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    Crusader Kings Tutorial Tuesday : June 23 2020

    June 23, 2020

    Crusader Kings Tutorial Tuesday : June 23 2020

    Tutorial Tuesday : June 23 2020

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 10:07 AM PDT

    Tuesday has rolled round again so welcome to another Tutorial Tuesday.

    As always all questions are welcome, from new players to old. Please sort by new so everybody's question gets a shot at being answered.

    Feudal Fridays

    Tutorial Tuesdays

    Tips for New Players: A Compendium

    The 'On my God I'm New, Help!' Guide for beginners

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    You know, I'm something of a politician myself.

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 02:37 AM PDT

    It seems 97.5% of the players doesn't play CK2 as intended

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 10:50 PM PDT

    Finally Got Duelist Bloodline

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 07:50 AM PDT

    Dev Diary #32 - Audio ��

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 03:51 AM PDT

    You know maybe helping in the crusade is worth it

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 09:54 PM PDT

    Glitterhoof appears in the latest DEV diary

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 04:17 AM PDT

    You can find my picture next to faithful in the dictionary

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 08:22 AM PDT

    Okay, fine, I'll do it myself

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 02:08 PM PDT

    Crusading is a hell of a drug.

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 07:41 AM PDT

    Just began a new CK2 game and this insta popped up

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 10:54 AM PDT

    1 reason why CK3 is already much better than CK2

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 11:51 AM PDT

    Ah yes my son. My strong, sickly, and hunchbacked son.

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 04:19 PM PDT

    wot

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 07:04 PM PDT

    once again the French appear to be incompetent with their task of protecting their capital.

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 02:23 AM PDT

    Is this cursed? I'm pretty sure this is cursed.

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 04:13 AM PDT

    Vassals: trying to rebel. Me: Laughs in 70k retinue.

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 09:04 PM PDT

    What if the Roman Empire started in Carthage... and was Muslim?

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 09:25 AM PDT

    My CK2 AAR submission, for those interested

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 12:18 PM PDT

    This is the AAR that I submitted for the competition. It's not actually finished, but I reached the word cap, so I might add more at a later date.

    DISCLAIMER: I wasn't using any dlc or mods, and occasionally added some things to the narrative to make it "flow" better, despite them not being in-game features. Nonetheless anything that isn't implemented in-game was solely used to keep things logical and comprehensible.

    Crusader Kings 2 AAR on Constantine II of Scotland (936AD)

    King Constantine II of Scotland was an old man. This he could feel in the very fibre of his mortal being, a constant painful reminder nagging at him in the quiet of the night, the small hours of the morning and during the monotonous labours of the day. With his sixty-five years Constantine knew he was no longer the young, ambitious man he had been during the early years of his long reign. And yet pride prevented him from accepting such a reality, a reality in which he could no longer ride in the saddle or experience the thrill of battle. Over the past few years he had become increasingly aware of the way his subjects and servants treated him; as if he was a fragile artefact to be preserved. Constantine had had enough. He wanted to prove both to himself and his subjects that he was more capable than he appeared. He wanted to silence the murmurs behind his back, the ceaseless whispers that followed him wherever he went.

    Sat on his modest oaken throne, engraved with intricate markings, the king pondered. Constantine was an ill sight to behold; a frail figure with haggard features, white, unkempt hair trailing down his sallow and wrinkled face. The king was a descendent of the great Kenneth Mac Ailpin, the man who had united the Scots and Picts under the banner of Alba. Now the land he had come to know as Scotland was once again in need of unity, for the Norse had delved deeper and deeper into Scottish heartland, occupying Argyll and Iona to the west and both Caithness and Ross to the north. Then there was the Anglo Saxon threat to the south. When the English king Athelstan had learnt of mounting resistance against foreign rule in Scotland and Strathclyde two years past, he had shown no mercy; paving a path of destruction throughout the land. The kingdoms had been bled dry, further fuelling Constantine's deeply rooted hate for the English. Thus it was his desire, and that of many others, to remove the English from their position of unparalleled power. But above all he wished to be remembered as the man to drive off the foreigners and finally free Scotland from its shackles. With this, he motioned to a servant at his side.

    "Summon the advisors, I require their council."

    "Of course, my lord", the servant briskly left the hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing off of the stone walls and paved flagstones.

    Many meetings were held in the coming weeks, each as unyielding as the last. All knew the dire situation Scotland found itself in, trapped between a rock and a hard place. They could either directly oppose English authority or attempt to dislodge the Norse from the mainland. However, now that they had all seen the consequences of challenging English sovereignty, few were eager for a second bout. One morning, during an especially heated council session, a messenger rushed in holding a letter.

    "My lord king, an urgent letter from the spymaster" Constantine took the letter, snapping and removing the wax seal. He then folded out the piece of parchment and quickly skimmed its contents.

    "It would seem the decision has already been made for us. We go to war with the Isles."

    All over the kingdom lords answered the call to arms, sending what troops they could raise towards Scone, the capital. They had heard of the Norse invasion of Strathclyde, a war the Welsh were unlikely to win, as the kingdom was still in a weakened state. Though the war wasn't theirs to fight, it was assumed that the fall of Strathclyde would equally lead to their eventual fall. However the high chief of Moray, his kinsman Malcolm Mac Ailpin, though pledging his troops to the cause, did not wish to join up with the main force. The high chief stayed closed to home, not leaving the mountainous confines of the highlands. Even without the additional men the Scottish were able to muster a force two thousand strong, mainly comprised of archers, light infantry and spearmen, nevertheless Malcolm's actions were all but reassuring.

    The army marched for weeks, overcoming the harsh terrain made up of hills, marshes and rivers. Progress was slow and the army, lacking good physique, tired quickly. The so-called highway they had followed since Scone was little more than a wide earthen track, snaking its way through the inhospitable wilderness. By mid-September the army finally reached Argyll, where they then marched towards Lismore, an island just off the coast where St. Moluag's temple was located. However, mere miles from their destination they were forced to employ a different approach. A Norse army had been sighted by the vanguard. The six horsemen hastily galloped back along the highway towards the shambling line of men and pack-horses. The enemy was reported to be a mere three miles north-east from them, presumably travelling south towards Strathclyde. King Constantine saw this as his chance. The men needed a victory to keep them going, otherwise he would have a mass desertion on his hands. Even so, Constantine did not wish to fight an enemy he knew precious little of and so sent a few scouts to conduct a headcount on the Norse forces. The scouts returned shortly before nightfall, their mission a success; they had been able to approach the enemy undetected and more importantly, they had an estimate of no more than a thousand men. This was what the king had hoped for.

    It was on the fourth of October that the Scottish army departed from their temporary encampment, preparing to advance on the Norse position. They arrived in the early hours, seeing their enemy assembled on a hilltop not far from the temple of St. Moluag, clearly aware of the impending attack. The temple was named after a Scottish missionary responsible for the conversion of the Picts in the sixth century. Now, on that very gloomy, rainy day, religions were once again in open conflict. The temple had already been occupied by the Norse with the concession of Argyll to the invaders many years ago, now presumably serving a different purpose. Constantine had conferred command of the armies' flanks to his more trusted generals, while he personally led the centre. On the left he had appointed bishop Alan of Dunkeld, who, though a man of god, was very eager to give battle to the heathen horde. On the right his very own son, Indulf, took charge. Though his only son, at the age of thirty-nine Indulf now had sons of his own and Constantine knew no other man more deserving of his trust.

    Shortly before the campaign he had granted Indulf the chiefdom of Strathearn, allowing him the opportunity to familiarise himself with the numerous duties of a ruler. Constantine knew the risks he was taking with his actions and wanted his heir to be prepared should things go south. Additionally this meant he had less personal demesne to manage, with the knowledge that the chiefdom was in safe hands. Many thought Indulf to be none too dissimilar to his father, both arbitrary in judgement, with no true concept of what was right and what was wrong. However, unlike his father, Indulf did not crave for the attention Constantine constantly sook. In fact he outright avoided it where possible, clearly lacking the pride and confidence a king was commonly regarded to have. This was something that had worried Constantine for years, for as a king Indulf would require leadership skills he currently lacked. His position as commander had therefore been intended as a lesson more than anything, despite its many dangers.

    The Norse had formed a shield wall, patiently awaiting them. Tightly packed and only a few ranks deep, it bode an imposing sight for the inexperienced Scottish force. The scouts had been accurate in their observation; the Norse were quite visibly outnumbered, though not necessarily outmatched. Both sides were predominantly comprised of infantry, with a few hundred archers amongst the attacking force. The Norse only had few archers at their disposal, though they tried to conceal this by hiding them in the rear ranks, not wanting to draw attention to that disadvantage. A good portion of the Norse force was clad in finer, more durable materials. On the rare occasion that the sun shone through the clouded canopy, some of the light shafts reflected off of chainmail, helmets and other metallic surfaces, revealing the superior equipment of their adversary.

    King Constantine could detect the slight unease amongst his men, ill-prepared and, with the exception of his household troops, only lightly armoured, many wearing the very clothes they otherwise worked in for lack of alternative. Others wore padding such as gambesons, antique helmets passed on from father to son for generations and other somewhat protective clothing. Whilst one could hear distant chanting from the heathen ranks, coupled with the sound of axe on shield, the sons of Scotland stood silently. Constantine had to act, should he hope to gain a victory that day. He beckoned to his two commanders, prompting them to follow him, and moved through the ranks, eventually standing at the very front. Despite his aching bones he managed to stand upright and address his soldiers with confidence and conviction.

    "My Scottish brethren, today we fight. Today we fight not only for glory, not only for the gods. Today we fight for our future, for Scotland's future, the future of our families and for one another. We stand here now, on Scottish soil, under Scottish skies, in the presence of Scottish saints", he said, motioning towards the temple of St. Moluag, the stone structure barely visible from the opposite coastline. "And what do we see before us? Intruders, invaders, heathens who have sought our demise and shall continue to seek it. But it need not be that way. We can end this. We can send these henchmen of the devil back from whence they came. We can liberate Scotland from their taint. But to do so, we must speak to them in a language they will understand, and nothing speaks more clearly than Scottish steel! The heathens shall rue this day. They shall rue the day they dared to tread on our Scottish soil, live under our Scottish skies and desecrate our Scottish saints!"

    What followed is best compared to the nature of a wildfire. It started slowly with a few individuals, cheering and shouting their approval, then exponentially increased until the mass of fearful, uncertain faces that had stared up at him only minutes before were filled with passion and sheer determination as they in turn started to cheer, shouting in defiance and hollering insults at the Norse still stood atop the hill. These men were prepared to fight, no matter the cost.

    The battle began with a brief skirmish, in which the Scottish sent forth their archers, letting loose scores of arrows towards the enemy lines. Most of the arrows either missed or embedded themselves in the large wooden round shields of the enemy. Every volley only a few arrows ever found their mark, plunging into exposed pieces of flesh, the victims stumbling back under the impact. Those who fell were immediately replaced, ensuring that the shield wall stayed somewhat intact. However they had no suitable answer to the constant bombardment, lacking the archers needed to effectively shoot back. After a short while the Norse finally relinquished their high ground advantage, rushing down the slope, still staying in ranks and holding up their shields to deflect incoming missiles. A couple dozen more dropped before they reached the foot of the hill, now on even ground. The archers had to fall back so as to not get cut down, retreating behind the infantry lines. They would not be able to fire during the melee, as the risk of friendly fire was too great, so they were to serve as infantry, should the enemy break through their lines.

    The Norse proceeded with caution, forming a shield wall once more before advancing on the Scots. The two sides soon collided and a fierce fight ensued. Constantine himself engaged in the battle, hoping that his men would find inspiration through his act of bravery. Though he felt physically exerted after only minutes of blocking blows and occasionally dealing a few himself, he was happier than he had been in a very long time. Finally he could drown out the constant complaints of his ailing body and stand amongst his men in battle as he had done so many times in his youth. Whilst he was keeping the centre in check, Indulf was driving his soldiers onwards, pushing against the heathens. Many had already fallen, others thoroughly intimidated by the ferocity of what they had thought to be lowly peasant rabble, lacking any expertise with weapons. Thus, the Norse on the right flank soon fled on mass, all cohesion gone. With the right flank subsequently freed up, Indulf could now outflank the centre, thus putting the enemy under immense pressure.

    Back in the centre Constantine found himself duelling the chieftain of Mann, Rögnvaldr, who had advanced on him after recognising Constantine on the battlefield. The Norseman was large and burly, striking at the king with his axe and blacking the few attacks returned with his shield. In a desperate attempt to keep the man at a distance, Constantine lunged his spear forward, merely striking wood. However the spear had managed to lodge itself into the shield and as the shield was yanked back the spear followed, now out of Constantine's grip. There he stood, with only his own shield to preserve his life. He looked around, saw his men fighting on either side. He tried to call out to them, keeping an eye on his adversary, however they were too busy to notice. Then he heard a voice from his right. Looking over he saw his brother darting towards him with spear and shield. Constantine backed away from Rögnvaldr, allowing Indulf to place himself between the two of them. Rögnvaldr took in the scene with amusement, turning to his new opponent. As the two of them fought, Indulf staying defensive whilst Rögnvaldr struck at him ceaselessly, Constantine observed how the rest of the battle was progressing, now less willing to personally engage. The right flank had now manoeuvred its way to the back of the Norse army, causing them to fight in multiple directions. The left flank looked a lot less reassuring. Bishop Alan was struggling to keep his men organised, the line breaking in some parts, so that the heathens were able to get amongst the now demoralised troops. They would need reinforcements soon, he thought.

    The duel was still going, Rögnvaldr now visibly exhausted whereas Indulf was still in surprisingly good shape. After a few more minutes of Rögnvaldr swinging his axe in Indulf's vague direction, the latter started to unleash on the breathless Norseman, lunging at him with his spear. After a series of fearsome attacks Rögnvaldr was completely spent and after taking a spear to the gut his fate was sealed. With the death of one of their chieftains the stream of fleeing heathens only thickened. After another hour of fighting the centre was now also crumbling, the panicking mass desperate to escape the slaughter. With that all that remained was the left flank, on which the couple hundred Norsemen bravely fought on, gaining the upper hand in the present engagement. By the time the others had moved to outflank the remaining enemies, the left flank had completely collapsed, with the bishop fleeing the battle alongside his men. Despite the setback, the Scottish still vastly outnumbered the remaining Norsemen, dispatching them with relative ease. Once the fighting had ended and the wounded were seen to the death toll was calculated. Almost two hundred Scotsman had lost their lives in the space of two hours, however the Norse had suffered losses upwards of five hundred, rendering the battle a resounding success. The events of this battle would go down in the annals of history, a stalwart reminder of Scottish resolve in the face of invasion.

    The battle had been won, but the war continued on. Within the week following the decisive clash at St. Moluag's the Scottish seized a small wooden hill fort belonging to the Argyll tribe. With no sizeable garrison the fort swiftly fell to an assault, providing the troops with supplies for the planned reconquest of the St. Moluag's temple.

    The siege of the temple was no easy feat. The defenders were numerous, many hundreds it was believed, making an assault nigh on impossible. The temple itself was encircled by a simple wooden wall, roughly ten feet tall with small embrasures through which archers could shoot. And then there was the glaring issue of the temple sitting on a small island, where the deployment of nearly two thousand men was a task in itself. The temple was placed under siege, with the troops encamped on the opposite bank, in order to stay out of missile range. The strategy was to starve out the defenders, ensuring no food could be received from outside, in the hopes that they would run out sooner than the Scots did.

    A month after the siege had been initiated, Constantine received another letter from his spymaster, who had remained in Scone. In the letter he voiced suspicions of high chief Malcolm of Moray supposedly participating in treasonous activities, such as holding private meeting with other chieftains on the search for potential supporters of his cause to seize the crown. Constantine was furious. With the war in full swing he couldn't simply send the army back home and, possessing a force of at least a thousand men, Malcolm was a force to be reckoned with. For the time all the king could do was focus on the task at hand, dismissing the matter until he could properly address it. He knew that a civil war would be foolish and ineffective at this time, as the act of attacking a fellow catholic whilst involved in their own war against non-believers would be viewed with great disapproval throughout Christendom and could even justify excommunication. The matter was therefore laid aside, Constantine instructing his spymaster to keep a close eye on Malcolm whilst he was away.

    It was only in early February that the defenders of the temple finally surrendered. On the sixth a small detachment left the confines of the compound, making their way down to the riverbank, amongst them the commander of the garrison. The procession was unarmed, clearly seeking an audience. King Constantine was unconvinced; on the opposite bank they would be exposed to the enemy and out of reach from the main army. However, for the very same reason, the group was unwilling to travel to the opposite shore, so Constantine proposed a compromise. He was to cross to the other shore along with Indulf and a dozen men from his household troop, who were allowed the carrying of weapons. This way the defenders would be deterred from attacking them without risking the life of their commander. Soon terms of surrender were settled, in which all defenders were to convert to Christianity, the consequence of refusal being death. In addition a hundred men from the main force were to remain at the site, defending it from both out- and inside. Finally the army was restocked with supplies for the coming journey, for Constantine had become impatient and now sook a swift end to the war to return to other matters of equal gravity.

    The army marched northwards, braving the cold of late winter, frequently confronted by snowfalls, icy gales, and heavy rain under sunless skies. Constantine had decided to hesitate no longer and set course for the isle of Lewis, where the influential Norse town of Stornoway was located. The isle lay east of the chiefdom of Sutherland and was therefore a great distance away from the Scottish army.

    On their march through Iona, a Norse-held region, the Scots left a path of destruction in their wake, though never risking a siege. It was critical that the army maintained its formation, so as to catch the heathens unprepared and unaware. Fortunately enough, no army showed up to bar their way, allowing them free passage to the coast, from which they could cross to the Isle of Skye. The southern half of the island was highly populated, encompassing many settlements and fortifications. After a couple days march it soon became clear that their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed, with any settlement they passed now fortified, streets barricaded with whatever household items they could find. However the northern stretch of Skye appeared to be a lot less inhabited, an untamed landscape with only few exceptions. Thus the army was able to reach the next coastline with only the wilderness itself to overcome.

    Unlike sailing from Iona to Skye, the journey to Lewis was a lot more perilous. The isle lay miles out to sea, unprotected by the sheer cliffs of the mainland and fully exposed to wind and rain. Needless to say the simple wooden cogs Constantine had requested for the crossing weren't ideal for such weather conditions. On the third day of the crossing a storm tossed and turned the vessels, waves relentlessly slamming against their bow. One ship was so overladen with water that it eventually capsized, sending its crew to the depths. Others saw additional losses of life, but managed to stay afloat until the skies finally cleared on the morn of the fourth day. A few days later another storm led to the loss of additional lives, however they had managed to stay a good distance away from it, the waves not as daunting as what they had previously endured.

    After ten days at sea, land was finally sighted. Of the thirty cogs they had set off with twenty-five still remained, the rest either blown off-course or sprawled on the ocean floor. Nevertheless, the army was still in decent shape and soon preparing to disembark. They encountered a large peninsula jutting off from the island in an easterly direction, deeming it suitable ground for a landing. Whilst the troops disembarked the camp's perimeters were set. Constantine had been feeling especially ill throughout the last few days, hardly leaving his private chambers. However now, with solid ground under his feet, he soon improved in health. In general he had felt his health massively deteriorate over the past year, more frequently waking up to intense pain and fever. Constantine did not fear death, what he feared was to die before finishing what he had started.

    The army moved out the next day, Constantine at the front, heading for Stornoway, which, according to reports, was at the very beginning of the peninsula, where it conjoined with the mainland of Lewis. Sure enough, one soon saw it, a large collection of wooden buildings huddled together behind a palisade wall, a gate facing towards the ocean a mere stone's throw away, a number of huts and docks indicating a harbour of sorts. Though the inhabitants had undoubtedly seen them approach in their ships the previous day, they had not known any earlier and thus lacked the means to repel an attack. The garrison itself was estimated between two and three hundred men, most of whom were ill-equipped and presumably similarly ill-experienced. Nonetheless an assault would still be costly without question and heavy losses would leave the Scottish in a very difficult position so far from home. It was decided that they would once again besiege the town, cutting it off from the outside world. If the defenders had sufficient resources for a siege the Scottish would have no choice but to assault the settlement or, if the defenders were to be relieved by an enemy army, in which case it would be wise to take the walls and use them against the relieving force.

    However such precautions weren't necessary. In the first month of the siege no heathen army was heard or seen. The king did not like this at all, not knowing where his enemy lurked, whether they had recovered or were still licking their wounds. However soon enough grave tidings reached them, proving Constantine's worry to be of relevance, for the Norse army had been located in Strathclyde, where a battle had been fought against the declining Welsh kingdom in late March, not far from Strathgryffe. The battle had been pyrrhic, with either side taking sever losses, but by the end it had been the Norse who claimed victory. This was worrying news for the Scottish forces, who were now essentially alone in the war, Strathclyde in no state to retaliate. Though the desire to return to Scotland was strong, the desire to finish the siege beforehand was even stronger. At the very least it was reassuring to hear that their enemy was currently in no state to confront them.

    The siege finally found its end on the sixth of June, when the defenders proclaimed their unconditional surrender. After the more trivial matters had been settled, Constantine took the opportunity to explore Stornoway, inspecting the lifestyle of the non-believers with interest. All of a sudden he heard shouting from behind him. Turning around, he saw four seemingly drunk Norsemen rushing towards him, fists raised. Before they could reach him his two bodyguards stepped forward, spears raised in warning. As the brutes tried to bypass the bodyguards Constantine advanced ramming his fist into the Northman on his left, striking him in the gut. Though the blow wasn't particularly well executed, it did the job, his victim momentarily out of action. As another brute stepped forward to face him Constantine launched an uppercut into his jaw, an audible crack as confirmation he had struck with sufficient force. As he stepped forward to find his next opponent he suddenly felt an explosive wave of pain in the back of his head. Looking back, he could see the culprit, his first opponent having recovered now stood ready to deliver the next strike. Despite his desperate attempts to defend himself Constantine soon found himself lying in the mud with blood in his mouth, on his head and staining his hands. With the adrenaline now wearing off, Constantine was overcome by exhaustion and soon drifted into a feverish sleep.

    By the time the king had awoken from his slumber, he was back in the camp, lying in the bed of his private tent. Through a gap in the fabric sunlight shone through, casting it's light on the earthen floor. Indulf sat at his side, studying a letter on which he could just about make out bishop Alan's signature.

    "What does it say?" he uttered with great difficulty, words struggling to form on his tongue. Startled by his sudden return to consciousness, Indulf took a moment to answer.

    "It's from the bishop of Dunkeld. He speaks of a Norse army in Argyll, recapturing settlements and fortresses. They're headed for St. Moluag's next." Hearing this Constantine suddenly sat up, instantly regretting it and slowly lowering himself down again with great difficulty.

    "Those blasted pagans! I-" More was to follow, but at that moment Constantine broke into a fit of coughing, forced to project his rage through different means.

    "Calm yourself, father. They're not strong enough to take the temple by storm, nor most settlements. We can make it back in time, as long as you're in a state that would allow travel within the week, that is."

    Constantine regretted his actions. Through his attempts at returning to his younger self - his attempts to turn back time - he had endangered his son, his country and his people. All the years of reminiscing about his youth he had achieved nothing. If it was gods will for him to die, then let it be so. But if he was to soon die, he wished to die fighting for a free, unified Scotland, the likes of which he could only dream of ever seeing.

    "Tell the men we depart tomorrow, my health shouldn't be cause for delay." With this Constantine closed his eyes, descending once more into a deep sleep. Indulf regarded him a few seconds longer, then sat up and left tent, relaying the king's orders to the soldiers going about their chores.

    The two armies stood facing one another, neither side wishing to make the first move. In the distance the temple of St. Moluag stood proudly on its small island off the coast. The Norse hadn't expected the Scottish to return from the Isles so soon, eager to help their comrades holding out in the temple. The heathens had placed themselves between the Scots and the coastline, preventing them from simply joining forces. Now the two forces regarded each other with contempt. Without the help of the defenders the Scots numbered a little under two thousand men, having received fresh recruits from the Scottish chieftains. The Norse army found itself slightly outnumbered, but even from a distance one could easily make out the sizable contingent of professional, well equipped warriors intermixed with the more average fighters. They resorted to their tried and tested shield wall tactic, expecting the Scots to utilize missiles. King Constantine II MacAilpin of Scotland sat on his highland pony, Indulf at his side, taking in the scene. Though unwell, he couldn't allow himself to not be present on this day, amongst his fellow countrymen. Today they were going to drive off the heathen menace once and for all. Today would begin their liberation of Scotland.

    submitted by /u/SnazzyFrank
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    Cause gold is life...

    Posted: 22 Jun 2020 01:51 PM PDT

    How do I break up the HRE from the inside?

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 08:53 AM PDT

    I really, really hate the HRE in CK2. I'd say it actively deters me from playing the game on a regular basis. I hate how the HRE always seems to day 1 set up an antipope, turning all of Christendom in to a heresy filled Hellhole. I hate how it takes up so much of the map, absorbing what would otherwise be a lot of interesting nations. I hate how when I'm trying to do something interesting inside it, I accidentally get elected, making all my work feel wasted.

    So, how do I dismantle the stupid thing from the inside? I feel like every time I start as a small count and work towards gaining the kind of power I'd need to become a big player in a faction, I just accidentally get elected.

    submitted by /u/MostlyCRPGs
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    769 - Byzantium

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 03:29 AM PDT

    I've got 300 hours or so in Crusader Kings II and recently decided to try a Byzantium 769 campaign. Now I have a basic idea of the strategy.

    1. Conquer the Balkans and Bulgaria.
    2. Conquer Southern Italy.
    3. Conquer Syria, Egypt and Jerusalem (Philistia) in Great Conquest Wars against the Abbasid Caliphate.
    4. Get a claim on Lombardy early on and press it in a war.
    5. Take out Venice.
    6. Snipe Tunis from the Muhallabid Sultan.

    Using this route I've been able to restore Rome twice by ~860 A.D, but I was interested if anyone else, ideally more experienced than me, would have anything to add. I am not good enough yet, at least in my opinion, to try and start as a count, so I've been starting as the emperor.

    P.S This is my first Reddit post.

    submitted by /u/RubberToe45
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    Ah yes, the Sunni Muslim Bedouin Moldavian Crusader... Cursed Christians!

    Posted: 23 Jun 2020 05:02 AM PDT
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