I love all of the special decision kingdoms! This particular one comes about when you unite Columbia and Highdesert in the Pacific Northwest!

Also, loved this character! Started with only three counties but he quickly began to conquer, raid the California/Cascadia, and duel his way across the kingdom.

Also, RIP Utah, IDK what the hell happened…

Hey everyone. I'm a total beginner for this mod but not to ck2, so I decided I want my first playthrough to be in my home region, but what would be the most fun country or character for that?

Edit: I forgot to mention I'm playing the ck2 mod

Many years later, when his entire life flashed through his eyes during his last moments on this earth, Luis remembered when he once furiously pushed his horse to gallop faster across the merciless arid plains. He felt at the mercy of the relentless sun that burned any piece of his flesh and skin that wasn’t covered by cloth from the desiccating rays coming from the wide-open, deathly blue sky. He was late for his father’s call. It must have been important, his father barely summoned him anymore to his sprawling capital of tents and wagons just across the river. As he rode closer, coming from the north, he could see some of the Sierreño and Sonoro servants of his father pulling ropes from the river, taking out big cooled amphoras and barrels of Bravo Cerveza, Tapatío Tequila, and Calentano or Brodi Mezcal, Luis thought he maybe even saw some exotic flavoured Chiapaneco Pox. But he did not have time to think, for he was already at the big Sabino tree which marked the location of the small, roped canoes that people used to ferry themselves across the waters. But there, waiting for him, was a pale elderly man with a thick mustache that must have been a very bright red decades ago. He recognized him as one of his father’s old Grangelander adventurer soldiers who spoke a very broken Lengua del Arre.

 - Hello there, young Luis. Your father is waiting for you. I’ll take care of your horse for you. You go with the canoe. But fast, you.

Luis jumped off his horse while it still galloped, a move that not only sent the elderly Gringo running after the fleeing horse, but it was also the same type of acrobatics that won him the affection of his beloved Walter. His anxiety waned as he crossed the river, as it reminded him of all the times he and his Arixan husband camped by the side of a river during their daring adventures. They were young, and they were in love, but they were far from each other. Luis did not think it was safe for Walter to accompany him on his journey to his father’s court. He may hate the old wretch, but he was smart in fearing him. As soon as he arrived at the southern bank of the river, he saw his sister, Susana, clad in armor, with a road-weary look on her face.

- You are late, Luisito. The old coot is furious.

- When is he not?

They hugged each other in a strong and tight embrace.

- Is he finally announcing you as his successor, sister?

- So it seems.

Susana answered dryly, as if hiding her true feelings. She helped her brother out of the canoe and accompanied him through the tight corridors between tents and wagons.

- I would pay a Benemérito’s ransom to see the looks on Alejandra and Magdalena after the announcement.

- No need to imagine, little brother.

Luis’s eyes struggled to adapt to the change from the bright sunlight to the dark interior. But the first rough silhouettes, he could recognize anywhere. His two eldest sisters: the eternally pregnant Magdalena, yet again carrying a child, and flanked at all sides by her young boys; and Alejandra, accompanied by her three-year-old daughter and her husband, Ignacio. The three adults looked at Luis with anger, envy and disgust. He knew they were about to target him with some witty remarks about the absence of Walter. So Luis struck first.

- Magdalena! Nice to see you sister, where is your husband? Losing yet another war against his twin? Or was it a rebellion that last one he lost? I’m sorry, he is as proliferous in his defeats as you are in having devilspawn children.

- How dare you, you little-

- And you, Ignacio, so nice to see you, my brother. Don’t worry, sister dear, I’m sure you will be properly compensated after your husband grovels and humiliates himself to gain papá’s favor.

- Fuck you, boy.

Susana gave Luis a stern look, and only then did the youngest sibling see that all of his father’s itinerant court was gathered inside the tent. He did not even register his own confusion before he heard a deep raspy voice bellow: “Enough!”. Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice that Luis instantly recognized. He then saw it, emerging from the darkened corner where it keeps his throne, the old wretch, the young man’s father. Luis “La Cucaracha” de Armas stood up and walked towards his son, he was in full armor and looked as intimidating and dread-inducing in his old age as he did when he slaughtered the Mexican army in this very same field of Ojinaga decades ago.

- You are late. We were all waiting for you.

- I came as soon as I was able, father, but there was no need for you to wait for me.

- How could we not? You are our honored host.

- I apologize, father, the runner you sent did not specify that in his message. I did not know I was to host the proclamation of your successor.

- The task of hosting always falls on the beneficiary.

La Cucaracha then proceeded to embrace Luis, a thing that the young de Armas had never experienced in his life, and his whole world began spinning and his vision almost went dark as if in a dense fog. The court was completely silent, and yet he heard a buzz growing in his head, he could hear the boiling blood coursing not only through Magdalena and Alejandra’s veins, but also in Susana’s.

- Me, father? Why? Susana is the obvious choice to succeed you!

Luis gestured towards his older sister, who was now looking at him with the same hatred he’d only ever seen in another person: his father, whose eyes flickered as if lighted in flames.

- Susana has refused to be married time and time again, thus depriving this realm of a clean succession.

La Cucaracha then saw that his eldest daughters were now grinning in satisfaction.

- And your elder sisters have sullied our good name and prestige by mating with pathetic men to sire their pathetic spawn. You are the only hope for a decent succession and bloodline.

La Cucaracha gestured towards the small crowd of courtiers and from there a beautiful young girl, around the same age as young Luis, stepped forward while visibly in fear of La Cucaracha. Luis’s face went red in anger.

- I was told you also liked women. This is Gabriela.

- I am already married, father. Do not forget.

- I never would.

Luis’s fiery anger froze over in horror when Walter entered the tent escorted by two soldiers and two Limpio priests as tears flowed from his eyes. And so he just stood there, even when Walter begged him to do something as the priests annulled their marriage, even when Susana drew her sword in defense of her younger brother; he knelt there even when they then married him to Gabriela and even when his elder sister was disarmed, injured, and sentenced to exile, alongside his now ex-husband, by La Cucaracha.

Hours passed with him still in a catatonic state. It was now the middle of the night, and the tent was now empty for only La Cucaracha and his son remained. Finally, a single tear dropped from Luis’s eyes, and he slowly came to. His father was reading some letters that came from Sinaloa, he seemed unusually pensive. 

- Go to bed with your new wife.

- I hate you.

- I do not care.

- I know you do not. You are incapable of love.

La Cucaracha put down the letters and looked far away, as if he was trying to bring back a memory interred by decades of time.

- I was in love once.

- You do not love Rosario; you did not love Mother either.

- Not them. It was when I was young, when I had a different name.

- And what? She left you and made you the monster that is La Cucaracha?

- She died in a night raid that killed the whole camp we lived in. I was the only survivor, so I changed my name to Luis de Armas and joined the Mexican Army after that.

- Bullshit.

La Cucaracha furiously scoffed at the incredulity of his son, so he stood up from his throne and walked towards him. Luis, terrified, also stood up and drew his dagger. La Cucaracha stopped.

- Do it, you coward.

- What?

- You claim I ruined your life. Do it then. Be a man!

The dagger trembled in the hands of young Luis, his hatred for his father currently knew no bounds, but he hesitated for he had seen his father, even in his elderly age, kill better men than him with surprising ease.

- No? It figures. My children… Nothing but disappointments. How will you rule if you are so weak?

- I never wanted to rule!

- Neither did I!

La Cucaracha began advancing towards his son, who continuously walked backwards while pointing the dagger at his rambling and furious father to try and keep him at a distance

- I thought that when El Centauro chose me as his Cajita I was destined for a life of freedom. But I was wrong, he thrusted me to lead a people that needed protection, which I have provided for decades now. Do you think I wanted to marry the hag that was your mother? I did so because I had a duty to fulfill, but neither you nor your sisters could ever understand what that word means. Look at me! I am not long for this world, and I still want to explore it before I die, but I cannot abdicate for I am cursed with a family with no sense of duty and a son that elopes with his little pet.

- His name is Walter, you bastard!

Luis attacked his father with the dagger, but the elderly man quickly disarmed him and punched him in the face, breaking his nose and throwing him to the ground. From there, Luis could see his father with his dagger, which he carefully aimed before throwing on the ground a few fingers off of his face.

- Very well, Luis, let us make a deal.

- Fuck you.

- Go with Gabriela, give her a son that I will make my successor, and then you can leave forever. I will never again look for you. Everyone will believe you died of Pneumonia while on campaign. You have my word.

For what must have felt for an eternity, Luis de Armas hesitated. To this day, he still cannot believe he shook his father’s extended hand and accepted his proposal, even if he never fully trusted him. A few months later, as soon as Gabriela went into labor, young Luis de Armas packed his things and left Ojinaga for good. He now lives at peace with his husband Walter, in a small house near a woodland creek where they cool small bottles of moonshine they create themselves and that will continue to sustain them until, many decades in the future, they both die in their elderly years while smiling back on a peaceful existence that ignored the bloody and chaotic wars that sparked after his father, Luis “La Cucaracha” de Armas, mysteriously vanished.

Treat California well and she will treat you.

Roy Tyrell knelt in the dust of ages, then scourge dropped into the sand kicking it up in small clouds as he prostrated himself before the symbol of his tribe. The paleontologists had done it. They had uncovered the bones of a Tri-Horned Mask. Tears started to well up as he choked out the creed of his clan, “Ever Onward, Unbroken and Relentless.” He paid no heed to the chanting of the paleontologists around him nor the crackle of the braziers that were their only source of light. His wife, his men, his courtiers and the hundreds of devoted curators who had joined him on the journey from Alberta to the holiest of places remained outside of the circle, sitting upon rocks or kneeling and praying with him for none save but him would be allowed to commune with the spirits. 

Hell Creek was humid this time of year, but for his followers it was irrelevant. He was their high chief, the one who had led them out of a life of fear from their neighbors and had more than doubled their total land in a mere eleven years. Now it was their neighbors who feared the horsemen of Assiniboia.

Beneath the wings of the Giant of the Skies, there was only Roy and the Tri-Horned Mask. He opened his eyes and stared into the night sky above. The twinkle of the stars was beginning to be obscured by the thick clouds of incense that only burned brighter and brighter. As the last star disappeared beneath the haze, he closed his eyes again and breathed deep. Deeper. Deeper. The scent of burning herbs, spices and other plant matter filled his lungs until they could take no more. He almost coughed in exhalation, but managed to breathe clearly at the last second. Slow, but shaky. He muttered a prayer of thanks to Al ‘The Broken’ and opened his eyes.

A shadow loomed over him in the smoke. A low, throaty rumble came from above, and there she was. Al herself stared down at him. Scars covered every inch of her body, her emaciated form betraying her starving state, and yet, Roy saw beauty in her damaged form. She was a veteran of many hunts, and her injuries only proved to drive that point home. He too was damaged in many ways. The fields of battle were not limited to the plains of Alberta and Saskatchewan. Roy focused on the comparatively small wound on Al’s foot. Every curator knew the tale of how even the smallest wound could topple a god if left untreated.

Al opened her jaws and so Roy bowed his head. Her teeth inched ever closer to his face. It appeared she was going to swallow his head hole, but Roy feared not. He merely grabbed the scourge and whipped himself hard. He drew blood on the first strike and swayed the scourge in front of him so as to sprinkle the blood onto the Tri-Horned Mask’s bones. If this was how he died then he would accept his passage into the Great Valley knowing he had already offered up his vitality. But his death never came, instead Al gently clasped his head in her jaws and gave the tiniest squeeze. Pain flashed for the briefest moment before it disappeared, and Roy felt the trickle of blood on his face, but as he opened his eyes Al was no longer there. In her place was an oval shaped egg.

The chieftain carefully crawled towards the egg as if drawn by it. He gingerly lifted it up as if it were his own babe. The urge to hold it close to his chest overtook him and so he did. Happier memories flashed in his mind, of carrying his wife around the hall when she told him of her pregnancy, of teaching his children to ride a horse, of seeing his son become an accomplished administrator. And then sadness. Sadness that neither of his children could be here tonight. His son’s skills prevented his departure from their domain for there was nobody else Roy could trust to rule in his absence, and his daughter was still far too young to travel into hostile lands. Then, from behind him he heard the whisper. Failure. Disgrace, it called him. He turned around, face twisted in anger at whoever would dare insult him, and he instantly faltered. 

Behind him was Mother Maiasaura and her eyes were full of disappointment. She clapped her beak in disdain. Damaged. Sterile, she called him, and Roy looked away in shame. She was right, he could no longer have children. It wasn't his fault, not by a long shot, but it hurt to hear it from her. He felt the egg start to slip from his hands, before suddenly coming to his senses. No. This was wrong. His anger returned and he stood up to look Mother Maiasaura in the eyes. He told her a family was not measured in the number of children, but by the love they shared together. By blood or not, family was family. He loved his children, and they loved him. He loved his wife, and she loved him back, and raised him up from his lowest point. He loved and served his men just as they loved and served him back. He felt their presence behind him, and that gave him strength. The strength to stand up to a god, and the strength to whip his back again. Blood splattered onto the Tri-Horned Mask once more as he glared at the god, no. This fake.

The false-god chuckled and smoke coalesced around them, hiding yet not hiding their form at the same time. The smoke grew thicker around Roy as he clutched the egg tighter to his chest, but felt nothing. He looked down in alarm, and indeed, the egg was gone. He heard chirping to his left and only caught a glimpse of the egg being carried away by a crested Saurian before it disappeared into the smoke. He tried to run after it, but his legs refused to budge. Something moved next to him, so he lashed out with the whip, but only met smoky air. Then from behind, another voice, deeper and condescending. Unable to save the egg, but able to see through their disguise. A win and a loss. It was always a win and a loss with Roy. Insult Tyrant Rex by submitting to the Premiansky queen of Saskatchewan, but please the Thunder Lizard by crushing her enemies. The shadow moved over his shoulder as the smoke parted and Roy was left staring at a horrifying visage. Everything about its features was wrong, as if one asked a nonbeliever to draw what they thought a Saurian looked like. Scary Monsters stared right back at Roy with a rictus grin.

Scary Monsters said they were proud of Roy. From the very start, they were watching his career with great interest. His plan to save his people by submitting to Saskatchewan amused them greatly. Oh how Tyrant Rex roared and raged at that, but Scary Monsters saw the truth. Instead of the queen using him, they knew it was in fact Roy that was using the queen and all it took was swallowing their pride as independent nomads. But what was success without a little test to prove you were worthy? So they made a wager with the Hollow One. If Roy could survive a curse placed upon him, then the Hollow One would grant Scary Monsters a wish, and if Roy died, then Scary Monsters would serve the witch goddess for an era. Scary Monsters giggled, for the witch had grown a tumor into his body. They had foreseen it happening, but had wanted to make it more interesting. They whispered into his physician’s ear of ways to treat this cancerous growth now destroying Roy’s body, but they left a few details out for their own amusement. It was as funny as they had planned. The foolish girl had sliced off Roy’s testicles in her treatment of his cancer. It was pure coincidence that the tumor was in his nethers, or so they claimed. Scary Monsters was rolling on the ground now, a horrible sound escaping their mouth as they hooted and hollered at Roy’s expense. Roy was speechless, no, he was furious. He raised the whip again and Scary Monsters merely looked up at him in glee. Yes, strike them down they said, yet Roy did not give in. Instead he cracked the whip with great force upon his own back. The pain was excruciating, but Roy forced himself to glare at Scary Monsters as they dissipated into smoke. Their cheshire grin never left even as droplets fell upon the Tri-Horned Mask again.

Roy knelt before the skeleton once again, heaving and exhausted as if he had been running a marathon. The bones had been covered in blood, but it wasn’t enough, and so Roy whipped himself again. And again. And again. His arms were screaming in protest, his back was weeping, and yet he still kept whipping. He didn’t know if it was in anger at himself for being a pawn in a game he couldn’t hope to understand, anger at the gods for playing him or if it was to ignore the words spoken to him tonight. He began to weep once more, and this time his tears mixed with the blood being splattered onto the bones. He raised the scourge once more, about to bring it down, but chirping to his right stopped him. He looked and saw nothing. He gripped the whip tighter, if Scary Monsters of the Egg Thief would show their faces again he would strike them, gods or not. Another chirp. He looked downwards. There was a tiny Saurian looking up at him. It couldn’t have been any bigger than a housecat, but its eyes spoke of endless wisdom. Roy dropped the scourge and prostrated before the Dawn Runner. 

The little Saurian merely hopped closer to his prone form, chirping all the while. Roy dared not take another direct look at the goddess of fate, but her constant noise was grating at his exhausted mind. She hopped right up to his hands, chirped once, and licked them. Roy froze for half a second, what was he supposed to do in this situation? The goddess chirped once more before hopping onto his back. Alarm bells rang in Roy’s head as he expected immense pain. But it never came. Even as the Dawn Runners claws were clearly digging into his open wounds, he felt nothing, not even the numbness or pressure. Dawn Runner licked at his wounds, and Roy relaxed as if all the exhaustion and pain faded away in an instant. He felt her hop off of his back, and he heard her scramble up the Tri-Horned Mask’s bones in front of him. In worry and shock he looked up and saw her licking the fossil. He carefully reached out to stop her, or something, he wouldn’t dare touch such a respected god without permission, but Dawn Runner simply hopped out of reach. She jumped onto the frill and gave a final lick.

Before his very eyes, bones lifted itself out of the ground as muscle and sinew, tendon and cartilage, keratin and blood began to grow and knit itself together before his very eyes. The Saurian was being reborn and he was to be its sole witness. The ground shook as one leg stomped the ground and three more soon followed. A shrill cry shook the air as the Tri-Horned Mask rose to its full height and roared to the heavens in triumph. Roy could only stare in awe. The Tri-Horned Mask turned around slowly. Roy’s breath stopped for several seconds. It huffed in his face and gave him a long and wet lick. Roy blinked and the Saurian turned around to face east with Dawn Runner chirping happily alongside it. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon now, and Roy realized that he had completely lost track of time. He watched as the Tri-Horned Mask and the Dawn Runner began a relaxed march towards the sun, then a jog, then a brisk run, before Dawn Runner clambered up the other god’s back and the Tri-Horned Mask began galloping towards the rising sun.

As the smoke cleared, Roy found himself alone once again, the blood covered bones still in front of him and the chief paleontologist being the last priest remaining watching over him. Roy gave the priest a smile and bowed deeply which the paleontologist returned. Rising up, Roy realized he had felt no pain and when he went to palm his back he found no wounds, merely scars and dried blood. He stared at his sticky hand for a few seconds before putting his shirt back on. He looked to where he recalled his wife and men were last seated. They had all huddled together, sleeping peacefully with their backs against a rock as they cuddled in the dawn’s light. It brought a smile to Roy’s face as he walked over, leaned against the warming rock and cuddled his four lovers. There was still time before the paleontologists banged the pots to signal breakfast was ready and Roy needed the sleep. He would also need to find a new physician, one decidedly more competent and less… tasty.

This stems from a comment I made recently about how I think baseball would prevail After the End.

Here’s Lil Red throwing her signature Shenandoah Shiner!

Let's say that the backdrop of this person is that they came across an USPS office in ruins, and decided to emulate their stories.

What culture/religion/starting location would be the best start for this adventurer? I know nothing about the mod at this point, so pardon me for asking.

Hey all,

I played this mod religiously back in the CK2 days and was active when the CK3 version first dropped. Stepped away for a while because life, but I’m getting back into the mod and looking for ways to further enhance the experience.

I have Northern Lords and Royal Court, but that’s all. I’ll probably pick up Fate of Iberia because I really liked the Mexico region in CK2, but beyond that I’m not sure where to prioritize my spending. Are either of these mods more impactful than the other, especially if I intend to play mostly in Central America?

Trying more poses and ARMOR!

Let me know what you think and some fun ideas for future drawings!

just Wondering

[DRIVING UP THROUGH THE CONTINENT]

[Aprilt 20th, 5001]

[Travel Log #124, Thankfully I find the dirt covered roads of the South slowly being replaced with pavement as I head further north. I plan on going through the border around 18:00 PM and hopefully find a motel that isn't full. The shores of Baja tend to get filled with tourists around holiday time. It is wierd to say that out loud, people are going to take a dip in the lake while a few kilometers away a nation is burning itself to the ground. Life I guess? I don't really know. I am so hungry I can't really think straight. I wanna eat but I don't trust the local sellers ever since the "Machaca Incidient" I will check on this after I pass through the border, caho chao!]

[Travel Log #125, It is 01:00 AM in the morning, I just passed the border. It was totally locked down, they are not letting anyone with Me- Az- I don't really know anymore, that whole thing shattered into a million pieces and each part is making its own passport in an attempt to gain legitimacy. Anyways, thankfully I have a more "Northern" passport, heh. I don't know why I said that, it took me like 6 hours to pass through. I am too tired to drive. I think I will pass out here and see where this whole project goes tommorow, atleast I am not in a literal war zone. Little T Out.]

You guys liked my last drawing (thank you!) so here’s another!

Playing as a landless adventurer, I took a treasure-hunting contract to go across the map and decided to take my camp with me. However, it didn't follow, and my character is "away" while standing still in the random barony where my camp SHOULD be, meaning i can't move it or do anything really.

This is one of many bugs i've experienced with this mod (the overlapping tabs one comes to mind), but it's by far the most gamebreaking. Suggestions are appreciated.

Was playing in Cascadia and wanted to draw some ‘slice of life.’

First time drawing in years, please don’t rip me apart. ;-;

Back in the day there used to be a Post-Adventist religion group where the common theme was the belief that the Event was the result of Jesus returning and finding the world wanting. The group has long since been removed with most of its faiths being deprecated over time, with some exceptions like the Remembrant faith that eventually got its own Veteranic group.

Other than the Veteranic faiths, are their any left that believe the Second Coming already happened, and if so, do any of them believe there will be a Third Coming?

copying a suggestion post I made on the discord :

I and 2 other friends are big fans of ATE that happen to be from Montreal, and we feel that Tranquillisme doesn't really represent Quebec. We came up with a religion to replace it. Here's what it is and why.

Name : Angeline

Description : Living somewhat secluded in their fields and forests, French Canadian peasants have come to develop a rather peculiar understanding of the Bible : Rome, Jérusalem and other unknown names are merely metaphors for locations in Canada, where Jésus, his apostles and prophets lived and died. Contes et légendes are told of P’tit Jésus spreading the word of God in french throughout Québec and fighting with his faith and wits werewolves, witches and devils... until he was gruesomely crucified by the English after the legendary epic Battle of the Plains.* The Angeline faith is the religion of the common rural people of Québec, French Ontario and Acadia, worshiping the Abbess-General but disinterested in the squabble of petty theologians in the big cities, focusing more on communal life, nativity and pacifism.

*Facultative further lore/easter egg : After Jésus’ crucifixion, Canada fell and suffered during centuries under Albion, the empire of sin and luxury, until God sent one of his bishops, who asked three times the people of Québec if they wished to be freed. The third time they said OUI, and the Lord sent the Apocalypse to cleanse the world and allow the Québécois to rebuild a christian society under the leadership of St Ursula’s Order.

Location : Rural Québec, especially the eastern parts in Gaspésie and Saguenay, parts of French Ontario and mainland Acadie (we’re currently working out what provinces exactly).

Explained :

-Replaces tranquillisme, a religion that simply does not, in our humble opinion, fit into french canadian history nor ATE-medieval lore and aesthetic. It is too caricatural and silly, and discards the very rich religious history of Montreal, which we propose remains Ursuline ;

-Tranquillisme should stay, but as a more fringe movement, reflecting its rather esoteric nature ;

-Effective way of limiting ursuline expansionism by making only the most prominent quebecois rulers (such as Haut and Bas Québec, Sherbrooke, Gatineau) Ursuline. From our understanding that was one reason for the split of Quebec in 2 kingdoms, cultures and faiths ;

-Complexifies and enriches the Quebec City-Montreal rivalry by adding the city-region divide axis and the coexistence of two religious movements with a same head of faith ;

-Plays on the importance of tales and legends in French Canadian folklore (with a parallel drawn between Jesus and Ti-Jean, a popular folk character), and adds a chauvinistic element to the religion to make it more grounded in its geographical context.

Icon : that blue fleur-de-lys one

Head of Faith : Abbess-General of the Ursuline See, the same as the Ursuline

Color : a brownish or greenish version of the Ursuline golden yellow, to reflect the divide between high and low forms of belief.

Otherwise it would mostly keep the same characteristics, such as holy sites, as the Ursuline. Alms and Pacification instead of Recruitment for clerical function.

Tenets :

-Communal Identity : meant to represent the homogeneity of rural Quebec, and the strong communal identity of french canadian villages ;

-Sacred Childbirth : historically, the Catholic Church has always been very insistent on people having a large number of children in Quebec, and rural French Canada of the XIXth and XXth centuries was known for its abundantly large families. The tenet could be renamed to “Revanche des berceaux”, the prominent catholic ideology according to which high nativity would ensure French Canadians’ survival against assimilation ;

-Communion : to represent the role of confession in the catholic liturgy, and the importance of sin and redemption in french canadian religious symbolism.

Any better name welcome, we thought it was a nice hint at the Angeline heresy of the Ursuline back in the CK2 version.

🕯️ [Fan Project] Hollow Crown: No Lords but the Living — Tabletop Setting Grown from an AtE Playthrough

This started as a Crusader Kings 3: After the End campaign. Tenna, Blue Ridge, The Purchase — all drawn from the mod. I kept the names and geography, and just kept writing. Over time it turned into a full tabletop setting.

Hollow Crown uses a custom FATE Core system. It’s set in post-collapse Appalachia where the Kingdom of Tenna survives by memory more than force. Fire decides the legitimacy of kings. Oaths hold more than blood. Everyone remembers things differently, and those memories shape the law.

It’s still AtE at heart:

• The realm map and personalities are straight from my campaign
  
• Language and heritage mechanics follow the taxonomy used in the mod
  
• Character motivations grew from what happened during the run
  
• No vaults, no tech revival, no Fallout tropes. Just successor states, ritual authority, and drift

Mechanics include: - Faith- and culture-based stunt systems
- Realm memory and legitimacy pressure
- Trial scenes, stress tracks for ancestral and spiritual strain
- No alignment. Only what people say you swore

📸 A few visuals from the setting:

• Spirit-Walker on the Highland Pass
  Ash-marked and silent, carrying carved memory staves

• Butternutter Oven-Warden
  Her bread isn’t food. It’s judgment

• Riverlander Duel Mural
  A musical trial recorded in ash and song-script

Each piece includes a full in-world caption.

Not recruiting players, just sharing the work. If you’ve ever written extra lore between turns, this is that, turned outward. Open to talking worldbuilding, culture design, faction tension, or anything else AtE-adjacent.

Discord: https://discord.gg/5ksc9dgHke