Nero

Spain accepts the peace deal. And I can't recall reading that anywhere. That's nice, you're declaring war on me? Bit odd that you give me some of your sunshine ray things and then declare war, but whatever, ty for the tech. ---- Map:

:)

Um...yea.

Lol yes. I'm actually finally getting closed to finishing the game part (not the actual writing). I think I'm around 1760 in the game.

Lol yes. Mather is your vassal if you do that btw hehehehe The papal states are kind of like the Pope's proxy, so I dont know If you'd be allowed. You could be Egypt though. They get the bonus of having Mather as their [bleep]! The Papal States IS the Pope.

Kay. btw Spain has annexed its vassal Crete.

I'm fine with people being underhanded, what I don't like is people getting away with sneaking around armies and invading countries and having everyone else suddenly get a visit from the men in black so they don't remember anything. It's the same reason I found the idea of 200,000 troops somehow sneaking around in Berlin to be ridiculous.

Um. Go [bleep] yourself and announce game changing events in the thread like everyone else? Here is the new map. In case anyone is interested as to how I've conquered half of Europe without you knowing about it, please refer any questions to Dusty667. Since apparently realism has gone out the window and now we have invisible armies and stealth wars.

Why is Tunis suddenly under the control of Crete?

October 14th, 1806. The Prussian army, under the command of King Frederick William the Third, was defeated by forces of the French Empire under the leadership of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte in the Battle of Jena-Auerstedt. The Prussian forces fled further East into Prussia, and Napoleons army sped after it, entering Berlin on the 25th. The Prussian forces under the command of King Frederick had held the city desperately, hoping that perhaps General Blüchers or General Hohenlohes army would come to their rescue, but the surrounding countryside remained empty, and the French smashed aside the Prussian resistance, and chaos was ripe in the streets of Berlin. -------------------- Colonel Pierre Deroux entered the royal chambers of Berlin and looked upon the King of Prussia who stood resplendent in a horridly gaudy Field Marshals uniform. The shouts and screams from the streets could be faintly heard within the chambers, the soldiers of Marshal Louis-Nicolas Davouts III Corps taking part in the age old soldiers rights of the pleasures and spoils of a city bought with the blood of their comrades. King Frederick nodded to the Colonel and stepped forward. There were other men in the room, servants and guardsmen of the king, a young boy, a French captain from the 1st Foot Artillery, two French sergeants of the 30th Line, a corporal from the 111th, and four privates from the 25th. They were men that Leroux had handpicked for this task, a task which had been given to him from the Emperor Napoleon himself. A more suitable candidate for the task wouldve been impossible to find, for to Colonel Pierre Deroux it was not the 25th of October, 1806, but the 3rd of Brumaire, Year 15 in the Revolutionary Calendar. To Colonel Deroux God was not a being in the heavens that watched upon his flock, but a man born in Corsica, and ruler of the French Empire. King Frederick held out his sword to Colonel Deroux and bowed his head gravely, It is with great sadness I surrender my arms to you, Colonel, to be entrusted into your care. It struck Leroux as odd that Frederick had not managed to escape the city before it fell, but he assumed that Marshal Murat had sped his cavalry, fresh from their victory at Jena and Auerstedt, quickly North to cut the retreating armys escape route off, leaving them with only Berlin as a safe refuge. Leroux smiled at King Frederick, one that he had meant to be kindly, but Leroux was not a kindly man, and his face, bearing the faint marks of Pox that told of his lowly birth, only managed a menacing grin; the grin's malevonlence was certainly not helped by Colonel Deroux's jaw that jutted too far forward, his crooked nose, or his too small eyes that darted over the King and his surroundings. He reached for the handle of the sword and Frederick surrendered it to the Frenchmans grasp, Lerouxs men behind him tensing slightly as they knew the moment was close. Leroux stared at the blade admiringly, tracing the smooth steel with his gloved finger. It was a fine blade, fit for a king, though it was too gaudy for Lerouxs taste. Such a blade would mark a man on the battlefield as surely as if he wore a crown of diamonds, and draw the fire of starved and rabid enemies. He ran a finger down the blades edge and snorted; it was dull, too dull to take into battle, but it would do. He turned his gaze back again the King Frederick and spoke, It is a shame, of course. Frederick, thinking he spoke of Prussias defeat and the capture of Berlin, nodded his assent. A shame indeed, but there will be other opportunities! He joked, but the Colonels eyes narrowed as he shook his head vigorously. No. I dont think there will be. He rammed the blade into Fredericks chest. The point, though dulled as it were, ripped through the Prussian kings skin and lodged in his chest as the blood ebbed into the blade's grooves, Fredericks face showing a convulsion of terror, pain, and surprise. Behind Leroux the muskets of his men banged and coughed smoke, throwing the Kings servants and guardsmen back, before the French soldiers surged forward with a growl and finished the survivors with bayonets. Leroux let the body slump and fall before kicking the dead kings chest and wrenching the blade free, pulling out his pistol and shooting the corpse in the heart for good measure. What do we do with the boy, sir? It was Captain Dupont that spoke, gesturing with his bloodied bayonet to the table by the window, where the boy was hiding, crying to himself with his knees drawn up to his chin. Leroux shrugged. Bring him here. The boy screamed as two French privates dragged him forward, thinking that he was about to be killed. He hit them feebly before he was thrown to the floor in front of the French colonel. He looked up through bloodshot eyes at the man. What is your name? Leroux said with a sneer, as if the kid were merely a stray dog that he regrettably must exert himself a small amount to see away. The boy didnt speak. He was crying again, and Leroux very faintly felt the tiniest pang of regret deep within himself that he immediately crushed. He had a mission, from his very own God, and he would see it done. Leroux lashed out with his hand and backhanded the boy across the face, the smack of his body hitting the floor echoing faintly in the chambers, mixing with the sounds of breaking glass and sporadic fighting outside. When you are asked a question, it is expected you answer it. A French sergeant was tearing apart a cupboard, looking for loot. Leroux didnt stop him, his job was done, save for this boy. He wanted to know who he was though. The boy still wouldnt speak, and so Leroux dragged him off the ground by his collar and lifted him so they were face to face. What is your name?! He shouted at the boy, and laughed as it brought about another fit of crying. Weak little thing, this is why the French are the rulers of Europe, because other men raise their boys to be crying lumps, fit only for a choir. A private behind Leroux chuckled and added his assent. The boy finally managed the courage to look at Leroux, and the Colonels laughing stopped as he stared at back. He dropped the boy and hastily walked over to the dead Kings body, kicking it over so that he could see the face. He looked to and from the dead man to the boy who stared at him, a faint trace of defiance showing through the bloodshot eyes. Leroux smiled again, for the boy was not some servant or son of some aristocrat sent to learn the ways of the court. The resemblance was faint, but it was there; the boy was Frederick William the Fourth, and with a start Leroux realized that the boy was now King of Prussia, since his father had died. Leroux had his orders - Kill the King. He had done that, but not quite. The old king was dead, but this boy on his knees in the room was now the king. His orders had said nothing about the boy, but they were explicit that he should kill the king. He slowly reloaded his pistol, ramming the bullet down the grooved barrels, all the while staring at the boy. He finished loading the shot and pointed it at the boys head. It is a shame. He chuckled. The sound of the shot echoed in the chambers loudly, blending seamlessly with the chaos that still gripped the city outside the palace walls.

Oi! Straight lines are hard. Wait, what? You can just press shift? GAH

I assume you have Microsoft paint?

Conquer? Why would I need to conquer one of my own colonies? And what's Sardinia have to do with anything? Well, Sardinia was an Italian island, right? But Italy didn't get it. Nevermind, I thought you meant that you just got the Azores because you had Spain. Oh no, lol. I sent colonists a while back to the Azores, Canary Islands, and Madeira islands. Anyways, this is the current map (I think):

Conquer? Why would I need to conquer one of my own colonies? And what's Sardinia have to do with anything?

Oh those. I thought you meant the 48,000 or so I had sent to Kiev way back. Dungeonal, you good for dealing with the Mongols now? If so I'll bring back my Spaniards, which gives me another 48,000 troops to fight against France, bringing to total to around 106,000 or so. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azores

Actually no Spanish forces withdrew, I actually sent an additional 2400 jinetes and 1600 knights of Santiago.

I think it was a cannabis leaf. he still probably won't know what that means more clear...

blank face, gotcha. and I'm got pizza to eat now, so I only had time to colour in your, ahem...tree.

Belgian whores probably.

So Doctor Who is not a complete loss. But then there are some shows that go completely beyond the pale of enjoyability, until they become nothing more than overwritten collections of tropes impossible to watch without groaning. I think the worst offender here is the History Channel and all their programs on the so-called "World War II". Let's start with the bad guys. Battalions of stormtroopers dressed in all black, check. Secret police, check. Determination to brutally kill everyone who doesn't look like them, check. Leader with a tiny villain mustache and a tendency to go into apopleptic rage when he doesn't get his way, check. All this from a country that was ordinary, believable, and dare I say it sometimes even sympathetic in previous seasons. I wouldn't even mind the lack of originality if they weren't so heavy-handed about it. Apparently we're supposed to believe that in the middle of the war the Germans attacked their allies the Russians, starting an unwinnable conflict on two fronts, just to show how sneaky and untrustworthy they could be? And that they diverted all their resources to use in making ever bigger and scarier death camps, even in the middle of a huge war? Real people just aren't that evil. And that's not even counting the part where as soon as the plot requires it, they instantly forget about all the racism nonsense and become best buddies with the definitely non-Aryan Japanese. Not that the good guys are much better. Their leader, Churchill, appeared in a grand total of one episode before, where he was a bumbling general who suffered an embarrassing defeat to the Ottomans of all people in the Battle of Gallipoli. Now, all of a sudden, he's not only Prime Minister, he's not only a brilliant military commander, he's not only the greatest orator of the twentieth century who can convince the British to keep going against all odds, he's also a natural wit who is able to pull out hilarious one-liners practically on demand. I know he's supposed to be the hero, but it's not realistic unless you keep the guy at least vaguely human. So it's pretty standard "shining amazing good guys who can do no wrong" versus "evil legions of darkness bent on torture and genocide" stuff, totally ignoring the nuances and realities of politics. The actual strategy of the war is barely any better. Just to give one example, in the Battle of the Bulge, a vastly larger force of Germans surround a small Allied battalion and demand they surrender or be killed. The Allied general sends back a single-word reply: "Nuts!". The Germans attack, and, miraculously, the tiny Allied force holds them off long enough for reinforcements to arrive and turn the tide of battle. Whoever wrote this episode obviously had never been within a thousand miles of an actual military. Probably the worst part was the ending. The British/German story arc gets boring, so they tie it up quickly, have the villain kill himself (on Walpurgisnacht of all days, not exactly subtle) and then totally switch gears to a battle between the Americans and the Japanese in the Pacific. Pretty much the same dichotomy - the Japanese kill, torture, perform medical experiments on prisoners, and frickin' play football with the heads of murdered children, and the Americans are led by a kindly old man in a wheelchair. Anyway, they spend the whole season building up how the Japanese home islands are a fortress, and the Japanese will never surrender, and there's no way to take the Japanese home islands because they're invincible...and then they realize they totally can't have the Americans take the Japanese home islands so they have no way to wrap up the season. So they invent a completely implausible superweapon that they've never mentioned until now. Apparently the Americans got some scientists together to invent it, only we never heard anything about it because it was "classified". In two years, the scientists manage to invent a weapon a thousand times more powerful than anything anyone's ever seen before - drawing from, of course, ancient mystical texts. Then they use the superweapon, blow up several Japanese cities easily, and the Japanese surrender. Convenient, isn't it? ...and then, in the entire rest of the show, over five or six different big wars, they never use the superweapon again. Seriously. They have this whole thing about a war in Vietnam that lasts decades and kills tens of thousands of people, and they never wonder if maybe they should consider using the frickin' unstoppable mystical superweapon that they won the last war with. At this point, you're starting to wonder if any of the show's writers have even watched the episodes the other writers made. I'm not even going to get into the whole subplot about breaking a secret code (cleverly named "Enigma", because the writers couldn't spend more than two seconds thinking up a name for an enigmatic code), the giant superintelligent computer called Colossus (despite this being years before the transistor was even invented), the Soviet strongman whose name means "Man of Steel" in Russian (seriously, between calling the strongman "Man of Steel" and the Frenchman "de Gaulle", whoever came up with the names for this thing ought to be shot). So yeah. Stay away from the History Channel. Unlike most of the other networks, they don't even try to make their stuff believable. http://squid314.livejournal.com/275614.html

Now, Icu. If you'd be willing to negotiate some terms, I'd be willing to withdraw my troops back to Spain with no further harm done.

*sigh* I'll get around to designing my own over-powered multi-class/varied equipment unit soon. It seems to be all the rad.

Your solution to not using the Mediterranean is to use the Atlantic (which would mean you'd need to use the Mediterranean), or march your army all the way through the Middle East, across Byzantium, through Bulgaria and Italy, and then finally to France. But tbh, you can use the Mediterranean, because its funny seeing France getting pummeled. I have no qualm with letting heathens kill heretics. The fast, strategically intelligent, and adaptable Icelandic special unit. Varying arnament including chain weaponry that has the potential to decimate both cavalry and spearmen, semi-automatic crossbows that can punch through heavier armour, and napalm-like firebombs that stick to and burn anything they touch. They also wear light armour and have some of the fastest horses in any European military. Basically, they're slow, meandering troops that are laden down with an assortment of weaponry and armour that means that they get tired easily.

REBEL SCUM