nice map.
And mean arabs.
Always winning.
Back to home...
better to be alive at home then die fighting arabs in Levant.
And mean arabs.
Always winning.
Back to home...
better to be alive at home then die fighting arabs in Levant.
Kerne Theory
- Thread starter IamWhoa
- Start date
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RGB: Thank you
Estonianzulu: Thank you, I traced it over an actual map of Juniyah but the shape and location of the town is just guesswork, given how much it's probably grown since the Middle Ages.
Mettermrck: Thanks! Alan's disasters don't end quite yet.
stnylan: Yes, I'm not sure why I lost so terribly. Nikolaz did retreat pretty quickly in-game though. My moral was halved when he did
Enewald: Yes indeed. I decided to spare manpower rather than try that again.
Estonianzulu: Thank you, I traced it over an actual map of Juniyah but the shape and location of the town is just guesswork, given how much it's probably grown since the Middle Ages.
Mettermrck: Thanks! Alan's disasters don't end quite yet.
stnylan: Yes, I'm not sure why I lost so terribly. Nikolaz did retreat pretty quickly in-game though. My moral was halved when he did
Enewald: Yes indeed. I decided to spare manpower rather than try that again.
Part XIII: A Decade of Misery
Anne Morena's The Bretons
Anne Morena's The Bretons
Though his Crusade for Jerusalem was a disaster, Duke Alan Kerne found little comfort in Brittany. Two days before he even arrived on Breton shores, October 3, 1114, his wife Rasienda d’Aquitaine died. Her death altered Alan’s behavior considerably. I presume, that he felt guilt over being away from Rasienda so often. Whatever the case, he became much more dedicated to Christianity, casting out his lifetime obsession with King Arthur, Roland, and the like. As if his wife’s death wasn’t enough, Count Jermen Porhoët would succumb to his ailments en route to give his condolences to Duke Alan. It was indeed a dead still winter.
In the weeks following, Alan’s debilitating grief was transformed into energetic zeal. For reasons unknown – likely obsession with the afterlife, he pursued the Sainthood of his father, Hoel Kerne. On the fourteenth of November, theChurch recognized Hoel as a Saint. Documentation of Alan’s behavior continued to change over the coming months.
Courtly operations continued without much incident. It seemed as if the Duke was on course to spend the rest of his days in peace. In August, having only just recovered from the loss of Rasienda and the death of Jermen, word came that Antoine Kerne had succumbed to malaria.
A year later in November, another tragedy would befall Alan. Whilst in the midst of an energized winter hunt, the Duke was thrown from his horse. A swine, likely a large and aggressive one, took the opportunity to maul the incapacitated Duke’s abdomen. Though he survived, the terrible wounds would plague him for the rest of his life.
With Antoine’s son Charles promoting a renewed policy of independence, an apathetic Duke Alan simply gave the Duchy away to Klaoda Prigent, the intensely loyal Count of Menorca.
By 1120, the old Duke of Brittany was starting to regain his bearings, focusing less on God and more on state matters. The Duchy of Aquitaine grew in wealth and power, whilst the Capetians finally erased most of their internal enemies. With the absorption of the anti-Crown Duchies, the greed of the French Crown was once again turning outward. Alan invested heavily in the construction of a Castle in the province of Nantes, which is now known as Fergant Castle. Sadly, he would not see the initial plans rendered into reality. As the autumn winds began to pick up September 18th, 1120 – the Duke was carried away with them. What took him exactly? It is not known for sure. In his last days, Alan is said to have been crippled from dagger like stomach pains – ghosts of the hunting accident years earlier.
Alan “Fergant” Kerne IV’s legacy was one of adventure. Though no territory he gained would be held for long, his life was one of idealism rather than conquest. He was as devoted to the fables of the figures before him as he was his duty as Duke of Brittany. Remembrance in song and legend would have been his greatest desire. Alan was soon buried in what would be the grounds of Fergant Castle, as is supposed to have been his wish.
On October 1st, a new ruler of 31 years was crowned – Daniel Kerne.
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Thats the end of Chapter 2! Thanks for reading so far and all the comments.
May I take this moment to ask for constructive criticism? Does the style fluctuate too much? Battles or characters boring? Anything at all, let me know.
When I start writing again in a few days, hopefully I'll be able to make it even better.
May I take this moment to ask for constructive criticism? Does the style fluctuate too much? Battles or characters boring? Anything at all, let me know.
When I start writing again in a few days, hopefully I'll be able to make it even better.
It sounds like about time for a new Duke.
The style is fine. It feels like you are still finding your way a bit with the writing, which is fine. One of the nice things about AARs is that you can experiment in them
The style is fine. It feels like you are still finding your way a bit with the writing, which is fine. One of the nice things about AARs is that you can experiment in them
I like your style. Succinct but nonetheless quite poetic at times.
I also love the maps.
And your Duke Alan was definitely a character one rarely meets in AARs. Overall this is great work, keep it up.
I also love the maps.
And your Duke Alan was definitely a character one rarely meets in AARs. Overall this is great work, keep it up.
I really like your style, keep it up. The fluctuations aren't too bad, though I thought I was reading a different AAR when I saw a return to the quotes from The Bretons. That said, once I understood that you were using it to explain a longer passage of time, it was fine.
You have a nice style...I like especially that your posts are short yet they come often, so I can read them in one sitting, and I'm never left wanting in the long-run. Very enjoyable!
The style should remain as it has been, everything is as good as it could be.
Awwies... the king, eh, duke is dead... long live the new king, eh, duke!
So did Alan remarry?
And who is the wife of the new ruler?
And does he yet have any heirs?
Awwies... the king, eh, duke is dead... long live the new king, eh, duke!
So did Alan remarry?
And who is the wife of the new ruler?
And does he yet have any heirs?
Okay, I just caught back up to the AAR, and wow!
1) Beautiful maps and illustrations as always. The map of the Battle of Juniyah was really impressive!
2) Amazing storytelling of the defeat of the Crusade - writing about victories is easy. Writing of defeats is far harder, and you did an excellent job. I especially liked the ambush scene on Cyprus, it did a very good job conveying the chaos and confusion of such a situation!
3) Daniel is wise to not submit to another kingdom - they'll just embroil him in wars and take his lands...
1) Beautiful maps and illustrations as always. The map of the Battle of Juniyah was really impressive!
2) Amazing storytelling of the defeat of the Crusade - writing about victories is easy. Writing of defeats is far harder, and you did an excellent job. I especially liked the ambush scene on Cyprus, it did a very good job conveying the chaos and confusion of such a situation!
3) Daniel is wise to not submit to another kingdom - they'll just embroil him in wars and take his lands...
General_BT: Thanks I've been trying to avoid the sandbox effect of things. Though setting up a series of Duchies in the Holy Land, ruled by Kernes, might have been interesting. I'll change countries whenever it will make for interesting writing. We'll see what happens in the future.
Enewald: I decided not to bother remarrying Alan, he had a ton of heirs. The wife of Daniel is Abda of Atholl. He married her on his own and is no one particularly special in game wise. Though she is a rival of his, she never once caused me trouble. Lucked out I guess.
Daniel also has a ton of heirs
Mettermrck: The one sitting thing is how I prefer it as well. Though it helps to have a lot of time on your hands with daily updates.
CountArach: I've been going back and changing things peridically. Still finding my way here, more confusion to come I'm sure
RGB: Thank you, I try to keep things as concise as possible. I'm glad Alan turned out so well.
stnylan: Yeah, I'm glad to be done with that Chapter. Hopefully I can find some rhythm to the alternating styles, since I get bored with just a single form.
Very kind comments, I'll just keep doing things I was I guess
I've been trying to avoid the sandbox effect of things. Though setting up a series of Duchies in the Holy Land, ruled by Kernes, might have been interesting. I'll change countries whenever it will make for interesting writing. We'll see what happens in the future. Enewald: I decided not to bother remarrying Alan, he had a ton of heirs. The wife of Daniel is Abda of Atholl. He married her on his own and is no one particularly special in game wise. Though she is a rival of his, she never once caused me trouble. Lucked out I guess.
Daniel also has a ton of heirs
Mettermrck: The one sitting thing is how I prefer it as well. Though it helps to have a lot of time on your hands with daily updates.
CountArach: I've been going back and changing things peridically. Still finding my way here, more confusion to come I'm sure
RGB: Thank you, I try to keep things as concise as possible. I'm glad Alan turned out so well.
stnylan: Yeah, I'm glad to be done with that Chapter. Hopefully I can find some rhythm to the alternating styles, since I get bored with just a single form.
Very kind comments, I'll just keep doing things I was I guess
Chapter 3: Daniel Kerne
Part I: A Conspiracy of a Blighted Soul
Duke Daniel Kerne
Part I: A Conspiracy of a Blighted Soul
Duke Daniel Kerne
It was mid-February, 1133. The Pope’s emissary had just left with 1,800 florins. Before long, Duke Daniel’s excommunication would be null. With such a burden relieved from his shoulders, Daniel finally took a moment to relax. He leaned back in his Spartan chair, closing his eyes – relishing the new freedom he had regained.
“I may make it to Heaven just yet,” he sighed to himself.
The freshness of his newly constructed castle in Maine was calming to the senses. The walls were clean; the air was dry and warm. It was a wonderful center of operations for his court, as opposed to the dank and repressive atmosphere of the traditional seat of Ducal power. Daniel felt as if he had just woken from a dream – as if he had not given a conscious thought to a single moment in the last decade.
“Now, how did all that happen?” he thought.
It was not really a question he had bothered to wonder. His time was devoted to God and the state, not pointless thought. But still, perhaps it was worth going over? It would give him a nice base to stand on when contemplating future events. How did he end up in such a situation?
“The damned Franks,” Daniel thought. His anger was barely concealed behind his blank face.
Indeed, it was King Bernard Capet who started this mess. Perhaps it was fear or maybe he was angling for all-out annexation. The first year of Daniel’s reign had gone smoothly; the nobility were placated with carefully orchestrated propaganda and his brother Fulup was doing well administrating Leon. A revised tax code and liberal trade policies left Brittany more wealthy than ever before. The future was a smooth, well lit road and the Bretons were to be carried along it in a carriage.
All that changed when his Bishop Ewen burst into his quarters one night in January of 1122...
“A message from the Pope!” he blurted.
As the old holy-man trembled, he whispered- “Excommunication!”
How? Why?
“I was planning another expedition to Palestine,” Daniel gritted his teeth. “It would have been a success too.”
How such a thing came to be was obvious after a brief examination. Who was closer to the Pope than any other secular ruler? Count Aldéric de Blois, a loyal subject of King Bernard Capet. Such an act had clear motivations – to weaken Brittany.
“I was accused of sabotaging the Crusade at Juniyah. Then of having my father poisoned.”
Daniel’s fists clenched until the tips of his fingers felt as if they might break-
“Luckily I secured some loyalty from my vassals. Brittany could have collapsed like a felled tree.”
But at least one limb was to fall – Charles Kerne in Mallorca had rallied the Catholics on the island. Declaring Duke Klaoda Prigent-
It didn’t take long for Charles to overwhelm Menorca, claiming it as his own. Luckily the incompetent brat was at a loss when it came to the sensibilities of Muslims; he would eventually be begging at the feet of the Berbers.
This was but an outlier in a place where Daniel’s influence was little. Still, the potential and numerous consequences of being excommunicated were truly frightening.
“I was not scared yet.”
To maintain Brittany’s independence, something would have to be done. With Aquitaine once again under the Capetian yoke, the Franks were amongst the most powerful peoples in Europe. To resist the might of France with arms was out of the question.
“I would’ve been crushed.”
What could a meager Duke of the Bretons possibly do?
“Around March of 1123, a year after the Pope’s verdict was handed down, I struck back – the only way I could.”
“I may make it to Heaven just yet,” he sighed to himself.
The freshness of his newly constructed castle in Maine was calming to the senses. The walls were clean; the air was dry and warm. It was a wonderful center of operations for his court, as opposed to the dank and repressive atmosphere of the traditional seat of Ducal power. Daniel felt as if he had just woken from a dream – as if he had not given a conscious thought to a single moment in the last decade.
“Now, how did all that happen?” he thought.
It was not really a question he had bothered to wonder. His time was devoted to God and the state, not pointless thought. But still, perhaps it was worth going over? It would give him a nice base to stand on when contemplating future events. How did he end up in such a situation?
“The damned Franks,” Daniel thought. His anger was barely concealed behind his blank face.
Indeed, it was King Bernard Capet who started this mess. Perhaps it was fear or maybe he was angling for all-out annexation. The first year of Daniel’s reign had gone smoothly; the nobility were placated with carefully orchestrated propaganda and his brother Fulup was doing well administrating Leon. A revised tax code and liberal trade policies left Brittany more wealthy than ever before. The future was a smooth, well lit road and the Bretons were to be carried along it in a carriage.
All that changed when his Bishop Ewen burst into his quarters one night in January of 1122...
“A message from the Pope!” he blurted.
As the old holy-man trembled, he whispered- “Excommunication!”
How? Why?
“I was planning another expedition to Palestine,” Daniel gritted his teeth. “It would have been a success too.”
How such a thing came to be was obvious after a brief examination. Who was closer to the Pope than any other secular ruler? Count Aldéric de Blois, a loyal subject of King Bernard Capet. Such an act had clear motivations – to weaken Brittany.
“I was accused of sabotaging the Crusade at Juniyah. Then of having my father poisoned.”
Daniel’s fists clenched until the tips of his fingers felt as if they might break-
“Luckily I secured some loyalty from my vassals. Brittany could have collapsed like a felled tree.”
But at least one limb was to fall – Charles Kerne in Mallorca had rallied the Catholics on the island. Declaring Duke Klaoda Prigent-
It didn’t take long for Charles to overwhelm Menorca, claiming it as his own. Luckily the incompetent brat was at a loss when it came to the sensibilities of Muslims; he would eventually be begging at the feet of the Berbers.
This was but an outlier in a place where Daniel’s influence was little. Still, the potential and numerous consequences of being excommunicated were truly frightening.
“I was not scared yet.”
To maintain Brittany’s independence, something would have to be done. With Aquitaine once again under the Capetian yoke, the Franks were amongst the most powerful peoples in Europe. To resist the might of France with arms was out of the question.
“I would’ve been crushed.”
What could a meager Duke of the Bretons possibly do?
“Around March of 1123, a year after the Pope’s verdict was handed down, I struck back – the only way I could.”
I'd be interested in finding out how.
Excommunication. That's a terrible thing for a ruler.
Excommunication. That's a terrible thing for a ruler.
how kewl.
Now attack the pope!
Or just die quickly. :rofl:
But this gets interesting.
What is to be done.
Now attack the pope!
Or just die quickly. :rofl:
But this gets interesting.
What is to be done.
Hmm, what's the only way you can? Sounds like you're about to do something distasteful yet necessary.
Mettermrck: Quite distasteful.
Enewald: I considered attacking the Pope. Not his fault, I decided
stnylan: I hope so
RGB: Yes indeed, but it wasn't too bad this time. Just the usual -- everyone hates Daniel and the court is manned by tumbleweeds.
Enewald: I considered attacking the Pope. Not his fault, I decided
stnylan: I hope so
RGB: Yes indeed, but it wasn't too bad this time. Just the usual -- everyone hates Daniel and the court is manned by tumbleweeds.
Part II: The Death of Aldéric
The Marshal Tournament in Blois had begun with tremendous fanfare. It seemed as if the entire city was drawn to watch the occasion. Amongst the spectators, many of the highest nobility in France laughed and cried to the tunes of minstrels, the wails of drunkards, and bickering crowds. A periodic and slightly off beat cheer would erupt at the end of each match.
Count Aldéric de Blois, kin of the most pervasive royal family in France, watched from a royal perch. Beside him were other nobles from around Blois. They seemed to enjoy themselves as much as the others below them. They’d go from hearty laughter to ominous whispering and back again; from seeming boredom to explosive excitement.
Aldéric’s favorite combatant, Odon de la Marche, soon faced off against Rauol d’Auvergne below the Count’s perch. Odon bore red and white heraldry and Rauol boasted yellow and green. As the two circled each other, the peasants surrounding the dusty ring cheered. Odon swung for Rauol’s head with his sword which Rauol contemptuously parried aside. Rauol’s counter thrust was barely dodged.
Count Aldéric and the other nobles were completely absorbed in the spectacle. They went from despair to glee as the two Knights exchanged blows.
Odon had put Rauol on the defensive with one visceral and savage attack, causing Rauol to stumble backwards. The crowd cheered and Aldéric eyes widened – he was entranced.
Footsteps, perhaps a guard, slowly made their way through the darkness behind the three Counts.
Rauol soon regained his balance, parrying a clumsy jab and disarming Odo in one motion. As the defeated Knight’s sword fell by the wayside, the crowd exploded in a jarring combination of cheering and booing. Countless wagers had just been decided.
Before Count Aldéric could even lower his head in disappointment, a peculiar metal object had made its way through his chest. He had barely an instant to register what had happened before the blood soaked apparition had disappeared.
His legs crumbling beneath him, the Count’s vision collapsed to oblivion. The struggling of those around him was a confusing and delirious requiem.
Count Aldéric de Blois, kin of the most pervasive royal family in France, watched from a royal perch. Beside him were other nobles from around Blois. They seemed to enjoy themselves as much as the others below them. They’d go from hearty laughter to ominous whispering and back again; from seeming boredom to explosive excitement.
Aldéric’s favorite combatant, Odon de la Marche, soon faced off against Rauol d’Auvergne below the Count’s perch. Odon bore red and white heraldry and Rauol boasted yellow and green. As the two circled each other, the peasants surrounding the dusty ring cheered. Odon swung for Rauol’s head with his sword which Rauol contemptuously parried aside. Rauol’s counter thrust was barely dodged.
Count Aldéric and the other nobles were completely absorbed in the spectacle. They went from despair to glee as the two Knights exchanged blows.
Odon had put Rauol on the defensive with one visceral and savage attack, causing Rauol to stumble backwards. The crowd cheered and Aldéric eyes widened – he was entranced.
Footsteps, perhaps a guard, slowly made their way through the darkness behind the three Counts.
Rauol soon regained his balance, parrying a clumsy jab and disarming Odo in one motion. As the defeated Knight’s sword fell by the wayside, the crowd exploded in a jarring combination of cheering and booing. Countless wagers had just been decided.
Before Count Aldéric could even lower his head in disappointment, a peculiar metal object had made its way through his chest. He had barely an instant to register what had happened before the blood soaked apparition had disappeared.
His legs crumbling beneath him, the Count’s vision collapsed to oblivion. The struggling of those around him was a confusing and delirious requiem.
Is that a dagger in his chest? :rofl:
Or something like that.
But a nice story behind the death.
Or something like that.
But a nice story behind the death.