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Seems like a rich and stable realm, shame about the mass slaughter of all those peasants and nudists though
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Feb 22, 2022 21:17
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Well done! Any thoughts on redesigning the kingdom flag, like a third lion to show it's a kingdom now (that's how heraldry works, right?)
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Feb 22, 2022 21:22
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I didn't realize adamists were an actual.. thing.. in base CK3.
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Feb 22, 2022 21:25
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I've never seen the choice between occupying and sacking the city. Is that from a mod?
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Feb 22, 2022 21:39
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Gantolandon posted:I've never seen the choice between occupying and sacking the city. Is that from a mod? From Sinews of War, the only major gameplay changing mod I'm using.
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Feb 22, 2022 21:43
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Woo! Yay for the Queen!
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Feb 22, 2022 22:41
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NewMars posted:I didn't realize adamists were an actual.. thing.. in base CK3. They are but there is not a single Adamite realm in either of the starting dates. It's possible to go through an entire campaign without it really becoming a thing.
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Feb 22, 2022 23:45
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House Veisla, Fire and Blood
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Feb 23, 2022 06:29
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Seems to me there's a whole Horn of Africa to still conquer.
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Feb 23, 2022 07:33
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The strengths of locals and vikings combined. Sacrificing the gods themselves on the altar of peace and prosperity. Uniting our line with that of the mightiest realm we could find. And now this, cutting a swathe through the Nubian realms to forge a crown annealed in the blood of the enemies of the faith.
AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 13:19 on Feb 23, 2022 |
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Feb 23, 2022 12:30
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If we don't take Egypt, I think taking the western side of the Red Sea and possibly the entirety of the Bab-el-Mandeb would be a strong consolation. Idk if there's actually a mechanical benefit for it, but it'll still be cool.
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Feb 24, 2022 23:30
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Map of the Kingdom of Nurmandiya and it's constituent settlements. Map of Viking expansions by the year 900. (open in new tab)  Xelkelvos posted:If we don't take Egypt, I think taking the western side of the Red Sea and possibly the entirety of the Bab-el-Mandeb would be a strong consolation. Idk if there's actually a mechanical benefit for it, but it'll still be cool. There is a strait-crossing there, but with the ability now for any army to embark / disembark anywhere they've lost their importantance quite a bit.
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Feb 25, 2022 00:54
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Traveling to and conquering what is now Myanmar must have been an epic tale.
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Feb 25, 2022 01:10
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I'm sure in a few generations when we make contact with the far east vikings, they'll have amazing stories for us. You know, if they still live.
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Feb 25, 2022 05:35
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kw0134 posted:Traveling to and conquering what is now Myanmar must have been an epic tale. the Varangian mechanic might be slightly hosed anyway yeah said it before but like, sticking to the south and making this ultimately into a weird Horn Of Africa LP would be cool
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Feb 25, 2022 06:15
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Rody One Half posted:the Varangian mechanic might be slightly hosed so wait, was this not the result of the mod or GM fiat, the game just naturally has vikings spreading out across half the world? because honestly that would explain a lot about why half the target countries were even presented as a reasonable narrative option.
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Feb 25, 2022 07:16
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Nick Buntline posted:so wait, was this not the result of the mod or GM fiat. it's because of the game rules I set at the start. Viking invasions have been set to "apocalyptic", and diplomatic range (for everyone) is unlimited
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Feb 25, 2022 08:25
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Lustful Man Hugs posted:They are but there is not a single Adamite realm in either of the starting dates. It's possible to go through an entire campaign without it really becoming a thing. Yeah, the main way they come about is a random event on pilgrimage where you run into an Adamist preaching and pick the option to choose to convert, which the AI has a relatively low incidence of doing, but still can sometimes.
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Feb 25, 2022 09:56
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Crisis Now posted:it's because of the game rules I set at the start. In before Viking Nahua empire
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Feb 25, 2022 17:56
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Lynneth posted:In before Viking China ftfy
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Feb 25, 2022 21:19
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SirPhoebos posted:ftfy Why not both?
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Feb 25, 2022 22:01
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Given they've already reached Myanmar by 900, it's safe to assume in this world there are longships that have sailed down the Yangtze.
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Feb 25, 2022 22:20
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Tales of Genji in this timeline will include mentions of the blond-haired devils who created a new daimyo in Kyushu.
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Feb 25, 2022 23:39
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kw0134 posted:Tales of Genji in this timeline will include mentions of the blond-haired devils who created a new daimyo in Kyushu. All the manga and anime who feature characters with blonde/brown hair will just be true to real life rather than the artist trying to make all their characters distinct.
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Feb 25, 2022 23:45
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kw0134 posted:Tales of Genji in this timeline will include mentions of the blond-haired devils who created a new daimyo in Kyushu. The Oni are actually caricatures of the Vikings that had gone on raiding parties.
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Feb 26, 2022 01:22
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VI - 898 - 906 - Alva the Great (western) World in 898 Now that I have a kingdom of my own, I have my own court and the responsibilities and bonuses that come with it. The longhouse we built is simply not suitable for this environment, perhaps we can build another in time, but for now we have relocated to the old fortress just beside and renovated it the best we could.  Before I can see to attending my court or the matters that plague all my new subjects, it would be wise to straighten out the succession for my realm.  Back in the old homeland, great chieftains were elected by all in the clan, I see no reason why we cannot emulate that system here again. Thankfully there is unanimous support for my boy Gormr to become King when I finally shuffle off into paradise.   But now to the matters of our court.  Our court is warlike, we are a warlike-people. We took this land by force and we will defend it by force. And considering we are not the largest, or richest, or the most powerful realm, having a highly trained and disciplined core of professional soldiers will suite us best.  The more grandeur our court can acquire, the greater will we be in the eyes of our peers, friend and enemy alike. The more prestigious our court, the more we can offer, the more likely we are to see people of great renown flocking to serve us. Right now, things could be better to say the least, and we hold no great treasure or artefacts to our name.   From what we can tell, on the 'world stage' we rank similarly as all the other great norse adventurers who have forged their own realms - the Danelaw in Britain under Halfdan Ragnarsson, the shieldmaiden bandit-kingdom of the 'great and terrible' Gryla of Mann, and Harald 'Tanglehair' of the Nordic-African coast.  Well we have a long way to go before the great kings and emperors of the world see us as their equal, at least we have Egypt with us, for now we can try to make ourselves appear a little more 'civilised' and increase our amenities.  If we are to acquire (and mantain) any great artifacts we will require an antiquarian, and I can think of no better person than Bergþór, he has travelled far and wide, with immense connections to Norse, Muslim and Christian realms a like thanks to his merchant past before settling here in Qusayr.  And if there's one thing a Queen needs, it's a crown.   Within just three short weeks, a metalsmith arrives at the Qusayr docks, another Norseman who found the light of Allah, though be it a slightly different interpretation. He hails from Oman, where the Lusakaupangr clan have made Muscat a prosperous hub for Norse-adventurers in the seas beyond Arabia.  In order to further solidify my relation with Sultan Ahmad, without whom none of this would have been possible and for whose mercy I still stand when he could have taken Qusayr, I can think of nothing better than dedicating the very symbol of all we have achieved together in his name.  Zahra, who was just a tavern wench in Jæren when she departed Rogaland with us, has risen to become our stewards and rule our port town of Safaga. She turned the tiny fishing village into a bustling town where merchants and nordic adventurers alike are now frequently stopping at before progressing back inland to find business and mercenary opportunities in Egypt. She herself has become quite rich from running the town and wishes only to help see the realm prosper too, contributing much to the court in these first few burgeoning years.  At last we have our crown, it is nothing spectacular, but it is mine, a crown fit for a queen.   With that very important matter dealt with, it was now time to hold my first court.   The southern fringes of our new kingdom are still fraught with unrest, our army and the Egyptians were not merciful to the Adamite heretics that held sway over the land, but the majority of the people left behind are now just Copts. The huscurl I elevated to a count to oversee the county has seemingly forgotten we are no longer at war with these people and treats them like our enemy and not my subjects. I may show unrelenting force on my foes, but those that now find themselves within my realm have no reason to fear undue harm, I need them content and productive and letting Lot run amok will do no good. I grant the local chieftains a small sum so they may organise local militias to maintain order.  Skúli Stjarna continues to be my spymaster and the baron of South Jabal Quzlum. And he continues to be a staunch believer in the Old Gods. His intelligence has been critical to the realm and despite all the baseless accusations thrown at him, I will not have a valuable asset removed because of hearsay and twitchy zealots.  And despite what I tell Count Tosti, Count Amar immediately races up behind him, demanding then if I am not to remove or imprison Skúli then he must be made to convert. I tell my incessant new vassals to leave me, if they have nothing of note to bring up to the court then they can return to their new land which I'm sure is in dire need of control and order considering we only weeks ago took it from the locals. Nurmandyia cannot become a dogmatic stronghold for Islam alone, we thrive on the trade and commerce of visiting Norsemen, if we throw out those still within our borders less we want to stop here on their journies.  We travel south, to visit the new land of our kingdom, this time to survey and observe rather than to lead an army through it. And we make a point to visit Skúli, who despite being hounded by the nearby Counts continues to do good work for Nurmandyia. He has a unique eye on the county, what with his network of spies but it also reveals many minor issues across Jabal Quzlum, that are too numerous and individually too minor to be bothering me with them, and offers to take increased charge of the county so he may rectify these issues personally. Which we agree, likely much to the chargin of the counts.  The counts of which there are simply too many for me to manage. I cannot abide the whims and worries of seven huscarls-turned-counts all trying to make their problems the most salient. Ashraf Shamyid is made Jarl of Naqis and Lot Tokar the Jarl of Bazin. Now all the huscarls can go and pester those two, and in turn I only have to keep two Jarls pleased.  The mayor of Safaga and Central Jabal Quzlum, overseeing the most populated and prosperous cities close to the capital are also kept close on the council.  When we return to Qusayr, we find former-Mufti now Allamah Ehsan Azizid in a heated argument with Bergþór. Ehsan is annoyed about the fact I granted the antiquarian position to the old man (which he himself apparently wanted? He never mentioned it...) and asks why this "conniving merchant" is granted such power in my court while he is a true man of God. I am quick to remind Ehsan that he would not have been invited to Nurmandyia if not for Bergþór, because there would be not Nurmandyia. Second only to my dearest husband, Bergþór is one of the most crucial figures in establishing Nurmans in this region and ensuring we were not all killed by the Egyptians. But, Ehsan has himself contributed much to the realm, he has assuaged the transition from pagan non-believers into proud followers of Allah for most of the warriors and followers who came with me to this land. And for that he should deserve a position in my court as well.  On a lighter note, Marshal Lot presents to me a feline intruder he and a courtier came across in the lower sections of the castle and enquiries if I wish to keep. Of course I wish to keep it! I will name him Muezza, for the prophet's own favoured cat.   A year has passed since the end of the Red Conquest and our ascension to the throne of Nurmandyia, a feast is being held in honour of all the brave Nurmans who have made this possible.  An hour into the festivities, before the attendees become too consumed with mead and wine (this, has been and continues to be the hardest tenant of our new faith to adhere to. A lifetime of excess and relative hedonism is a hard habit to kick) Mayor Njall rises and demands the attention of all present so he may read a poem he has composed, about legacy and desire, it is about me. The mayor is lauded for his kind words and a toast raised to him, then to me, then to Nurmandiya.  This whole feast was arranged by dear Ofeigr. All of this was, Qusayr, Nurmandiya, my town, my kingdom, my people. None of this would have been possible without Ofeigr. He is the greatest man I've known, and I would have never found my own greatness without him.   There is some sense of normalcy beginning to spread across my new realm, once again I am focused on stewardship rather than leading an army. Food has always been an issue in this region, it is dry and dusty with little rainfall, but thanks to a recent trade with have gained a number of cattle, and with aid from some local herders who I convince to settle in Qusayr I allot a large strip of land stretching north from the town to be new pasture for these gentle creatures so we may have meat and milk for years to come.   Gormr is growing up fast, and he is taking a lot after me, which may or may not come back to bite him. Lately he has been infatuated with Illiana, daughter of Skúli, despite her rebuttals of his advances. The boy does not take 'no' lightly and pursues her still, often making trips down to South Jabal Quzlum despite us warning him of bandits and wild animals on the winding mountain trails.  And then one night my steward brings me news that my son had to be rescued from the roads by local garrisons after he slipped along a ravine and a patrolling pair of vigmen heard his mewling. Gormr swears he was not inebriated, and Mayor Zahra does confirm the dire state of the roads in the province. Who knows what may have happened if those soldiers weren't there, who knows how many others may have perished on these roads. Creating safe roads from the capital southward is now a top priority, lest we only ever move goods and people via boat along the coast. Zahra brings a local Egyptian before me, recommended to her by Skúli (I suspect one of his little spies, but he denies it), a Habil Bayoumid who has expertise with building and engineer and with contacts with a number of settlements in the Jabal Quzlum province willing to provide workers to assist. Very well, we let Habil get to work updating and improving the roads in the area.   While regions outside the capital are improved we begin to languish in Qusayr once more, though thankfully it is not a lust for blood that takes me but wanderlust once more. I have seen Rome, Cairo, Mecca and Medina, Constantinople (from a distance), but I have not been to city of prophets, the great Jerusalem. With Ofeigr in tow we depart, (Gormr refuses to accompany us despite my insistence) a brief stop in Cairo to see our good friend Ahmad and then we press on to the Holy Land.  As we approach the holy city, somewhere in the hills of Hebron a band of thugs accosts us. They saw an 'old noble lady' probably overburdened with gold to donate to temples in Jerusalem. The fools did not know who they tangled with, I will give them only steel.  I had thought on the Hajj to Mecca I had witnessed a vibrant diverse city, drawing all the far-flung believers of Islamd together, but here in Jerusalem there are more faiths and cultures present that I even knew of, old and new. I walk among Catholic Franks, Jewish Khazars, Copts and Armenians, fellow Muslims of every sect and branch. There is an odd sense of comradery in this place, but it feels uneasy, and with the Abbasids crumbling I feel many could soon make a play for the grand old city.  Returning to Qusayr, we regretfully discover our dear friend, Mayor Njall has passed, at least a calm death in his sleep. The Jarl of Naqis will take his place as my chancellor on my council.  And now that we're are back home, we find ourselves being visited every other week by Habil to give us updates on the roads in Jabal Quzlum, which have now become a rather extensive project to ensure proper links between the capital and our new central and southern regions of Nsqis and Bazin. Habil is rather frank, and does not address me with the same deference as my other subjects, which I honestly find refreshing, I missed seeing eye-to-eye with my people and not having everyone blindly agreeing with me or bleating like scared lambs whenever I enter a room. Habil's progress so far has been exemplary, but he asks for ever more resources, more men, more funds. If it is for the sake of the realm, and ease of access to and from the capital then it must all be necessary, I put even more trust in the local supervisor and grant him his extra resources.   Gormr has come of age and takes after me in many ways, but, he has no patience, he has big dreams like I once had but no desire to put the work in to achieve them, he is still a decade younger than I am when I took control of Rogaland, there is still time for him to hammer out those blemishes before he is to become King.  But for now, there is only celebrations to focus on, and a wedding!  Two years after starting his grand project to improve our roads, Habil has finally finished. Travelling to the cities and holds of Jabal Quzlum now takes almost half the time as one no longer has to trek hazardous winding mountain paths. Wide secure and supported roadways now crisscross the region and hopefully it'll facilitate trade and let people expand to new areas in the province. Habil Bayoumid has proved himself an invaluable worker and has assuredly earned a place in my court.  After the completion of the roads, many of the skilled workers moved in to the area around Qusayr and with thanks to Zahra I managed to gain use of their services for any future projects near the capital.   I cannot bring back the slain of loved one's that I wrought in my conquest of this land, I can only hope to improve the lives of those that remain.  Every time Jarl Lot visits the court up from Bazin he finds some new way to be aggravated, this time he chose Muezza to be the source of all his woes, and thus *I* was at fault for not keeping a cat under control, however one does that. Let that blasted Jarl bellyache all he wants, it is just a cat. (I may have made a mistake in giving Bazin to Lot, but it is a mistake I cannot correct now without more bloodshed)  Qusayr has grown steadily. We found it a dusty old town, presided over by Emir Hafiz who was content to live in mediocrity beneath the Sultan's protection. We have breathed new life into this community and made it the bustling port of the Red Sea coast, at least - on the African side, I'm sure Arabia has far greater ports than this. For now.  With the new roads in Jabal Quzlum and ease of access, more people are moving to settle there and now there is a need to provide water for drinking and watering crops. Zahra, ever the restless steward proposes we begin an irrigation project across the province at once, to "turn the desert green". There are numerous though small water sources up in the mountains, if we can dig ditches and channels down to the settlements they will have all the water they could need.  I have a granddaughter! Gormr and Alina have had their first child, named Helga - meaning 'holy' or 'blessed', and she truly is.  The irrigation project in Jabal Quzlum has hit some snags as so much of the ground seems unsuitable, both too hard and rocky to dig and at the same time draining away any water that does run over it. But if we are slow and more considerate of the course we try to direct the new ditches we should surely find adequate ground to get water down to the new settlements. With luck we do manage to get water down from the mountains, and now people of Jabal Quzlum are less reliant on isolated wells or trekking up into the mountains to reach the springs.   At least not all my new vassals are like that clod Lot, the new mayor of Central Jabal Quzlum Is'mail has taken quite a liking to Muezza and the cat to him.   If there is one thing I want my rule to be remembered for (beyond the war and adventuring), it is the company I kept. I have travelled all the seas of the North and South and gained and lost followers, warriors and confidants of all colour and creed.  In the decade since my ascension I have already dragged the fame and renown of the new Nurman people up from nothing, and in time the world will see our might and tell tales of Nurmandiya.  I did not achieve greatness alone, and only by maintaining such a vibrant court of varied peoples, ideas, opinions can  Increasingly, as adventurers and merchants arrive on our shores they ask "Is this the realm of Alva the Great?", and even in letters from Sultan Ahmad he has begun to call me The Great. Am I worthy of such a nickname? The likes of Cyrus, Alexander, Charlemange? Well, who am I to argue with them if they wish to call me that. Alva the Great... yeah   House Veisla, 906 (expect next part later today, wanted to split them up as it was more thematically appropriate)
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Feb 26, 2022 10:22
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VII - 906 -909 - One Last Fight Today merchants from the realm of Bardr Yngling, son of Harald, ruler of Maghreb, stopped in Qusayr. Despite conquering the African coast after we had taken the Red Sea and most of the Nord-Africans still following the Old Ways they seem to speak more fluent Arabic than I, in spite of all the learning I have had to do to read the Quran. The Ynglings have decided to adopt the tongue of the local Berbers, another great court of the world's kingdoms that speaks the language of the book at the very least.   My dutiful and loyal spymaster Skúli has passed, and so the position now falls to Is'mail of the nearby town.   Immediately, Lot takes umbrage with the new spymaster. They squabble inanely about this and that, until they manage to get on to the subject of my succession, and about Gormr at which point I am compelled to step in lest the two say something they will quickly regret. Though I agree with Is'mail, I cannot be seen to be siding against Lot all the time, that quarrelsome Jarl can only take so much before he may try something against me, so I will be seen to favour him this time, thankfully I manage to find a compromise between the two.   My administration of Qusayr and the surrounding counties seems to have reached its zenith. Any problems that plagued this land when I first arrived here are long resolved, the people are happy and the goods and gold flow freely.  At this point there is little to do but simply revel in my achievements I suppose.  Any sense of harmony is quickly shattered by sorry events of the next few months however. First, my dear Ofeigr is discovered to be ill. Deathly ill, consumed by cancer. It spreads quickly and in only a matter of weeks he goes from healthy and lively to bedridden and looking gaunt and pale. Bergþór claims to have a number of remedies, some of which may only make things worst. It is not my decision to make though, I let Ofeigr choose.  He does not wish to prolong his suffering or potentially spend his last days in even greater agony, he only wishes to spend what time he has left with him. I dismissed Bergþór and most of the rest of the court save for a few servants to provide food and care to my husband. I stay with him until the end, sitting at the bedside and holding his hand as he slips away.  I emerge from the Castle of Qusayr once more, to go find Bergþór to arrange the funeral, only to discover I'll now be having to make preparations for two, as my most valuable advisor has also passed away.  Two months later, Is'mail dies, and I am in need of a new spymaster once more.  I feel myself being devoured by grief, when the worst possible news arrives in Qusayr. Sultan Ahmad has died. The great Sultan is no more, Egypt is leaderless, the alliance is gone. Nurmandiya is adrift and I have never felt more alone.   I cannot think clearly and every task I try to do around Qusayr is quickly put aside as I struggle to go a day without my mind and soul becoming clouded with the heavy fog of depression. Jarl Ashraf of Naqis has become a close friend over the past few years, he has tried to comfort me in these trying times, and I am considering confiding further in him, just unleashing all my woes on him. But, I cannot just depend on him all the time, it's not fair to him.  Instead, at his recommendation, I turn to the use of a local plant grown in this part of the world, hashish, said to calm the mind and soothe the soul. And that it certainly does, each time I smoke it or consume whatever manner it's almost as if all the troubles of the world just slip away. For a little while, everything is better, but then I find myself needing more of it to keep the darkness away from my mind.  Ashraf then dies.  Fine, Ashraf! just die, that's fine. I'll smoke all the hashish I can find. Put it in all my drinks, all my treats, I just need more of it.  I'm not sure if weeks, or months have passed but I've just been slumped in my throne now, watching the servants go this way and that. Jarl Lot comes in and barks something about Bazin, I couldn't care less. My oaf of a son tries to pretend he runs this court while I have my little 'merry mind journeys'.  Suddenly the little glutton pretends to take offence at someone else enjoying themselves so much, he lashes out at Ehsan one night during a meal. Gormr claims I am letting the 'standard's of my court slip, that all sense of decorum is out the window ever since father died. Decorum? Im a loving viking! I should plaster the walls with the insolent sod's guts. Oh, I need some more hash.  Gormr, my poor boy. Growing up in this place, you're soft. A proper norse boy half your age could kill you with ease. No patience or tact, no desire to strive for something greater than yourself.  Very well, Gormr. If you wish to rule in my stead, then rule.  Egyptian villagers flee into Qusayr, the lands of the Nile have become a warzone. Sultan Ahmad's great stable realm is gone, his sons and cousins and brothers and everyone remotely related to the former Sultan all fight one another for a piece of Egypt.  And yet another of my old friends passes away.  At Least I still have Muezza.  Three months have passed and Gormr has made a shambles of my court. He is a bumbling, contentious, greedy little boy, and I fear the day I finally meet my end, Nurmandiya will find the same fate as Egypt. Even under the influence, I do a better job running this kingdom than he. I find the hashish is helping less and less, or I just need ever more of it.  There's only thing that'll ever bring me happiness isn't there. One thing I am great am, one thing that has brought me all that I am known for and revered. It's time to put down this drat pipe and pick up my sword, one last time. I seek out the strongest claimant to Sultan Ahmad's throne, his oldest living son, Shaybad, and make contact with the faction fighting in his name. They are overjoyed to hear 'the great' Alva Veisla will march at their side, their father's most trusted and adored ally.  Muzaffaraddin, who ever-since forging my crown has been attending to only minor smithing tasks around the castle upon hearing the news jumps at the chance to craft something new and spectacular. If I am to return to the battlefields once more, then he wants to craft a spear for me to wield.  Messengers are sent to Safaga and the now numerous settlements of Jabal Quzlum asking any and all willing warriors to join me in Qusayr. But I do not call upon my vassals - the Jarl of Naqis and Bazin - proper, I do not want them drawn away from their provinces, nor do I really need their assistance.  In no time at all, Muzaffaraddin has completed the spear, a magnificent weapon and it's shaft decorated with symbols, runes and figures of the saga of clan Viesla. It will serve me well I am sure.   Over three thousand Nurman, Egyptian and Beja warriors have congregated in the temporary field camps around Qusayr, a larger army than I have ever commanded. Despite my instructions, I find among them Jarl Lot and his retinue, and he seems just as shocked to see me in the camp as I am with him. "My Queen. With all due respect, you are almost seventy years of age. You cannot surely be about to ride off into battle?" "Like hell I can't." "But, I was expecting to lead this army, am I not your marsha?l" "Then be my marshal and maintain order. Go back to Bazin, Lot. I have a war to win."  We march back across the Eastern Desert until we set eyes on the Nile once more. This land has become a patchwork of feuding fiefdoms, towns and villages fighting one another and local lords scrapping for control of whatever they can. I have not come here to conquer though, and I do not let my troops run amok in the towns of my former friend and ally. We capture what we can, try to restore order until we link up with the other Shaybad Loyalists.  With all the armies mustered we move northward up the Nile on either side, capturing towns and convincing the locals that we are supporting the true successor to Ahmad, that joining forces with us will ensure their safety, and a return to a prosperous Egypt.  By the end of summer we have reached the capital region. While the Shaybad Loyalists drive off Sultan Mina's force we make a mad dash for Cairo. The city we had sworn we would take all those years ago. The paltry garrison left by Mina in Cairo put up little fight, morale amongst the false-Sultan's army quickly draining. The gates of Cairo are thrown open by locals and we are greeted practically as liberators.  I march through the streets of Cairo, a city I have frequented many times now. But never as a commander, never with three thousand brave loyal soldiers at my side. I could take it. I could proclaim myself Queen of Egypt.  In the deserted Sultan's palace I enter the throne room with a handful of my huscarls. I lay my spear down at the base of the vacant throne, brushing my hand across the arm-rest, almost afraid to touch the chair. "Oh Ahmad. You swore I'd never take this throne while you still drew breathe. And now you're gone and here I stand." I shake my head and smirk, picking my spear back up and motioning to my huscarls. The Shaybad Loyalists are expecting us across the river. "Rest well in paradise, old friend, I will join you soon"  We cross The Nile and rejoin with the other rebels and at the base of the Pyramids we capture the forts still loyal to Mina. These monuments, tombs of the pharaohs, still astound us. What great feats must they have done to have earned such immense tombs, and who are we to walk in their shadows while they slumber. I can ponder such things when I return home and have some hashish, for now I must focus on the battles to come.  The south and core of Egypt is under our control, only the coast remains. Mina's forces have combined at the delta and are capturing any towns proclaiming their loyalty to Shayban and coercing the inhabitants to take up arms for Mina.  While Shaybad's Loyalists move to engage with Mina's army we are ordered to do what we do best - ever since the day we took up arms and stood at our father's side - raid, overrun superior defences and forces and capture settlements. We march on Alexandria, lost stronghold of Mina.  By the time the Battle of Rashid has concluded and our allies are marching to join us, we have breached the walls of Alexandria and have control of the city. Mina, the boy Sultan, is captured. He is but a child, twelve years of age. He barely knows what any of this is about and has almost certainly been propped up by one of his uncles so they may control him from behind the scenes, but that's an issue Shaybad will have to deal with on his own.  While in the smaller palace of Alexandria we come across an translation into Arabic of a far older tome, detailing in great lengths about the architecture and engineering techniques of the Egyptians who ruled this land before the Caliphates came.  There is much knowledge to be gleaned from this book, and we finally have something notable to display in our court when we return. Perhaps we will have pyramids, sphinxes and obelisks dedicated to the Veisla family one day.  During all the chaos in Egypt, norsemen have been raiding the northern shores (we ensure the Red Sea remains safe). A band of vikings in their longships approached Alexandria, thinking they could seize the goods from merchant boats in the docks, only to find Nurman huscarls and vigmen awaiting on the jetties and piers. They did not know 'Alva the Great' had staked a claim to this city and they quickly retreat once more. But not before the raiding party leader informs us, that there have been many changes back up since our departure from Rogaland. Frankish and Saxon encroachment and the ever furthering realms of adventurers falling further out of the influence of the homeland has forced King Andrés of Sweden's hand. He has reformed the Old Ways, codified and formalized our old faith into a proper church to emulate the likes of Christendom or Islam.  In Alexandria the rest of Shaybad's Loyalists unite with us and celebrations are held in honour of our victory and the restoration of order to Egypt. We feast for a week and swap tales of valour and great past deeds with Egyptian commanders and faris. But, home calls once more. I know I could have taken Egypt, I could have been Queen of all this. And that thought alone will comfort me to my final days.  Coming home to Qusayr we are in higher spirits than we have felt in many years and return to our court reinvigorated and ready to face whatever problems our realm can throw at us.  It has been too long since we have held court, and invite all my subjects, vassals and councillors to come forth with whatever it is that ails them.  The first man who comes forth is a commoner, a Beja man far from the southern fringes of the kingdom. A representative of an on-going revolt that has been occuring in Bazin beneath Jarl Lot's watch. They refuse to pay taxes to the corrupt Jarl and claim previous obligations beneath the Kings of Nubia and Aksum exempted them from having to pay tax.  I remind them they are not serving the Kings of Queens of Nubia or Aksum anymore. They lay within Nurman lands and should they wish to continue receiving the protection and aid of the throne they will pay their due taxes. I shoot a look of annoyance to Lot who simply pushes the commoner aside, seemingly claiming the next spot in the line.  Lot claims my faris Agathos has been looting and pillaging our own villages in Bazin and that this is why the locals refuse to pay taxes. I have no doubt there is something nefarious at foot, and that Lot likely allowed Agathos free reign to ransack Beja towns and is now trying to cover for himself. But for the sake of saving face I order Agathos to return all that he has stolen from the Beja people, he is obviously displeased and looks as though he has his own complaints but I ensure he holds his tongue.  And then, just as Jarl Lot pushed aside the common Beja man, another rushed forward and pushed Jarl Lot aside. One of my own soldiers who I had not noticed at the back of the room, he is dishevelled and drunk, his axe clutched in his hand and adorned in full armour. "Monster! You sent us to die! Why do you go unpunished?" My Jarls and faris present in the throne room all rush to apprehend the man but I hold out a hand to stop them as I slowly rise from my throne and look to the maniac. "Who are you to come before me like this?" "My father died in Dithmarschen when I was but a welp, my brother slain on the banks of the Nile. Do you even know their names? DO you know mine? How many have you led to their deaths, you vile snake. All for your glory, all for that blood soaked throne! Fight me Alva! For all those that you led to their deaths, I come here to avenge them! Fight you coward or let their withered hands rise from the underwater to drag you down there where you belong!" Again my soldiers all have their swords drawn, and bows ready to let loose on this man and cut him to ribbons. I glance around to those present, the cowering courtiers and a concerned Jarl Lot and Gormr looking on, both with their swords drawn.   I don't utter another word, the throne room is still apart from the heavy ragged breathing of the intruder. I reach for my spear, hanging on a plaque above the throne and I flourish it into my hands and take up a fighting stance before the soldier.  We circle one another for a few moments, I see the many dents and scratched that adorn the man's armour, he has survived many battles. I have the longer reach with my spear, but inside this cramped crowded throne room my movement is limited.  I make the first move, feigning an attack with the spear only to withdraw a knife from my belt at the lost moment and swipe for the man as he dodges.  With a swing of his axe he almost hits my outstretched arm and I drop the knife and regain control of my spear with both hands, thrusting and swinging it widely but the man remains so close that he dodges with ease, even just grabbing the weapon and redirecting its course as he edges nearer and swings his axe ever closer.  I take a step back, ready to charge full speed at the intruder with spear held tight to my body, even if he catches it, the force and speed will send him off his feet and I can finish him off. I charge but at the last second he manages to dodge, I feel an intense seething pain as I see a flash of steel past my face and an explosion of red burst forth from beneath my chin.  My hands release my spear and instinctively go to clutch at what remains of my neck but I am already on my back, staring up at the intruder, there is no sound in my ears but a deafening ringing. He raises his axe over his head triumphantly, coated in my blood, as she screams something unheard in victory before driving it across his own throat in one final act of defiance. A dozen arrows impact him and a spear appears from somewhere and pierces his chest, but he is already gone.  I see Gormr clutching me, crying, I cannot move or speak, just bare seconds of life left within my old body. I will close my eyes one last time and when they open again I will be looking upon Jannah or Valhalla. It matters not, I care not what awaits me in the next world, I've already become legend in this one.   House Veisla, 909 Crisis Now fucked around with this message at 19:04 on Feb 26, 2022 |
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Feb 26, 2022 18:25
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Can't say I didn't see that one coming when the duel prompt came up.  Sad to see her go either way.
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Feb 26, 2022 18:38
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 to a real one
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Feb 26, 2022 19:59
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She died as she lived, a warrior with weapon in hand.
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Feb 26, 2022 20:05
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Pretty bold to take a duel when your family has exactly two heirs, one being a child, and the other, though not nearly as incompetent as his mother thought, still only has a 5 personal diplomacy. I don't think we've seen his spouse's adult stats yet, which could have a huge influence on his court. First order of business: Don't get assassinated. Luckily, he has two traits that make him harder to kill.
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Feb 26, 2022 21:30
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RIP Alva ;_:7
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Feb 26, 2022 21:38
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Veryslightlymad posted:I don't think we've seen his spouse's adult stats yet, which could have a huge influence on his court. 
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Feb 26, 2022 21:41
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Honestly, not that bad. Sure, she's a deceitful, lazy coward, but she likes us, and either boosts our best stat or shores up a crucial weakness.
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Feb 26, 2022 22:01
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Veryslightlymad posted:Honestly, not that bad. Sure, she's a deceitful, lazy coward, but she likes us, and either boosts our best stat or shores up a crucial weakness. We never married for the stats. The alliance she brought bore the kingdom 
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Feb 26, 2022 22:09
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I basically never marry for stats either, but that doesn't mean I won't leverage the ones I wind up with. This is more to shed some light on CK3's incomprehensible game-play for the audience, rather than to offer advice to Crisis Now---I quite enjoy the narrative being crafted and don't want to get in the way of it. But being just enough of a warrior (four levels) to win the heart and respect of our honorable, brave, and dutiful wife (who is none of those things and that's why we love her), and then focusing on either Stewardship or Intrigue long enough to fill their stat-focused tree would yield at minimum +13 Stewardship or +15 intrigue. (It would also net +7 prowess... 4 of which you'd even get to keep) Which isn't to say either would be the best thing that our new king can spend his life on, but it does illustrate to people trying to learn the game how important the lifestyle trees (including capstone traits) are, as well as what kind of an impact spouses can have on a character. And finally, just how much experience trumps just about everything in this game. If a ruler is allowed to hold the throne for a few decades, it's hard for them not to become a powerhouse. Also important are a character's personality traits. Since King Gormr is Impatient, he has a decision available every 2 years to expedite his schemes, as well as +15% scheme power. So, while far from a natural born talent at the clandestine arts, if Gormr dedicated his life to them, (and to his spouse) he could realistically have 21 (and very likely it would be higher) intrigue and the ability to expedite his schemes, of which, he'd be able to undertake two at once. Not bad at all for his third lowest stat. Without his spouse, of course, he'd be much worse off. Completing the intrigue tree would give him about +8 intrigue, for a total of 14. Not bad, but not nearly as enticing. But the possibility of +5 from the spouse (which would be +7 with loyalty and respect) makes a substantial difference in Gormr's potential. What if he wanted to go a different way? His mother seemed to think of him a weak dolt that would be cut down by a boy half his age. Is she right? Well, 6 prowess is certainly nothing special. But what if he focused his life on being a warrior? Well, if he completed the Gallantry tree, dedicated his life to Chivalry, and inherited his mother's spear, he'd eventually hit +14 prowess. That's if he bothers to complete Gallantry. If he only wants to be a warrior and dip his toe into one level of gallantry, and inherited the spear, he'll still hit +10 prowess. So he'd still be at a very respectable 16 prowess almost immediately, even if he wanted to be an overseer or strategist. This is 1 point shy of the game rating him as an excellent warrior. (And, incidentally, it is one point higher than the man who killed Alva) Gallantry is the tree that has Loyalty and Respect, so, if he did dedicate his life to the spear, he'd still get +7 to either stewardship or intrigue, thanks to marrying the right woman. His martial, stewardship, intrigue, and prowess could all realistically become excellent, and a combination of two of them could realistically become good. I'm near-certain that if he went into the very gamey and somewhat opposed ideological paths of gallantry and torture (not the most role-play friendly combination, that) he could realistically sustain excellent (probably above 20, even) intrigue and prowess at the same time. (And come very close to that in martial) Anyhow, the long and short of it is, despite Gormr's best stats being the low end of what the game deems average, now that he's in charge and can purchase lifestyle perks, and now that he can actually seek assistance from his spouse, he has got the potential to be a great monarch in his own right. And if he manages to rule as long as his mother did, he will be. Alva completed one tree in her field of study and came drat close to finishing a tree in an unrelated field. This is why the mini-game some people play of creating genetic supermen makes no sense to me. It's both less time consuming and more rewarding to make a "bad" ruler into a legend. And if you can roleplay that "bad" ruler while doing so, that's the sweet spot of what makes Crusader Kings such a great game series. Also, just a random correction of myself: I previously stated our spouse was a lazy, deceitful coward.--she's not. She's an arrogant, deceitful coward. I always confuse Arrogant with Lazy, because of the crossed feet. Something about the crossed feet screams "lazy!" to me, instead of arrogant. It's my least favorite trait picture. Veryslightlymad fucked around with this message at 00:19 on Feb 27, 2022 |
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Feb 27, 2022 00:13
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VII - 909 -914 - The King and the Prince There is commotion all around, shouting, people running in every direction. The body of Jawdat, the murder, is being hauled away, but I am still craddling what was my mother, my hand clutching hers though it has grown cold. I feel another hand grab at my arm and yank me up, away from her, away from the life I had lived just moments ago. It is Jarl Lot, holding my wrist he thrusts my clenched hand still wet with Alva's blood up into the air. "The Queen is dead! Long live the King!" He barks. From around the packed throne room there is a disgustingly-triumphant chorus of "Long Live the King! Long live King Gormr!" I am now ruler of the Nurmans.  One week has passed. I sit on her throne, my wife now sitting where my father once did. The reality of the situation is still taking some time to sink in. I am the same age as my mother when she began this grand saga, but at the start of it all she had but a single tiny frost-bitten town to her name. I have the care and wellbeing of a hundred thousand people and thousand miles of Red Sea coastline to contend with.  I think, in the end, my mother probably found the death she had been seeking. Her final years were restless and the quiet live of a duteous monarch sitting on their throne never seemed to suit her. She may have been a true and devoted convertee to the one true God, but the viking in her never died. It always yearned for battle, for gold and power seized from other's hands, and I don't think she would have accepted anything less than a glorious death in combat. And I know she's either feasting in Valhalla or causing all kinds of ruckus in Jannah right now. With her death, the last of the Veisla clan that departed from our fabled homeland far in the north is gone. We are a clan no longer, we are a noble house, a feudal lord, and clinging to this odd name and image will serve us no good any longer. We are king of Nurmandiya, and it is only right we take the name of this land and our people.  I doubt I will ever be a great warrior like 'Alva the Great', she was never happy that I didn't quite match up to her expectations or own skills when she was my age, but I didn't live the life she has, this desert brings its own harshness I do not know what growing up in Rogaland was like, I have never even seen snow or ice before. But in these next few years while I cement my rule over my new kingdom, trying to remember everything my mother taught me may be key - a strong hand to unite my people, but not so strong to shatter their trust and compliance.  Mother's absence from the court, both physical during her last adventure in Egypt and uh, spirtual, during her increasing reliance on that dreaded hashish took it's toll on our court, I have a little work ahead of me to recover its reputation and attract courtiers and guests to come and stay here and help the realm  Speaking of courtiers I have inherited my mother's council, which remains unchanged. Surprisingly Jarl Lot, who mother would constantly rail against has been one of the most supportive of me in this transitional weeks, perhaps he thinks if he can curry favour with the new king as soon as possible he'll gain greater power in the south, agh, I am already beginning to think like her.  With Bergþór gone, both the court physician and antiquarian positions now sit vacant, a local scholar / healer is found with more than adequate medical knowledge to assist the court, and Muzaffaraddin has already proved himself a capable metalsmith and craftsman after forging the very crown that now sits atop my head and the spear that hangs on the wall behind me, he will take charge of caring for all the artefacts we acquire and procuring new ones.   Beyond mother's friendship with Sultan Ahmad (which was born out of proxmity, and the fact the Sultan let her live), she seemed to make little attempt to connect with the wider Muslim World we have found ourselves thrust into the middle of. Great empires (or the crumbling remains) and houses exist all around us, and thanks to the Red Conquest and ascension of Nurmandiya we have gained some renown.   I have requested marriages with the daughters of the Caliphs of Cordoba and the Abbasid Empire, though their actual political power is waning they still hold great spiritual sway, and with any luck it'll buy me some more legitimacy.   A month has passed, my mother may be gone but the problems in the kingdom she forged still remain, and so I must hold my first official court.  Alfgeir stands at the forefront of the petitioners, a commander of Jarl Lot, and he holds in his arms a bundled up baby. "My king, this boy - Yugerten - is without a father, despite his noble lineage. His father was the Wali of Constantine on the north African coast. He was kidnapped by vikings who had raided Constantine when he was but a few weeks old and they brought him along hoping to gain an ever higher ransom price, the longer he was withheld from his family." He sighs and rocks the babe in his arms as the noise of the court begins to stir him "But, when they learned that Constantine was captured in a war, that the Kutamid dynasty had all but been wiped out, they simply dumped this poor boy on our laps, and they continued on their pillaging spree further down the coast. I beseech you to please find some solution so this poor orphan may have some glimmer of hope for his years to come."   "I will raise this boy, take him in to my household and treat him as if he were my own son. He may have lost his family but he will find a new one here in this court, that I can ensure." I can see my wife, the queen smiling and nodding approvingly out the corner of my eye, and the commander steps forth with the child and presents it to us.  The commander's direct liege, Jarl Lot in fact, stood right behind him, ready to come forth next, ever the man with a thousand problems. "King Gormr, you may be insulated from the heathenry that infests this lands but let me ensure you, in the Jarldom of Bazin we are beset by heretics, heathens and all manner of raving pagan lunatics, followers of faiths so ancient and debased I could not begin to describe, not to mention the Adamites who have only gained a foothold on our borders since Queen Alva and Sultan Ahmad drove them from Bazin. So far all my efforts to force them to see the light of Allah have fallen on deaf ears, we must exert more pressure on these unbelievers, grant me the funds and power and I will see to it that the southern lands of Nurmandiya follow the true faith!"  Strong words from a Rogaland-born once-pagan boy before finding Allah on the shores of Qusayr when Ahmad came marching. Allamah Ehsan is quick to step forward, giving only a momentary curtsey before feeling compelled to interject the impassioned Jarl. "My King, if I may, perhaps now is the time to be extending not the sword towards these non-believers, but the olive branch. They have seen all too well that we can be a people of great violence and brutality, your dearly departed mother made sure of that in the Red Conquest. Any more violence towards them only sees violence returned on our part, now is the time to show them that we can also be a people of kindness and humility. We must help them, so they can help us. If we kill them, they will only try to kill us. It is simple."  I contemplate Ehsan's words for a moment then nod "Your council is much appreciated Ehsan, and your words surely hold some truth. Force has not turned these people to our ways, so perhaps now we show them our kindness instead. You will travel back to Bazin with Jarl Lot and oversee local alms for the poor and downtrodden of Bazin and Badi."  Finally, mayor Haroun of Central Jabal Quzlum approaches, raving about a local preacher that I have also seen around Qusayr, a preacher who is a woman... "It would be fine if she led a congregation of her sisters or daughters, but she stands on the market square of Qusayr and preaches to men and women alike! It is causing a stir in all the county and in my own, where the people of Central Jabal Quzlum ask why there cannot be the same authority given, 'look at what they allow in Qusayr' they all say 'If it can stand in the capital, it should be allowed here'. Put an end to this madness and let us return to the way things should be, according to scripture" Of all people, Jarl Lot steps back in from the sidelines of the court to rebuke the mayor. "Haroun, surely given our leige's predecessor you can understand we should not be so willing to adhere to such strict guidelines, when a woman can bring us greatness just as much as a man. If she can bring the light of the Lord to the common people then it is only a boon for us all."  I nod in agreement with the Jarl who only smirks looking back to the mayor before I speak. "And was it not a woman, Umm Waraqa, who had memorised the words of the Prophet before quill had been put to parchment, and without whom so many would have not been brought to the Lord. I see no reason why this woman cannot preach and lead prayer." The mayor huffs and scrowls but Lot only nods in approval and bows before stepping back into the crowd.  As the throne room clears out, the peasants and lords alike depart to return to their lands one figure is left standing at the back of the room who had been silently observing the proceedings this whole time. One of my guards by the door is thumbing the hilt of his sword in its scabbard as he looks at the man and glances at me but I shake my head and raise a hand to him. "Come forward stranger, why do you linger so at the back of my throne room?" The man stops leaning against the back wall of the throne room with his arms crossed and strides confidently into the center of the room, looking around at the decor, the guards and finally at me. He has the dark complexion of the people of the south of my realm, a Beja or Nubian, but this is no peasant, not by the way he is dressed nor the way he holds himself. "So this is the home of Ratu Layung." He gives a very dramatic curtsey and continues his graceful walk toward me and the Queen. "I expected more. A grand citadel from which she must have commanded her great legion of barbarian Nurmans with which she bore such terror during the Nalukkeun Beureum. "And what are you then, a messenger from Dongola here to make some half-hearted plea to the people of Nurmandiya?" He only chuckles at my quite obvious attempt at bravado and simply shakes his head. "Your highness, I am Theodosios. Prince Theodosios Azim, heir to the kingdom of Nubia."   "Or at least, I was. I forgo my birthright, I have no desire to lead, nor to command any army or preside over any court. I am a man of God. My faith is my shield, and my tongue is my sword." He winks to Queen Alia and she emits a gigglish sound the likes I've never heard from her with a hand over her mouth, I feel a rage building in me which is only stopped when the prince suddenly takes my hand and plants a kiss atop it and winks to me too.  "A-and what pray tell, brings you to my court, Prince Theodosios" I ask, stumbling over my own words now "I have travelled the lengths of the Nile, seen Cairo, Aksum, Lalibela and now Qusayr. Danced the desert nights away on the sands of Darfur around campfires of Kushite tribes, supped from the waters of the Siwa Oasis, climbed to the summit of Ras Dashen and shouted to the heavens with the Solomonid King. But there lies so much more beyond these shores. So much more that can be seen and enjoyed, and brought back. Is it not in your own family's motto? To feast on foreign shores? Well, with your permission, and just a little donation, I wish to venture to lands afar in your name, and bring back the treasures I find and tales I forge!  I have never left Nurmandiya, never even gone beyond the forty miles or so to Jabal Quzlum. But mother's tales of the lands she saw in her Viking days still fill my head with such fanciful imagery. Theodosios spends the week at our court while we plan a route for him to take, for people to meet, ruins to delve in and monuments to visit. All the while he enthrals all those he comes across in Qusayr with his exuberant personality and incredible tales and poems. He plans to sail back up the Nile and then travel back down the coast of the Red Sea on the Arabian side, following the shore all the way to Muscat and back north to Baghdad, then Damascus, Jerusalem and finally down through Negev to catch a boat back to Qusayr.   With the population of Qusayr and Jabal Quzlum (I am considering changing the names of these provinces and towns, they are simply not -Nurman- enough) growing with our ever increasing prestige there are more mouths to feed, we cannot rely on trade with Egypt alone forever and must make greater efforts to green our desert.  My second wife, Niki Abbasid has given me a son and my new heir, a baby boy we will name Anthinos - which means 'to flourish'.  We have been spending many months overseeing the laying out and construction of the new plantations along the Qusayr coastline and helping the locals where we can. One night as we head back toward the town from a new outlying settlement I and my guards spot a number of figures, hooded and draped in cloaks, hauling sacks full of food and weapons into the night desert. Deserting.  I order my guards to apprehend them at once and we charge at the traitors, a brawl breaks out. In all the confusion and fighting, and all the shouting and cursing, I can make out they are dissatisfied by this long peace and that I would "make farmers out of proud warriors". If I will not take the kingdom on a new war, then they will simply go to a new kingdom do find the wars they long for. Suffice to say we could not stop them running away.  Mayor Suhaila, my steward excitedly approached me today in the castle, holding a loft a fragrant smelling letter from Theodosios. "My liege, contact from the Prince!" She exclaims with excitement, clutching the letter tightly "Shall I read it to you?" "For ten days and ten nights me and my party have been hiding. The bandit lady Vartanoush has set a blockade on the road we must travel - what do you advise? Caution? Or should we fight them, trusting God to keep us safe? SIgned, Theodosios." "It seems he is in quite the predicament, your highness. The letter came to us from a traveller who said they are south of the Holy Land, preparing to trek south along the Arabian coast. How should I tell them to proceed?"  Vartanoush is one of hundreds of bandits and warlords that have arisen in the Levant and Mesopotamia following the sudden collapse of the Abbasid Empire. The 'warmongering giant' of Arabia was all set to restore order but he went and died and now his less impressive son leads the Nasrid realm.  "Tell him to lay low, there is no need to draw undue attention so far from home where help can never reach him"  "My most treasured King Gormr. I will spare you all the grizzly details, but I can ensure you there was plenty of 'laying low' to be had, and I even managed to convince the Armenian bandit queen to part ways with some of her gold, which I trust my messenger has not all spent by the time this letter reaches you"  Since the arrival of little Anthinos on the scene, and with it the realisation that she will not become Queen, poor Helga has not taken the news too well. It seems she takes after Alva far more than I, and she has only become more rebellious and arrogant as she approaches her teens. She regularly picks fights with my own guards and will take any opportunity to sneak into the castle's armoury to relieve it of weaponry so she can train for the day she believes she will take to the battlefield to lead Nurmans to glorious victory like 'Granny Alva' Jarl Lot is holding one of his little tournaments that he insists on every time he visits Qusayr up from the south, but this time Helga simply insists that she be allowed to take part.  Completely unsurprisingly she proves little match for viking warriors and Beja nomadic desert horsemen three times her height and size, thankfully she tires herself out fairly quickly and retires to the sidelines before she can bring herself to any harm.  "My liege!" exclaims Mayor Suhaila, yet again holding a sealed letter in her hands. "The Prince writes once more!" I motion my steward over at once and ask her to read it to me and she opens it at once and begins to scan the words and smiles with bright eyes "Such a way with words" She utters before reading. "I am not in the desert, I am in the land of dreams. The difference between awakening and sleep is gone. My guide tells me I hallucinate what I desire the most. A paradise, a pool of water glistening like diamonds, laced with treasures at it's banks." Suhaila trails off as her eyes continue to scan down the parchment and her cheeks begin to blush profusely, glancing between me and the letter before I motion for her to continue. "Instead, my lord, all I see is you here with me. Forever one sandbank ahead. Beckoning me to keep going. And it breaks me to know each step I take towards that mirage, I step further away from the true you." I stare back at the steward wided eyed as she glances about the throne room, a lone guard standing at the door pretending not to hear a thing, I look to the thankfully vacant smaller throne beside my own where Queen Alia would normally sit. "Well, u-uh, write back that I may consider his attention, if he were to bring me a grand prize" I pull a face and shrug at Suhaila "Eh, Nubians, what are they like, huh?"  After inspecting new irrigation and agricultural projects in Jabal Quzlum we stopped by an inn on our journey back to the capital. It is packed with people, maybe because they knew the King was visiting, and my guards insist they clear it out before I enter, but I am not afraid to associate with the common folk. There is a large group of well armoured soldiers outside with matching insignia, and even more inside, they are loud and rambunctious, getting into fights with one another and any one in the inn that looks at them for more than a few seconds. The inn keeper tries to plead with me to deal with them. "Aah, the King." The commander bows, almost falling over in the process in his drunken stupor. "Is there a reason you're making a mockery of this honest man's establishment, commander Valþjofr?" "Aye that there is, your highness! We grow weary of patrolling these same roads, of watching over the same patch of dirt day in day out. My boys demand a fight. And if we cant get one, we'll just make one'' There is a cacophony of jeers from the mercenaries that is only silenced when I slam my fist on the table. "Clear out of here and leave these poor people to their drinks, lest I have my men throw you and ensure you won't be coming back" The mercenary captain stands upright, sobering remarkably quickly and sizes me up, narrowing his eyes and looking back to his soldiers. "Come on boys, your King, has spoken" Perhaps Nurmandiya has gone too long without a war. I cannot force a race of ruthless warmongers into quiet pastoralism in such short a time.  My third wife, Tarifa Umayyad has granted me two little gifts in the form of another daughter and son, twins! Named Cena and Karl.  A new communique from Theodosios, but this time it is not a letter, but a person. "Good day, your highness, my name is Andronikos, I have been in employ of Prince Theodosios for some weeks, and I bring news from Phrygia." "Where?"  "Well you see, we got a little turned around and followed the wrong coast, but fear not! The Prince can ensure you even greater treasure is to be found in the lands of the Greeks rather than the Arabs. He, just needs a little more money is all!" It's a good thing I kept the gold Theodosios relinquished from the Armenian bandit queen, I can just send it right back to him to continue whatever wild mess he has gotten himself into.  Akin Shirazid is a chief's son from a southern tribe beyond Bab-el-Mandeb - the strait between Africa and Arabia. He sought refuge in Egypt while his land was in turmoil, and made the mistake of siding with the boy Sultan Mina. My mother captured him in the siege of Cairo and he has been our prisoner-turned-guest ever since. He has been here many years now and laments the sorry state of his homeland and wishes for an end to the turmoil. 'If only some king or queen would send their army down there and put me in charge'. Yes, I get the message, and I may finally have a war to sate the lust for battle that many of the Nurman warriors still harbour.   More letters and envoys from Theodosnios. He is now deep in Anatolia, being hosted by Greek, Azysian and Pontic dukes and despots and tasting of pleasures we can only imagine from the evocate words he weaves in his letters. He has also sent gifts, and recipes for how better to use our food here in Qusayr which we make use of at once!   We continue to prepare for our expedition to the south to install Akin as new ruler of Adal and to restore order to his homeland, we have been spending more time drilling with the men and conducting wargames and strategy theorising with the marshal Jarl Lot. During one training exercise one low soldier becomes a little too eager in a friendly bout with me, and I am forced to disarm him lest he do me serious harm. The young footman, Akbar Sterki, shows great skill however and he will find a position suitable of his skills. We can also find a use for those lay-about mercenaries that infest Jabal Quzlum and give them the war they crave.   In December 912 we are ready to depart. Two thousand warriors and seven mercenaries gather on the longships in Qusayr and we set sail for the south, with myself at the helm of the lead ship.  We approach the shore again, having passed through the strait. The area is thick with ships, viking raiding parties, Arab warships trying to maintain order and engaging everything that looks like trouble, and daring merchant vessels lined with a hundred archers to deter pirates zipping through it all. Thankfully twenty longships filled to the brim with Nurman warriors eager for war is enough of a deterrent to keep any ships away from us as we make landfall once more.  All along the coast of Zalia are columns of black smoke, a perpetual battleground and ransacked settlements. A viking band belonging to some Perso-Norse lord quickly scatter as the Nurman Band beneath Captain Valþjofr slam their way onto the beach and charge screaming and hollering into the fray against raiders of local tribes seeking to exploit the chaos. Within the hour we land behind them, and I step foot for the first time, on foreign shore.  Adal is currently held by Mubarak ibn Bahir Shirazid, who has done a dreadful job of maintaining his realm or any form of relations with the surrounding tribes. With one exception - he has managed to gain the support of Sultan Hussayn Nasrid of Arabia, who seemingly hopes to prop the failed Emir up so he can use Adal as a springboard into his own holy-war expeditions into the Horn of Africa, similar to mother's Red Conquest.    Zalia falls in time at all, though there is frankly little to actually capture, and we leave a garrison behind on the coast to protect the longships and try to bring some semblance of peace to the coastal settlements, while I lead the army further inland. Where the Nasrids are butting heads with all the invading forces in Adal, and in time, ours.   By late Spring we have captured Dakkar, capital of Adal and made the fortress here our temporary home. There is some form of centralised government here in Dakkar and larger permanent stonework structures compared to the rudimentary huts we have encountered on our march from the sea. We at least can be afford some comfort and shelter from the blistering heat. But it does not take long for Sultan Hussayn to have squashed all other opposition in the region until there is only one last army to fight. Word reaches us they will be upon Dakkar by the end of week, so we sally forth to find a good position to meet them - our own siege of the fortress has left it in no defensible state.  In a hilly area west of Dakkar we engage the Sultan's army and I have my first true taste of combat. They outnumber us, but the mercenaries of the Nurman Band are relentless, and my own faris are veterans of the Red Conquest and age has not slowed them one bit.  In the middle of the bloody melee the faris of Nurmandiya and Arabia clash, experts and veterans of many wars pitted against their equal. Jarl Lot is heavily wounded by an Arabian Sheikh and looks as though he may be cut down for good, before Agathos saves him at the last time.   Agathos, pays dearly though, and loses his life in the fray.  Despite the numerical advantage the Arabians had, we retained the high-ground and our seasoned commanders were able to shift the battle in our favour against those of the Sultan, who thus far had only been fighting the less-disciplined local tribes. Sultan Hussayn is sent fleeing back to the west to friendly territory, while Emir Mubarak becomes split up (potentially intentionally abandoned by the Sultan), and we move in to apprehend him.   Thanks to Sultan Hussayn putting down all the other invaders we have no one left to contest our hold on the region, and with Mubarak in our custody we can dictate whatever terms we please - like forcing him to abdicate and putting his brother Akin on the throne. Akin Shirazid in return swears fealty to Nurmandiya, to serve me in whatever future wars that may await the Nurman people.   With my first victory assured, having defeated the Sultan of Arabia in battle, and a new colony (/client state?) established further down the Red Sea coast, we relocate back to Zalia, re-embark on the longships and make the journey home.  We arrive back in Qusayr in the new year of 914, to find no letters or envoys from Theodosios, but the man himself, he has returned from his four-year long adventure across both the Levantine coast and through Asia Minor.  He has with him a cart of goods and treasures and trinkets that would put most viking raid's hoard to shame. His little band of adventurers and servants already unloading it all as locals converse with them and ask of what they saw and who they met on their journey. Prince Theodosios however has a special gift specially for me. He holds aloft a fabric covered item and bows his head. "For the King of the Nurmans," I pull away the fabric to see a dagger unlike any I have ever laid eyes on before "I present the most exquisite weapon, crafted by the greatest blacksmith in all of Bzyantium and blessed by the Ecumnical Patriarch himself in the Hagia Sophia. Do not be deceived by its size, it's honed edge can penetrate even the sturdiest of plate or chain. But this not a weapon of war, it is one for you to keep on your person always, to protect you in your most dire hour against those who would see harm brought to one of such grace and dignity." It is truly one of the most magnificent weapons I have laid eyes on, and I cannot possibly thank Theodosios enough.  Prince Theodosios is made a permanent member of my court, with hope that there will be many more adventures yet to come.  
Crisis Now fucked around with this message at 01:32 on Mar 1, 2022 |
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Mar 1, 2022 00:52
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Look at that beautiful border gore.
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Mar 1, 2022 01:12
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Perhaps, in a few years, we ought to work on tidying that up.
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Mar 1, 2022 03:10
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Nurmundya will grow longer
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Mar 1, 2022 05:45
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