Davsto
ZZZX
The_Jester
lane0168
Firebringer
Vedith
Wanderer-nl
Lucky2u
Dongempire
* denotes that this player has been prodded.
The day is dim in a certain Byzantine village which nobody bothered to name. The year is 820 A.D., not that any of the peasants who inhabited the village cared. They were too preoccupied with the horrific struggles of day-to-day life in the Dark Ages, toiling with back-breaking work every day from before dawn to well after dusk, suffering cruel religious persecution, and coping with swathes of disease and starvation. But that October offered them an interesting distraction: the Emperor himself, Geoffrey VII, has arrived in town! Followed by an entourage of gilded warriors and gorgeous concubines, His Majesty was just returning from the war against the Bulgars and needed a place to rest. While the Emperor himself refused to associate with the peasant scum, they would quietly sneak over to the windows of the inn he had taken over to listen to his tales of slashing filthy heathens and their heathen children into tiny bits. It was a joyous time of song and merriment, and His Grace even left some turkey bones for the swain to chew on.
Little did he know, however, a terrible conspiracy was brewing. Two skilled agents of the radical group known as the Blue Eagles saw this as a grand opportunity to carry out their nefarious plans. For they saw the idea of having a monarch chosen by divine right to be "flawed" and "outdated". Instead, they planned to instate some awful form of government where the supreme power is held by the common people and their elected representatives, and their leader lacks absolute power, but instead is checked and balanced by - by - oh, I can't bear to speak of it any longer, it's too disgusting!
Alas, these wicked assassins sneaked into the Emperor's bedchamber in the dead of night, violently stabbing him to death. The riffraff was saddened to see their brave, glorious leader killed, but this was overshadowed by their anger at the message written on the wall in royal blood: "DOWN WITH MONARCHS. DEMOCRACY RULES." The peasants, being loyal citizens who loved king and country, were appalled, and vowed to find the villains who committed this vile deed and put them to good, old-fashioned medieval justice. But first, they would await the coronation of a new leader.
For in this village there lived a member of a secret religious society: the Holy Order of the Chozeh. Dating back to Samuel of Old Testament times, this group of seers was believed to be endowed with true spiritual insight into whom would make the greatest king in the eyes of God. Whenever a royal bloodline would reach an end, the Order would secretly choose a new monarch, and their wisdom would go unquestioned. The local Chozeh, called "kingmaker" by the swain, only lived in this tiny hamlet due to a vow of poverty and temperance. They knew that they were short on time, with assassins running about crying for checks and balances, and would have to appoint a new ruler as soon as possible. They weighed their options, trying to discern which of these hayseeds deserved the crown...
The Emperor's general may have been a viable candidate, thought the kingmaker. Unlike the deceased himself, this commander quickly became a hero of the people, freely walking among them while regaling them with age-old stories and helping with their day-to-day troubles. The kingmaker knew that if any chosen monarch called for the death of this hero, the people would rise up with fury so great that the king couldn't escape alive. A shame that this general is so filthy and unkempt that it's impossible to tell them apart from the other riffraff.
As the village slept with one eye open, the kingmaker couldn't get a wink. Who was worthy of the royal crown? This question plagued the kingmaker all throughout the night. What they had finally decided was that nobody in this village was worthy, not one. But, since a new monarch was an immediate necessity, they elected to choose a different one each night, to prevent anyone from becoming too accustomed to their power. The kingmaker quietly nailed the name of the newly chosen ruler to the door of the local church, and returned to bed. God help us all...
Geoffrey VII, the