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    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

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The Icelandic Mountains of Madness

Welcome to my first AAR! Being inspired by Werewhale's brilliant story about the Crovans, by the heartbreaking story of the inhabitants of Tintagel, and of the masterpiece “the rise of the Hohenzollerns”, I just HAD to write an AAR myself. Please note that there are many other AARs out there that are really great, but these three are the ones that I finished reading (nearly) and that I really enjoyed.

Some things I wanted to mention: I am studying the English language, but it's not my native tongue so I might make some mistakes. Please be so kind to mention them if they're too bad to understand what I wanted to say or be so kind to just overlook them if they don't really bother you that much.

Although I played waaaay too many hours of CK2 by now, I am still not that good of a player, but I think I have understood most of the basics of the game mechanics (inheritance and claims and stuff being the exception). Part of the fun is making mistakes and still going with the flow. The reason I chose Iceland has nothing to do with my (admittedly high!!) appreciation of Werewhale's style of writing. I wanted to find a nation to play that leaves room to a humoristic way of narration and an interesting approach to the campaign map in general. If I become too stereotypical, dumb or silly, please let me know!

Since this is becoming a wall of text I'll try to keep it short:
- I will not cheat
- I will enjoy comments
- I will try to be persistent with this AAR and update at least once a week, although I will try to update more frequently if possible
- I will try to write in a funny, witting way (in contrast to the title being a reference to a story by H. P. Lovecraft), knowing that tastes differ though
- I will try to stick to the rules for AARs, so please tell me if I do something wrong
- I won't play too far ahead, so if you have recommendations about what to do, please let me know

Have a good time reading it!

PS: Sometimes you might find, for ambience reasons, pictures of scenery and landscape. My wonderful wife made these, thanks to her! (If she should ever read this).



I have already uploaded some pictures and will write the first chapter tonight.

Table of contents
 
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The Slippery Slope off the Island​

I want to tell you who I am: My name is Isleifur (how fitting) af Haukadalur, I am a fighter both on the field of war as in the field of intrigues and I have a beard. Besides that I am not good for much, but in comparison to my son I can call myself somewhat capable of ruling this wonderful piece of land on which in August it rains icicles and in December – excuse my Islandish directness – one pees ice cubes.



Well, right behind my picture you can see the wonderful Island which our family called home for nearly 200 years now – right, Iceland has not been inhabited always (as Norway, where, I think, we come from). As you can see, in September there is already/still snow on most mountain tops.


Finding someone for my son to marry is not that easy, really. It needs to be someone of an equally noble line of rulers as ours, and if possible someone who is more able to do all the things that usually are required of a Duke. I heard in Hungary they grow 'em pretty and quite diligent, and since the Danish king does not offer us the hand of one of his many daughters (it would have been easier, language-wise) I arrange a marriage for him with Adelheid of house Arpad. Wasn't it here that mysterious, mytholigcal, mystical and merry Atzel held court?


As for my spymaster, I send him to the glorious and industrious and far away people of Byzanz. I gave him a candle as a present, but as you can see, the countenance reveals how much he dislikes the warm climate. I can't blame him, the smell of sweat transpired each day in the streets of Constantinople must be worse then the pungent stench of Skata.


My chancellor, a very able person and my only vassal (rank of a Count) will be sent to Dublin, since it still has good Norse people inhabiting it. Also, the County of Dublin alone has more holdings than my whole Duchy. I don't know how to conquer such an overpopulated County, but I will think about that when we man the boats to sail southward.


You can already tell exciting things are about to happen. Such as Teitur marrying, and me deciding to do something about my diplomacy. On another note, I would like to get ALL of Iceland for myself and my family. So I should probably do something about Chancellor-Count Sigfus of Vestisland. Interestingly enough, I find two very able backers of my mischievous plot. They send some dangerous rogues after his track...




Soon the mercenaries get him... And for whatever reason, his son decides to die of “natural reasons” the same day. Guys! This was not what we wanted! We wanted to get the old Count first and take away his son's land like stealing dried-fish-on-a-stick (a common Icelandian treat for children). That would have been real Viking style.




Anyway, my domain is growing already... And I can present you with my new cabinet. Special attention should be given to Torfinn av Holar, himself an astonishingly well-versed Court Chaplain. One day he might find out that he is actually a Christian and reads in the Bible, right now though it seems as if he is training our once-pagan nation to worship the ancient Gods again... We should do something about that if possible.




“Revoking” the County of Vestisland also enriches our finances a good bit, allowing us to build the first Icelandish Castle Village – turning Hrisey, once in deep slumber, into... well, a slightly less sleepy doze.




Meanwhile Orm, the new Chancellor with the cute name, seems more able to declare the right for the Icelandesque Duke to rule over Dublin and its Norse/Icelandese inhabitants.


WHAT – that went faster than expected! Thanks, Orm!!
MEN! SADDLE THE PONIES! LUBE THE BOATS! SOON WE WILL CONQUER THE GREEN ISLAND TO THE SOUTH!



Read in the next episode: Will there be war? How long will the old Duke, now 65 (short Icelandisian) summers old, make it? And: What's behind this picture:




(All pictures uploaded with http://imageshack.us)
 
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Hey Mithfir! Thank you for the kind words. Do you mean like... Giving it chapter names or something? And then linking it in the first post?

Sounds so reasonable! Thanks for your advice!
 
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I really like your style and sense of humor. Eagerly awaiting the next update.
 

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Immeasurable Intrigues (and the reason we didn't leave the island)
War – is that such a good idea? After finding out that the Count of Dublin has an ally – his brother is the Count of Leinster, I decide to wait until I can muster up enough troops to face this double threat. Do you remember my extreme ability in all matters concerning intrigues? Well you have to have Viking eyes in the back of your head to be such a mischievous schemer.


So the decision is to weaken this alliance by plotting against the Count.


I find this red-haired Bishop who is all but too willing to help me.




Wait what?? A catholic priest is pouring out wine – and it's POISONED? Wow, dude, that's one heck of an Eucharist. It is okay to scheme and murder someone, but not in such a blasphemous way...


Well the next time please do it a different way (but I surely appreciate you making your hands dirty). I found out that the Alliance gets inherited too. So I plotted to kill the next Earl of Dublin, but I should have paid attention to exactly the message I received.


Which is “Earl of Diarmait – of Leinster.” Yes, I should have been a bit more... attentive to what is about to happen. By the way: Again, a Bishop proves to be a great help. Talking about Ye shall not murder... But I can understand that you would think even God would turn a blind eye when you desire so much to be ruled by an Icelandesque overlord. So onward, and soon (please look to the right, and at the border between Dublin and Leinster):


Wait... Ahm... I can save this! I just kill the next Earl too! This time BOTH Bishops help me plotting their liege's demise, making me very aware of the fact I'm only doing the church's will. Something's going awry though, now I am not fighting an alliance... No, I have a claim on a friggin' twice as big county. Given the fact that Iceland is right now not really suffering from overpopulation, I will need to either get more men under arms or decrease the number of their fighters (right now, I don't have a picture of it, it is my 458 guys against their 512 – and since they are nearly as bad ass Viking as mine, I don't dare fighting against the odds). Of course I can reduce the population by 1 – hoping also that the child that will inherit won't be able to withstand the Icelandian onslaught.



I am not stupid, I'm a Viking, so I already try to plot another claim on an easier-to-conquer County. But wait – what do I see? The lord of Munster and Ormond is getting his troops out to Scotland so I can easily pillage his holding?



Yes, he seems to be busy, so I send my chancellor (who by now probably has hurting feet, knows all the locals and the regional treats (we're talking PRE-potato-Ireland here!!)) to another Irish county.



Meanwhile a letter arrived – maybe you remember I wanted to leave that one open. The nettlesome neighbor (I thought I got rid of all neighbors that “count” (pun intended)) was really grateful and I feel – not only because of the Bishops helping me in my murderous plots – a bit more pious. *



Next thing I know, after writing letters, this guy called Sturla Þórðarson shows up and says he's going to write down my family tales. He wants to teach his son how to do it, and since I want my son to keep the saga of our family alive, I let him write the chronicles of our mighty Icelandese dynasty. **



Said dynasty, including the rest of my court in Hrisey, seems to have issues with honesty. As if I, the beacon of honesty, the upholder of holiness, the man of direct means and the despiser of backalley-plots would encourage such a behaviour. One could (nearly) get cynical in this atmosphere...


At least Teitur managed to produce an heir! That makes said court and especially him very happy! (What a strange thing to say, you might exclaim. Bear with me, soon it shall be revealed!)



Being a grandfather is just the right time to think about my ways and become more diplomatic, fulfilling one of my earliest ambitions.


Speaking of... Maybe it is time. Maybe I should do it. I am 66, not yet married, maybe it is time. If I marry the oldest woman "available" – and a Norwegian one for that matter – I might not mess up my inheritance and still... you know... get rid of some pressing ambitions... Against my most trustworthy advisers I chose her. They said tampering with Norway, the old, wrinkly spinster from whence we came, would only hinder us in becoming a nation of ourselves. I said "I love her" and the case was settled.



To put my new diplomatic skills to test and to prepare my court for a bride as noble as the one from Rogaland, I ride out with my court and do some hunting. Of course: It's the most royal and noble of all sports. Not that there is much to hunt for in Iceland, besides the occasional duck, guillemot or a troll. At any rate, the result in my abilities is equal to none, probably due to my progressed age.



The same day the hunting is over my bride arrives. And I am officially married, for the first time in my life (I think. The mead in Iceland is strong, I am old, but I know that my son was legitimate. It might have to do with my conversion to Catholicism and the annulment of a former pagan wife). Married life will be nice and companionship appreciated. We're together older than 100 years, so children cannot be expected.


Meanwhile, back at the lair... The Marshall of Dublin is being dealt with, still I don't see a reasonable way of invading Dublin. I hope Snorra wrote down for my offspring to check for alliances BEFORE illegitimately forging a claim.



Since there hasn't been any more claim staking going on in Ireland for a bit, I can save the gold and invest in a cozy, warm and uninviting Wooden Palisade, the first and only one of its kind in Iceland. Believe it or not, that thing attracts 4 more warriors to our army, so why not building it? It's time to look at Ireland, again...




How will this nerve-shaking, unsettling tale of Icelandic madness continue? What will the next building in Iceland be? Will there be FINALLY war against Dublin?



_________________________________________________________

* I still haven't understood much about it or what it does, to be honest.
** I remembered me reading the Edda many years ago and decided to research a bit.

(All pictures uploaded with http://imageshack.us)
 
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Paternal pains and pleasures, clueless councilors and Catholics




After ordering that palisade I look around. The 70s bring about change to the house af Haukadalur. My only child Teitur begets his second son in 1071. I begin to understand: The times when we were a mere band of pillaging warriors might come if not to an end, then at least to a different stage. I can't just thirst for the blood of the south as much as I could when there's two cute little creatures like my grandsons toddlering about in Austisland (the county where I hold court). My wife and I are very happy about the recent development, knowing that we probably can't have children ourselves anymore due to our progressed age. Let's ask the proud father about his thoughts on this:


Well. I don't know what's so depressing, the fact that he has two sons, the lack of sun in our home country from late September to early May, or the fact that his own toddlerish sons will surpass Teitur in no time due to his lack of talent in nearly every important aspect of Icelandian statesmanship. I guess it must be one the latter two. Nevertheless I ask my council to bring home some nice news, arrange the letters with frames in cute pastel color tones and create a national flag for our home in these cute colors, an idea which was abandoned soon after, although I have to admit those colors ARE pretty manly. After all, my family shall become the overlords of the lands of the South, not their penpals. The cute little frames though remained and shall remain for the rest of the Icelandesque reign of house af Haukadlur.


Whoever read close realized, that my spymaster, the stealthy and sinister Arnvid av Kirkjubaer, resides in Cairo.



There are two different versions as to why he ended there. One says he wanted to go to a place with good schools, with educated sages and wise men to learn from them, with a high percentage of bringing knowledge home from the desert of sand to the desert of ice. The other one says that when he entered the boat to bring him south, the captain, named Kai* asked “where to” and was answered: “Kai, row!”

Since we're already taking a look at the council, meet Torgil af Hildarendi, Court Chaplin and once staunch Catholic, comes up with a pretty silly idea – joining a heresy that will gain momentum in England a couple of centuries later – that makes him end in jail. I, becoming more and more a real grandpa, seem to turn into a gullible old smock and believe him when he says he will convert back to a more reasonable Catholicism (what is a more reasonable Catholicism in a country that turned Christian only several decades ago). Or maybe I am just a bit proud that this way of thinking, that many later will claimed was coined by John Wycliffe, originated actually from Icelandese sources. Anyway, I decide to take a look at the buildings in Hrisey, our beloved capital, and see that the list of buildings still seems to be of quite a manageable size.



But a closer look also reveals that in this county alone I can mobilize an astonishing Viking force of 289 warriors. Together with the – what – like – 232 guys from Vestisland I might have a formidable force to conquer...



DESMOND! Where in Ireland didn't my chancellor try his luck yet? One more on the list won't hurt anybody. Except the soldiers there, probably.



Note (to the right) also that obviously an event as irksome, irritating and nerve-racking as the construction of a wooden palisade causes Audun av Alftanes to die of stress. In Alftanes, the only not-castle-like settlement on the Island of Iceland, one dead person is quite a sum.

While I hope that my crafty chancellor will be able to forge the claim there, the king of Noway wants me to say something about Crown authority. All I can say about it is “uneasy lies the head that wears a crown” - and with that truism I ignore any word in this, not without telling that king that I would like to rule after his death.



Such an act of diplomacy makes me feel really confident (I'll put the King back into Viking one day!) and I try to talk to my countrymen, trying to convince them to lend me their ears.



I feel vibrant and alive these days, riding the country on my wild steed, in full armor and stuff. The fresh air is good for me, so is the exercise. Ahh, I, I feel alive!


A bit too alive for my old age, some people just shake their heads in disbelief when the cat's out of the bag (talking of messing up my inheritance):



O_O Who would have thought of that. Together, we're 112 years old. But the fresh air in Iceland, pony riding, the occasional amphibious strike and the need to make sure my depressed son does not do anything our dynasty might regret later just made me do it!

When going to Torgil (remember? My once lollard Court Chaplin) to talk about the baptism that will take place soon in our family chapel, he brings forth rather frustrating news. He developed a second heresy, calling them Fraticelli, that later again would be accredited to different people. Keep the good work up, Torgil! That's two heresies in less than 10 years! Quite an accomplishment for someone who calls himself a slothful person. Again, I forgive him, since he is the only able priest on this whole Island (remember my first Chaplin had an intriguing intrigue-score of 3).



Finally in 1074 the time has come: My wife, 45 years old, gives birth to Eldrid, our daughter. My wife is one tough woman, and my daughter the joy of the realm (Obviously, my spymaster wrote me about it, since the frame carries the manly pastel purple-pink that he chose to be his color). She will be aunt to nephews that will be quite a bit younger, which makes me smile.


She shall become quite a Valkyrie one day! I hope she'll make me proud and I'll live to see her grow. I am glad that she, as a woman/girl will not alter succession in any way. Still I want her to be the princess of a thriving and somewhat intimidating country, so I chose that there is enough commerce in Iceland to finally do something about our armies. “Men! Commence the building of a Training Ground!” Our Militia is more fierce and frightening than other trained warriors, so I am confident that my prodigy will conquer large bits of the known lands (and probably expand even westward) one day!



By the way I talk you can surely tell already that I became quite a diplomat. This time I am going to practice in front of a mirrör (that's Icelandesian for “frozen pond in August”) so I can see myself. Having mastered this art enough, I turn towards my poor Stewardship. Like I always say: A true Viking not only knows how to fight, talk and drink but also how many gold coins he just pillaged! Stewardship it is then.


I decide to celebrate this decision by a hunt, which must raise my Prestige in the Northern Seas to a degree that the nowegian King comes knocking again. And again, I don't give a piece of whale-dung about their crown Law.


Since hunting is over and I spend more time learning about stewardship, I am more indoors, taking care of my little grandsons. My learning obviously rubs off to him, as he seems to become more temperate than me – actually even exceeding my modesty and humbleness for which I am known all over the seven seas. From his father he inherited the diligence. One day, he'll be a great Viking leader, I know it already!


As you can also see, in 1076, the Militia building is finally done! Proudly I look at the potential number of men we will be able to field. I also have a look at our longships: Enough room for all the men that I will be able to command. Who would have thought that while being nearly 70 years old, I can still do all these things, plan ahead and do something for my legacy.



With a certain pride I notice my third Grandson, who is giving me joy and peace in my old days.



After my 70th birthday, I find more peace and a relaxed time in book keeping. Others find it's boring them to death, nothing that can happen to me.



I guess I cheered too soon



How will Iceland stem this devastating blow to the Vikings' guts? What will the depressed new Icelandish duke do to cement his rule? Will any other heresies be developed in Iceland? Find out in the next episode of Icelandic Mountains of Madness!!!



_____________________________________________
* Couldn't resist the bad play of words, with Kai being a common name among Germanic/Norse people: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kai_(name)
 
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Very impressive work from your chaplain. Must be very disheartening to the people of the future to know that they are only copying a slothful man from Iceland!
 

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Haha, never saw it from that side, but you gotta be right!
Thank you for your comment, it's really encouraging. BTW: Thanks also for your Guide to EU3 Beginners, I am reading it already. I find CK2 already complex, EU3 seems to be even deeper.


To the other reades: Please don't spare any advice or criticism. Is it too much a wall of picture?
 

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A most excellent read! I am looking forward to seeing the rule of the depressed heir! I came to the forums looking for inspiration to play CKII again, it's stories like these that are the proof that with a good story, the game becomes so much more than pixels!
 

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Your last update is two images over the limit of 20, can you please fix this? Thanks.
 

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A most excellent read! I am looking forward to seeing the rule of the depressed heir! I came to the forums looking for inspiration to play CKII again, it's stories like these that are the proof that with a good story, the game becomes so much more than pixels!
Thank you! I finished his post and will put it online as soon as I fixed my little issue with the pictures. I keep forgetting: It's not 20 screenshots max, but 20 pictures. :) But seriously, this is very encouraging, Keesinho! Thanks so much!
 

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Depressed Dukes do better, don't they?​

“Why, why, why. They always kept asking me: “Why are you so sad? What brings you down? You got 4 boys and the inheritance of a whole duchy”, but they do not understand. The yearning, the deep aim in every man's heart is to leave an imprint on this world when he departs to the next realm. I have that, no doubt, but what else is there? I begin to wonder if a man needs more...

As if those boys, as lovely and adoring they might be, are sufficient to fill a Viking's yearning. My wife, they say, my wife with her beauty and her charms, an enchanting exotic spot in this cold, white hell, she should lighten up my darkened spirits. But at the beginning, we didn't even speak the same tongue. We established trust and appreciation, no doubt, but what else is there? Doesn't a man need more?

My father, a schemer and plotter of back-alley-deeds done dirty cheap, thought he knew it all. Turning to Christ would bring our people unity and prosperity, it would make us exalted among the peoples of our time and age, setting us at the table of the peoples of the south wind. Did he forget where we came from? The fjords of Norway, where I am sure Baldr is still worshipped, and the halls of the Jarls, where I imagine Odin is still revered... I imagine there came some unity and salvation to this barren island, but what else is there? A man needs MORE!

Do people not see what I am lacking? The one thing, that I lust for, more than anything else?
Oh forefathers! I conjure you! Open their eyes. What I lack is LAND TO CONQUER! No wonder I'm depressed. Every true man should be depressed if there isn't any land to conquer...”



Huh, well. I lost it there... You know, I have those times when, for whatever reason, I feel a certain sadness over things. I sometimes don't understand it myself, seeing it all in a dark and black way, when there is definitely things, like my boys, I could rejoice about. There names are Eystein, the bright, Ulv, the short, and Finn, the cheerful. While I can understand that my father wanted me to inherit the whole duchy, I desire that, like in ancient times, we bring the different holders of the realm together to debate who shall be their appointed ruler. I know it will take me some time to achieve that, but I owe my sons a complete and strong duchy, not a split up cluster of holdings over this barren... I keep repeating myself. It's so vain... So darn vain...


My wife said that probably a fair would cheer me up. Since it doesn't really matter that much and petty coins are just a sign of wrong idols, I'll pay for this little amusement. After a certain time of mourning over my passed father, I agree. Who knows what it will do to my temper?


While my wife thinks I am being busy preparing the celebrations I continue to get claims on the Emerald Isle. I know that deep down, the people there desire the firm hand of an Icelandese ruler. I just have to find some means to get a justification to “settle” there before the other rulers, especially the kings of Norway, England and Scotland that are the landowners in these premises. I try to marry Eldrid – not my half-sister, but a fellow Icelandan, to Murchad McNeil in the north, but it didn't result in the desires way. He now has a beautiful, strong Icelandesque wife, and that's all. Lesson learned, Teitur. So I ask a different Murchad, this time to the east, to come to my court and marry one of the ladies there. Still, this does not count, says my steward. It does not count, it's all in vain. This life is so depressing.


I pretend to enjoy the different amusements that our little Summer Fair brings to Hrisey. To be honest, I could laugh for the first time in many years, from the bottom of my heart and depths of my soul, when I saw that tumbler in which the same steward who said it wasn't enough to have fellow Icelandics married off to get a claim. I wanted to see him in there again! Also, there was an extremely nimble archer attending one of the contests, and I was quite surprised that after the many rounds of mead that were distributed among the crowd someone was still able to do such trickery. Yeah, mead and trickery... Seems like some valid ways out...


Talking of trickery... Didn't Torgil, my worthy court chaplin tell me of “good” news from Rome, respectively County Breifne? Didn't the Earl there have some... theological issues with the church fathers? What? He's excommunicated? HA! What my father in 70 years couldn't achieve I will get done in the first year of me being in power. Success! I'm as happy as a toddler, and I am not ashamed of showing it.


A quick look at our levies: Although not everybody's fully trained yet, we should have enough men. Appoint whoever owns an axe and can fiddle together a shield (and more importantly: can row a longship!) to their local alderman and set the sails! We're going to war!


This coughing and the headache really are bad, but nothing new for someone as depressed as me. It could have to do with the mead that ran plentiful during the Summer Fair. Now that it's over, I acknowledge it was fun and just the right distraction for the men before going south.


While sailing southward, we pass by Faröer. Knowing that Breifne is only the beginning in a succession of subjugations, we have a look at the army of that Island. If this is all, we shall make try to get a hold of it and see to conquer it if the Norwegian King in the East can't protect this remote island. I wish someone could tell me why the drafts on this darn ship are so cold. I am coughing like a mad man here, so much and so often, that it starts hurting in my chest.



In a good tradition started by my father, I keep ignoring said kings attempts to sway to one side or the other in his petty debates over Crown Laws... I care but little for his right to wear his crown, he can wear it whatever way he desires. Excuse me, I think the sea air is not good for me... Yes, my green face is completely normal, it's, ah, the mere reflection of the sea.


Upon arrival on the shores of Ireland I must confess that I have a little cold. I don't want to complain, since I know this can't throw a real viking off track. First my chest was hurting, then my bowels turning inside out, now someone put a little troll in my head that seems to dance... Or is it a leprechaun? No wonder I am such a depressed person... Can someone please kill me?


We make our way into Tyrone. Nobody is opposing our forces. Obviously, word spread in Ireland, that Breifne is our goal. I am unfortunately confined to being transported in a carriage – what an unworthy way of transportation for a Viking duke. I can't wait to recover, this is more depressing than ever!


The good news is that Adelhaid seems to be with child again! My Marshall just told me about it, he got a letter from home. He had to read it to me, not that I ever learned that, but to add insult to injury I have a hard time opening my eyes. Parts of this cold, don't worry, it's normal.


CHARGE I SAID! I can hear from my bedstead here in the oxen-cart that they're not fighting properly. For a long time I felt that withheld, fumed anger in me. Time to let it break through!



Let's besiege Dromahair! The plan is easy: We need to surround the town. Have your shields always pointed towards the walls, we don't want you to get shot by their archers, oh and yes, keep your the eyes always straight on the battlements up there! I mean, after all, that's from where the danger ensues. What do you mean you hear horses behind us? Isn't that the rearguard?



*Coughs some blood*
As long as I live shall we win and take Breifne! Not only have we besieged Dromahair successfully, no, we also stood our ground to their detachment!
It would take death himself to keep me from conquering Breifne (especially since our warscore reached the 30s already!!)



War is over, my friend.





That was a surprising short, but intense rule! Will Eyestein, the young ruler of Iceland gain a foothold on Ireland? How will he do with his 2 – soon 3 siblings? How short will his reign be?
 
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Keesinho

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Depressed Dukes do better, don't they?​
That was a surprising short, but intense rule! Will Eyestein, the young ruler of Iceland gain a foothold on Ireland? How will he do with his 2 – soon 3 siblings? How short will his reign be?
Too bad about his early death! I was hoping for years of depression and failure :) Now lets see how Eystein grows up...again a Viking longing for land and conquest? Or will he become a peaceful gardener?
 

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Thank you a lot guys! Reading these comments is pretty encouraging! :)

I liked the name Eystein, I hope he will turn in to a little Einstein and become a bright guy one day. He might become a Viking Physicist of sorts. :)