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Lamp Arpad and the Soggy Nemesis: A Chronicle of Debauchery and Debauchery

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Hello, friends. The name's Arpad. Lamp Arpad.

You may look at me and think, what a sadistic dickwad.

That I am, that I am. But that's not all that I am.



I am an ARPAD. You know what that means?

We are a family of KINGS. We are like a national king monopoly. Like Nutella, but for kingness.



The problem with a family monopoly is that when your family breeds like rabbits, it's not much of a monopoly.

My dad was a King, you see. King Belly. But when he went belly up, this fucking salmon came in and took over.



Look at this guy. A rowdy, honourable atheist. How come he gets to be atheist and king, but when I write about how God is dead and Zarathustra has a hot ass they take me for whipping?

Not that I mind. Whipping is good for the libido.

The problem is that I'm not even next in line for King Monopoly even if Mr Salmon here cops it. No, there's also my brother, Gez- Gaz-



Holy shit.

You, uh.

You look just like somebody I know.

Ima respect privacy and stuff, but we're just gonna call you Soggyza, OK?

Stay paranoid, man. You ain't living long.



And lastly, this is my other bro, Laszlo. He's probably the only functioning human being in this entire god damned family tree.

Like, you should see how he cooks his eggs until the yellow stuff is half liquid half solid. It's witchery.

Laszlo here basically owns half the country in the form of Transylvania. But that don't make him King. Remember, it's not about the popular vote.



While we've been chatting, I've actually just finished puberty. It was greasy and painful, but I am now all grown up.

First on our to-do list: kill Soggyza.



This will be no easy task, and we shall have to pursue every method available to us.

First, I shall practice my whip every day, mastering that fluid snapping motion to give me some adult authority.

I bet that Soggyza bastard is just lounging around, reading books or something.



Oh, hello. It looks like Laszlo Bro is already scheming. Now that's genuine Arpad blood running through his amygdalas.

Joining him is a bunch of nobles and.... Soggyza? That's like 90% of the entire country.

Poor Salmon King is smoked.



I have decided to join the traitorous scheme. You see, when you see a dishonourable, evil man making a power grab, then you make sure that he owes you a favour.

We now possess a Faction Military Power of 1374%. Nobody knows what this means, but obviously the algorithm has told us that we shall prevail.



Oh, what do you know? The algorithms are right! Praise the algorithms. I'll never doubt you again.

Mr Salmon here was never cut out to be King, anyway. Just look at him. He's lacking that natural born flair for debauchery.




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Hey Salmon boy, looks like you've been downgraded to a small, eminently conquerable county that happens to be right next to my DUCHY

What a coincidence, eh?

Oh don't mind my bishop there, interviewing your peasants about the ancient relics of Lamp Arpardom found in a shallow grave nearby, they're just conducting some purely theoretical research



I shall need every hand I can get my hands on to pull off my daring moves.

Tibor here is my right hand now. He does everything my right hand used to do.




My bro is now King, kinged by my hand. Not Tibor, my more metaphorical hands.

Look at him, trying to fob us off with a Chancellor. I don't know what Chancellor is, bro, but I'm not having it.



Instead, I demand that you come into an ALLIANCE with me in return for my earlier favour. Or "Hook", as the kids say on Tick Tork these days.

Why should a King ally his own Duke, you say? Is that even legal, you say?

Listen, I



It is now time. Soggyza, you look so smug, with that little fake crown, now that you're first in line to the throne

But the algorithms tell me that I have a whopping 27% chance of success, this is happening for sure, right?




Our theoretical research into our ownership of Salmondom is complete, but the research expenses have put the entire Duchy in debt.

I am told that they spent too much money publishing their findings in a book that nobody bought.



Sensing that the great Lamp cannot be defeated, Soggyza comes groveling to us with an offer of an alliance.

But it is too late. The great wheels of fate are already in motion, like a bus that started leaving just as you ran up to its rear end and it could actually totally stop and let you on but you just know that motherfucker is going to drive off



And drive off we do. Into a peasant orgy!

A communal sex party gone wrong is the perfect cover for the violent murder of a Duke, who just happens to be in the vicinity.



Wait, really?

27%? He's dead?

He's dead!

Soggyza has been beaten to death by crazed sex maniacs!

A death truly befitting an Arpad.



Soggyza's realm is now run by his young son, a four-year-old hunchback. Reports say that he is basically a living ball, at this point.

Everything is ready. The realm is primed for my legendary conquests.

I just, uh, need to pay the bills, you know? I'll pay you back. I'll pay you all back. You just wait and see.



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You have to fight a fearless paragon with a beard at some point. You are doomed, Lamps. Doomed!

Also how did Geza produce that legal heir when he was very clearly gay married

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Now I must use a POST IMA GEE


Salmon the Previously King, now mere Count, is ripe for smokin'

Or they would be, if not for... over eight thousand allied troops?




Apparently they are allied with every other Holy Roman Member.



Okay, okay. Surely we can pick on Kalman, Son of the Totally Accidentally Defeated Soggyza instead.

Our scouts assure us that this time, their military strength is INFERIOR.



Wait, what the hell is this


OK. OK. We just need a new sugar daddy. Fuck Laszlo.



Thankfully, we have yet one untapped resource in our Duchy: my virginity.

Seriously, it's the last thing that hasn't been tapped by anybody.

Now we'll offer it to... *checks* the Duke of Swabia's daughter, who is six.

I'm sure it'll work out.



Didn't our scouts tell us that their forces were inferior?

Well, thanks to them, we're suffering from an unprecedented apple shortage.

Kids are murdering their own parents, Walmarts are being looted. It's madness.



Laszlo Bro, you're really getting me down.

What do you mean, I never turned up for work, I totally deserve that taxpayer salary



This is not good. Even the help of the Swabs could not prevent me from being swatted like a fly.



Utter humiliation.

We'll remember this, Kalman, Son of the Not-Suspiciously Dead Soggyza.

You are going down.



Meanwhile, Laszlo bro thinks he can just declare war on Poland.

The place is full of potatoes and stolen bridges, man. This isn't worth your time.

Or so I'd tell him if I wasn't burning with vengeful hatred from my recent firing.



Oh, hello!

Laszlo, my man, my soulmate, the apple of my bosom.

Of course I'll be your Marshal, a position that has apparently opened up just as your last Marshal went to war against the Polish.



I'll take it because I'm just going to stay home in dear old Hungary, and beat the shit out of Salmon Man now that his allies are busy.

I mean, this is what law enforcement does, right, beat the shit out of people in their own countries



Oh, Salmon, look how you've grown. You've really got that lumberjack look going.

That's good, because now you're being reassigned to full-time lumberjack for the rest of your fucking life



Wait, what?

You defeated the cornslaws?



Holy shit.

Laszlo Bro ain't just King now, he's King^2.

I'm so glad he's doing all this for me when I inevitably take the throne.



This guy really needs to make up his mind.

Look, all I did was kill a few salmon sympathisers, I thought you'd stick by me on that.



By the way, this poor fellow is Cornslaw, the Ex-King of Potatoland.

He gets to stay Duke for now, but it's widely understood that his Boles are in rough shape and he may not be around much longer.



Well, never mind all that complicated foreign policy. Here at Ungvar, we focus on internal affairs.

The internal affairs of our delicious neighbouring duchies, that is.

Maria, one of our eight hundred Arpad Sisters, seems to think she has a claim on Soggyzaland.



Good brothers look out for their sisters by beating the shit out of their nephews and taking everything they own, that's all I'm saying.



Guys, guys. You told me that their forces were INFERIOR to ours.

What do you mean, you can't count that high?

Let me remind you that this is the SECOND time you guys have fucked this up.

What do you mean, you can't count that high?



By the way, I got married.

That Swabian chick's grown out, and boy, doesn't she sport some bulging intrigue.

No, really. Really good intrigue scores.

She will prove an able partner for my male genius. By which I mean, historically speaking, that she will do all the work and I will get all the credit.


Edited by The Ghost of Veggius van Bronckhorst
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The Second War against Soggyza Junior rages on. At Szczszepessegnon, it rages until literally three raging dudes are left standing in the field, huffing and puffing until their ballsacks fall off.

Truly, it is the age of heroes.



But victory on the field is hollow, for it would only strip Junior of his Duchy. No, the revenge must be complete.

27%? I'll have you know I skewered your dad on 27%.



Sometimes, I take time out from assassination planning to frolick with my wife.

Look, I'm in my 30's already after a decade of inconclusive scheming. I need some heirs, you know.



But after a quick one, it's right back to work. We've commissioned some traveling actors to pose as traveling bandits who are actually traveling assassins.

We've also bribed enough of Junior's friends to make the act go easier.



Success! I've done it! I've ended the Soggyza Line!

OK, so everybody found out, and now I'm, like, super cancelled. But really, this is about freedom of expression. Through shivs. Free Shivs.



Shunned from all the parties, I take my solace in the harmless hobby of some casual whiplashing.



Come now, courtier whose name I only just learned. It's not that bad, is it? Those organs, you can get them replaced, right?




Great. Now I'm Lamps Flayer, as well as Kin Slayer.

Really going for that rap-rock melody here.



After all that work, though, we are still not the presumptive heir to the Hung Throne.

This is very vexing.



You see, ol' Laszlo's been busy, and he's already multiplied.

Eva is but four years old, but she's already a grasper. A bold grasper.



OK, really? So you hired me as Chancellor, then fired me, then hired me as Marshal, then fired me, and now I'm Steward?

I'd be really annoyed if I actually did any work for any of these things.

Never mind, this will just get me closer to your children, for, uh... a conversation. About Free Shivving.



Speaking of children, I'm getting one!

My part-time exertions have borne fruit.

Unfortunately, it is just a daughter, but hey, that's all Laszlo Bro has as well in this cruel, misogynistic world.

I wanted to call her "Wish You Were A Boy, Diamond", but we decided on a euphemistic compromise.



In the meantime, though, that bastard Laszlo got himself a motherfucking son.

He's breeding like rabbits and I'm falling down that inheritance ladder like Kim Jong Un's gay nephew. I've got to do something.

The only thing I know.



Building tunnels, apparently, is the only thing I know.

This child is going to go places.



Speaking of children, not to be outdone, I've got a boy too!

We will name him Arpad Arpad, signalling his destiny to be the Arpadist of Arpads.

One day far in the future, when people search for the name Arpad, they will be much frustrated, for they shall not be able to reliably disambiguate between Arpad Arpad and Arpads



But nobody shall search for Fulop Arpad, oh no. I mean, what kind of name is Fulop?

Sounds like a gas station drink special. No, you gotta go, boy.



There's no stopping me now. I'm on a roll. I'll shiv and shiv until I'm at the top.



Apparently, the fact that I was seen with my brother, then my nephew, then my other nephew, then my niece, right before they all died, was enough circumstantial evidence.

This cancel culture is really going to be the end of me.



But not before I've cancelled my other, other nephew that fucking Laszlo just produced.

I'm not going to be denied my Kingdom just because you kept fornicating, Laszlo.



Ahh, yes. I'm getting really good at this.



Finally. After twenty years of murderous rampaging and flaying, I've done it. I'm first in line. I'm right there.

What? Oh, yes. Just first in line as heir. Laszlo's still the boss.




Goddamit goddamit goddamit.

It's all too much. I've tried so hard and got so far. And in the end, motherfucking Fornicator is still King and I'm not.

It's enough to drive a man to sin like he's never sinned before.

I'm going for some warm beer.



Not even fornication will do me anymore. In fact, this is entirely too much. Donut isn't the third child, he's now... fifth? Sixth? Who knows?

This is too much to handle. I don't want more children. I kill children.



We're no longer soulmates, Bertha. In fact, we were never soulmates. And the toilet paper should go the other way round, Bertha.

I don't need you anymore.



There's only one thing I need in my life now. And that is the head of Laszlo.

Look at that. THat's like, like, eighteen 27%s. We can do this. We cannot fail.






Bring me more warm beer, squirrels.



I conquer more land, and expand the Ungvar Name, but I cannot care a wit. Where is my kingdom, man? Where is my kingdom?



Despondent in my failure, I turn to my favourite pastime. And there, I find inspiration.

Risky Experimental Poison sounds like just the thing for my bro.



A twenty-seven motherfucking intrigue traveling lunatic also sounds like just the thing for my bro.

Come, Zoltana. You shall be my instrument.



Not now, young Arpad Arpad. Yes, yes, just go ahead and chase the women. I'm sure it'll be good for your character, or something.



Alright. Everything is ready. Everything. Fuck the numbers.

If we can't kill bro, we'll abduct bro. Then kill him.



In fact, I'll personally scout the abduction route. It's the plains. How can anyone get lost in the plains, anyway?



Oh boy.

Turns out the plains were not a great place to wander round talking loudly about how we will abduct Laszlo this way.

Kingdom once again torn from my grasp.

I need a drink.



Wait, what?

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how much murdering is enough murdering to affect a contry's manpower

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Alvydas with his stupid baby face can't possible be good enough for this task

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