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In Progress Incline to the Dark Ages: Let's Play Crusader Kings 2: The Old Gods
- Thread starter Tigranes
- Start date
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
Intermission: The World, 923 A.D.
As requested, a brief overview of Yurop on the ascension of Jarl JarlFrank, 923 A.D. (Actually, 924, but ignore that.)
King Saebert of Wessex, (I think) the very one that kicked us out of the isle, has formed the Kingdom of England. It is still precariously balanced against the equally large, Norse Kingdom of Scotland and the Danish territories.
The hated Bitch Queen reigns in France still, into her 70s, confirming the longevity of the Karlings.
Linutika the Fat, the son of Arpad the Great, has kept the first great Pagan kingdom together in relatively good shape.
Spain is entirely overrun by the Muslims, a strange people with whom Codexia has yet to trade words, blows or wenches.
Looking East, we find that a recent $0.49 purchase has rendered the entire population of the Byzantine Empire fucking ugly as fuck. Seriously, these look like the Sims, or something.
Georgia enjoys Divine Protection, as usual.
Rurik's legacy, too, remains intact.
And last but not least, our own Kingdom of Norway, bulging, is beginning to squeeze out Hrodgar of Sweden. We shall be Best Scandinavia!
As requested, a brief overview of Yurop on the ascension of Jarl JarlFrank, 923 A.D. (Actually, 924, but ignore that.)
King Saebert of Wessex, (I think) the very one that kicked us out of the isle, has formed the Kingdom of England. It is still precariously balanced against the equally large, Norse Kingdom of Scotland and the Danish territories.
The hated Bitch Queen reigns in France still, into her 70s, confirming the longevity of the Karlings.
Linutika the Fat, the son of Arpad the Great, has kept the first great Pagan kingdom together in relatively good shape.
Spain is entirely overrun by the Muslims, a strange people with whom Codexia has yet to trade words, blows or wenches.
Looking East, we find that a recent $0.49 purchase has rendered the entire population of the Byzantine Empire fucking ugly as fuck. Seriously, these look like the Sims, or something.
Georgia enjoys Divine Protection, as usual.
Rurik's legacy, too, remains intact.
And last but not least, our own Kingdom of Norway, bulging, is beginning to squeeze out Hrodgar of Sweden. We shall be Best Scandinavia!
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
5. The Jarldom of JarlFrank, 923-943.
We now return to the story of Jarl JarlFrank I. He stands to inherit the Kingdom when her old mother cops it, and he shall dedicate himself to securing a healthy personal demesne. Queen Rikissa, and Heir JarlFrank, are seen as lucky interlopers on Haraldr's legacy, and the Queen herself is limited to the new capital of Hordaland. We shall need to ensure direct control over a sizable portion of the realm before our ascension. JarlFrank may be a zealous, arbitrary, content, shy and honest fool, but he can do it!
JarlFrank is an expert on flat terrain, having traversed his wife's flat terrain many times.
The result is a second daughter. Look, can someone just take these away from me? What's the point of wenches if they're not for me?
The Norse are such a powerful force of incline that we discovered an entirely new continent...
...and we precede the Domesday Book by a century by collecting a comprehensive list of all the wenches and loot in the Kingdom. This will make our subjects' quest for satisfaction efficient and systematic.
Told you.
Finally, we turn our eyes to the first targets for some JarlFrankian Wrath. Neighbouring Agder and Rogaland, long ago conquered by ironyuri, is now held by Ironyuri II's daughter Freyja. She may be Codexian, but she is just a Pre-Release Wench, and Codexian legacy deserves a better custodian.
To the East is our aunt through Haraldr's side, Ulfhildr of Norway - the daughter of Haraldr, in fact, and the younger sister to Queen Rikissa. She inherited three counties as a result of Gavelkind distribution, and is a potential threat we should pay attention to.
For fuck's sake. Register her in the census.
An opportunity is quick to arise; the discontent Princess begins a war for the Norwegian throne, and young Freyja has foolishly cast her lot in with the usurper. This avails both of them for conquest, at least until their rebellion meets its inevitable failure.
The Old Wench shall fall before the Young Wench.
The power of timely-deployed mercenaries cannot be underestimated. They make up 85% of the Codexian War Strategy.
Of course, one-province JarlFrank doesn't have much to pay them with, and must turn to the Jews. Oh, 50% interest, I'm sure that's not a problem...
You freaking wenches are half the reason we're so broke. As it stands, Agnatic-Cognatic Gavelkind will ensure that JarlFrank's panties will be split in four upon his death.
In debt but the war going well, we decide also to turn on Freyja and get the job done faster.
Agder is ours;
As is the Princess' realm. The blue-purple areas you see there (Agder, Telemark, Vestfold, Heidmark) are now under JarlFrank's rule, though the Old Wench retains the chieftesship of Vestfold and Heidmark. We are well on our way to securing Norway's most prosperous heartland.
And even better, a son! JarlFrank is over the moon. Surely, this son was born at the perfect time; he will mature as the King of Norway, and the sky shall be his limit. We will call him 'Skyway', then... what could go wrong with such a name?
JarlFrank is a dedicated King-in-Waiting, and commissions a legion of wooden soldiers for practice. He calls it "War and Hammers'. Perhaps it could become a popular pastime, one day.
Some other Wench is slurping at our demesne. We'll go soon and show her what she should be slurping at.
Guys, are you saying I owe you 300 now, but if I fail to pay, I'll have to pay you a total sum of 300? Are you sure you're Jewish?
Raiding, clearly, is the answer. The Jarls of Jarl JarlFrank, unite!
Given a little reprieve by the moneylenders, JarlFrank turns to more innovative forms of incline. Surely nailing hats is an economical and stylish way to ensure the continued possession of one's coiffure?
Every invention requires a long period of experimentation.
And of course, every inventor is beset by those who are too mired in the decline of today, unable to see the new light I am bringing forth.
You see? There are other experts who understand!
Hold on, hold on. Those nails weren't free, you know.
While raiding, we discover that dear old Wench-land has changed colours a fair bit. The Bitch Queen has finally expired, and her son - who married into the Kingdom of Asturias - has now joined the two.
Meanwhile, King Louis III, yet another Karling, has united Italy and Aquitaine in his old age, though the realm may not survive his death.
Well, Paris may be orange now, but it's still dear old lootable, rapeable Paris.
Here you go. Nice doing business with you, I'll be sure to recommend Frozen-Interest Jews with others.
Paris yields a Magic Item! We just have to go home and cast Identify at some point. (Has anyone ever got this? Does it lead to anything?)
Time flies. JarlFrank, consolidating his coffers and his barracks, now takes on personal guardianship of the young Skyway JarlFranksson Codexia.
JarlFrank has a funny feeling that young Skyway is best described as a Zealot.
Remember Skuld, the wench who plotted to make a claim on our demesne? Well, here's a counter-claim and invasion, bitch.
Skyway's just big-boned, is all.
Jaesun Codexia, sixteen years after the shameful end of his statecraft, dies content and useless in the capital.
Yet Queen Rikissa is still going strong, and beating down any opposition to her rule with an iron fist. When will JarlFrank get to have a go?
JarlFrank birthes a second son. This isn't great news for the demesne, but the father only has eyes for glorious Skyway. This one, name him whatever. We don't care. He will grow up unloved and forgotten.
Skuld is schooled in the art of politics. He who penetrates first, wins.
JarlFrank is now Jarl of Vestlandet and Ostlandet. Gotta Catch 'Em All.
JarlFrank reaches the magic age of 50, when all your body hair turns white. Meanwhile, Skyway continues to grow, displaying an admirably Codexian capacity for violence.
Oh, and Rogaland is ours, too. Freyja now fades into obscurity, and the Codexian heritage is united under JarlFrank.
It all seems perfect. A large demesne, money in the bank, two sons - we have done what we set out to do, and Jarl JarlFrank is ready to become the first Codexian on the throne of Norway. Surely the old Queen Mother has not long to live?
Look at Skyway, growing up so well-
-oh, hell no.
The young Skyway is killed, a heinous and insidious crime that confounded all the detectives for the complete absence of manure. But we eventually trace the orders to Ulfhildr of Vestfold - yes, the aunt we conquered a decade ago, the younger sister to Queen Rikissa, the one who we graciously left in control of two counties. This will not stand.
Skyway shall be avenged. Ulfhildr, have you heard of my ongoing research in nail-hat-head trifecta?
Come, come, you are only delaying the inevitable. The racks are ready for you.
Yes, yes, I don't really care right now what- wait, the Jarldom of Finland?
The Queen's been busy. We have a hell of an inheritance, when it happens...
...but suddenly, it is all for naught. Jarl JarlFrank lays to sleep one night, plans for Skyway's revenge on his mind, and simply does not wake again. Fifty-two, he had spent twenty years of his Jarldom meticulously preparing for a Kingship that would never reach him. Now, it all passes to the forgotten son, Hiver JarlFrankson Codexia.
Young Hiver is just three years old, and the regency is taken by his mother and JarlFrank's wife, Princess Gyla of Scotland. Can the young Hiver complete JarlFrank's dream?
For the Queen is seventy, and by Agnatic Gavelkind, Hiver remains heir to the Kingdom. All is not yet lost...
Next time: the regency of Hiver.
We now return to the story of Jarl JarlFrank I. He stands to inherit the Kingdom when her old mother cops it, and he shall dedicate himself to securing a healthy personal demesne. Queen Rikissa, and Heir JarlFrank, are seen as lucky interlopers on Haraldr's legacy, and the Queen herself is limited to the new capital of Hordaland. We shall need to ensure direct control over a sizable portion of the realm before our ascension. JarlFrank may be a zealous, arbitrary, content, shy and honest fool, but he can do it!
JarlFrank is an expert on flat terrain, having traversed his wife's flat terrain many times.
The result is a second daughter. Look, can someone just take these away from me? What's the point of wenches if they're not for me?
The Norse are such a powerful force of incline that we discovered an entirely new continent...
...and we precede the Domesday Book by a century by collecting a comprehensive list of all the wenches and loot in the Kingdom. This will make our subjects' quest for satisfaction efficient and systematic.
Told you.
Finally, we turn our eyes to the first targets for some JarlFrankian Wrath. Neighbouring Agder and Rogaland, long ago conquered by ironyuri, is now held by Ironyuri II's daughter Freyja. She may be Codexian, but she is just a Pre-Release Wench, and Codexian legacy deserves a better custodian.
To the East is our aunt through Haraldr's side, Ulfhildr of Norway - the daughter of Haraldr, in fact, and the younger sister to Queen Rikissa. She inherited three counties as a result of Gavelkind distribution, and is a potential threat we should pay attention to.
For fuck's sake. Register her in the census.
An opportunity is quick to arise; the discontent Princess begins a war for the Norwegian throne, and young Freyja has foolishly cast her lot in with the usurper. This avails both of them for conquest, at least until their rebellion meets its inevitable failure.
The Old Wench shall fall before the Young Wench.
The power of timely-deployed mercenaries cannot be underestimated. They make up 85% of the Codexian War Strategy.
Of course, one-province JarlFrank doesn't have much to pay them with, and must turn to the Jews. Oh, 50% interest, I'm sure that's not a problem...
You freaking wenches are half the reason we're so broke. As it stands, Agnatic-Cognatic Gavelkind will ensure that JarlFrank's panties will be split in four upon his death.
In debt but the war going well, we decide also to turn on Freyja and get the job done faster.
Agder is ours;
As is the Princess' realm. The blue-purple areas you see there (Agder, Telemark, Vestfold, Heidmark) are now under JarlFrank's rule, though the Old Wench retains the chieftesship of Vestfold and Heidmark. We are well on our way to securing Norway's most prosperous heartland.
And even better, a son! JarlFrank is over the moon. Surely, this son was born at the perfect time; he will mature as the King of Norway, and the sky shall be his limit. We will call him 'Skyway', then... what could go wrong with such a name?
JarlFrank is a dedicated King-in-Waiting, and commissions a legion of wooden soldiers for practice. He calls it "War and Hammers'. Perhaps it could become a popular pastime, one day.
Some other Wench is slurping at our demesne. We'll go soon and show her what she should be slurping at.
Guys, are you saying I owe you 300 now, but if I fail to pay, I'll have to pay you a total sum of 300? Are you sure you're Jewish?
Raiding, clearly, is the answer. The Jarls of Jarl JarlFrank, unite!
Given a little reprieve by the moneylenders, JarlFrank turns to more innovative forms of incline. Surely nailing hats is an economical and stylish way to ensure the continued possession of one's coiffure?
Every invention requires a long period of experimentation.
And of course, every inventor is beset by those who are too mired in the decline of today, unable to see the new light I am bringing forth.
You see? There are other experts who understand!
Hold on, hold on. Those nails weren't free, you know.
While raiding, we discover that dear old Wench-land has changed colours a fair bit. The Bitch Queen has finally expired, and her son - who married into the Kingdom of Asturias - has now joined the two.
Meanwhile, King Louis III, yet another Karling, has united Italy and Aquitaine in his old age, though the realm may not survive his death.
Well, Paris may be orange now, but it's still dear old lootable, rapeable Paris.
Here you go. Nice doing business with you, I'll be sure to recommend Frozen-Interest Jews with others.
Paris yields a Magic Item! We just have to go home and cast Identify at some point. (Has anyone ever got this? Does it lead to anything?)
Time flies. JarlFrank, consolidating his coffers and his barracks, now takes on personal guardianship of the young Skyway JarlFranksson Codexia.
JarlFrank has a funny feeling that young Skyway is best described as a Zealot.
Remember Skuld, the wench who plotted to make a claim on our demesne? Well, here's a counter-claim and invasion, bitch.
Skyway's just big-boned, is all.
Jaesun Codexia, sixteen years after the shameful end of his statecraft, dies content and useless in the capital.
Yet Queen Rikissa is still going strong, and beating down any opposition to her rule with an iron fist. When will JarlFrank get to have a go?
JarlFrank birthes a second son. This isn't great news for the demesne, but the father only has eyes for glorious Skyway. This one, name him whatever. We don't care. He will grow up unloved and forgotten.
Skuld is schooled in the art of politics. He who penetrates first, wins.
JarlFrank is now Jarl of Vestlandet and Ostlandet. Gotta Catch 'Em All.
JarlFrank reaches the magic age of 50, when all your body hair turns white. Meanwhile, Skyway continues to grow, displaying an admirably Codexian capacity for violence.
Oh, and Rogaland is ours, too. Freyja now fades into obscurity, and the Codexian heritage is united under JarlFrank.
It all seems perfect. A large demesne, money in the bank, two sons - we have done what we set out to do, and Jarl JarlFrank is ready to become the first Codexian on the throne of Norway. Surely the old Queen Mother has not long to live?
Look at Skyway, growing up so well-
-oh, hell no.
The young Skyway is killed, a heinous and insidious crime that confounded all the detectives for the complete absence of manure. But we eventually trace the orders to Ulfhildr of Vestfold - yes, the aunt we conquered a decade ago, the younger sister to Queen Rikissa, the one who we graciously left in control of two counties. This will not stand.
Skyway shall be avenged. Ulfhildr, have you heard of my ongoing research in nail-hat-head trifecta?
Come, come, you are only delaying the inevitable. The racks are ready for you.
Yes, yes, I don't really care right now what- wait, the Jarldom of Finland?
The Queen's been busy. We have a hell of an inheritance, when it happens...
...but suddenly, it is all for naught. Jarl JarlFrank lays to sleep one night, plans for Skyway's revenge on his mind, and simply does not wake again. Fifty-two, he had spent twenty years of his Jarldom meticulously preparing for a Kingship that would never reach him. Now, it all passes to the forgotten son, Hiver JarlFrankson Codexia.
Young Hiver is just three years old, and the regency is taken by his mother and JarlFrank's wife, Princess Gyla of Scotland. Can the young Hiver complete JarlFrank's dream?
For the Queen is seventy, and by Agnatic Gavelkind, Hiver remains heir to the Kingdom. All is not yet lost...
Next time: the regency of Hiver.
R.I.P. Jaesun, Skyway and JarlFrank. You did Your best to bring glory to Codexia (except Skyway). 
Gondolin
Arcane
Codexia is now in Hiver's hands. The old gods help us!
I don't quite understand why you have issues with girls being born to the line of Codexia. It IS fair Codex, after all... 
Change inheritance laws to pure Agnastic Salic law and you're all set; wenches send back to Adeptus Kitchenus. 
these are perfect!
Corporate_Jew_Master
Arcane
Change inheritance laws to pure Agnastic Salic law and you're all set; wenches send back to Adeptus Kitchenus.
Womyn have no place in the 'Dex anyways, send these undomesticated snownigger females back to the cooking huts before they turn the Jarldom into modern Stockholm.
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
6. The Humps of Hiver: Part A, 943-962
This is Jarl Hiver JarlFranksson Codexia, prematurely thrust into Heirship through the death of Jarl JarlFrank I. We are happy to report that, through a remarkable case of preservation, some of the text from Hiver's own autobiography have survived. While the authenticity of some passages is suspect, primarily because it begins in present tense when he is three years old, we shall now rely on Hiver's own voice for his part of Codexian history.
My name is Hiver. I'm three years old, and I'm a Jarl. You fucking moron.
Hiver's first task was to complete JarlFrank's last war, seeking vengeance upon the bitch that dared to murder a Codexian. The Norse march all the way up to her heartland in Finnmark to bring justice upon the wench.
My troops were commanded to chant the name of Skyway with every step up the Swedish wastes. It is said that an entire generation of Swedish children were traumatised, hearing the clang of axes and masculine roars of 'Sky-way, He's Our Way' long after the fact.
The bitch never had a chance.
Inexplicably, Hiver did not give the command to execute Ulfhildr, choosing to keep her in jail for the time being.
You see, the manure was ripe and ready, but apparently three year olds are just a tad too young for wanton execution. This is when I realised that there is a lot of fucking stupid shit in our tradition. When I am King...
Of course, condemning a seventy-year old to the Oubliette was probably just a slower version of the same thing.
She didn't last long.
And we had to throw out the manure. What a waste.
Meanwhile, Regent Gyla, Hiver's mother, continued JarlFrank's policy of gobblign up the realm's heartland in preparation for accession. Yet another fat scion of Haraldr is next.
It doesn't take long, and Akershus, formerly Haraldr's capital, is ours.
Queen Rikissa, of course, took an age to die; and for the first time, was showing signs of weakness. Fed up with constant revolts from the far-flung Finnish holdings, she conceded a sizable chunk to the freedom fighters of Kandalax. All frozen wastes, to be sure, but Hiver would have to hope his inheritance was not being wittled away.
She lives for so long, she is venerated as 'the Old'. (Did the Old Gods mess with mortality rates, or something?)
Hiver is already six, and her mother and regent begins his formal education for Kingship.
As far as wenches go, Gyla was a decent one. She taught me how to use my polearm, how to scream like a man, how to take care of other wenches. All critical skills for a Codexian life.
Indeed, Hiver enjoyed a particularly 'close' 'relationship' to Gyla. Historians speculate that it may have set the stage for Hiver's women troubles that would overshadow his entire reign... but we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Hiver is told he should be proud of himself.
Gyla said I'm already as big as any boy out there.
And that he should stuff himself.
Not just with biscuits, either...
But Hiver's happy youth comes to a premature end one summer. Elisabet, the oldest daughter of JarlFrank and thus out of succession, is caught shoveling a great deal of manure into her carriage; Hiver's spymaster soon reports with the news that the manure was intended for him.
Rads Elisabet, you stupid cheap moron... - I dont have any fucking reason to spare you, you may be my sister, but your brain is obviously consumed by your burning desire to cause some butthurt, and butthurt is what you'll get!
Hiver swiftly imprisons Elisabet, and although execution is still not an option, he seems particularly smug about it all.
Oh, yes. She better not die early, Elisabet. I have a plan for her, a grand plan. Just you see.
Hiver, Shy? Wait, that's not right.
Oh, whip me, mother! Whip me some more! Oh, I'm so shy, mother! I'm afraid to talk to people! Oh, yes!
Ah... right.
Hiver continues the century-long Codexian tradition of calling fat people fat.
He considers branching out from Gyla to other wenches. Surely she would approve?
Gyla, now aged but as feisty as ever, makes it clear that Hiver is to do his... exercises with her and only her.
I didn't mind. That burning desire to control, to repress, it... excited me.
At the age of 15, on the cusp of adulthood, hiver was struck down with pneumonia - a terrible and life-threatening condition.
Apparently there is such a thing as 'too tight' when someone ties you to the bed.
The pneumonic Hiver is then handed another devastating news. A large warehouse full of manure was discovered on the outskirts of Telemark, ownership eventually traced to Asa JarlFranksdottir, the second daughter of JarlFrank.
You will join Elisabet in her fate, then. I can do with two what I can do with one.
Mercifully, hiver soon recovers; his death would have caused havoc in the region, his realm split amongst four (five?) daughters and the Norwegian succession in even greater disarray.
Finally, Hiver came of age as Jarl Hiver I, demonstrating particular skill at diplomacy. This primarily involves cursing and rambling at your opponents until they succumb to your suggestion. Hiver's Norse courtiers are shocked by this new and innovative technique, but can hardly deny its accuracy.
And now I can finally put my plans into motion. Come, my vassals. Join your newly minted Jarl for a Blot.
Eat, eat! This is but a pittance compared to the true feast that is to come.
Ah, Asa, Asa. My stupid, stupid sister. Yes, beg! Beg and plead, even as the noose tightens! Oh, how it excites me, your screams.
And you, Elisabet. Ten years I waited for this. Oh, how sweet is revenge.
You see? Everybody is happy. This was a grand idea.
Having established his credentials with the double-teamkill, Jarl Hiver moved to the next item on his agenda; marriage. As was usual, the court provided a long list of eligible candidates, mostly consisting of young daughters of regional rulers.
You see, that was the problem. Seventeen, ten, nine - what's the fun in these half-grown wenches? I have experiences already far beyond what they know. What would I do with these playthings? No, I needed a wife that would really speak to my tastes..
This one's not bad. How about this one? Looks like she'd enjoy a bit of rope.
She's... married to the King of Sweden. Very happy marriage. Two children.
This one's nice too. Even older, in fact. Could easily do some vamp cosplay.
The daughter of the King of Sweden, to his first wife.
Fine, this one?
Another daughter to the King of Sweden. Also, she's dead.
You see? This was the problem. What was the point of being a King, if I couldn't even get a decent wench for marriage?
Clearly, there was a simple solution. First, I tried to do it the civilised way.
It looked like it would work - plenty had a stake in the aging King's death, probably a portion of the realm.
Tuure, you rough turd of a shit.
Upon receiving the news that Jarl Hiver, with whom he had never had any contact in his life, had plotted to assassinate him, the King of Sweden issued a public proclamation that Jarl Hiver is a Bastard. This only served to make the young Codexian even more determined.
As fate would have it, Hiver would receive a great temptation from fate only a year later. Norrland would rebel for independence, bringing over a third of the Swedish realm with him.
How could I resist? For your wife, and your daughter, I will rape your entire realm.
Jarl Hiver's first war began smoothly. With Norrland besieging the Swedish capital, Codexian forces were free to take up positions.
In fact, things became even better; at an incredible age of 84, Queen Rikissa I finally expired, having ruled Norway for something like four decades. At last, nearly a century from ironyuri I, a Codexian takes the Norwegian throne.
All his vassals hate him, of course...
...but hiver is able to unleash the entire treasury of Norway and Vestlandet, saved during his relatively inactive years in regency. Hiver proceeds methodically, using survey research to determine how much someone hates his guts then paying them in accordance.
An apparently, we also conquered Iceland. Had no idea.
(I actually wanted to grant it independence because rebellions there would be a huge pain in the arse, but apparently... you need to be a de jure ruler to do that? What the hell? Wouldn't it make even more sense to grant independence if you're not?)
At any rate, Kingship hardly interrupts Hiver's quest for wenches.
The Swedish forces finally get organised, and defeating Norrland's rebels, challenge Hiver on the field of battle. He is nowhere as talented militarily as his predecessors were, but hiver takes personal command nevertheless...
...and is soon known as a most patient general.
Indeed, I would stay and verbally abuse my opponent all day, long after they had ceased to pay attention. Patience is a great virtue in war.
The Kingdom of Sweden is a formidable opponent, and slowly but surely, it mobilizes a great host against Codexia.
Yet now the King of Norway, Hiver is able to command an even greater one. Sweden's armies eventually melt away into the Northern Lights, and Hiver wipes himself in anticipation.
He also orders a second dungeon to solve the capacity problem.
Disaster! Wrapping up the war, King Hiver is maimed, and just barely survives the crushing blow.
In tears and warbling something about sharp household appliances, Hiver retreats to the safety of the Capital.
Nevertheless, it all comes too late for Sweden. The Kingdom is made Hiver's, creating the greatest Norse realm in history. The first King in Codexian lineage, Hiver is now Two Kings In One.
Everyone thought I had achieved it all, at the tender age of twenty. But that was not true. That bloody bastard had not died, and retained a few holdings. He fled to Holstein, taking all his wenches. He should have known that I wouldn't stop until I had my girls.
Hiver briefly considers returning to assassination, but finds there is less support for it now in Hrodgar's diminished court. Just what will it take for him to die, and for Hiver's wenches to come home to roost?
Meanwhile, that is not Hiver's only problem; his gold is not infinite, and his numerous Jarls are growing ever more restless. There is open talk in the court that two Kingdoms is two too many for Hiver...
Next time, Hiver continues his search for wenches.
This is Jarl Hiver JarlFranksson Codexia, prematurely thrust into Heirship through the death of Jarl JarlFrank I. We are happy to report that, through a remarkable case of preservation, some of the text from Hiver's own autobiography have survived. While the authenticity of some passages is suspect, primarily because it begins in present tense when he is three years old, we shall now rely on Hiver's own voice for his part of Codexian history.
My name is Hiver. I'm three years old, and I'm a Jarl. You fucking moron.
Hiver's first task was to complete JarlFrank's last war, seeking vengeance upon the bitch that dared to murder a Codexian. The Norse march all the way up to her heartland in Finnmark to bring justice upon the wench.
My troops were commanded to chant the name of Skyway with every step up the Swedish wastes. It is said that an entire generation of Swedish children were traumatised, hearing the clang of axes and masculine roars of 'Sky-way, He's Our Way' long after the fact.
The bitch never had a chance.
Inexplicably, Hiver did not give the command to execute Ulfhildr, choosing to keep her in jail for the time being.
You see, the manure was ripe and ready, but apparently three year olds are just a tad too young for wanton execution. This is when I realised that there is a lot of fucking stupid shit in our tradition. When I am King...
Of course, condemning a seventy-year old to the Oubliette was probably just a slower version of the same thing.
She didn't last long.
And we had to throw out the manure. What a waste.
Meanwhile, Regent Gyla, Hiver's mother, continued JarlFrank's policy of gobblign up the realm's heartland in preparation for accession. Yet another fat scion of Haraldr is next.
It doesn't take long, and Akershus, formerly Haraldr's capital, is ours.
Queen Rikissa, of course, took an age to die; and for the first time, was showing signs of weakness. Fed up with constant revolts from the far-flung Finnish holdings, she conceded a sizable chunk to the freedom fighters of Kandalax. All frozen wastes, to be sure, but Hiver would have to hope his inheritance was not being wittled away.
She lives for so long, she is venerated as 'the Old'. (Did the Old Gods mess with mortality rates, or something?)
Hiver is already six, and her mother and regent begins his formal education for Kingship.
As far as wenches go, Gyla was a decent one. She taught me how to use my polearm, how to scream like a man, how to take care of other wenches. All critical skills for a Codexian life.
Indeed, Hiver enjoyed a particularly 'close' 'relationship' to Gyla. Historians speculate that it may have set the stage for Hiver's women troubles that would overshadow his entire reign... but we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Hiver is told he should be proud of himself.
Gyla said I'm already as big as any boy out there.
And that he should stuff himself.
Not just with biscuits, either...
But Hiver's happy youth comes to a premature end one summer. Elisabet, the oldest daughter of JarlFrank and thus out of succession, is caught shoveling a great deal of manure into her carriage; Hiver's spymaster soon reports with the news that the manure was intended for him.
Hiver swiftly imprisons Elisabet, and although execution is still not an option, he seems particularly smug about it all.
Oh, yes. She better not die early, Elisabet. I have a plan for her, a grand plan. Just you see.
Hiver, Shy? Wait, that's not right.
Oh, whip me, mother! Whip me some more! Oh, I'm so shy, mother! I'm afraid to talk to people! Oh, yes!
Ah... right.
Hiver continues the century-long Codexian tradition of calling fat people fat.
He considers branching out from Gyla to other wenches. Surely she would approve?
Gyla, now aged but as feisty as ever, makes it clear that Hiver is to do his... exercises with her and only her.
I didn't mind. That burning desire to control, to repress, it... excited me.
At the age of 15, on the cusp of adulthood, hiver was struck down with pneumonia - a terrible and life-threatening condition.
Apparently there is such a thing as 'too tight' when someone ties you to the bed.
The pneumonic Hiver is then handed another devastating news. A large warehouse full of manure was discovered on the outskirts of Telemark, ownership eventually traced to Asa JarlFranksdottir, the second daughter of JarlFrank.
You will join Elisabet in her fate, then. I can do with two what I can do with one.
Mercifully, hiver soon recovers; his death would have caused havoc in the region, his realm split amongst four (five?) daughters and the Norwegian succession in even greater disarray.
Finally, Hiver came of age as Jarl Hiver I, demonstrating particular skill at diplomacy. This primarily involves cursing and rambling at your opponents until they succumb to your suggestion. Hiver's Norse courtiers are shocked by this new and innovative technique, but can hardly deny its accuracy.
And now I can finally put my plans into motion. Come, my vassals. Join your newly minted Jarl for a Blot.
Eat, eat! This is but a pittance compared to the true feast that is to come.
Ah, Asa, Asa. My stupid, stupid sister. Yes, beg! Beg and plead, even as the noose tightens! Oh, how it excites me, your screams.
And you, Elisabet. Ten years I waited for this. Oh, how sweet is revenge.
You see? Everybody is happy. This was a grand idea.
Having established his credentials with the double-teamkill, Jarl Hiver moved to the next item on his agenda; marriage. As was usual, the court provided a long list of eligible candidates, mostly consisting of young daughters of regional rulers.
You see, that was the problem. Seventeen, ten, nine - what's the fun in these half-grown wenches? I have experiences already far beyond what they know. What would I do with these playthings? No, I needed a wife that would really speak to my tastes..
This one's not bad. How about this one? Looks like she'd enjoy a bit of rope.
She's... married to the King of Sweden. Very happy marriage. Two children.
This one's nice too. Even older, in fact. Could easily do some vamp cosplay.
The daughter of the King of Sweden, to his first wife.
Fine, this one?
Another daughter to the King of Sweden. Also, she's dead.
You see? This was the problem. What was the point of being a King, if I couldn't even get a decent wench for marriage?
Clearly, there was a simple solution. First, I tried to do it the civilised way.
It looked like it would work - plenty had a stake in the aging King's death, probably a portion of the realm.
Tuure, you rough turd of a shit.
Upon receiving the news that Jarl Hiver, with whom he had never had any contact in his life, had plotted to assassinate him, the King of Sweden issued a public proclamation that Jarl Hiver is a Bastard. This only served to make the young Codexian even more determined.
As fate would have it, Hiver would receive a great temptation from fate only a year later. Norrland would rebel for independence, bringing over a third of the Swedish realm with him.
How could I resist? For your wife, and your daughter, I will rape your entire realm.
Jarl Hiver's first war began smoothly. With Norrland besieging the Swedish capital, Codexian forces were free to take up positions.
In fact, things became even better; at an incredible age of 84, Queen Rikissa I finally expired, having ruled Norway for something like four decades. At last, nearly a century from ironyuri I, a Codexian takes the Norwegian throne.
All his vassals hate him, of course...
...but hiver is able to unleash the entire treasury of Norway and Vestlandet, saved during his relatively inactive years in regency. Hiver proceeds methodically, using survey research to determine how much someone hates his guts then paying them in accordance.
An apparently, we also conquered Iceland. Had no idea.
(I actually wanted to grant it independence because rebellions there would be a huge pain in the arse, but apparently... you need to be a de jure ruler to do that? What the hell? Wouldn't it make even more sense to grant independence if you're not?)
At any rate, Kingship hardly interrupts Hiver's quest for wenches.
The Swedish forces finally get organised, and defeating Norrland's rebels, challenge Hiver on the field of battle. He is nowhere as talented militarily as his predecessors were, but hiver takes personal command nevertheless...
...and is soon known as a most patient general.
Indeed, I would stay and verbally abuse my opponent all day, long after they had ceased to pay attention. Patience is a great virtue in war.
The Kingdom of Sweden is a formidable opponent, and slowly but surely, it mobilizes a great host against Codexia.
Yet now the King of Norway, Hiver is able to command an even greater one. Sweden's armies eventually melt away into the Northern Lights, and Hiver wipes himself in anticipation.
He also orders a second dungeon to solve the capacity problem.
Disaster! Wrapping up the war, King Hiver is maimed, and just barely survives the crushing blow.
In tears and warbling something about sharp household appliances, Hiver retreats to the safety of the Capital.
Nevertheless, it all comes too late for Sweden. The Kingdom is made Hiver's, creating the greatest Norse realm in history. The first King in Codexian lineage, Hiver is now Two Kings In One.
Everyone thought I had achieved it all, at the tender age of twenty. But that was not true. That bloody bastard had not died, and retained a few holdings. He fled to Holstein, taking all his wenches. He should have known that I wouldn't stop until I had my girls.
Hiver briefly considers returning to assassination, but finds there is less support for it now in Hrodgar's diminished court. Just what will it take for him to die, and for Hiver's wenches to come home to roost?
Meanwhile, that is not Hiver's only problem; his gold is not infinite, and his numerous Jarls are growing ever more restless. There is open talk in the court that two Kingdoms is two too many for Hiver...
Next time, Hiver continues his search for wenches.
I'll really have to try CKII one day. Protect Potato from embracing the rotten Jewish sect that sullied the glory of Rome and all that.
Do it, great game and you can get the base game dirt cheap during some sales on different sites.
Gondolin
Arcane
The quest for wenches delivers. Moar!
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
7. The Humps of Hiver, Part B: 962-980
We return to the life and deeds of Hiver JarlFranksson Codexia, the first Codexian King of Norway, now also King of Sweden, aged twenty-two, kinslayer and maimed in the right hemisphere of the brain. King Hiver had a crown specially designed to conceal the gigantic humps that developed in the side and back of his skull as a result of his war injury, with the result that his crown remains the largest in European history.
They told me that it was a fatal wound, and could not believe that I had survived. The Seers said I must have been blessed by Odin. They were right, in a way. You see, ever since that day, I've been hearing... voices. Voices of others. Some, of my ancestors, like grandfather Jaesun. Some, of those I have never met in this life. A man who would not shut up about 'Arcanum', whatever it is. A strange fellow obsessed with ponies. I can even see them, sometimes. Skin as red as plums, wielding tridents and scythes, some even sporting devillish tails. They give me advice. They guide me, and through me, they guide Norway...
Centuries later, one American psychologist would discover, quite by chance, Hiver's diaries in the dusty, forgotten rooms of Carolina Redvivia, in the Uppsala University Library. Reading of a man whose devastating head wound resulted not in quick death, but decades of healthy, if voices-touched life, he would develop a controversial theory of Mankind that promised to explain religion and humanity in one fell swoop. In awe, and more often, in derision, his work, and the Half-Headed Hiver of Norway, would be forgotten once again...
...but what has been written once, cannot be erased. So it is, too, with the tale of Hiver, to which we return.
Hiver had succeeded in war, and carved out the greatest Norse kingdom Europe had ever seen. But Hrodgar the Great, ousted from his Swedish throne, still retained the Kingdom of Estonia and other holdings. In his capital in Holstein remained still his wife.
I had covered Sweden in blood, and still I had not my wench. The frustration of the continental cockblock was intolerable.
Even worse, my own vassals began to get in the way. All this talk about how I had too much authority. It's like they didn't understand the idea of 'King'.
The Jarl of Iceland, weeks of travel by ship away from Hiver, was the first to rise in rebellion. It would be only the start of a decade of civil war.
Jarl Emund of Bergslagen, who of course was Jarl under Hrodgar I, raises arms in support of the recently deposed King.
Less than six months after conquering Sweden, we are forced to fight for it again.
The voices knew what to do. Focus on the war, they said; delegate the wench retrieval to the professionals. Hrodgar would die, and his wife would come to my plentiful bosom.
I conquered the entirety of Sweden to kill this guy, do you think this was meant to be a secret?
Hiver loses his formerly charitable nature, despairing at the utter stupidity of mankind.
More Jarls join the party.
JarlFrank and Hiver's early work in carving out a large and contiguous demesne was all that protected Hiver's kingdom from immediate disintegration; Norway's heartland remained steadfastly loyal. Nevertheless, the rebels could collectively raise armies much larger than Hiver's.
Hiver encounters an assassination attempt of his own. A classic trap: a narrow road, barricades on the road, a dead King.
I would have perished that day were it not for the voices. Suddenly, I saw an image of a great mare, leaping over the obstacles and high into the air...
...and I followed it, arrows whistling behind my humps, to safety.
Hiver lived to see another day, and another day brought another rebellion.
With most of the realm in uprising, there was no question of meeting them openly. Hiver opted to deal with the smallest rebellion - the first Icelandic - first, avoiding decisive battles and biding his time. Meanwhile, he finally gathers enough conspirators to set the death of Hrodgar in motion...
There are so many rebels around, they start fighting each other.
Slowly but surely, the rule of Hiver shall be reestablished. The Jarl of Iceland perishes from natural causes, and his young son accepts status quo.
Just when Hiver thought there was enough on his plate, however, he finds Rikissa, his sister, implicated in an international manure smuggling operation!
Elisabet, and Asa, and now Rikissa. Four sisters have I, three had betrayed me. It was good that I had my voices, for outside them, I had no friend, no family to turn to.
There was no question of leniency, of course.
Goodbye, Rikissa.
Hiver now had a single sister left - and himself still without a son, she became the primary heir. Ingibjorg JarlFranksdottir, Hiver suspected, would prove loyal till the end.
I knew I could trust her. You see, she was the same as I was... she knew what it was like, to have the blood of kin on your hands. Oh, yes. Her, I could trust.
And finally, the moment Hiver's been waiting for.
It's not quite as satisfying as manure, but it will do.
The death of Hrodgar the Great takes the wind out of his supporter's sails; their war now invalidated, they return to Hiver's fold nonchalantly.
Some rebellious counties remain, but none of that matters to Hiver. Finally, over a decade later, he shall have his wench. She will be experienced, she will be canny, she's lustful, she will be all that Hiver dreamed of.
Or, you know, she will refuse to marry. (It seems this depends on the opinion of Hrodgar's son, since she remains in her court. Alas, no amount of gifts would overturn that Political concerns disadvantage, and with her being a Catholic, she wouldn't come to my court, either.)
Not now, wench. I'm so disheartened.
Another wench. So many wenches. But the wench I want, she ain't ever gonna be here...
It appears Hiver had somehow inherited the lone county of Hereford, in England, and of course, as the King of Sweden, his vassal, the Jarl of Bergslagen, owns the Danish county of Jylland.
Look, here you go. I don't even want them.
I don't want you either, Bjarmia. You can have your frozen shit and bearded wenches.
On his thirtieth birthday, Hiver finally gives up. He allows himself a permanent wench for the first time, a strong and lustful wife that will speed the coming of a male heir.
The desire of my loins shall never be fulfilled, but I am a King, and I must leave a scion. Codexia shall not end with me.
Quality eluding Hiver, he adopts for quantity, at least.
More.
More! Bring all the wenches in the realm to me!
After years of frustration, Hiver bursts forth like a dam.
Meanwhile, he also completes the affairs of state by agreeing for Jarl Freyr to become an Independent King of Sweden. In the same family as Hrodgar the Great, he will take Sweden's de jure territories.
And so, the affairs of Hiver finally settle. The Swedish and Finnish territories are entirely given up, but de jure Norway remains whole. It is from this loyal, prosperous land that Hiver shall build a Norse Empire to last the ages. After all, it remains the most powerful of the Norse kingdoms; Sweden, as you can see, immediately devolved into civil war.
Oh, and yes, the great Potato's been there a while. World Update coming next time.
Before that war ended, though, apparently our Queen went and got herself imprisoned. The Danish wench is in no mood to release.
A wench that we can't bone is no wench worth keeping. We divorce, two months after marriage celebrations.
Hiver quickly finds a pretty young thing for remarriage.
With a face like that, she can caress my humps anytime.
Just one loose end remains: Svanhildr, Hiver's great lust, what Lacan would call his objet petit-a.
If I can't have her, then she must not be real. That's the only way it can make sense.
Yes. Anything. Just do it, quickly. I don't want to know.
At least she died a true Codexian.
The tumultous affairs of the loins now in order, Hiver turns to developing Norway's wealth and power. Recent wars have suggested that it simply does not have enough firepower. Hiver institutes a novel system of retinues, a standing army of professionals who do nothing but train all day to fight for Hiver and Hiver alone.
The concubine Ylva yields a wench.
The wrong kind, woman. Try again.
Meanwhile, neighbouring Sweden remains a boiling pot, with King Thorbjorn taking over. Everyone agrees that such a brilliant beard deserves a kingdom to go with it. Hiver sends his regards.
Why, hello, Paris. We haven't done any tax collection in a while, have we?
More ships mean more loot to carry.
And at last, the succession is ensured. The Kingdom of Norway shall remain in Codexian hands. Hiver opts to call the child Cleve Blakemore Hiversson Codexia, a name that most of the courtiers find impossible to pronounce.
The voices told me. Cleve must be his name, they said. He is like us. He too can hear the voices. He will hear them better than I ever could, for he is born with it. His skull is shaped in the right way...
Prince Cleve shows early signs of stuttering, and is a son of a concubine, but none of that shall stop his path to glory.
The Norse: bringing incline to every corner of Europe.
Cleve will grow up surrounded by wenches.
But what next for Hiver? Now entering his fourties, Half-Headed Hiver remains alive and well. In neighbouring Sweden, Thorbjorn has died, allegedly tripping on his own beard, and a succession crisis has erupted with a nine-year old at the centre. Should we retake that crown? Or will we again be stretching ourselves?
Next time: Hiver invades... something.
We return to the life and deeds of Hiver JarlFranksson Codexia, the first Codexian King of Norway, now also King of Sweden, aged twenty-two, kinslayer and maimed in the right hemisphere of the brain. King Hiver had a crown specially designed to conceal the gigantic humps that developed in the side and back of his skull as a result of his war injury, with the result that his crown remains the largest in European history.
They told me that it was a fatal wound, and could not believe that I had survived. The Seers said I must have been blessed by Odin. They were right, in a way. You see, ever since that day, I've been hearing... voices. Voices of others. Some, of my ancestors, like grandfather Jaesun. Some, of those I have never met in this life. A man who would not shut up about 'Arcanum', whatever it is. A strange fellow obsessed with ponies. I can even see them, sometimes. Skin as red as plums, wielding tridents and scythes, some even sporting devillish tails. They give me advice. They guide me, and through me, they guide Norway...
Centuries later, one American psychologist would discover, quite by chance, Hiver's diaries in the dusty, forgotten rooms of Carolina Redvivia, in the Uppsala University Library. Reading of a man whose devastating head wound resulted not in quick death, but decades of healthy, if voices-touched life, he would develop a controversial theory of Mankind that promised to explain religion and humanity in one fell swoop. In awe, and more often, in derision, his work, and the Half-Headed Hiver of Norway, would be forgotten once again...
...but what has been written once, cannot be erased. So it is, too, with the tale of Hiver, to which we return.
Hiver had succeeded in war, and carved out the greatest Norse kingdom Europe had ever seen. But Hrodgar the Great, ousted from his Swedish throne, still retained the Kingdom of Estonia and other holdings. In his capital in Holstein remained still his wife.
I had covered Sweden in blood, and still I had not my wench. The frustration of the continental cockblock was intolerable.
Even worse, my own vassals began to get in the way. All this talk about how I had too much authority. It's like they didn't understand the idea of 'King'.
The Jarl of Iceland, weeks of travel by ship away from Hiver, was the first to rise in rebellion. It would be only the start of a decade of civil war.
Jarl Emund of Bergslagen, who of course was Jarl under Hrodgar I, raises arms in support of the recently deposed King.
Less than six months after conquering Sweden, we are forced to fight for it again.
The voices knew what to do. Focus on the war, they said; delegate the wench retrieval to the professionals. Hrodgar would die, and his wife would come to my plentiful bosom.
I conquered the entirety of Sweden to kill this guy, do you think this was meant to be a secret?
Hiver loses his formerly charitable nature, despairing at the utter stupidity of mankind.
More Jarls join the party.
JarlFrank and Hiver's early work in carving out a large and contiguous demesne was all that protected Hiver's kingdom from immediate disintegration; Norway's heartland remained steadfastly loyal. Nevertheless, the rebels could collectively raise armies much larger than Hiver's.
Hiver encounters an assassination attempt of his own. A classic trap: a narrow road, barricades on the road, a dead King.
I would have perished that day were it not for the voices. Suddenly, I saw an image of a great mare, leaping over the obstacles and high into the air...
...and I followed it, arrows whistling behind my humps, to safety.
Hiver lived to see another day, and another day brought another rebellion.
With most of the realm in uprising, there was no question of meeting them openly. Hiver opted to deal with the smallest rebellion - the first Icelandic - first, avoiding decisive battles and biding his time. Meanwhile, he finally gathers enough conspirators to set the death of Hrodgar in motion...
There are so many rebels around, they start fighting each other.
Slowly but surely, the rule of Hiver shall be reestablished. The Jarl of Iceland perishes from natural causes, and his young son accepts status quo.
Just when Hiver thought there was enough on his plate, however, he finds Rikissa, his sister, implicated in an international manure smuggling operation!
Elisabet, and Asa, and now Rikissa. Four sisters have I, three had betrayed me. It was good that I had my voices, for outside them, I had no friend, no family to turn to.
There was no question of leniency, of course.
Goodbye, Rikissa.
Hiver now had a single sister left - and himself still without a son, she became the primary heir. Ingibjorg JarlFranksdottir, Hiver suspected, would prove loyal till the end.
I knew I could trust her. You see, she was the same as I was... she knew what it was like, to have the blood of kin on your hands. Oh, yes. Her, I could trust.
And finally, the moment Hiver's been waiting for.
It's not quite as satisfying as manure, but it will do.
The death of Hrodgar the Great takes the wind out of his supporter's sails; their war now invalidated, they return to Hiver's fold nonchalantly.
Some rebellious counties remain, but none of that matters to Hiver. Finally, over a decade later, he shall have his wench. She will be experienced, she will be canny, she's lustful, she will be all that Hiver dreamed of.
Or, you know, she will refuse to marry. (It seems this depends on the opinion of Hrodgar's son, since she remains in her court. Alas, no amount of gifts would overturn that Political concerns disadvantage, and with her being a Catholic, she wouldn't come to my court, either.)
Not now, wench. I'm so disheartened.
Another wench. So many wenches. But the wench I want, she ain't ever gonna be here...
It appears Hiver had somehow inherited the lone county of Hereford, in England, and of course, as the King of Sweden, his vassal, the Jarl of Bergslagen, owns the Danish county of Jylland.
Look, here you go. I don't even want them.
I don't want you either, Bjarmia. You can have your frozen shit and bearded wenches.
On his thirtieth birthday, Hiver finally gives up. He allows himself a permanent wench for the first time, a strong and lustful wife that will speed the coming of a male heir.
The desire of my loins shall never be fulfilled, but I am a King, and I must leave a scion. Codexia shall not end with me.
Quality eluding Hiver, he adopts for quantity, at least.
More.
More! Bring all the wenches in the realm to me!
After years of frustration, Hiver bursts forth like a dam.
Meanwhile, he also completes the affairs of state by agreeing for Jarl Freyr to become an Independent King of Sweden. In the same family as Hrodgar the Great, he will take Sweden's de jure territories.
And so, the affairs of Hiver finally settle. The Swedish and Finnish territories are entirely given up, but de jure Norway remains whole. It is from this loyal, prosperous land that Hiver shall build a Norse Empire to last the ages. After all, it remains the most powerful of the Norse kingdoms; Sweden, as you can see, immediately devolved into civil war.
Oh, and yes, the great Potato's been there a while. World Update coming next time.
Before that war ended, though, apparently our Queen went and got herself imprisoned. The Danish wench is in no mood to release.
A wench that we can't bone is no wench worth keeping. We divorce, two months after marriage celebrations.
Hiver quickly finds a pretty young thing for remarriage.
With a face like that, she can caress my humps anytime.
Just one loose end remains: Svanhildr, Hiver's great lust, what Lacan would call his objet petit-a.
If I can't have her, then she must not be real. That's the only way it can make sense.
Yes. Anything. Just do it, quickly. I don't want to know.
At least she died a true Codexian.
The tumultous affairs of the loins now in order, Hiver turns to developing Norway's wealth and power. Recent wars have suggested that it simply does not have enough firepower. Hiver institutes a novel system of retinues, a standing army of professionals who do nothing but train all day to fight for Hiver and Hiver alone.
The concubine Ylva yields a wench.
The wrong kind, woman. Try again.
Meanwhile, neighbouring Sweden remains a boiling pot, with King Thorbjorn taking over. Everyone agrees that such a brilliant beard deserves a kingdom to go with it. Hiver sends his regards.
Why, hello, Paris. We haven't done any tax collection in a while, have we?
More ships mean more loot to carry.
And at last, the succession is ensured. The Kingdom of Norway shall remain in Codexian hands. Hiver opts to call the child Cleve Blakemore Hiversson Codexia, a name that most of the courtiers find impossible to pronounce.
The voices told me. Cleve must be his name, they said. He is like us. He too can hear the voices. He will hear them better than I ever could, for he is born with it. His skull is shaped in the right way...
Prince Cleve shows early signs of stuttering, and is a son of a concubine, but none of that shall stop his path to glory.
The Norse: bringing incline to every corner of Europe.
Cleve will grow up surrounded by wenches.
But what next for Hiver? Now entering his fourties, Half-Headed Hiver remains alive and well. In neighbouring Sweden, Thorbjorn has died, allegedly tripping on his own beard, and a succession crisis has erupted with a nine-year old at the centre. Should we retake that crown? Or will we again be stretching ourselves?
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
Nerd Reference: Julian Jaynes, an American psychologist, was notorious for his 1976 book in which he argued that man was once 'bicameral'. He asked: how is it that much of what we do is not 'conscious' (e.g. you can even talk without being 'conscious' of it, if we define 'conscious' as a presently aware and deliberate control of one's action), that we leave so much of our daily life to the nonconscious? What if man once behaved - indeed, built civilisation - without being 'conscious' int he same way we are? Latching onto emerging findings in neuroscience, he asked: why are the 3 areas of the brain which govern speech, including Wernicke's Area, all in the left hemisphere (for right-handed people)? Why, in writings as late as The Iliad, do we find no mention of 'consciousness' or any 'mental activity', even though we hear talk of gods and many other things besides? Essentially, Jaynes made an argument that man was once bicameral, and our right hemisphere also had corresponding speech functions, through which man literally 'heard voices'. Thus, for ancient man, the Gods were real insofar as you could hear them speak to you; you were not 'conscious' and did not have 'memory' or an ego in the same sense.
The thesis is almost impossible to confirm, of course, and has been much maligned, but I must say reading this book greatly heightened my enjoyment of the Codex. (Also, I have no idea how Hiver isn't dying, he's been maimed for 20 years and I never reloaded...)
The thesis is almost impossible to confirm, of course, and has been much maligned, but I must say reading this book greatly heightened my enjoyment of the Codex. (Also, I have no idea how Hiver isn't dying, he's been maimed for 20 years and I never reloaded...)
I suggest you make a thread in Science about it and invite nomask7 for discussion
Everyone hates hiver. 
Maybe try raiding exploits in Mediterranean?
Maybe try raiding exploits in Mediterranean?
Oh man, I can't wait for the king Cleve.
Save some gold and build a bunker in the capital.
Save some gold and build a bunker in the capital.
LoL @ that Poland.
Gondolin
Arcane
Svanhildr was getting kinda old for King Hiver.
Also: retake the Swedish crown for greater lulz.
Also: retake the Swedish crown for greater lulz.
Weren't the Danes declaring war on you recently? Pay them back. With interest.
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
8. The Humps of Hiver: Finale, 980-982
This will be very, very short.
King Hiver is now in his forties, having finally settled the affairs of his loins and of the throne.
What now for Hiver the Half-Headed, Hiver the Kinslayer, Hiver the Wenchmuncher, Hiver the Odd? He gazes out from his throne in Telemark, the fog obscuring an even murkier continent of turmoil and war.
The Great Potato has died an invalid, his kingdom losing healthy chunks in the process, but the young Potato seems to be holding on to an impressive amount of territory for now.
The Byzantines are having another of their periodic existential crises, but possibly worse than it had ever been. Its two traditional nemeses - the Turks and the Bulgars - have squeezed them thin, the Abbasid Caliphate even claiming Thessalonika. Of course, Byzantines being Byzantines, they choose this moment to also have a civil war with the Nikaean cause for independence in full flight.
But most interesting for Hiver is England. Once a hodgepodge of ambitious Norse conquerors, the Norse kingdom of Scotland has turned fully Catholic, while the Wessex dynasty is slowly but surely gobbling up the rest under its Anglo-Saxon banner. Jaesun had claimed some of these lands in Codexia's name, decades ago...
Meanwhile, Cleve Blakemore grows into an angry and spiteful young man, making everyone in the court very proud of him.
Young Cleve has a very powerful sense of justice. He is convinced that he is right and everyone else is either incompetent, disloyal, or both. Hiver tells him this is a critical trait in good governance.
Hiver has little to do in peacetime but break beds, and soon another son is born. We can safely assume that the naming process was again delegated to the voices.
Actually, that time, it was a hallucination. A most wondrous sight, a field full of multi-headed cows...
Yes, exactly!
A few days later, King Hiver invites the court for Multi-Headed Cow's baby shower. Everyone is merry, and little cow seems a healthy young boy. Suddenly, Hiver grasps the humps on his head, screaming incoherently...
BRAINTURD! BRAINTURD! BRAINTURD!
...and collapses. He's dead before he hits the floor.
And thus, in 982 A.D., Norway welcomes its second Codexian King, Cleve I Blakemore Hiversson Codexia, at the tender age of seven. He is already equipped with the temper and judgment of a ruler, but will he be able to keep the realm together? And what ambitions does he hold for the middling kingdom? Will he head Eastwards, to reclaim his father's claim on Sweden? Over the sea to England? Or even further afield?
And how shall he negotiate his three-day-old brother, Jarl Cow of Ostlandet, who has taken fully half of Hiver's personal demesne with him?
Next time: Cleve shows you what he can do in 17 years.
This will be very, very short.
King Hiver is now in his forties, having finally settled the affairs of his loins and of the throne.
What now for Hiver the Half-Headed, Hiver the Kinslayer, Hiver the Wenchmuncher, Hiver the Odd? He gazes out from his throne in Telemark, the fog obscuring an even murkier continent of turmoil and war.
The Great Potato has died an invalid, his kingdom losing healthy chunks in the process, but the young Potato seems to be holding on to an impressive amount of territory for now.
The Byzantines are having another of their periodic existential crises, but possibly worse than it had ever been. Its two traditional nemeses - the Turks and the Bulgars - have squeezed them thin, the Abbasid Caliphate even claiming Thessalonika. Of course, Byzantines being Byzantines, they choose this moment to also have a civil war with the Nikaean cause for independence in full flight.
But most interesting for Hiver is England. Once a hodgepodge of ambitious Norse conquerors, the Norse kingdom of Scotland has turned fully Catholic, while the Wessex dynasty is slowly but surely gobbling up the rest under its Anglo-Saxon banner. Jaesun had claimed some of these lands in Codexia's name, decades ago...
Meanwhile, Cleve Blakemore grows into an angry and spiteful young man, making everyone in the court very proud of him.
Young Cleve has a very powerful sense of justice. He is convinced that he is right and everyone else is either incompetent, disloyal, or both. Hiver tells him this is a critical trait in good governance.
Hiver has little to do in peacetime but break beds, and soon another son is born. We can safely assume that the naming process was again delegated to the voices.
Actually, that time, it was a hallucination. A most wondrous sight, a field full of multi-headed cows...
Yes, exactly!
A few days later, King Hiver invites the court for Multi-Headed Cow's baby shower. Everyone is merry, and little cow seems a healthy young boy. Suddenly, Hiver grasps the humps on his head, screaming incoherently...
BRAINTURD! BRAINTURD! BRAINTURD!
...and collapses. He's dead before he hits the floor.
And thus, in 982 A.D., Norway welcomes its second Codexian King, Cleve I Blakemore Hiversson Codexia, at the tender age of seven. He is already equipped with the temper and judgment of a ruler, but will he be able to keep the realm together? And what ambitions does he hold for the middling kingdom? Will he head Eastwards, to reclaim his father's claim on Sweden? Over the sea to England? Or even further afield?
And how shall he negotiate his three-day-old brother, Jarl Cow of Ostlandet, who has taken fully half of Hiver's personal demesne with him?
Next time: Cleve shows you what he can do in 17 years.
Long live the Kool King Kleve!!!
(But "Hiversson" sounds like a genetic disease.)
Edit: King Kleve sees the future. He has already predicted the fall of Byzantium.
You should ride the african machete rape gangs to delay the fabled ITZ day.
(But "Hiversson" sounds like a genetic disease.)
Edit: King Kleve sees the future. He has already predicted the fall of Byzantium.
You should ride the african machete rape gangs to delay the fabled ITZ day.
Long Live King Kleve
Also, bumping for the next page. This one's too image intensive as it is.
Also, bumping for the next page. This one's too image intensive as it is.
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