A medieval campaign using my proposed RRtK supplement

Tsunami Sumatra after

Tsunami Sumatra after (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A forgotten tale from the absent-minded Porridge Marten, the chronicler of The Game of Cronies:

The tsunami crashed into the Galsleazy’s harbor in her capital of Mormeen. Fortunately Dimheiress had not been planning a sea invasion of Darne anyway. But she worried that this might be a bad omen for her planned spring land campaign against the desert power to her east.

In Slygarden, Lord Mice Hyfell well fell ill. All kinds of rumors spread that it was due to harlots, poison, or a sickness carried by the winds from the Flea Cities. But in fact, as the House heistere diagnosed, a simple case of sitting on one’s fat rump and stuffing one’s face with food and drink day after day. The end result was diminished war powers for the remainder of the year for the rotund ruler.

Rumors of dalliance between siblings in the House of Landblaster swirled lowering the morale of Lord Hywind’s people be they noble or serf. No wonder Jammy Landblaster  left the capital of Bastardly Rock to accompany his father in the spring campaign against Lady Lyce of the Scaery.

House Frayd experienced a scandal of its own. Apparently Chevron Frayd one of Weirdo’s numerous children had not responded to his father’s call to arms against the pending threat of the Ironrust marauders. Morale in the Cursing plummeted.

Agents of House Sully sowed discord among his neighbor, the Boltlooses to the north. The Lord of Riverfun did not want to worry about his rear as he marched to join Lord Frayd. He would have enough pain bouncing up and down in his saddle on the long journey to the Twinge.

Johnny Snowed had selected a few of his expendable ice gangers to infiltrate the Land Beyond the Tall Wall and instill doubt among the Wildthings as to the wisdom of Rancid Ryder’s offensive against the Night’s Botch. “Baby it’s cold outside.” “Do you suffer vertigo?” “Fear frostbite?” It had the desired effect.

Runtly Brightneon threw a temper tantrum when it was reported to the dapper Lord of the Wormlands that the annual fleecing of his subjects by his tax toughs had come up 50 crowns short.  Now Runtly would have to forego purchasing some particularly fancy and flamboyant feathered caps he had had his eyes on from the far off Bummer Islands.

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