#Ck2 the winter king cracked

That is the truth of this time violence is valued over contemplation and, to coin a phrase, blood will have blood. Even my wives found my love of words to be an effeminate weakness, putting their faith in swords instead. Were you taught the finer arts, the theatre and the song? I was. The only waters I see are thrown in my face by the thugs who keep me alive in this dank hole only so that I can suffer needlessly, unseen by those any who know my true name. Now I am more accustomed to the salt taste of my own life's blood than to the knife-sharp air of the sea. My father, the Emir Abu-Bakr, peace be with him, was the ruler of the Aftasid Emirate, which stretched from Caceres to the Portugal Coast, and it was there, watching the waves and the fishing boats, that I spent the happy days of my youth. Falconry, hunting, war and womanising - he showed superiority in all, But there was one sphere in which his strength and charm could not outshine my own talents, for I was the poet of the family. He was younger than me but that did not stop him from besting me, in a most improper manner, in whatever pursuit he could. In a world of brotherhood, I had only one sibling to my name, Sheikh Muhammad, a proud man and quick to anger.

#Ck2 the winter king cracked

'I was there at the start.' It's like bone scraping on bone, a voice that hasn't cracked so much as shattered. It is 1103 and the Aftasid Emirate is (might be, could be) in ruins. In your lifetime you have seen it rise, from courtyard to coast, but with that power came a fragility as brother turned against brother, and confidence became arrogance. He doesn't speak although sometimes he sings, memories of the sea and a splendour impossible to associate with the rags and filth that clothe him now.Д¬ivilisation is falling. The dungeon has been your home since then, your only place, the old poet who has been discarded in the corner your only friend.Д®very cough that rattles from his throat is death, decorated with ribbons of phlegm and blood. What friends, you asked, what places? Of course, they didn't answer. This is how your world ends, although it would be more accurate to say that it ended on the day the soldiers came to your door and told you that you had the wrong friends in the wrong places. There are strangers above, ransacking the settlement where you spent the better parts of a life gone to ruin. This is how their world ends and how the modern world began.Дust cascades from the ceiling as the packed tapial of the castle shudders. Somewhat experimental, this is history from several perspectives, being the tale of a thousand men and women, and the genesis of nations. I've been creating all kinds of stories with Crusader Kings II and with the release of the Sword of Islam expansion I decided it was time to pen a chronicle or two.