool then…

01 April, 1497 DENMARK DECLARES WAR ON SWEDEN

Sweden: Ugh, boys and their fixation on war. Oh allies? I need your help…

Teutonic Order: MY PLEASURE! Anything for the lady…

Lithuania: Send some ships to TO, I’ll send you my cavalry.

Sweden: kk

Denmark: Oh no you don’t. I have a navy too!

Sweden: Crap. Change of plans. Try to get access through Pomerania…

Pomerania: No way sweetie pie. Offer me some sweet nothings…wink wink nudge nudge

Sweden: Eww. Germans are nasty…

15 October, 1497 SWITZERLAND DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE

Hungary: What?

France: WHAT? You’re NEUTRAL!

Bohemia: Dude, I think he wants us take some of France.

Serbia: Seems like a good time to do it. Are we in?

Hungary: <sigh> I suppose.

Bohemia: I’m in too. Are there any provinces left unsieged?

Hungary: I think Paris is still French…oh wait, some of his southern territories are still available!

France: BRING IT ON!

Venice: rofl

04 August, 1498 ENGLAND DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE

Ulster: Finally…

Saxony: Whoohoo! Die France die!

Sicily: I’ll sit this one out.

Scotland: The ‘auld’ alliance is dead. Long live the King! Lol

France: You don’t frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person! I blow my nose at you, so called King, you and all your silly English kaniggets!

Spain: What a silly person.

England: Now look here, my good man…

France: I don't want to talk to you, no more, you empty-headed animal, food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

Poland: Would you like to talk peace with someone else?

France: No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time.

15 January, 1499 HESSE DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE

Foix: Saweet! Time to take some yummy territories…

Meissen: Umm…ok.

Spain: lol…dogpile on France!

Venice: omg, France make peace with someone!

Poland: Now that is my final offer. If you are not prepared to agree to my demands I shall be forced to take ... Oh Christ!

Brandenburg: WTF!

France: ahahahaha…peasant rebellions, FTW!

Milan: What the hell just happened?

Savoy: I think he just lowered his catholic tolerance to zero…bastard.

France: How are you getting along with the unwashed masses?

Poland: Peasants are no match for my hussars…

Brandenburg: YOUR UNDERHANDED TRICKS WILL NOT AVAIL YOU, USURPER OF THE THRONE!

France: Wow, so bitter…

Milan: So France, willing to make a deal?

26, January 1499 FRANCE SUES FOR PEACE WITH MILAN

FRANCE PAYS 33 GOLD, FRANCHE-COMTE TO SAVOY, PROVENCE TO GENOA

Savoy: Holy…

Genoa: God be praised!

France: Whoops…wrong button!

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Portugal: YES! The India spice trade is MINE!

Spain: Who cares…check out France!

Portugal: Whoa! When did that happen?

Spain: lol, pay attention man!

Portugal: I wonder if he has any colonies…

Spain: Good thinking…race you for ‘em!

Portugal: You’re on!

Hungary: This sucks, we don’t have any French land…and no chance of getting any. How about a WP?

France: Sure. Here.

01 January, 1501 FRANCE MAKES A WHITE PEACE WITH HUNGARY, SWITZERLAND, BOHEMIA, AND SERBIA

England: At last! Sanity!

France: sanity? I’ll give you sanity! Have some more rebellions…

Poland: Oh man…not again!

England: Jesus Christ!

France: Allo, dappy English k-niggets and Monsieur Polish King, who has the brain of a duck, you know. So, we French fellows outwit you a second time!

Venice: Should I ban him from playing with us next time?

Spain: No, no….he’s hilarious!

France: BAN ME? I unclog my nose in your direction you sons of a window dresser!

Spain: lol

France: So, you think you could out-clever us French folk with your silly knees-bent running about advancing behavior?! I wave my private parts at your aunties, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey-bottom biters.

Ottoman Empire: hahaha...I can’t believe you have that memorized.

France: I’m FRENCH. Of COURSE I have it memorized!

Venice: In the name of the Lord, I demand that you stop this sacreligious behavior!

France: No chance, Italian bed-wetting types! I burst my pimples at you and call your peace requests a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

England: Agh. Right! That settles it!

01 November, 1503 WHITE PEACE SIGNED BETWEEN ENGLAND, ULSTER, SAXONY, SICILY, SCOTLAND, AND FRANCE

France: Yes, depart a lot at this time and cut the approaching any more, or we fire arrows at the tops of your heads and make castanets out of your testicles already! Hahahaha

England: Just ignore him.

France: And now, remain gone, illegitimate-faced bugger-folk! And, if you think you got a nasty taunting this time, you ain't heard nothing yet, dappy English k-nnniggets! Thpppt!

Palatinate [team talk to Milan]: We should attack at once! Before he has a chance to rebuild!

15 March, 1504 PALATINATE DECLARES WAR ON FRANCE

Milan: Here we go again.

Savoy: hehe, like taking candy from a baby.

Genoa: Yep.

Tuscany. Again? Try to get more money next time.

Wirtemburg: Ditto…

Brittany [team talk to Poland]: My Lord, I have a cunning plan.

Poland [team talk to Brittany]: You do? Really?

Brittany [ team talk to Poland]: Oh. Um, l-- look, i-- i-- if we all sent him peace offers…at the same time…or as many as we can?

Brandenburg [team talk to Brittany]: Yes! It just might work!

Poland: Now!

France: Hey…NO, I WILL NOT ACCEPT THESE…

France: Or that one…or that one. Stop doing that!

Pomerania: How do we know its working?

Brittany: Wait for it…the storm clouds are growing...YES!

01 November, 1504 THE GOVERNMENT OF FRANCE HAS FALLEN

Poland: ahahahaha

France: What the…NO!

Brandenburg: VICTORY!

Brittany: Who’s the two province minor now?

France: We shall go on to the end. We shall fight for France…

Spain: I think you just did…lol

France: We shall never surrender! Paris and Calais will be the seeds from which a great empire will be sown!

Portugal: You’re a loony…

Brittany: Vivre la Brittany! Vivre le Dauphine!

Venice: ROFLMAO! I love this game…

Game effects: Burgundy unites France in previous gaming session. France’s government falls after a 10 year war with most of Europe over French minor Brittany. Territories doled out during the fall of government event:

To Poland: Geldre, Zeeland, Flanders, Artois, Laux, Kleves

To Brandenburg: Brabant, Luxemburg

To Lorraine: Champagne, Nivernais

To Brittany: Normandie, Maine, Orleans, Berri, Vendee, Lyonnais

To Foix: Gascogne, Guyenne, Cevenres, Auvergne, Limousin

To Savoy: Bourgogne

To Milan: Alsace, Baden

Hainault achieves independence through rebellion

 

[Actinguy]

Okay, I'll get this ball rolling then...kind of.

I have to be honest...as a relative newcomer myself, I don't feel nearly confident enough to critique another author, unless I can honestly say, at the end, "but seriously, this is one of the greatest pieces of work ever."

So...that said.

Both the first and third submissions seem like standard AAR fare...nothing wrong (other than three running a bit too long for my own personal taste), but also nothing that really stood out and grabbed me.

The last submission...I have to be honest, I have no idea what's going on here, except that you knocked the topic "random" right out of the ball park. I get that it's a log from a multi-player game, and at first I thought you were going for humor...but then it dried up to the point that I thought it might actually BE a multiplayer log. As in a "real" one. Of course...if that was your intent...well, that's the beauty of art. You can achieve your every goal, and people still stare at it and scratch their heads.



But it's the second piece that I'm going to focus on...because it was, in my opinion, uncompromisingly brilliant. At first, I thought it was actually a letter to the man's wife, explaining that their son had been killed by a boar...but once I realized it was actually one half of a conversation, explaining why killing a boar is no big deal at all, I was howling. The characterization here is perfect...not just the narrator, but also both Catherine and the boar-killer (no small feat, given that neither of them say a word.) My only "critique" would be my confusion about the line where the hunter is attacking the boar to protect "our dear father." If the hunter the narrator's son? Almost certainly...except it is also implied that the hunter is sleeping with the narrator's wife. Unlikely (we would hope), unless this is actually his SECOND wife...but I didn't get that impression.

But aside from that bit of confusion, this was fantastic. In fact, once the author is revealed, I'm tempted to ask permission to start using this as a monologue for acting auditions.

But seriously, this is one of the greatest pieces of work ever.



EDIT: No idea on one, three, or four...but of the AuthAARs I am familiar with, I'd say two might be closest to...Phargle?

 

[unmerged(34682)]

Whenever I check this site I like to see if there are stories in this thread to comment on, but I always seem to show up after the authors have been revealed. But now I'm here, and there's stories, so here goes.

Although I think he was a bit hyperbolic (the second piece was good but not "uncompromisingly brilliant," and the third piece was better than "standard fare"), I agree with a lot of what Actinguy said in his post.

The first piece was short and dialogue-heavy but effective. The story was told understandably although a few possible plot holes do seem to jump out. For example, if the Count is in such a perfect position, why is it that there is such risk of being discovered and having his ears cut off? It seems that the region seems to be in confusion and disarray, and that this particular county is in the most enviable, and safe, position.

Again, with the second piece, I agree to a certain extent with what Actinguy said. Concerning the flaw he pointed out, the confusion over the hunter describing the narrator as father, it may be that he meant Father as in Father Ted, like a monk. The narrator doesn't seem particularly monkish (actually his identity and the location he inhabits seem completely nondescript, although the characterization is otherwise pretty good). I'll agree that the style of the narration was used to good effect and was humorous at points, but I don't think it could have sustained a longer story.

I also thought that the third piece was very good, and I'm surprised that Actinguy made only passing reference to it. Considering that he also is writing an AAR that has time travel themes, I'm tempted to say that his reaction was that of author of the piece trying to avoid giving himself away. I thought that it was narrated colorfully and it had good characters and an interesting plot. The revelation at the ending was somewhat sudden, however, and I think I would have to reread more closely to understand exactly what happened there.

One might debate whether the last piece qualifies as a short story, per se, but personally I think it does; you can find in it all the traditional elements of a story. Like Actinguy, the writing was intricate enough that I considered that it may be an actual log from a real game, but I think that is somewhat unlikely. Actually it's somewhat similar to the second piece in that it uses a creative perspective to tell the story, in this case the log of a multiplayer game. Perhaps the author could have used the same model to go further in characterizing the actual players themselves. Of course, you did this to some extent, but it might have been interesting to delve into this idea a little further. Maybe one of the players could have been going through a divorce, using multiplayer gaming as a coping device. Could be that if you actually tried that it would turn out to be a horrendous idea, but that was my immediate reflection on your story nonetheless.

 

[Actinguy]

Although I think he was a bit hyperbolic (the second piece was good but not "uncompromisingly brilliant," and the third piece was better than "standard fare"), I agree with a lot of what Actinguy said in his post.

I also thought that the third piece was very good, and I'm surprised that Actinguy made only passing reference to it.

HEY! This isn't "critique the critiquer"! Yes, I didn't really give one and three a fair review, but I said upfront that I really only felt qualified to say "good job!" So I reviewed two, because I thought it was awesome...and ended up kinda-reviewing four as well, because it was so unique. Wasn't meant as a dig at one or three, I just didn't have anything meaningful to add.

Yet I added anyhow, because it appeared that nobody else was going to do it.

So, again, my apologies to the authors of one and three. Group hugs and high fives all around.

 

[comagoosie]

Author #1:
Your writing is tough to read. “The six men and women in this room are very much not in this room.”. What was meant? Was there one woman in the room, Isabella? Or were there more women, but they had no purpose? Yet if this was a secret meeting why would there be others that are useless. Still on the same sentence, you contradict yourself without an explanation. How are they in the room and at the same time not in it? In addition, your writing reminds me of a non-native English speaker. Specifically “were he of an age”. I would have written, “were he of age”, but since I am assuming you are not a native speaker you thought that since age is a noun, that you would have to state if it was plural or not, and in fact you don’t have to. Later comes lines and lines of dialogue, which most are not broken up by descriptive sentences. It is ok if we have a question and an answer, or something like that, but when we get repeatedly more sentences without stating who the talker is, the reader gets lost. Moreover, sentences that are descriptive are needed. I could tell that you wanted the reader to visualize, but it is kinda hard to just visualize dialogue. The last thing that I wanted to say is that the whole situation is mystifying. I don’t know what is going on. Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. So many characters, not enough clarification. Can you give us details on what is happening and why it is? I lied, I am not done. The antagonist is not constructed well enough. I presume that the king is the bad guy. Why? Why should I harbor hate against a man who is trying to stabilize his country? You left the reader thinking why are these people revolting. We need a rebel with a cause not a rebel with a cause-but-the-reader-doesn’t-know-it. I don’ t know, it seems you squeezed something that could have been three thousand words into six hundred.

I understand that I just wrote a block of text that is hard to read, but take my suggestions. Write slower and read your work like someone who has no clue what is going on. Despite everything bad I said, you had an excellent idea there, and tons of potential, now you must learn how to unlock the potential. I am interested in who the writer is. The dialogue reminds me of Amric, but it surely cannot be. My guess is that you are a newer writer that wants improvement.

Author #2:
First off, you have written in a style that I have never read or written, but I have heard of it. Currently it is sinking in and being analyzed. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed this piece, excellent! Commend yourself and stick to this style, as it shows your true strengths. The way you use italics gives emphasis on certain, but key, words, which only adds to the piece. One problem there is that you may have used too much italics. The story was original and creative with Father Daniel, our protagonist, is talking to Catherine, not revealed until the last sentence, about Harold, who seems to a rather young and rash man. Harold goes out and tries to save the town of this boar, but as the saying goes, “the worst things happen with the best intentions”. In short, I could keep praising your story, but we are critiquing here.

A couple small things that I would have wanted to be added, but don’t worry, your story is good as is. We have no clue what time period it is. It sounds like the story is taking place around the medieval era, but we have no clue. For all we know this could be happening in the 20th century, however unlikely, there were no clues. I would have added something around “sir (harold’s last name)”, which would have narrowed the time frame. A technical issue here, can fathers marry? I am not sure, I am not familiar with all the different kinds of preachers. The last thing I will say is that there isn’t enough said about the legality of killing a boar on Daniel’s property. Is he going to sue, or is there going to be another consequence. You kinda wrote it and then forgot about it. But that is it, and great piece of work you got there.

Author #3:
The first thing that struck me is how many times you used “he” and “his”, this gets very repetitive and annoying. You could find other words or twist the sentence around so that flows without having the repetitiveness. This story is obviously about Mary Magdalene, you made this very clear at the end. It was a very good story, though there are many loose ends that, in my opinion, should have been answered. For instance, the Xiao-Myers console is a bit weird, this should have been explained in more detail or left out. In addition, Ulric states that he is a man of science, yet he speaks fluent Latin and partial French. I don’t know too many scientists that speak Latin, less of course he is a man of science in an abstract way and in that case, you needed to have elaborated more. Moreover, you give the impression that Ulric made the rubies, as in the rubies are artificially made, if so then it gives more proof that he is from the future. In that case, if he is from the future, why has he traveled back in time? If he wanted the Ark, why couldn’t he just have traveled back in time to where he knew it would be? Time travel is tricky, it must be mastered before put to use or entire AARs can fall apart. The topic that you are dealing with does include religion controversy which is a banned subject, so I would advised furthering this piece with caution, but since this is just a onetime thing, don’t worry about it.

Other than that, it was a good read. You crafted good characters, mainly Ulric, Tomas, and the duke, but, nevertheless your skill shows.

Author #4:
My voice echoes that of others. This is a MP log, or something of that sort. Though for an MP log, it sure gives the reader exactly what is happening, so congrats on that. There seems to be too many nations that it starts to be confusing. Limiting it to 7 or 5 countries would be ideal. Honestly, this isn’t a narrative style I would read, or maybe anyone else, so I would highly recommend finding a new style or adding in screenies.

 

[Fiftypence]

It's been ages since i critiqued anything here, so it's about time I gave it another go I think.

Author #1: Right, so we have a secret meeting plotting treason and an ancient spymistress who refers to herself in the 3rd person. It was a bit confusing on 1st reading, but re-reading clarified it quite a lot. The fact I had to read it again to get a clearer understanding is, I suppose, a criticism, and maybe a bit more description would help make the dialogue clearer. I'd also like to respectfully disagree with what Comagoosie said about “were he of an age”. What the author wrote, "were he of an age where a beard would be", is as passable English as "were he of age where a beard would be" to my mind at least. It makes sense in its proper context.

Author #2: I like the one sided conversation style, it's not something I've come across before, and overall the tone reminds me of a well written shaggy dog story. There's no real plot beyond Harold killing the boar, but we get a good impression of the characters, and its light-heartedness makes it a good read.

Author #3: This was well written, the dialogue flowed, the descriptions did the job well and the jumps in time between the scenes felt natural. The ending was not entirely unpredictable, to me at least, but was delivered well. I liked this a lot, and I want to know what Martya is making Ulric pay for!

Author #4: I'm not sure what to say about this. Obviously inspired by multiplayer gamelog and I guess Blue Emu's AAR, funny in places, and it tells a story in its own way. The French stubbornness was amusing, but to be honest I am a bit tired of people rehashing lines from Monty Python over and over again. Maybe it's just me.

As for guessing the authors, I'd say either #1 or #3 is Actinguy. It's difficult to say which as no one dies in either.

 

[Amric]

Now, folks, there should be more reviews/critiques going on here! So those of you who are lurking need to uncloak and get going!

 

[comagoosie]

Now, folks, there should be more reviews/critiques going on here! So those of you who are lurking need to uncloak and get going!

heh, well my post is complete, so I suggest all authors take a peek.

 

[IamWhoa]

I'll go for it I guess.

1. As has been said, the beginning is confusing. It's also uninteresting. As opposed to describing the setting, starting off with "Were you followed?" would make the reader go, who what why? and draw them in. You could then weave in the environment as you go along. All in all, pretty good. The characters were getting there I think, just needed a bit more fleshing out. There were some unnecessary lines, like when the steward wiped the wax off of his fingers. Not in the sense that it was a bad thing to add, but that it came WAY too late after you described him holding up the candle.

2. This was hard to get into for me. I'm a pretty poor read anyway, but I eventually got through it and figured it out. On the style; just yesterday I read a Lovecraft story that was in a similar format and thought, hey, that's like that one on the internet! I suppose that might be worth knowing, probably not.

Besides starting off sluggishly, I think this is pretty good. The paragraphs could have been split up in a variety of ways, for both ease of reading and dramatic purposes.

3. This is quite good, my favorite of the three. The only thing I can really criticize is how broken up the dialog is with "he said, with impotent diabolic spasms." I'm exaggerating of course but I saw you were getting creative with them. It's not really necessary to denote who's speaking too often and their dialog should be able to speak for them. Though on the other side of that, you did make good use of them as pauses.

4. I enjoyed it and laughed quite a bit. But what else can be said? Not much in the way of narrative. Although the nations seem to have fairly distinct characterization, which was good. Well done.

 

[Rensslaer]

Ahh, just turned in a major freelance project. Finally have time to peek...

Is it just me, or are the entries getting longer?

Some interesting ones, at first glance!

Rensslaer

 

[The Yogi]

#1 I found this story a bit flat and frankly, not very interesting. It needs a twist, something, to make more than a straight account of a meeting of plotters. As for the style, I'm personaly not fond of present tense, but there's no accounting for tastes. Descriptions are mostly missing, except for the General, for some reason, and that one is a bit forced. Granted, in a very short piece such as this, you don't really need that much description, but I would have liked a little more fleshing out of the setting, and perhaps some more fleshing out of the characters. Sorry if this sounds harsh, I hope it also is constructive criticism. I'm myself often guilty of all the things I criticise here.

#2 This piece was great fun! Only thing, I'm also a bit confused about the relation between the cuckoolded husband and this Harold. Pulling of a half-a-conversation like this is a remarkable achievement. Thumbs up!

#3 For some reason, I suspected early on in the piece that this was about time travel. I like how everything isn't explained about who the traveller is, what he's doing in the past and so on. Style is just right, it reads mostly as professional writing - better than some I've read, actually. Good work! Nitpick: The Templars did not in fact capture Jerusalem, they were founded there afterwards.

#4 I was so put off by the format and premise... and then ended up chortling with laughter. Just as I was beginning to be annoyed by the many Monty Python references, you redeemed your self by the line "I can't believe you have all that memorised!" Yes, we nerds can be like that. The Arthur/Black Knight battle references (it's but a flesh wound) were priceless.
In the end, my only critique is that you rely to much on the comic dialouge of Monthy Python movies. There was enough comedy inherent in the game and the mulish obstinacy of France to build on, with just a sprinklig of Monthy-Pytonics as seasoning. Rely more on your own comic talent, there's nothing wrong with it!

BTW, I always manage to miss when a new subject is up for grabs. When will the next topic be presented?

 

[comagoosie]

Ahh, just turned in a major freelance project. Finally have time to peek...

Is it just me, or are the entries getting longer?

Some interesting ones, at first glance!

Rensslaer

you should of seen last guess the author o

I had to print them off to read them.

 

[Amric]

Yogi, the next topic will be presented this weekend. Along with the identities of the various authors. I HAD hoped for more comments, but apparently the start of school has really crimped things up....

 

[dharper]

Gah! The crushing guilt! Here are my late reviews.

Author #1: I actually liked the second paragraph quite a lot; there's a hint of dry humor as you get the idea that everybody has an alibi. Personally I don't think it needed to be restated just after, but then, I read a lot of stories with this sort of tone. As an opening it worked well, but it could also have been placed further into the story with just as much impact. What struck me as odd about it, though, is that the first three lines are all text, and then - with a single exception - everything else is dialogue. I'd suggest pacing yourself by interspersing more text with the dialogue: try showing us how the bishop's dull eyes reflected the candlelight as he turned his head, or how the faint nod of Isabella's head betrayed her nervousness.

Far more important than that, though, is that the basic emotion of the piece is a bit muddled. The first half of the story is all about how important it is that this all remain secret: the single candle for six people (how did they get there?), the windowless room, the nervousness about being followed. But after that, all tension is gone. Everybody has a grim determination and only good news to share - there's no worrying about whether they can succeed, nobody having second thoughts about this path, no bad news to derail the plan, no jumping at shadows. There doesn't always have to be, but it helps make the conclusion - their decision to betray the king - that much sweeter in the end.

There are also a few incongruities: people in medieval Europe wouldn't be likely to know what a tiger was, and Sooki is an unusual name in Christian Europe. Also, the term 'uni-brow' is a very 21st-century one - instantly recognizeable to your readers, but anachronistic.

Overall it struck me that you have all the ingredients of success here, but you're having a little trouble gluing them together. With a little more effort I think there could be a gripping story here. Keep it up!

Author #2: This one was my favorite. It's quite an unusual style, almost epistolary, but it works well for this length of story. It makes the reader work and really makes the audience focus on tone of voice, filling in details yourself. The use of italics and hyphens worked quite well to indicate emotions, and I found myself imagining the speaker's face, age, mien as he said good-bye to his wife...quite ingenious, really, but limited: it might work for a novella, but I can't imagine reading a full-length novel like this.

If I had to criticize it, I'd say that the language was perhaps too modern. There's nothing in it which is particularly anachronistic, but overall it feels like I could be listening to someone British on the BBC; I'm not sure how to convey more of a historical feel, though, so I realize this isn't going to be helpful.

One question: was the random event his wife cheating on him, or a boar hunt, or something else?

In the end I found it a witty, dry and eminently readable piece, and I only wished it had had more of a happy ending.

Author #3: Like others, I got the impression of time travel long before the ending revealed it openly; if that's what you were trying to do, it worked well. I've always been a fan of the genre, so I liked this piece as well.

The story was well-written, with a nice mix of description and dialogue, but badly formatted. A few lines in italics would do wonders towards making it clearer to the reader!

This was one of the longest entries, yet it felt rushed. In particular the ending was confusing and abrupt. I had to re-read the ending to make sense of it. It felt a bit like a novella crushed into short story length, trying to convey all sorts of details in a very short space, and it lacked the feel of the first few sections. Once I got it, it was good, but it didn't have that quality that made you get it the first time. Had the ending been as good as the rest of the story, I think it would have been my favorite of the four!

Author #4: There's always one author who takes the month's theme and goes in a direction with itI would never have thought of in a million years. Congratulations, you're it this month! I wasn't expecting this sort of story at all.

I have to admit that it was a little awkward for me; I think in the end it came down to my inexperience with multiplayer games: I just wasn't your target audience and so missed a lot of references you probably thought were basic. That's fine; you should never try to please everyone or you'll end up pleasing no-one. But in this case you may have set the bar a little high - there are relatively few people who play MP games compared to those who play SP, at least for Paradox games. To me, there weren't enough cues as to what was really going on - just dialogue without inflection, some of it in 'internet English' (like LOL, WTF or ROTFL) which confuses me because I'm old and decrepit. For someone of my advanced years, a story based around back-and-forth dialogue ought to have some description: "Wow, so bitter..." said France, laughing is far different from "Wow, so bitter..." said France sarcastically.

I'm not really sure what to say here. There were moments of wit in the story, and moments of cameraderie, and moments of humor, and tension - everything you really need for a good story. But it just didn't come through to me because of the style. Sorry! There's potential there, it just didn't work for me. I bet it'd go over well in the MP forum, though. As I said, it has all kinds of good story elements, and best of all, it feels quite real, like a bunch of friends playing a game together.

Phew! That's it for this month from me. I actually read all four stories within two or three days of them being posted, but it always takes so long to review them properly so I kept putting it off. Sorry! Once again I'd like to thank all the authors this month; I always enjoy the stories, and this month was no exception. I hope none of my comments have offended; I'm trying to give constructive criticism, not just criticize because I can. None of these stories were actually bad, but all of them could use a little spit and polish to be truly great.

 

[Amric]

Author 1:

Actingguy! Check out his AAR in the Crusader Kings…

The Butterfly Device – A Grand Campaign

Author 2:

Lord J. Roxton!

Sorrowfully I can’t seem to find any of his works…I know he has them, but where he has hidden them…I don’t know!

Author 3:

dharper! Check out one of his AARs!

Honor of Lancaster: A Magna Mundi England AAR

Author 4:

TheExecutor! Check out his HoI AAR!

The Last Mission


I want to thank all of our authors for their efforts for this month's GtA! I'd noticed that usually the caretaker of the GtA doesn't generally review, at least historically. I believe that is due to knowing who the authors are at the very start.

I'd also like to thank our reviewers:

dharper
The Yogi
IamWhoa
Fiftypence
comagoosie
Lord J. Roxton
Actingguy


Again I want to thank all of our participants! It went pretty well for August considering that it is the start of school season and last gasp of vacations as well.

So what is next month's subject?

A Funeral

What kind? It's up to you. It could be a monarch. Or a general or admiral. It could be just a simple farmer if you like. So I'll be looking for four people to step up to the writer's desk!

 

[Actinguy]

Thanks to all those who took the time to review my piece! I could respond one by one (and perhaps I will later), but in general, I agreed with my own review...that it was, at best, "standard aar fare." I may try again in the future, noting the critiques, and put a lot more effort into it next time.

I'd also like to take back my review of dharper's work, as I never actually read it. I decided to do a qausi-review of the submissions, because it had been nearly a week without a single one. But I wasn't going to review my own work since that would give it away...so I intentionally grouped my own submission and dharpers together, dismissing them as "standard aar fare" without having read his, so as to throw any guessers off.

Anyhow, I'm going to go read it now!