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 Crusader Kings 3 Crusader Kings 3 is the third instalment in Paradox Interactive's incredible grand strategy series focusing on the mediaeval period. What sets it apart from other grand strategy games is you don't play a nation but a dynasty, your one and only main goal is to keep your dynasty alive, everything else is just an extra goal in an entirely open mediaeval sandbox. Released 1st September 2020 it (in my opinion) provided a much better base for a grand strategy dynasty game than the already great Crusader Kings 2 did with far more refined systems, though obviously lacked the breadth of content that a decade older game provided. But, with the release of the Royal Court expansion on the 8th February 2022, a plethora of content from the previous game has been updated and entirely new systems and mechanics implemented. And on top of it all Crusader Kings 3 is by far Paradox' most accessible game with a clear easy to understand UI and tool tips that help greatly in a genre known for having a pretty steep learning curve and an obtuse interface. If you've seen my other Paradox LP's then you'll know I like to focus extremely heavily on narrative and showcasing the actual mechanics of the game gets pushed to the side in favour of trying to discover and show a compelling story. So if you are looking to this LP to learn how to play Crusader Kings 3 I'm afraid it will be of little help. However, saying that, if any major systems or mechanics crop up that non-PDX players don't understand I (or very likely others in the thread) can happily explain or showcase specifics so certain things are easier to follow. Just as when I play PDX-games regularly I don't like to play to win, instead trying to play to the style of whatever character / nation I'm currently controlling. So I have no plan for how this will unfold - beyond that we will be starting as a viking and seeking to settle elsewhere. A large part of the new Royal Court expansion is to do with cultures, and the new ability to diverge or hybridise cultures, so hopefully we can see some of that happening. The other key component of Royal Court is well, royal courts. Which requires you to be a king or an emperor, so that will also be a fairly immediate goal for us lest we miss out on all the new content. A Feast Of Foreign Shores Starting in the 867 start date, vikings are the bane of practically the entire western world, but luckily we are vikings. I'll be starting in the tiny county of Rogaland on the western shores of Norway, as a lowly but competent warrior at the helm of a clan of raiders.  867 is a chaotic time, as opposed to the somewhat more stable 1066 start date, which gets you into the thick of Christian - Muslim Crusade/Jihad faster. Instead, kingdoms will more quickly break apart, raiders from the north and from the steppe will press into Europe and the middle east, and familiar cultures and faiths may be displaced or disappear entirely by the time we reach the 11th century. And to further compound that I will be setting the game rules to ensure there is even greater instability and more chances for diverging cultures and faiths to appear.  As opposed to my Stellaris LP which had an unwieldy amount of mods that essentially made the game unplayable in later stages, I only have a handful of almost entirely cosmetic mods this time around, with only major mod in the form of Sinews of War, this is mostly because it calculates and shows the population and production of every province, which will prove useful for narrative reasons. Crusader Kings 3 has actually proven to be one of PDX's most moddable games, with some truly astounding mods already made and we are barely two years into it's life. (including one that integrates CK3 with Mount & Blade Bannerlord, so you can play out the battles in one game and have the results transferred to the other seamlessly) I will also be using Cities Skylines as much as possible, purely for flavour to help show what our settlement(s) look like. And at certain key intevals, major decisions facing our ruler will be put to a thread vote. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I - 867 - 869 - Rogalander Expedition II - 869 - 873 - Holstein Hop II.V All-Thing of Summer 873 III - 873 - 881 - To Southern Seas IV - 881 - 888 - Salvation V - 888 - 898 - Ratu Layung VI - 898 -906 - Alva the Great VII - 906 - 909 - One Last Fight  VIII - 909 - 914 - The King and the Prince Crisis Now fucked around with this message at 00:52 on Mar 1, 2022 |
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I - 867 - 869 A cold wind blows over Midgard, carrying with it the stench of ash and blood. From shores of ice and snow our brethren venture forth across the whale-road in search of gold and glory. Though we have never ventured more than a hundred rests from our home, tales that trader and raider alike spin from their tongues over mead table and market stall rouse the heart and conjure images of lands and peoples I can barely believe.  In no short time we too will weave our own saga. For I am Alva Veisla, and I refuse to pass into the halls of Valhalla until a crown sits upon my head and a thousand wailing widow's curse my name.  For two years now I have ruled over and protected Jæren or Jaðarr, the heart of Rogaland on the western shores of Scandinavia.   A town of some four thousand people, and another fifteen thousand or more farmers and hunters and fisherman that live in the fjords and islands around. I also hold sway over the communities of Rygjarfylki and Ogvaldsnes, but they are so small to barely be worth mentioning, perhaps my successor over Rogaland will one day make them great towns, but I shall not be here to see it, for my banner will hang over a foreign throne.   And who am I you ask, to make such grand designs on the world? I know not my mother for she died bringing me into this world, and my father was a petty mercenary with no clan nor hold to his name. He would not surrender me to the wilds nor set me on the knee of some local chief to be adopted in a knésetja, and so at his side I grew and learned to fight.   After father died in some muddy field fighting some bandits for some petty king, I returned to the town of our birth that he oft-mentioned, Jæren. And found it wanting.  Jæren had seen a successive line of bad chieftains and corrupt town councillors, bereft with banditry and extortionate taxes and 'mysteriously disappearing ' crops and supplies from storehouses. When I seized power from the previous chieftain two years past there were many that decried me a usurper, a glorified bandit. But time has soothed their tempers, and renewed order and growing prosperity has given them faith in my abilities. But, I cannot be queen of a tiny backwater town alone.  Those that sat on my council may have grown to trust me, if a little, though certainly didn't like me.  None more so than my Godi Valdemar, a cowardly man who wished his sword as sharp as his tongue. But unfortunately the one who communes with the Gods holds greatest sway over the people of this town and if he were so inclined he would incite them against me. And so we must do what we can to ensure we remain in his, and the Gods' good graces.   Speaking of the council, it is without a marshal, as few wish to take up the mantle of leading the band of peasant-come-warriors, brigands and tired old mercenaries that dwell within Jæren. And what's more the town has none practised in healing, should the never ever arise, and it most assuredly will sooner or later. What little gold the town has left at its disposal is put up as a bounty for those wishing to enlist their services and word is passed onto the traders to carry with them to whichever settlement they frequent next.   Come the next fortnight and much to our delight, fresh blood is starting to find its way into the lonely old town. A handful of seasoned warriors wish to offer their services, though seeing as initial payment is upfront, who knows how they'll react in a year or two upon seeing their regular measly pay that the town can provide. Haraldr had spent much of his life leading a group of warriors in the mountains to the east of the town, skirmishing with the clans of Telemark and Vestfold and had become a proficient leader of men, though he is dare I say it more stubborn than I and is set in doing things his way. It's convenient then that his way will benefit the town, and so marshal he will be while I oversee Rogaland.   Two men came forth offering to become the new physician for my court, Gunnar and Ingjaldr. Though I would never say it to their faces, if my life depend on their 'skilled hands' but the two of them seemed to barely know that much more than the common townsperson when it came to ailments and injuries.  Gunnar it seemed knew only slightly more than Ingjaldr, however Ingjaldr immediately caught my eye. Where as the former had been taught by a Christ-man's missionary the basics of medicine in the court of Tunsberg, the latter had taught himself surgery and homemade remedies while crewing countless raider expeditions in far off shores. He offered to show me first hand how good he was at fixing a broken limb if I were to decline him, I think me and Ingjaldr will get along just fine.   Frankly the man can kill far better than he can heal, and to keep him cooped up in the Jæren longhouse would be a great dishonour, no, Ingjaldr will be my physician and champion.  Vémundr, my steward is still just a boy, barely turned 18 and like all his age still yearns to see the world beyond this town and our shores before the anchor of age holds him down here. He wishes to follow the many of our kind that ventured south to serve beneath the great king of Miklagard in the Varangian Guard, something I would have dearly desired, but I hear the Christ followers would be even less welcoming of a woman warrior than my fellow norse men. I of course accept his request to travel to the great city and enjoy his youth soldering and adventuring in the strange Greek lands. It would be monstrous of me to keep another marooned here when their heart seeks far off shores.  The past week has been spent closely working with the Godi, doing everything I can to get him on my side, and with luck it would seem to have worked as this morning I found a letter in my chambers from him - though I confess to not knowing my written words as well as my ability to swing an axe, but I got the gist of the message, Valdemar is finding me more amicable as of late.  The past week had however also been filled with tales of wonder and adventure from Ingjaldr, who at every opportunity regaled me his exploits in his youth, of far off foreign lands. Dreams of glory pull at my heart and I cannot sit idle in Jæren a moment longer, it is approaching two and a half years of being in this town, my sword arm grows weak and my senses dulled by this chieftan's chair, I must go a viking.  The call is made that a grand expedition will depart from Jæren in a week's time, already warriors flock in from the countryside, hunters and woodsmen with their bows and axes, longships approach from down the coast. Valdemar is appointed custodian of the town in my stead while I'll be absent, which he is only more than happy to accept.  I may have spent the past years in this quiet town, but I do not forget where I came from. We train with Haraldr and Ingjaldr alike and thankfully within days we are back in fighting form.     By the 25th day of Þorri (February 4th) we are ready to depart. Two and a half thousand hungry vikings with an appetite for the plunder of foreign shores.  From the bow of the lead longship, with Ingjarldr at out side as our guide, we sound our horn and the twenty ships of the Rogalander Expedition depart.  After a month at sea we land on Christian land, land of the Dutch, where thick noxious bogs and marshes await us. Nestled on and islet we set our sights on the small town of Bergen op Zoom.  It's paltry garrison is no march for the two thousand Norsemen and the town quickly falls. But few defenders means little plunder, and there is not much to be gained from these isolated marshy hovels. Still, I have tasted my first real raid, and now I only want more.   Ingjarldr directs us further down the coast, deeper into the land of the Franks, once united by a great king 'Karl', but now his descendants bicker and fight for the scraps of his once great Francia. At the tip of the mainland we came to Bretagne where other Norsemen had invaded and settled before us. Ingjarldr it seems had a history with Olafr Veoy and was eager to raid his castle of Brest.  The fortress proved a greater challenge than the tiny Dutch town, but a welcome fight to best our fellow Norsemen who had grown weak behind stone walls and forsaking our ways for those of the local Christians. We mistake them for Franks but Ingjarldr tells us these Bretons are Celtic people, who once ruled most of the land before made to kneel to the might of the Kjárrs, once the most powerful rulers in the world but now only their ruins remain of which Bretagne had a few.  I wished to fight more of these Celts, to see what they are made of and we sail north to Albion.  The isles of Albion are beset by war, as the Sons of Lothbrok tear the island apart to make their new kingdoms. The Anglo-Saxons make for formidable opponents, honed by decades of conflict with the three brothers and Ingjarldr advises us to stay clear of the mainland proper lest we seek to invade proper and face large battles to stake our claim to a parcel of his bountiful land. Up the Severn Estuary we sail until reaching the southern shores of Bretland, home of the Welsh.  Castle Caerllion proved even greater an obstacle than Brest, a far more intact Ro-Man fortress but it too fails to our assault, and we take everything of value back to the longships.  After departing Caerllion we made the short hop to Ireland, to resupply in the port of Dublin, a new and prosperous Norse town in the heart of the Celtic island. It is here we meet with a trader who has come from home, from Rogaland, but bares ill tide. In our absence, the neighbouring Agder clan has raided Jæren. Apparently the town itself was left mostly intact, but our longhouse was ransacked and everything we personally held dear was stolen from us by the bastard Jarl Kjotve. Some of the men wish to return home, hoping to protect their loved ones, and I am almost tempted to send the expedition back, but we have come this far, we have so much more to see.   Those that wish to return stay in Dublin to catch the next boats heading back toward home, we press on. Back across the sea we venture to the mainland, down the coast of the Franks towards the Land of the Visigoths, or more specifically the Basque.  Here on the shores of Iberia, the remains of these Romans could hardly be called ruins at all, these are practically intact towns and fortifications that look as they must have in centuries past. With great effort we force our way into Irun to find a treasure trove of plunder. But more than any gold trinkets our mind has been so inflamed with talk of these Romen, Ingjarldr speaks of them with the same reverence one affords the Gods. I demand he take us to their homeland at once.  The cold embrace of our home is long gone as we pass through a tiny strait into the Mediterranean Sea, to our south lies a land that even Ingjarldr knows little of, Africa, where the sandy beaches extend inward forever and tribes older than any of Scandinavia dwell. To our north is the Serkir, great conquerors from the far end of this long inland sea who have made great enemies of the Christians. Ingjarldr strongly opposes raiding their coast and he drives our ships onward, to Rome.  The Kjárr no longer live in Rome we are told, in his stead the great priest-king of the Christians now resides. A man with more wealth than a thousand longships could carry. We land on the shores of Italia, in the town of Ostia, once the main port of these romans, and though dilapidated and in much need of repairs these roman fortifications are truly immense and it'll likely take a protracted siege to actually take this port if we wish a clear path to Rome.  Scouts bring dire word that the priest-king has had his captain-general amass all the willing people of Latinum to join him in trying to drive us off.  the core of this "Papal Army" is formed of highly armoured horsemen the likes of which we have never faced, and their commander, Herlembaldus is a callous cruel man who will give us no quarter.  Let him come, we will find glory or death at the gates of Rome.  We stand our ground, take our place of honour in the shieldwall and face down the Papal 'cataphracts'. Ingjarldr is like a beast uncaged, a decade of languishing in the north, but it is here he comes alive once more, cutting an unstoppable bloody swathe through the Papal lines.  Despite their overwhelming numbers, these 'civilised' Christians with their superior weapons and armour prove unable to best us. With the professional soldiers fallen, the mostly peasant army rout, victory is ours! Herlembaldus, the snivelling wretch of a man demands we take his life, so he doesn't have to return to his priest-king with the shame of defeat hanging over him. We let him live, so he may tell of our glorious deeds this day.  Ingjarldr is quick to temper the fires of glory within us, telling us how depleted our forces are and how weary the men are after the battle. We may yet take Ostia, but should the Papal Army return, they will certainly defeat us and we will lose everything.  I order the men to take what they can from the outskirts and to return to the longships. But I cannot leave this place without at least setting eyes on this great Rome at least one. I have Ingjarldr acquire us some of the local's clothing and he takes me on a rowing boat down the river Tiber into the heart of the great old city. And frankly I wish I hadn't, the tales Ingjarldr weaved in my mind were far grander than the pile of rubble that awaited us. This city's days of grandeur are long behind it, now all the remains are sad reminders of it's past glories and those clinging to them.  We return to the ships and seek riches elsewhere in Italia.  Amalfi, Ingjarldr tells us is loyal to the 'true Kjárr', and after our moment of confusion tells us that the great king of Miklagard is the successor to the Romans, and 'Constantinople' they call it may be the great shining city I seek. Then we will go to Constantinople.  But first we continue along the Italian coast, where we find our greatest haul yet in Salerno. My name begins to proceed to me, and the Prince of the city, sensing his defeat, sallies forth through the city gates, presenting a wealth of treasures and trinkets in return for the city's safety. I cannot be seen to be soft, or easily bargained with by Christians.   We take Guaifer's offer, and demand his son as tribute, and make promise that while the boy lives we will never set torch to his city again.   Before we can go raiding into the land of the Greeks, I wish to sail south, to the shores of Egypt where the oldest kingdoms known are said to have existed.  For once Ingjarldr has no tales to tell of his place, Alexandria, and it is in fact our new adopted little clan member who can divulge something of his land, so named for the greatest general who has ever lived, who conquered all the east before even the time of the Romans. But like them there now remains only sad old ruins, though the immense lighthouse is truly a marvel of engineering. The boy recalls fanciful stories of man-made mountains of sandstone that the god-kings of old Egypt are buried beneath to the south.   These Serkir or Arabs who have come to call this land their new home over the past century or two meet us with a mix of horror and fascination (at least the ones not in the settlements we are directly raiding), a far cry from the immediate outward hostility of the Christians further north. But the heat of this land is like nothing I have ever experienced, nor wish to experience any longer. If such wonders lay further along the banks of the Nile, then they will be for other's eyes, the cool sea air beckons once more.  As we cross the Mediterranean once more and enter the Aegean Sea, sea traffic increases exponentially, where as most of Europe seemed to be a land shrouded in the shadows of former glories and empires or peoples who have yet to make their greatness, here in the Greek lands their greatness is on display for all to see. Huge fortified cities and temples line the shorelines and immense merchant ships pass us with weary mercenaries looking on us with disdain.  We pass through the Bosphorus without making land. I may be bold but I am no fool, one sight of the walls of Miklagard and I know it is a fight we cannot win, perhaps not even with ten times our number. We slip quickly and silently through the strait as if we stumbled upon a sleeping bear in the forest and hoped not to stir the beast from its slumber.  Across the Black Sea we stop at the Greek colonies in Crimea to plunder the immensely rich castle of Kerch. If this was what a tiny castle at the edge of their empire held then the treasures of Miklagard are beyond counting.  Leaving the open sea we lead the longships down the wide winding rivers of the steppe and into the heart of the land of the Slavs. The forests here and deep and dark, even greater than those found back home, except maybe the ones I hear may lay near the realm of the Sami at the edge of the world. At one point we are forced to haul the ships to the river banks, and carry them for a few miles across the land, with our captured thralls holding our loot. Fearful were we of being ambushed by the local forest tribes, but our numbers must have been so great as to deter them.  The city of Novgorod had to be a destination of our return voyage, to visit the court of Rurik who had left Scandinavia to make his new home here among the slavs.  Rurik has forged an immense kingdom for himself here and made it secure and prosperous, though he has completely forsaken the old ways and adopted the customs and culture of the Rus. But perhaps he was right to do so, we have seen on our journey so many still clinging to the memory of old kings, empires, gods and former greatness, so heavily indebted they are to what was, with no desire to see what could be. The world it seems is in flux, perhaps to fight this ever growing tide would lead to our own downfall, we have much to ponder. But for now we enjoy Rurik's hospitality and regale him of our saga so far.  Two and a half years since we departed, we return at last to home. Our ships overflowing with gold and a heart burdened with a yearning to return to it all, perhaps this time for good.  On a bitter October night the ships of the Rogaland Expedition slip back into the Jæren harbour. The feast in our honour will last all the week to come.   The Rogalander Expedition  Clan Veisla 869 Crisis Now fucked around with this message at 16:27 on Feb 12, 2022 |
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Feb 12, 2022 16:10
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Well, that's one way to start your road trip.
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Feb 12, 2022 16:30
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We're off to a great start, I see. Also, ground floor in a Crisis thread. Very excited for this.
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Feb 12, 2022 16:36
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Hell yeah, ground floor. How regular will these road trips be?
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Feb 12, 2022 17:28
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+1 on the ground floor sentiment. I've loved your prior work, Crisis Now - I'm excited for this!
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Feb 12, 2022 21:40
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Excited to see the new LP!
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Feb 12, 2022 22:07
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Hell yeah, that was some good plundering and heavily armed tourism.
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Feb 12, 2022 22:56
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Nice! Looking forwards to this
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Feb 12, 2022 23:21
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That was quite a trip. Cheers for a new Crisis LP
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Feb 13, 2022 06:04
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Excited to see this play out while I wait for te game to go on enough of a sale that I wont complain about DLC prices.
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Feb 13, 2022 06:49
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Does this game make some of your rulers survivable or do they go the course of 'stubbed a toe, infected by tetanus, died falling out a window' routine?
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Feb 14, 2022 04:19
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Hell yeah, ground floor on a Crisis Now LP.
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Feb 14, 2022 05:02
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wedgekree posted:Does this game make some of your rulers survivable or do they go the course of 'stubbed a toe, infected by tetanus, died falling out a window' routine? One of the learning lifestyle trees is focused around making you live a real long time, but even without that it certainly feels like characters live longer on average than in CK2.
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Feb 14, 2022 05:07
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Grizzwold posted:One of the learning lifestyle trees is focused around making you live a real long time, but even without that it certainly feels like characters live longer on average than in CK2. Most of the CK TP's I've read seem to take an almost Loony Toons style route for how quickly folks hit the kibbosh! So yay!
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Feb 14, 2022 06:01
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Ah man, happy to get in on the ground flood of a new CK lp, that was one hell of a roadtrip around the world.
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Feb 14, 2022 06:37
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Oh hell yeah, excited for how insane this is inevitably gonna get.
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Feb 14, 2022 08:45
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IT BEGINS!  This is going to be an amazing ride.
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Feb 14, 2022 12:05
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Vikings! Vikings! Vikings! Always love Crusader Kings LPs, especially narratives.
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Feb 14, 2022 17:11
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Those Cities: Skylines Norse villages are pretty  .
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Feb 14, 2022 17:28
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In on the ground floor for a sane and chill ck3lp
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Feb 14, 2022 17:29
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Ground floor! Also  at east Francia. It's not been two years and the border gore has begun.
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Feb 14, 2022 19:33
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Is this the first CK3 LP in this forum? It's neat as hell using the fullscreen barbershop for character interactions and vignettes, really helps flesh out the narrative.
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Feb 14, 2022 21:13
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ninjahedgehog posted:Is this the first CK3 LP in this forum? It's neat as hell using the fullscreen barbershop for character interactions and vignettes, really helps flesh out the narrative. There was another one based on the premise of being an isekai that was fun but seems abandoned.
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Feb 14, 2022 21:26
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II - 869 - 873 - The Holstein Hop Back home in Jæren once more I can take stock, though the Agder Clan under Kjotve had ransacked the longhouse and taken supplies, the loot we plundered from the expedition more than makes up for it. And our fame is rapidly growing after word of the grand Rogalander-Expedition spreads, with luck in time more people will flock to the town to join us.  The Agder Clan's transgression couldn't be allowed to go without repercussion though, and meeting with Valdemar only confirmed that. The Godi, leading the town in our stead had put up a paltry defence, but a defence nonetheless which is more than I expected for the priest. And for it he was grievously injured trying to stop the raiders.  I so wished to march on Egðafylki and see Kjotve's head on a spike. But I hear a bear of all things has already claimed that bastard's soul, and without him the Agder Clan has disbanded, nothing will come from raiding those towns now but drawing the ire of unrelated peoples.  Arechis, the prince's boy stolen from Salerno, is taking some time to adjust to his new life here in the north. He finds most of our ways cruel and needlessly brutal, but we live in a harsh land and a strong hand is needed. Still, his softer outlook and his Christian kindness sometimes gets the better of me, despite me trying my best to install faith in the Old Gods in the boy.  Many more people are coming to the town now, Askell Gunarrson being one. I only hope his many tall tales are even remotely true, but he is an entertaining enough story weaver and a competent fighter, I will keep him around.  With so many more visitors, traders and renown warriors passing through or staying in Jæren for extended periods it's becoming harder to keep track of, and to meet with them all, and so a new position is created to help. Ali, the steward, is far more concerned with the running of the town itself and the prosperity therein. Sergius Musconidi, a Lombard we captured in Italia has a certain way with words both spoken and written, and I have no qualms with giving him more responsibility. To waste capable people on menial thrall's work would be pointless.  A few weeks after returning to the town, I decide to go on a hunting trip in the woods east of the town with the spymaster Sig, so we may learn in private more of what's happened in our absence.  Sig informs me that as well as the Agder Clan's attack, that Chieftain Rognvaldr of Þrándheimr (much further north along the coast) has been making frequent visits to the town in the last two years, specifically to the homes of my warrior's wifes to 'comfort' them in the two years their husbands were raiding with me. And now said husbands are beginning to find out and demand retribution-   Before we can proceed with the conversation however we sight a massive deer, and he sights us, and begins to charge.  A swift arrow in its neck slows it for a second, but the swing of my axe as I barely dodge the beast catches its face and brings it down. Sig has had quite enough adventure for one day and we make our way back to town, with the new trophy draped over my mount, but now I have a new quarry to hunt.   More and more of the warriors in Jæren are demanding we raid Þrándheimr, that we capture the wife's of Rognvaldr men as revenge. I won't stand for that. Nor will I waste men and resources trekking further north into lands we barely know. I alone will travel to Þrándheimr and restore our lost honour. And I might as well get some gold out of the whole ordeal.      Marshall Haraldr, being a less experienced raider is still more versed in more 'formal' warfare tactics and in the most diplomatic way possible tells me that our victory at the gates of Rome was far more down to luck than any great skill on our part, not that we haven't proved ourselves a great reaver, but fighting pitched battles against disciplined regiments is a far cry from ransacking a town full of peasants. Very well.  Some weeks into the training with Haraldr and we are sparring one-on-one with some of the warriors, when a lowly raider whose name I had not known before that day steps up to fight me. The friendly match quickly turns to a far more vicious bout and it takes some effort to disarm the man. I ask the brave raider his name and get a simple "Játvarðr" grunted back through his exhaustion and quickly draining adrenaline. "Well Játvarðr, you've certainly proved yourselves. Perhaps in our next venture from our shores you can lead a longship rather than sit in the ranks"  I have been spending ever more time with Arechis in between the training sessions with the marshall and meeting with the councillors and town's folk, and for better or worse he is becoming more like us with each passing day, perhaps we can make a mighty viking out of this Christian prince someday.  Half a year has passed since Haraldr began training me and we have drilled and practised relentlessly. Now comes our final test in a mock battle.  It is not enough to simply stand and let the enemy pummel you or charge headlong into their lines and hope for the best, at every moment the ebb and flow of the battle must be observed and responded to. With the marshall's guidance we know our next battles will be fortuitous.  I cannot take a moment longer of this idleness in Jæren. We have seen the riches locked away in far off holds, we have tasted battle and sitting in this chieftan's chair all day listening to the woes of the town is becoming unbearable.  As I speak our brethren are already going forth and carving out new realms for themselves.    It is with luck then, that the great realm of the Karlings to our south fracture ever more day by day. The death of King Ludwig II fractured East Francia with the Bavarians, and now the northern portion of the realm, cut off from the capital in Baden, has grown so weak outside of his control as to break away from the kingdom entirely.  Another opportunity for a quick and easy adventure may not show itself for some time, and I have acquired quite the band of warriors ready and willing to join me in the pursuit of greatness.  The Duchy of Holstein sits on the northern shore of Germania, stradling the mouth of the river Elbe, a key trade route for the East Franks, controlling it may make us rich and powerful and provide the perfect stepping stone in our eventual migration to whatever place we will call our new home.  And Duke Rimbert is a truly detestable man, I'm sure the locals would prefer even a viking chietess over him.  It's time to say goodbye to Jæren. This town has sheltered us well and we have learned much here but the world sits restlessly beyond our shores for me to come and stake my claim. Those that are willing to join me help in stocking up the longships and on 9th July 872 we depart for the last time from Scandinavia to make our home elsewhere.   On a murky but humid summer morning forty ships of the Veisla clan land on the marshy shores of Dithmarschen where a few hundred of the Duke's men await, having been warned of our approach along the Dane's shores.  They prove no match, and only their marshal Unwan is allowed to live, so that he may deliver the message to Duke Rimbert to vacate our new castle.  Despite having no way of winning, only a few dozen soldiers left against our two thousand the Duke refuses, locking himself up in his keep with enough supplies to last a few weeks. We are left with no choice but to sack Dithmarschen and lay siege to the fort.  The siege lasts all of summer and into the middle of autumn, by which point the fort has run out of supplies, and the defending soldiers simply open the gates to us when we promise safe passage away from here, any loyalty to Rimbert fading.  Askell and Játvarðr go into the Saxon longhouse and drag Duke Rimbert out before us, we could simply kill him right here and take this land. But I want him to give it, to hand me his ducal circlet himself and live the rest of his sorry days knowing he was bested by 'northern heathens'.   Alva of Rogaland; the lowly mercenary's daughter and pitiless reaver is no more. I am Jarl Alva, ruler of Holstein.  From a single tiny town I now rule the fortress of Dithmarschen, the monasteries of Neumunster and Cuxhaven, the towns of Itzehoe and Bederkesa and most importantly, the city of Stade, with it it control of all river traffic in and out of the Elbe. Stade at first glance would be the obvious location to set up, but we don't intend on staying here more than a year, two at most.  On the northern shores of the Elbe, in Dithmarschen are great expanses of wetland, any Saxon or Frankish armies from the south will have great difficulty reaching us over land, with many opportunities for us to cut them off.  So despite the damage we ourselves did to the Dithmarschen fortress, and it being far from the most prestigious of holds, it will serve well enough as our makeshift capital, and our longships out in the bay will deter any seaborne incursions.  The champions take bands of warriors out to the various settlements that now lie beneath our rule to pacify any Saxon uprisings and make sure tribute makes its way to Dithmarschen without issue. I meanwhile make preparations to raise a runestone to mark this great occasion, first of many great glories.  While repairs are made in Dithmarschen, the runestone to commemorate our victory here is raised, and we begin preparing for my next step. In a few short days, the champions will reconvene here and together we can decide what piece of Midgard we will carve out for ourselves.    Clan Veisla, 873 Crisis Now fucked around with this message at 15:45 on Feb 15, 2022 |
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Feb 15, 2022 14:06
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And thus the first full bite of the feast has been taken. It's nice to see how they implemented some of the adventurer mechanics for player characters, and snagging control over the mouth of the Elbe is a heck of a solid start!
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Feb 15, 2022 15:39
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things are looking up for the gang! maybe a trip to the indian ocean is in order -- it seems like the hot destination for all up and coming jarls.
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Feb 15, 2022 17:24
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Hell yeah, we go a viking and take what is ours.  Funny enough, the people of the land we just conquered just so happen to be a fairly hardy bunch who have little use for kings and lords. For being a band of christian worshiping milksops, the Dithmarschen seem to be a fair bit hardier then most of their other fellows.
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Feb 15, 2022 18:47
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Nice!
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Feb 15, 2022 23:39
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Now this content is very much up my alleyway. I wonder how many updates it'll be before royal blood gets spilled...
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Feb 16, 2022 01:03
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Jimmy4400nav posted:Hell yeah, we go a viking and take what is ours. I was going to say this is a thing in Europa Universalis 4, but can't really modelled in CK3. But then I went and looked at some of the new culture traditions and what do ya know: 
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Feb 17, 2022 07:51
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All-Thing of the Summer of 873 With all pressing local issues concluded and out-standing feuds resolved we can move on to the final and most important part of the assembly. Which will decide the course of our clan for the years to come. We have made our first step in forming our new home, but where should our adventuring take us next? Though bare in mind, should our ultimate goal be so grand we may not see it accomplished in our lifetimes, but prepare our sons and daughters to carry on the conquest we start.  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Marshall Haraldr  We have taken only a slice of Germania, when so much more of it is weak and fractured. Why risk continuing on to other shores and losing everything, when there is so much opportunity for expansion here. We should expand Holstein, and form a new Kingdom where the Saxons have failed.  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Játvarðr Vámuli  The isles of Britain are wild and untamed, a verdant land where a mighty kingdom can be formed. The Anglo-Saxons must surely be weakened by years of fighting the Ragnarrsons, the southern mainland should be an easy conquest. Or the Celts to the west an even easier goal.  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Askell Gunarrson  Iberia may prove a good home, at the end of the continent with many natural bottlenecks and with easy access to the great inland sea. The Caliphate of Cordoba can be reasoned with or conquered in time, but the Christian kingdoms hemmed in on the northern shore can be destroyed with ease and form the base of our new kingdom.  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Hjálmar  Funny you should mention the Christians Askell, because I think striking at them directly will benefit us and all our kind the most. The Christians have been and will continue to be a thorn in our sides while they remain powerful. So let us drive a dagger into their very heart, Rome. We should conquer Rome, dethrone their priest-king Pope, and lay claim to all the Western Mediterranean!  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Ingjarldr  No. Not the Western Mediterranean. East. To settle for anything but the very greatest of prizes would dishonour the Gods. Why should we have to forge an empire, when we can simply take one. The Great City sits right there, and with enough preparation and men we can take Miklagard, and become legend.  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Where should the Veisla Clan seek to form it's kingdom? A - Germania B - Britannia C - Iberia D - Italia E - Byzantium If another location is suggested with enough support, then the Clan can be convinced to settle there. The vote will be concluded when one option is far enough ahead of the others.
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Feb 17, 2022 08:47
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Let's go with E. If we can make it there, we can make it anywhere.
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Feb 17, 2022 08:57
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F - Egypt. With access to the great Eastern ocean, we would never run out of targets to raid...
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Feb 17, 2022 09:26
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Obliterati posted:F - Egypt. With access to the great Eastern ocean, we would never run out of targets to raid... This sounds great. Edit: F - Egypt.
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Feb 17, 2022 09:35
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C - Iberia. This puts us in a good position to raid anyone we drat well choose with convenience without being too hot.
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Feb 17, 2022 09:37
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E - go big and/or go home
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Feb 17, 2022 10:44
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I'll go with C!
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Feb 17, 2022 10:50
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I've heard of tales about an island that has trees whose sap is the blood of dragons. Socotra
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Feb 17, 2022 11:57
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