Working on my Worm CYOA has really gotten the creative juices flowing again, and with the recent influx of WHFB stories I decided to try my hand at one in an area that few people seem to care about. . .Kislev.
I'll be working on this and my Worm CYOA at the same time, so bear with me, please
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I had gone to sleep last night after drinking quite a bit of booze. That was probably why my dream was so fucked up. I had been chased through a foggy void by a giant anthropomorphic bear. I desperately tried to get away from it as it roared at me, it's roaring somehow intelligible to me as warnings to "Not fuck up his people,'" and to "Do better than the rest of them or I'll eat you!" I ran away till I felt the air grow cold and the crunch of frost beneath my feet. I tried to run away more, but the giant anthropomorphic bear caught up with me. I tried to pick up the pace, but I slipped on the frosted surface of the ground and fell. The giant bear plodded up to me and I thought that I was going to die before it reached down with its head and gave me a lick with its long tongue. Being licked by a bear was weird enough, but when that bear was apparently sentient, it was on a whole other level. I went from being terrified to being confused before the bear swatted me in the chest with its paw, leaving a glowing imprint on my skin and sending me skidding across the frosted surface and over the lip of it. The last thing I remembered before waking up was the sensation of plummeting through the void.
I awoke it a daze feeling like I hadn't really slept. Looking around, I noticed that I was not in my normal bedroom. For one thing, there were no signs of electronics, for another, my bed was not the modern mattress I recalled with nice cotton sheets but made of furs and what felt like goose feathers. It took me taking in the room for a few moments to cotton onto what had happened. All at once, memories began to hit me. They were of a life I had not lived of a middle-ranking Boyar in a land I was familiar with from gaming. My name was apparently Tadeusz Yevchenko, I was the second son of the Magnate Karol Yevchenko, who was the ruler of Erengrad and the entire Western Oblast. While my older brother Simeon would inherit the city of Erengrad proper and the Oblast barring any unfortunate circumstances, I was given lands to rule of my own. Apparently, the town I was ruler over was called Chebokov and it was a small port town on the Sea of Claws, far enough away from Erengrad to get a small amount of traffic. Unfortunately, that also meant that it was far enough from Erengrad to be raided by Norscans before a relief force could arrive from the City. To make matters worse, the lands I was given as ruler of Chebokov were expansive enough that the northern border of my lands bordered Troll Country, a land that Kislev technically held no dominion over, that was filled with Roppsmen and Ungols that refused to bend the knee to the Tzars as well as mutated beasts and trolls as the deeper into Troll country you got, the closer you came towards the lands where Chaos reigned supreme. Tadeusz had been a pretty decent hand with a Sabre and an ok shot with a pistol, though thankfully my strategic and tactical mind was much better than his, which tended towards a charge the enemy and let Ursun sort them out mindset. I had to scratch my head for the date, though, as if it was close to the End Times, then I wouldn't exactly have enough time to do anything to change the fate of the Old World. After a moment's recollection, I found the date as 877 Gospodar Calendar. That meant I would have to do some quick math to convert to the Imperial Calendar, but after doing so, I let out a relieved sigh. It was 2401 Imperial Calendar. The End Times was 118 years away, probably far beyond my lifetime. That should hopefully be enough time to build up Kislev into an unbreakable Bulwark. I would need to use every bit of my knowledge and skill to do so.
Getting out of bed, went to the basin of water near my end table and washed my face, only to feel a slight twinge on my chest. Looking down I noticed a red mark in the shape of a bear's claw right over my heart. That's when the significance of the giant anthropomorphic bear in my dream hit me. It was Ursun. The Bear God and patron God of Kislev had been the one to ROB me here. I could only surmise that he wanted me to put Kislev in a position to withstand Archaeon as apparently nobody else was up to the task, though I blamed GW's shitty writing for that myself. Seriously, Kislev survived Asavar Kul and then Archeon goes and destroys it off-screen? Well, that won't happen this time around if I have anything to say about it. I felt the twinging from the mark resonate with my desire and looked down again.
It was then that I saw a few soft motes of light begin to be drawn into the mark on my chest and that's when the enormity of Ursun tasking this of me hit me. He hadn't just sent me into Tadeusz' body with knowledge of the setting as well as all the knowledge I had of IRL historical advancements, but he had gifted me something else as well, the ability to use magic. Ordinarily, that would be really bad but filtered through Ursun's mark any spell I cast would register to anyone who could see these things as priestly magic, something far less stigmatized than being a hedge witch. Still, it might be best if I went to the Priests of Ursun with this. If I could pass whatever tests they would give me to prove that I had been chosen by Ursun, I'd be able to get their blessing and tacit support, which would go a long way towards curbing any twitchy Chekists or Witch Hunters.
That was something I would have to do in a bit though. For now, it was time to get dressed and see about what needed to be done around town. Tadeusz's memories told me that he found the business of ruling tedious. He would much rather be riding or hunting, even fighting would be an improvement. Apparently, he'd been privately toying with the idea of forming his own Mercenary Company for action in the Border Princes and just up and abandoning Chebokov. He'd apparently even squirreled away a number of funds in preparation to do so. Those funds would now be turned towards the betterment of Chebokov. I couldn't believe what an asshole I'd wound up being inserted into! These people were close enough to Troll Country that spillover from the conflicts between Chaos and the independent Ungol and Roppsmen communities could happen at any time, and he wanted to abandon them to go off and play sellsword? Unbelievable!
I pulled on a white, long-sleeved, quilted gambeson and a leather jerkin, alongside some leather leggings, boots, and gloves. A fur hat with a green feather attached to it was placed atop my head and I buckled on my sword belt, with Sabre and pistol slung on either hip. I was dressed like I was expecting an attack, rather than like I was going to be holding court. I could have picked a more traditional and elaborate Kaftan for court, but honestly, from my memories there needed to be a few changes around here and this was the signal that they were coming down the pike. I threw on a dyed indigo damask cloak, my one concession to fashion in this whole outfit, and headed out the door. As I walked past a window I looked out at the small town below me. The Krepost of Chebokov was sited on a hill overlooking the rest of the town, it had its own wall and was one of only a few buildings in town made entirely of brick rather than mainly timber, the others being the Harbormaster's Office, guard barracks, and lighthouse tower. The rest were made up primarily of timber, even the town wall was an earth and wood palisade and rampart, with a dyke in front of it filled with stakes to help deter attack. Chebekov wasn't exactly where the money was in the Western Oblast, that privilege belonged to Erengrad with its expansive port and large market. Chebekov only got a modest amount of seaborne trade, and some of it was smugglers to boot, who didn't exactly pay port dues or taxes. I was going to have to fix that somehow, I had an idea of how to do it without disrupting trade too much, but it would take time to cement my position first.
As I entered the great hall my councilors looked shocked at my change of dress and demeanor. I could see most of them looking relieved, though the Harbormaster looked a bit alarmed. I'd have to keep an eye on him. After all, in Warhammer, if someone was corrupt it didn't just have to be about money and we were awfully close to Norsca and Troll Country. Hopefully, it was nothing and the guy was just a greedy prick, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
One of my Councillors, Andrej Bartovski, a vassal of mine with an interest in Cattle Ranching spoke up. "My Lord? You look determined today."
"I have found inspiration, Andrej. I had a dream of Ursun last night. Let us just say the Bear God kicked me out of my complacency." I chuckled.
Another of my councilors, Lev Anders, the man that was chosen to represent the guilds of my lands, spoke up. "It is good to hear that you are more serious about the business of ruling than previously, though I would caution you against saying that it was from a nighttime visitation of Ursun. The Priests of the Bear Father can get a bit twitchy about such claims." He said.
"That reminds me, I need to speak with Father Anton about the faith. I know he and the rest of the Cult don't like to come into town from their enclave in Grovod Wood, but I do really need a priest for my council." I said.
"I will send a messenger, but I do not know if anyone will arrive." Replied Captain Kiril Mikolaj, the Captain of my Pulk.
That business done with, I went about getting various reports from my council. The guilds had been having a decent amount of work from the recent trade deal with Ostland. Apparently Emperor Dieter IV seemingly only cares about his plans for rebuilding Nuln and while it hasn't caused a problem so far, it does mean that a lot of the funding that would have otherwise gone to the provinces as Imperial Subsidies has been funneled into Nuln instead. Apparently, this has caused Elector Count von Raukov to import from abroad and while Erengrad has the Lion's share of the trade going through Ostland's ports, Chebekov still has seen enough of an uptick in trade to keep the guilds in business and the coffers full.
Next, I received a report on the state of my Pulk. Apparently, they were very well drilled but could use better equipment. Many of the Streltsi were still using handgonnes and even those that weren't were using matchlocks. They could use some proper wheel locks, or maybe even those flintlocks that the Empire had been crowing about. At the same time, the Kossars assigned to me could use better armor, many of them were wearing leathers or furs and only the officers had chain armor. Beyond that, the Cavalry were fine, the Ungol Horse Archers from the Plains near troll country were always prepared and their kit was always in good repair as their lives often depended on it even outside of wartime, and the Winged Lancers that I had were as always in excellent kit, being sons of the nobility. However, what I really needed was artillery. What artillery we had was all placed in either the Lighthouse Tower to deter Norscan Raids or on the walls of the city in case of siege. We didn't really have much in the way of Artillery that we could bring to a field battle. Fortunately, I had a solution to that.
"I have a supply of gold set aside for emergencies, I will make funds for equipment purchases available to you, Captain," I said.
Captain Mikolaj gave a grateful look to me and said, "Thank you, my Lord. It will make defeating potential raids much easier."
I also heard from Lord Bartovski. He had a significant tract of land in the east of my lands, bordering the lands of the Lord of Pradeshynya. Apparently, several of his cattle had been stolen by an outlaw gang hiding out across the Border with Pradshynya. When he asked the Lord of Pradeshynya about justice, said Lord told him that many outlaws are hiding in the marshes of the Blight and that it would be impossible for him to go in there and rout them all. Doing such would only stir up the greenskins and beastmen who make the center of the Blight their home and cause a larger issue in doing so. I promised him I would look into the matter, as well as assign an extra cavalry patrol to the east, which seemed to mollify him.
That just left the Harbormaster, who seemed to couch the revenues from the port in misdirections and half-truths. Oh, he'd be glad to tell how much I was getting from dues and taxes and the like, and where that money was coming from, but I got the feeling that he was only telling me part of the story. As he spoke, the Mark of Ursun on my chest itched and if that wasn't a confirmation I don't know what was. After all, was it not said that Ursun could smell lies from a mile away? I would have to watch him very closely in the future. Resolved to do that, the Harbormaster finally ended his own briefing with a summary of revenue that I would be getting from the port, enough money to outfit half of my Kossars in mail armor, or buy 3 ships from the Erengrad docks. I had other plans.
After all, why buy individual suits of armor when you could manufacture them in-house?
I was going to look for armorers from Erengrad to establish an arms factory