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The Ghost of Veggius van Bronckhorst

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

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Jesus christ finally, OK


Last time, Laszlo Bro, our forty-year nemesis dickface, had finally succumbed to his wounds just as I was about to publicly abduct his ass

You know what that means, friends

That means the FLAYER KING's time has come

Revel in his glory! In his drink-flushed visage! In his glorious whip form!

Oh, what happened to Poland, you ask?



I gave it away the first day.

I mean, look. Ever since Laszlo Bro took it over it's been non-stop wars for him. And now the enemy is wearing an iron mask.

We just can't get distracted with this stuff. What's in Poland, anyway? Who wants Poland? Nobody, that's who.



No, what we have to focus on really is the glorious Arpad homelands, to be ruled forever by my blood.

Arpad Arpad here is growing up to be a fine, fine fellow. I hear that he is such a dedicated learner, he reads the Bible while fornicating.

Such advanced alt-tabbing skills will surely serve him well as King.



My task is to secure the realm for his rule. And that means we must secure every hole in this damned castle.

Every window. Every pothole. Every latrine slot. All entry points for would-be free shivvers to take my kingdom from me.

I'd know, I'm a free shiv expert.



I've commissioned a specialist to help us cover every inch of the castle. Every. Inch.

"But how will I leave this castle once the job is done?" He asked.

Wrong question.



The next step from our hermetically sealed castle, is to ensure macro-continental securitisation.

We shall fob off our various virginities to win some excellent alliances, first with the Bohemians...



...then, why not, the Roman Empire itself.

The freedom of the Arpads is surely assured.



And now, finally, we are ready to retake the Kingdom of Poland.

What's that you say? Didn't we decide Poland is useless, you say? Oh, heavens, no. Arpads need some lebensraum.

You must be losing your memory in your old age, you need to take more Xanadu.




Okay. That war lasted about two weeks.

I guess now I understand all the other Kings' jokes about when they invade the French.



You see that war date there, January to May? The first three months were just raising the levies.

Even my own peasants are disappointed. Quite a few wives were hoping for more friendly casualties.

Anyway, alright, let me just grab my tankard, and we can celebrate this new achievement!




Oh, my.

Alright then. That's me, ol' Lamps.

I'll be remembered as a man of intrigue, alcohol, and shivs. Mostly the shivs.

But I've left a powerful Double Kingdom, and a Maximum Security Castle for my brainiac son. The future must surely be bright.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some Soggyzas to chase with shivs in my afterlife.

Edited by The Ghost of Veggius van Bronckhorst

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Oh, hello.

The name's Arpad. Arpad Arpad. Yeah, dad sort of picked it from his... lean vocabulary.

I'm 21, and now I am King. Not Double King, actually. My brother Tacsony took Poland. I don't think my dad realised how succession laws work.

Anyway. So you know, I've read a lot of books during my... nightly exercises, and I've realised something.

A good King is a moral compass for those around them. Someone with education, faith, and a virtuous way to show others the light. Like Mark Zuckerberg!



And so my first royal act shall be a holy pilgrimage. Nowhere too far, just pop down to Vaticano for some gelato. Won't be long.




I mean, listen. This could happen to anyone.



My vassals are not impressed that their new, young king has mostly spent his time getting lost. They seem to think it is unbecoming.

Look, take your 'liberties' and let me be. I'm sure you can also find your way to Jesus after several years of wandering.



Apparently the more liberties you give your vassals, the more liberties they seek to take.

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe they need to all get shivved up the-

No, no. Christian thoughts. Christian thoughts.



OK, now there's a legitimate excuse to shiv some Christians.

You're going to get what you deserve, Slavonians. Like Jesus and the moneylenders, if Jesus had several hundred shivs.



You see? You shouldn't try to fight with a Kolon loss. Really not going to end well for your organs.



In fact, the war is going so well, I think I'll alt-tab and take some time to meditate.

I hear that if you rub yourself just the right way with these ointments, you'll get a taste of the divine!

Or maybe they said the taste of rubbed ointment is truly divine. Either way, I'm sure it's very holy.



I have become a Wise Man. I know, because they give you a certificate and everything.

Who needs shivs when you have bongs?



Wait, hang on.

Guys, I thought you told me that the war is going well. What? I can't hear you over the fumes.

I'm sure it's fine. I mean, they already lost their Kolon!




Oh boy.

That's not good.



What is this? I'm not even a Duke now. I'm a Ban. Like some kind of heathen bread.

I've kept my life and my bong, and my deeply underage wife, but at what cost?



The new King of Hungary is a zit.

From what I can tell, he is said to like Chess, own a Moose, and collect Knives.



This will not stand. Arpads are destined to rule by God's decree. And as Arpad Arpad, I'm twice as destined.

Luckily, it only took the total destruction of the kingdom for my vassals to realise that really, they'd rather have me on the throne than Zit.

Xenophobia is truly the answer to all our problems.



Zit refused our ultimatum. Now it's war. The war of Arpad Independence, or as they called it for the conference brochures, ArpDep.

As you can see, pretty much the entire realm of Old Hungary has hung with me.



The results were predictable. Mr Zit here enjoyed his Kingdom for four years, but he's now back with the Wallabies where he belongs.

I'll come and get you yet, Mr Zit. God tells us that when someone screws us over, we get back in there and take their entire extended families as slaves.

You don't think that's in the Bible? Listen, it's 1117, none of us can read, let's move on.



Let's move on, because a truly momentous event is at hand: a CRUSADE.

Mr Pope has called for a group adventure to the Holy Lands. This is perfect. I, Arpad Arpad the learned, the faithful, shall take up the call!



In fact, Jerusalem is proving a nice tourist destination. Tens of thousands of Europeans are now swamping the beaches, a tradition that would continue well into the next millennium.



Wait, what?

But we just got here. It took us over six months of shipping, sixteen border customs, and two quarantines. I've had more scurvy than I've got vassals at this point.

I mean, look! We were just about to take Jerusalem and win the Holy War!

Apparentlye, Mr Pope just thought that we should take a dry run, you know, make sure that the real Crusade will go well.



Meanwhile, while all the good Christians were out getting Desert Scurvy, the Bohemians - ruled by, remember, my brother in law - has apparently taken over Poland.

Poland, ruled by old Taxony here, my brother, who himself had only inherited it seven years ago.

It's like that land is cursed.



Well, nothing to be done about it. After about fifteen years of waiting until she grew chest hair, I am finally ready to marry Zdenka, my wife.

Yes, that's right, the sister of the guy who just invaded my brother's kingdom and took over fully half of my dad's inheritance.

This marriage will seal the alliance between us, though. Just medieval life and all.



Stressed out by the turn of events, my little Taxony starts sprouting a colony of pimples.



Cheer up, brother. We can still do fun things together as Arpads! Like conquering some heathens. You like peach heads, right, brother?



All in all, time passes quite peacefully for Hungary.

I even take some time out to correspond with other learned rulers around the world. Scholars will study our letters to learn about the great ideas of our times!






Meanwhile, my wife is now ready to spawn.

Our first release is an Emo daughter...



And soon after, we have our male heir, Udon.

The world is your oyster, little Udon. I foresee that you shall have a grand old time.



My other younger brother Donut, realising that he will never get anywhere near the throne, decides that he's just going to be an off-label Arpad.



Oh, my.

I seem to have a bit of a life-threatening health issue.

Never fear, I'm sure more bongs will solve this problem.



Just spill out most of my blood, you say? The blood is bad, and we have to detox it, you say?

I mean, you're the doctor. The body just makes more blood once it loses it, right?



Even little Udon is sick. The kingdom is in dire straits.

I seem to remember seeing him play with my bong a few weeks ago.

Must be a coincidence.



About a year of bongstinence later, my symptoms have cleared up. Truly, God has given me another lease of life I do not deserve.

I'll have to have a bong party to celebrate.



Now that I am healthy, we can also resume important tasks of government, such as invading our hated neighbours.

Mr Zit, briefly King of Hungary, shall now be subsumed under my bong.



Two months into the war, Mr Zit's Wallachia was incorporated into Some Other Guy's Croatia.

Lawyers arrived at my desk to demand that all war-related documents be edited and DocuSigned to update this change.

Very well, but I'm still conquering your asses.



Wait, what?

Two months after that, the Roman Empire decided that it now owns Wallachia-cum-Croatia-cum-West Byzantine Empire.

I mean, fine. You could have at least told me before I got my bongs all hard and excited.



Meanwhile, Mr Pope is at it again. This time, he promises, it's the real deal. We'll really Crusade!

I believe him, because I'm a bong-addled moron.



The Seljuk ruler is a pox upon the Earth. Literally.

We must relieve the holy land from his loins.



This time, we make sure that we are first in line. We depart a full year early and camp out in Beirut, waiting for the opening. We even brought a cassette player.



And at last, it begins! While the rest of Europe is only now gearing up, ten thousand Hungos are already at the gates of the Holy City. We are Crusaders.

This is so cool.



This is not so cool.

The Seljuks apparently have tens of thousands of infidels to spare.



The infidels turned out to have their own Dryggyza.

Faced with overwhelming odds, we decided to do the only thing we could do:




Oh, now you turn up with overwhelming force.



And with that, the Crusade is won!

Our desperate flailings did enough to make us the decisive contributors to God's mission, and we have been rewarded with the rights to franchise the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

Come here, little Taxony. You've been so sad ever since you lost your little Kingdom, and then got all those poxes.

Well, brother's got you a whole new Kingdom to play with.



It's surrounded by tens of thousands of angry infidels, but I'm sure you'll figure it out, eh?


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you go on holy adventures while the vile czechs munch on the potatoes of your birthright?! shameful

  • Dugong 1

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The Third Tale of the Unfortunate Arpads



Hello. Remember me, Arpad Arpad, son of Lamps Arpad, of the Arpads?

I continue to produce more Arpads as is my birthright. This one is Konrad. Just one of the younger sons. I'm sure he'll be of no historical significance whatsoever.

Very sure.



We are so chuffed with our newfound Jewish Franchise, that we've decided to splurge on some Catholics.

You know how it is, they're always selling them in bulk.



Yet another son.

I'm sure our firstborn, Udon, can handle the competition.



Hardly five years had gone by since Taxony Bro's coronation that we have heard of terrible news.

The King of Jerusalem has been slain by an infidel!

Perhaps founding your kingdom by murdering everyone around you and being totally racist was not a great idea, but you know what they say, stereotype is 20/20.



Luckily, Taxony's son Adarn escaped by using his own leg as decoy.

He's also a bit of a moron, but I'm sure he'll do just fine.



The news from Jerusalem drives little Udon to greater acts of martial valour, primarily against other eight-year-olds.

Will I ever be defeated by my enemies like Uncle Taxony, he asks me.

No, no. Such a thing could never happen here in Hungary, the seat of civilisation. Now eat your salted meat.



Unable to deal with the growing racial tensions in the nation, Adarn, Second King of Jerusalem, has made a radical decision.

"I am a unity candidate", he told the angry mob, as he put on an ethnic turban and took the knee. "I am totally committed to Muslim Lives Matter."

Naturally, we now consider them Evil.



The cleansing of infidels may have slowed down over there, but we shall resume in our own neighbourhood.

That Kingdom of Moldavia looks mighty tasty. I'm sure they won't mind, the owners - Root Hyenas?



Oh my. I must have picked something up from all those old scriptures I'd been reading.

I'm sure it's just mild pneumonia, nothing to worry about. Perhaps some tea would do be good.



That wasn't tea, that was a pot full of motherfucking bees

If only I had invested my great influence as King of Hungary on rudimentary medicine, but alas, we spent that budget on fast-lane transport boats to Jerusalem.



Twenty-eight glorious years, and that's me, Arpad Arpad, clocking out. It was a good run.

Oh, we gave away Poland on the first day of my reign, you say. Look, nobody, and I mean nobody, ever wanted Poland, okay?

We also conquered Jerusalem which turned back heathen in five years, you say. Look, God told us to conquer Jerusalem in his name, so conquer we did. I'm not responsible for refunds.

What matters is that I ruled proud as the King of Hungary. And I'm sure young Udon will do the same in... *hack*... our Golden Age.

A Golden Age of... *hack* ... bees. The bees. The mother fucking ... bees.



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Name's Udon.

This king thing, I'm gonna play it chill, you know. Be cool. Unlike my dad. Great guy. But a bit uptight, don't you think?



I'm the King of Hungary. And this spare King that we had, we gave that to my little bro, Konrad.

He's such a cute little kid. Having him around as little King will be great, like a sidekick to my greatness.



It's also time for me to get married. You know, all my ancestors were all about strategic marriages for alliances and all that.

That's so old fashioned. It's, like, the 1150's, you know? It's time for love.

I hear the King of Sweden's underage daughter is, as the kids say, comely.



And in no time at all, they're issuing my driver's license along with my King orientation package.

I don't like to limit my options, you know. I can fight, I can talk, I'm just all about making things happen, you know? Disrupt the tired old ways, bring in the new Hungary.

It'll be fantastic, you'll see.



Some old fashioned, government bureaucrat fogey isn't so happy with the plans for New Hungary.

Duke Bela is the nation's foremost torturer, a prestigious role. But if he thinks he can usurp me, he's very mistaken.



In fact, all I need to do is embark on some bold, nation-building projects, and everyone will realise how right they are to back my New Hungary.

Dad said it's never a good idea to get involved with the Polish, but I feel like I'm in pole position.



Oh, you see? I'm just flying up and down this pole frictionlessly.

We'll be done here in no time at all.



Oh. Oh, really. Oh.

This is apole-ing.



Unimpressed with my polling around, the Bela Faction sees fit to threaten me.

Listen, I'm your King. That means that I am going to kill all of you. That's what it said in my orientation materials, you know?



I have birthed the next Udon. He shall be named, oh, I don't know, something authoritative, something strong.

"Orban" just sounds right. I wonder why.

Anyway, back to my execution of the stupid Belapeople.



Wait, wait.

The Roman Empire, you say? The entire Empire? Attacking me? Little old Udon?

But what possible reason could they- a claimant to the throne, do you say?

Listen, that guy's the old King of Croatia, who was usurped by the King of Wallachia, who had usurped the Kingdom of Hungary off my dad for like, three months.

This litigious society is going to be the death of us all.



To the North runs rampant the Roman army, and to the South, the ratlike traitors of the Belapeople.

There seems no way out.

But I have a plan. Udon always has a plan, to turn this situation around.



The plan is to surrender unconditionally, of course.



I shall retain my Duchy, though we now have to call it "Douche".

And Hungary shall remain strong, though we now have to call it "Croatia".




I even had to give away dad's Catholics menagerie.

Now we're back to the little old Duchy of Ungvar, just where granddad Lamps was almost a century ago.

But nothing will get Udon down. Fail fast, they said. Fail fast, and then use the vast riches from your parents and investors to succeed the next time-




I've started up a little "Udon for King" enterprise. I did a little demo of how good a King I'd be, put together some graphs.

Nobody wanted to sign up yet, though. I'm sure they'll call me back. Any day now. Any day.



Meanwhile, that dick shrubbery Bela has beaten me to the mutiny, rebelling against the Slavs.

Listen, there's a line here for rebelling, OK? You can't just rebel whenever you feel like it.



Especially if you're just going to give up again after three months.

It looks like Bela's adulterous ways had been found out, and the Pope instantly excommunicated him.

He's going to have to take a sabbatical now for a while, and come back with his next startup.



Which he does, after like six months. Guy's a serial mutineer.

But wait, this time, he's not piping himself for the throne. He's declaring war on behalf of.. Konrad?

That sounds familiar.



Konrad, is that you?

My little Konrad has all grown up! Last I heard he had lost his little Kingdom of Moldavia during all the upheaval.

And now, he's the new King of Hungary. Just like that. Just parachuted into the top role, thanks to that ass tentacle Bela.


I hate you, Konrad. You're going down.



The stress drives me to drink, but I resist. I must stay focused. I must persevere.

Also, we all saw granddad Lamps' liver in the family mausoleum. Whooey.



I have to play the long game here to displace Konrad, who many have welcomed as an Arpad lord.

I shall first expand my Ungvar.



I shall read from the best, and learn the ancient ways of killing people very fast.

Just you wait, Konrad. Just you wait.

Little Udon will have his revenge. In somewhere between ten and thirty years.


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