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What remains of Templarhood
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Everything posted by Veggie

  1. Hello, an UPDATE from the PEASANT LEAGUE FINAL: Arsenal: We are now in the peasant league final! This is a wonderful opportunity to climb the class pyramid to petit-bourgeois league, even after we managed to lose 18 games in a row in the league. Azerbaijania: Welcome to Azerbaijania, the world capital of peasantdom! You are welcome as long as you do not bring any Armenians. If you do, we might decapitate them with axes, which is literally what we did to some dude a few years ago. Mkhitaryan: But I'm an Armenian. Azerbaijania: Everything will be fine. Our ambassador will officially guarantee your safety, as long as you don't say or do the wrong things, which we shall leave unspecifiably open. Arsenal: This is unacceptable! But no problem, Mkhitaryan has been a crock of shit ever since Jose Mourinho said nasty things about his socks. Instead, we shall play club legend AARON RAMSEY in his position. Ramsey: Alas, I cannot play, for I have been cursed with periodic muscular explosions since 2005. It's like menstruation, but different. Arsenal: This is unacceptable! But no problem, you are leaving us for a real football team soon anyway. Instead, we shall play Erdogan legend MESUT OZIL in his position. Mesut Ozil: This is good. I will play football for you. You know I am king of assists. Arsenal: You have three assists this season. Mesut Ozil: It is no problem. Three is very high number. Arsenal: Alexis Sanchez has four. Mesut Ozil: Mein Gott, I am a horrible footballer. Olivier Giroud: Don't worry guys, SLEEPER AGENT GIROUD will miss every single Chelsea chance and then turn my face towards the camera in theatrical agony. And then Arsenal will win the cup 0-1 in penalty kicks and I will rejoin the club just like we planned! Arsenal: Listen, we told you this before, you are not a sleeper agent. We broke up. Olivier Giroud: *turns towards camera in theatrical agony* 29th May, Noon PST / 3pm EST / 9pm I guess Warsawtime??? simulwatch bitches
  2. Maybe we should give it back?
  3. Of Monsieur Dumdums, the Sixth Hello. I am Monsieur Dumdums, the Sixth chieftain. Oh, don't worry about that. You just have to put it on your medical records to get chieftainship in this god damn country. It was either that or baldness. My reign is to be defined by a simple policy: invade Berlusconia, kill many Berlusconiis. Their belligerence against the bois was the last straw. Their warmongering ways must be halted. They are too dangerous to the international order. Thus, we will fabricate a fictitious claim that the Arverni have a god-given right to Italian farmlands, and use this to start a war of epic proportions. Thankfully, they are a MAJOR POWER, and this means that they do not have any friends. I'm sure this particular rule won't cause us any problems in the future, no sir. Alright, so we're doing this. After DECADES of dementia, gout, inflammation and baldness, we are here, we are ready. We are fighting the BIG SAUSAGE. Um. We slowly besiege every Berlusconian tavern, butcher and organic chocolate store in the vicinity for 6 months, but no Berlusconians turn up. When they finally do, it happens in small, easily manageable numbers. They do have strange helmets that give them the magical power of DISCIPLINE, but so far they are no match for our pantsless warriors. We hear distant tales that they were going to send their real army, but then one of the senators called another senator a woman full of binders, and then things went downhill from there. The Arverni march on, using their famous military tactics developed over a century of warfare: the Way of the Pussy Rabbit That Bites You In The Anus When You Bend Over To Pet The Fluffy Rabbit. We are hoping that once we conquer Rome, we can get some slaves to think up a better name. As usual, all of our victories are had by making the enemy fucking sick of killing Gauls. Wait, what? Come on, I didn't even get to finish one war. I didn't even have dementia! What will our ancestors think when they find out we skipped dementia? *** Of Monsieur Dumdums Dumdumiskis, the Seventh Hello, I am the new dumdums, here to replace the old dumdums. I gotta say, I'm absolutely chuffed to be the new chieftain. Absolutely bloody marvelous. Look at my face. Yeah, this is my happy face. I'm telling you, it is. I mean, what don't I have to be happy about? Our newest pointless acts of aggression are bringing in depressed foreigner slaves that only cost a gazillion Arvernidollars to keep happy, it's a great deal. I'm sure they'll pay themselves off in about three centuries when we're all dead. The Berlusconians are ready to negotiate the terms of their surrender. But why stop here? We're already the Mongols of Antiquity, we might as well go all the way and just destroy civilisation. Oh, right, massive army ramming our undefended warhosts up the rear. Okay, I guess we do offer peace. As you saw above, we annexed massive portions of Boiland and Etruscoland. This will provide real and tangible benefits to Arverni society, in the form of heavy infantry that we can't afford because our brilliant ancestors ordered a million chariots fifty years ago and we still haven't gotten rid of all of them. Of course, the real benefits of our wars are in admitting hordes of strange foreigners into our lands, allowing them to dilute our culture and religion, and eventually take all of our jobs. This is exactly the glorious Gallic triumph that our forefathers had planned, I'm sure. We pass the Rights of Man, establishing in clear and transparent terms a code of fairness and justice for all of our slaves. I am very sure that this will indeed encourage our slaves to work harder. Very sure. Having gained new sources of valuable iron, we instead build heavy cavalry. This is because our newly gained province is so disloyal, that it won't actually give us any of the iron it owns. Of course, back when the Berlusconians owned it, they were happy to trade us this iron. We are definitely going places. Foreign, populous, and disloyal, our new provinces are in need of a skilled governor to placate the masses. Our staff have recommended the ICCUIUS brand, promising that it's just as good as ICCIUS at only a third of the price. I asked them where this fucker is from, but nobody was really sure. They also said something about murder, but I didn't catch it. I'm sure it was nothing important. The new governor will have my support to turn the difficult situation in the provinces around. Using bribery and hired thugs, we will show iccucicicus that we are a wise and benevolent ruler that inspires loyalty and respect. To drive the point home, we send iccu iccu a fresh bull's head directly to his bed. I am sure that this gesture will be received as exactly an offering of friendship. Yes, of course! I knew that Icocuco would be receptive to our overtures. Wait, what? He's not very bright, is he? He'd make a fantastic Arverni chieftain. Now that we are finally able to produce properly armed, heavy infantry and cavalry, it is only right that our tacticians should discover new and interesting ways to use light troops. Every technology, after all, fixes problems that we don't have anymore. Like internet-connected salt shakers. Our eagle-eyed scouts suspect that the Berlusconians are distracted in a pointless overseas war against Macedon. We can't be sure, of course, but it's just a guess based on reported sightings of hundreds of thousands of Berlusconian troops sailing across the Adriatic. Another war, same outcome. (So uh, it turns out that the Romans, despite owning most of Italy and having incredibly high manpower pool, can't seem to really field a lot of troops. Apparently part of this is because tribal nations are fucking broken, and essentially the tribal families generate retinues CK2-style and they balloon to improbable sizes. We have about 130k units in this war, most of them in this picture, and basically 80k of them are 'free' retinue blobs, whereas the entire Roman army is less than 100k, a third of them fighting Macedon, a third of them faffing about at a pizza hut. Large nations being surprisingly useless at fighting has always been a paradox feature, but jesus christ) As our armies grow, technologies advance, victories rack up, one thing remains true: A fight isn't won until most of our side is lying bleeding on the ground. Disgusted with our self-flagellating ways, the Berlusconians yet again make us an offer for peace. Wait, what? Okay, so we waged war for Tuscia, but what is all this other shit? Christ. Okay, I mean, if you're offering us like half of your country, I guess we'll take it, but... And there you have it. The Arverni have not only breached the Pizzanot Line, but penetrated deep into the olive groves. We are but TWO provinces away from the gates of ROME, the culmination of our journey to Pompidoudom. Will the Arverni succeed? Will they ever actually face a competent Berlusconian army? Will they break apart in civil war instead? We will find out in the next segment, which will be brought to you after I am murdered by Soggyfrog at the Bostonbloat
  4. OK hope to update tomorrow night before my BOSTON BLOAT weekend I attacked Rome Weird shit happened This fucking gmae
  6. More like, the day the champions league finishes we will start scouring the daily mail for transfer rumours
  7. MY COMEBACK MY SWEET SWEET COMEBACK 6 MONTHS IN THE MAKING RUINED BY A SINGLE STRAND OF LASAGNA IN THE POT this means war shusky this means 38 weeks of 'arry kane and zero arsenal players
  8. Also, for the NEXT SIMULWATCH, a candidate: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvlQ8TQsmQA
  9. Of Monsieur Divico, the Fourth Right. The name's Divico. Divico Viridorrius. You might remember me from such heroics as, being responsible for all of the actual military triumphs during the reigns of Tartar Sauce and Ambo. Those insane good-for-nothings just faffed around in their chieftain's hut yelling about this and that, but me, I'm a General, and I get things done, just like that Flynn guy I hear so much about. I know some have questioned my suitability for chieftainship given my penchant for... competitive numbers games, but I have quit! Quit for good. That's all behind me now. The rumours that my quitting is related to a catastrophic loss is surely unfounded. And now, to get this country back on the road. Monsieur Ambo might have read many stone tablets and imported papyrus porn novels, but we Arverni are a people of action. And when you deny a people of action their action, trouble happens. So what we are going to do, is invade a suitably weak neighbour on some trumped up excuse, and take all of their oil. It's elementary, soldier. They never had a chance. As you can see, looting and pillaging is a great team-bonding exercise. One thing Monsieur Ambo did right, though, was this system of expanding feudatories. This will help us raise more men for more wars, after which we can get more men for more wars. Indeed, war is the oil that lubricates everything in our world. Look at this bustling slave market, where new slaves pop into existence as we wait! Violence, soldier, is the elementary principle of the universe, and it is how all that is good shall be wrought. We are even going to run training sessions and workshop retreats so that the Arverni can grow even more proficient at slavery. It's an acquired skill, you know. Yet our enemies do not stand still. The Berlusconians have taken the dastardy step of annexing the BOI. Without BOI, there is little joy in the land, and an unsettling tension falls over the land. There is little between us and them, now. The Great War beckons. It is my destiny. Our opponent is the effeminate Curii, a young and decadent ne'er-do-well whose hipster perm and thick eyeliners give particular style to his lunacy. We shall hit them hard, and we shall be victorious. Some of my advisors tell me that their armies are multiple times more advanced than ours, and that we shall fall easily. They, too, are testicle-deprived ne'er-do-wells. We shall fight, and we shall win. Victory is AT HAND. Let me just grab a bite to eat, and then we can invade Italy. I knew it tasted a bit like lasagna.
  10. Of Monsieur Ambo, the Third Greetings, everyone. My name is Indutiomarus Ambonus. Out of consideration for those with smaller craniums, I will allow the vulgarisation of Monsieur Ambo. I am the third tribal chief of Arvernia, and dare I say it, the first with something of an education. You see, where my predecessors had defined their policy portfolio as a mixture of multidirectional jingoism and flagrant bribery, I am here to give this disorganised rabble of a state something of a structure. With reason, data, and copious amounts of patronising speeches, we are going to whip up the Arverni into something that can truly take on the Berlusconian titan. With me so far? Good. I would hate for you to slobber your way through this like you've done so far. Our first step is to bring in the neighbouring gallic powers to our hegemonic domain. I know that 'hegemony' was four syllables too many for my demented predecessors, but the point is to rope these potential enemies into a greater gallicdom whilst keeping our own society manageably homogenous. We also have much to do to create a properly centralised, bureaucratic state. Apparently everybody thought it was a great idea to just put all the trappings of government on a small donkey and move it around wherever they pleased. But if we are going to truly become a grand empire, this will not do. You would like to move some Arverni to your part of the country? Why not move everybody to the capital, where we will build very tall huts with small personal spaces to live in instead? I can't imagine who wouldn't love to ride the public chariots to work. You see? The Berlusconians are not fucking around, whereas that's probably an accurate way to describe the majority of Arverni life. We will either penetrate, or be penetrated, in this boar eats boar world. Luckily, our diplomatic maneuvring has paid off. Although international law prohibits countries of an arbitrarily large size from allying with countries smaller than them, they can, and did, eventually guarantee to protect us - no doubt finding a roundabout way to guard against the expansion of Berlusconia. But we shall not be complacent. Proper, lasting fortifications will be build on the Berlusconian border. In fact, we are going to become so good at building walls, we'll just build walls everywhere. They'll be the best, solidest walls you've ever seen, and the best part is we aren't even going to pay for them. It'll probably come out of a property devaluation writeoff. Yes, that's right. The Arverni have almost totally ignored the possibility that with research, experimentation and copious copypasting, we might actually be able to advance our civilisation technologically! But under my guidance, we shall fug our way to a happier, fitter, more productive entity. (Amount of citizens is the big driver for reserach points, as well as advisors, etc, and you have to level up to then research new inventions. Uh, Rome is level 6.) While not surprising, it is indeed edifying to see that the Arverni appreciate the work I am doing here. I am indeed a man of decency and honour, and under my long-term planning, we shall have a beautiful future ahead of us! Yes, I am aware that I invited this upon myself, really. Yet if it was lunacy to dream of a better world, then a lunatic I shall remain. In grave. We did invent graves, right?
  11. OK, here we go Let us resume the glorious history of the ARVERNI, in which our great Second Chieftain, Mr. Tartar Sauce, rules over best gauls with great wisdom and also severe dementia, very much in the honourable tradition of ICCIUS. I may not remember exactly where I put my internal organs when I woke up, but I promise you, my friends, I am still a great leader. You see? The hispanics are so convinced of my great leadership, they told me they're all coming over for a big bash! There might have been some other words in that sentence besides 'big', 'you' and 'bash', but my hearing isn't so great these days. Oh, I mean, sure, alright, internal bashes are also a storied part of Arvernian tradition. Usually the civil warrers do leave a bit of an opposition to fight against, though, instead of taking basically the whole country to start off with. Maybe they're also suffering from dementia. The civil warrers claim that they are going to "overthrow this corrupt government" and "drain the swamp". I don't really understand, all I did was give out copious amounts of cash to anyone who threatened to start a civil war, and now they're starting a civil war because of it. We also don't have any swamps around here. Maybe they're from Germany. But that's OK, our armies will conduct warfare the same way the Arverni people have always done: victory through overwhelming casualties. On our side. Mr. Divico, our trustworthy general, always commands all our troops. He is very good at all this fighting stuff. He narrowly avoided the official Arverni punishment of execution for baldness by retaining an extraordinarily long beard that stretches deep into his cranium. Look, you see? The internal bash is over! Now we can all make up and be friends. I'm sure nobody really meant to hurt anybody, and the tens of thousands of dead Arverni will understand. I hear that the all of our neighbours are very upset at us for this decision, for some unfathomable reason. Why does everyone hate us? I mean, are they even going to come over for a bash anymore? Why does everyone hate me? Why? Why?
  12. how many pages can a page have before a page is no longer a page?
  13. (all the leaves are broooown)
  14. Will there ever be another page
  15. If this forum even has 2 pages
  16. The dugong quota has been met! No way I'm posting more until we get to page 2, no sir
  17. 2 June 2019: A popular coup ends with the inauguration of England's Last Monarch, 'Arry Kane
  18. I don't think the safety and health inspectors will let us throw away Mustafi without a proper permit and hazmat suits
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