KnightofTempest
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OG: Chapter 31
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 17:02:08 +0000 UTCI awoke with a pounding headache, as if having drunk myself to sleep. I shifted on the bed I'd been lying down on, finding it filled with straw, with the wool blankets itchy as all hell. Looking down, I realized that I had a new body. While I was still augmented both chemically and cybernetically, my augments were far less apparent on this body than they were on the previous one, with no outward signs of them anywhere to be found. Around my neck, a small gold chain with a gold medallion worked in the image of a flame hung. I stumbled to my feet and made my way over to the wash basin, washing my face before drying it off with the threadbare cloth provided.
Looking at my reflection in the wash basin showed the face of a young man in his mid-twenties with a goatee and hair shaved at the neck and sides at the same length, while the hair on top was longer, a czupryna haircut. Combined with the golden flame symbol, one I recognized as being that of the God Dazh, Kislevite God of Fire, the Sun, the Hearth, and the Forge, there was really only one takeaway from this. Vulcan had put me in the body of a Kislevite, though I was clearly a Gospodar and not an Ungol, or worse, a Roppsman from Troll Country.
As I pondered on how lucky I was to be born to the ethnicity on top in Kislev this time around, a flood of memories hit me, making me wince in pain. That pain quickly faded as the Memories settled and my Perpetuality soothed any lingering aches. Suddenly, I realized I was even luckier than I had thought. My Identity in this life was Konstantin Henryk Ptorski, the secondborn son of Michal August Ptorski, Boyar of Ptorsk, a City in the Southern Oblast that sat at the Confluence of the Urskoy, Lesser Tobol, and Greater Tobol, where the plains of the Southern Oblast met the Grenze Hills and the Shirokij Forest. I was of Boyar Rank, equivalent to a Duke in a place like Nordheim or Ostermark, or a Count in Wissenland or Reikland in Sigmar's Empire. I'd been given the finest education in matters scientific, religious, legal, and military accordingly.
The only problem was that, as the second son, it was my Elder Brother, Mariusz Olbracht, who would inherit Ptorsk. I had the rank, but not the title or the land to go with it. As a second son, my options had been to join the Tzar's Rota and win a grant of land of my own, join the Clergy and climb the Clerical Ranks, or seek my fortune abroad. Apparently, I had chosen the last one, investing in a cargo of Furs and Amber before signing on with a trade caravan heading east for Grand Cathay. I had, apparently, clashed with a Group of Kurgan Marauders as we passed through the High Pass, claiming my first kill in the heat of battle then, though I had apparently killed before in duels. Another skirmish with Bandits as we exited the High Pass had apparently been where I acquired the scar that cut across my chest.
Passing through the lands of the Chaos Dwarves was risky, but aside from a pair of small skirmishes, first with a group of Orcs clad in the usual Scrap Armor on the Road of Skulls, then with a small group of Chaos Dwarves that, fortunately, seemed to have been caught off guard by our approach, as they were coralling a group of Human Slaves alongside a band of poorly equipped Goblin Slaves East of the Tower of Zharr-Naggrund, we saw little action. That first battle had seen two of our guards wounded in exchange for the annihilation of the Orcs, and the second had seen two of our guards being slain in exchange for the annihilation of the Chaos Dwarves and the scattering of the Goblins. We struck the chains off the slaves, who thanked us before fleeing for the Sentinels, while we headed east into the Ogre Kingdoms.
We spent the winter there, trading with an Ogre Tribe, the Loose Tooth Tribe. Their Tyrant, Smaug Sparkbelch, was a Firebelly of some renown, and eagerly allowed us to winter with his tribe in exchange for the recipe for Kvas. Of course, as each member of the Caravan had their own Kvas Recipe, each in varying strength and flavour, that trade sustained us through the winter, even after we lost three guards wounded in a Yhetee Attack. It was during that attack that I had apparently not only claimed my tenth kill, but also rescued a Sabretusk Cub that the Yhetees had been saving as emergency rations. A white coated cub with black spots that I named Radamantes. Radamenes came with me when we left the Ogre Kingdoms for the Great Steppe beyond, he had been with me ever since. As I thought of him, though, my gaze was drawn to the corner of the room, where a snoring adolescent Sabretusk was snuggled up in a nest of woolen blankets, tufted ears twitching as if sensing he was being looked at.
"You know, you look adorable enough like this, one could almost forget you have teeth the size and sharpness of daggers." I mused.
He'd proven it too, on the way back from Cathay during a raid by Hobgoblin Wolf Riders from the Great Horde of Hobgobla Khan. I had seen four of the riders off with pistol and sword, but a fifth was coming up from behind me with a lance when Radamenes had pounced on him, bearing him from the saddle and ripping his throat out with daggerlike teeth. The other guards of the Caravan I had been traveling with saw off the remaining fifteen Wolf Riders. That hadn't been the only time Radamenes had saved me, of course, just the first. It had been the first time he'd been big enough and needed to fight.
That had been because I had spent a couple of years in the City of Shang-Yang, learning Cathayan Low Alchemy in lessons purchased with the vast profits from my stake in the Caravan, though I didn't have the time or the inclination to learn the basics of High Alchemy, as that would require being tested for Magical Potential, which would likely see me purged by the Chekists on return to Kislev, as Male Magic Users not belonging to one of the Priesthoods of the Cults of the Kislevite Gods were illegal in Kislev, thanks to careful politicking by the Ice Witches over the centuries. Of course, I suspected I would be able to learn to wield Chamon with time and effort, or possibly with the help of my powers, but there was no need to tempt fate.
However, by the time I had left Grand Cathay, my funds were dwindling, and I returned West with another caravan. At that point, I had been twenty-three years old and had slain dozens of men and monsters, seeing more than most of the world. The Trip Back took a full two years, with Radamenes and I taking ship from Pigbarter, where I had slain a group of Gnoblar Cutthroats that had tried to attack the Caravan, being separated from the others in the process. That had necessitated that I find my own way back via ship, where I largely paid for passage by working as a sailor, learning on the job, so to speak.
It had been a journey that had us sailing for a year, stopping at the City of Spires in Ind to take on a cargo of Cloves, Cinnamon, and Black Peppercorn Spices, sailing south to Mangrove Port in the Southlands and fending off an attack from a small group of Saurus Warriors that had been turned into Skeletons by the magics of Nehekara leaking down from Rasetra in the North. Rounding the Southlands and up the western coast to Sudenberg in Araby, where we traded the Spices with a Marienburger Trading Operation for Silver, fending off Arabyan Corsairs as we sailed north. Putting into port in Bordeleaux to purchase fine wines, where I found myself dealing with a minor raid from Beastmen on the Vineyard we were purchasing from that resulted in the Bray Shaman of the War Party summoning a trio of Chaos Furies to bolster his flagging forces, forcing me to result to some hastily improvised Alchemical Explosives to win the day.
With the Vineyard saved and the wine cargo retrieved, we sailed out for Marienburg to sell the stuff out in the Wasteland, making a small pile of silver in the smaller towns and villages south of Marienburg Proper, and also running afoul of a group of Fimir in the bogs there that we were forced to fight off. Returning to Marienburg, I found myself having to slay a group of Skaven Gutter Runners that had targeted a local noblewoman, who was so thankful for the assistance that she handed me a sapphire and ruby-studded necklace that was worth more than my share of the Silver from selling the Bordeleaux Wine. I sold the necklace in Marienburg and used the money to finance my trip South, ultimately winding up in the Border Princes.
At that point, I had fought almost every major enemy force in the Known World, save perhaps for live Lizardmen and Marauding Ogres. I had learned Low Alchemy from Cathayan Masters, picked up skills in sailing and trade, and seen far more of the World than most. It was honestly a hell of a resume that Vulcan had given me. Now I had to figure out where to go from here.
Shrugging on my tunic and buckling on my swordbelt and brace of pistols, I headed out of the back room into the tavern to try and figure out just that issue. . .
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The Tavern, it turned out, was called the Sollander's Soujourn. It was operated by Madame Hildegard, though saying she was a Madame was a bit of a misnomer. Hildegard was a young, attractive, Imperial Woman, with golden-blonde hair and a bust that her corset did interesting things to. She was also no-nonsense and quick enough with a knife to make anyone thinking of taking liberties with her think again. I suppose you would have to be good with some kind of weaponry to be a female tavernkeeper in a place like the Border Princes.
I nodded to her as I exited, and she nodded back, pouring a mug of Helles, a type of pale lager popular in Wissenland, the Former Solland, Parts of Averland, and the more Imperial parts of the Border Princes, such as Akendorf and Munzig. She slid the mug over to me, and I drank it down, toasting her with my now-empty mug.
"It's not Kvas, but few things are." I offered.
"Kislevites." Scoffed Hildegard.
"And just what is wrong with being a Kislevite?" I questioned.
"You would think that with as many places as you claim to have seen, you'd have developed a taste for better drink. Apparently not, though." She shrugged.
"I have been to many places, and that is why I appreciate Kvas all the more." I opined.
"You can't be serious. Whatever for?" Queried Hildegard.
"Do you not also wish for a taste of home in foreign lands? Is that not why you brew the Helles?" I asked.
"I brew Helles because it was what Papa taught me to brew before he got his head lopped off by a Greenskin's Cleaver." Pointed out Hildegard.
"And left you this fine establishment to remember him by, no doubt." I nodded.
"It was that or starve." Shrugged Hildegard.
As we bantered, however, a trio of adventurous-looking types entered the tavern, filtering in one after the other. The first was a teenage boy with the auburn hair and blue eyes of an Imperial who couldn't be older than seventeen. However, the protective charm he wore as a belt buckle, the neck pouch made of the hide of a shrew, and the fellstave of carved wood, etched with a ward of protection versus Goblins marked him out as one of the Hedgefolk, even if the leather traveling robes and floppy wizard hat didn't give him away. He took a seat at a table, tapping his right foot nervously as he did so. Next in came an olive-skinned, black-haired, Tilean Man in reinforced leather armor, with a Tilean-style Sidesword and a thick-bladed Tilean Parrying Dagger sheathed at his waist. Lastly, a Bruenette Woman with a Bretonnian-style Shortsword in leather armor and a hooded cloak entered.
"What's all that about?" I questioned to Hildegard.
"It's all because of that Arabyan Ruin that recently got unearthed out in the hills west of town." Sighed Hildegard.
"Oh?" I queried.
"Apparently, Piers Van Rijn put a bounty on any Arabyan Artefacts that could be recovered from the ruins. Since he's the richest man in Town, that's attracted the usual sort of ruffians. So far, most haven't managed to come back with anything. Apparently, a small band of Greenskins has made their home in the Hills near the ruins. Not many, fewer than fifty by all accounts, and mostly Goblins with a few Squigs. That's been enough to send most opportunists packing. Those three, though, don't look like the usual cutthroats." Summed up Hildegard.
"Is that so?" I asked.
"I know what you're thinking. That's probably a bad idea, but then, you arrived here with a tamed sabretusk, so what do I know?" Grumbled Hildegard.
As I looked over, I saw that the trio of Adventurers had managed to congregate together at the same table. Hildegard busied herself pouring me a second Helles, and as I grabbed the mug, I stood up. That caught the eye of the Tilean, who waved me over. As I made my way across the common room of the Sollander's Sojourn and sat down at the table, it was the Woman of the Group who spoke up first.
"Ce n'est pas trop tôt! It's about time, I thought you would never approach!" Drawled the Woman in a faint Regional Bretonnian Accent that suggested both that she was from Moussillon and that she had enough money or influence to hire tutors to teach her to hide the accent, which indicated nobility.
"Were you expecting me?" I questioned.
"Specifically? No. But you're the only other person in here who looks like they know their way around a fight." Responded the Hedgefolk Teen in the muted tones of a Wissenlander.
"And you thought I would come and join you because?" I queried.
"Don't play coy, you have to know about the bounty for Arabyan Relics." Growled the Tilean with a clipped accent that suggested Luccini or Sartosa as probable origins.
"And you thought I would agree to join you all?" I asked.
"Why not? Four is better than three, after all." Shrugged the Woman.
"Agreed. First, however, introductions. I am Konstantin Henryk Ptorski, son of Michal August Ptorski, Boyar of Ptorsk." I began.
"Wisdom Anders Hellmann. Former Apprentice of Wisdom Karl Brauer." Introduced the Teen Hedgefolk.
"Ruggiero Colosimo, Duellist, formerly of the Pavezzano Guard." Nodded the Tilean.
"Martine de Luxembourg. Scout." Nodded the Woman, tersely.
And with that, I sat down at the table, beginning to get to know my new companions. None of us was well-equipped, but I could fix that with time. Unfortunately, I did not seem to have access to my factory or workshop at the moment. I got the sense that I needed to wait until a certain milestone had passed in order to regain access, though I wasn't sure exactly what that milestone could be. Fortunately, I didn't need access to my Workshop to create some things. I just needed a forge and access to equipment and ingredients for distilling. Fortunately, both could be acquired fairly easily in town. I was able to get my new companions to agree to hold off for a few days while I got everything in order.
With that done, I returned to the back room of the Sollander's Soujourn with a plate of sausages for Radamenes, watching as the Adolescent Sabretusk tucked into the garlicky pork with a purr of delight. Then I headed out to begin getting things together. The first stop was the easiest, distilling equipment and ingredients. The local apothecary of Alynda was Old Szymon, a countryman of mine who had left Kislev back in the aftermath of Tzar Vladimir's Death, before Tzar Boris proved he could actually handle the task of beating back the hordes of Beastmen, Marauders, and Greenskins that had plagued Kislev. He proved amenable to letting me use his Apothecary Facilities for the next five days in exchange for the Ptorski Family Kvas Recipe. Apparently, he figured if it was good enough Kvas for a Boyar, it was worth trading for.
Next was sourcing a forge. This was more difficult, as the local Smithy was owned by Esteban Herrera, an Estalian from Javea on the Bay of Quietude who had left after he'd been cheated out of a betrothal a decade ago. Esteban had little and less sympathy for me to draw on. Instead, in order to make use of his forge, I would have to pay him in cold, hard coin. This further depleted my dwindling stock of cash, but I managed to purchase time in his forge for the next few days.
Lastly, was arranging the purchase of supplies. I needed various herbal, mineral, and animal components for distilling, as well as raw metal, wood, and leather for forging. The only place I could go to for all of those was the Van Rijn Trading Post, where Piers Van Rijn, the richest man in Alynda, did business. Apparently, Piers Van Rijn was the second son of a Minor Noble from a part of the Wasteland I hadn't visited, northeast of Marienburg Proper, a town called Aarnau. He'd done similarly to what I had, deciding to seek his fortune elsewhere, though in his case, it was entirely via trade. Word was, he had some fairly good connections with House de Roelef, one of the Houses that sat on the Directorate of Marienburg, and acted as their effective factor in the Border Princes. His prices were commensurate with that, and if I hadn't paid Hildegard for a month of room and board in advance, I would be worried about finding a place to sleep after the next forty-eight hours, as it had all but used up my remaining funds to purchase. In the end, though, I had obtained what I needed.
With that done, I settled down to get to work. The next five days would pass in a flurry of crafting, as I created Elite Platemail, Balanced Swords, Alchemical Treatments, and Enchantments for Armor and Blades, Salves of Accelerate Healing, Healing Salves, Alchemical Fatigue Cures, and a decent imitation of Leonardo Da Miragliano's Alchemical Powder, using World of Darkness Alchemy in place of Chamon. By the time I was done, I had managed to make a decent stockpile of everything, though naturally, my backup Elite Platemail and Balanced Swords had no Alchemical Treatments or Enchantments, unlike the ones for my companions and I. However, Piers Van Rijn still bought them, two suits of Elite Platemail and ten Balanced Swords for five-hundred-ninety Guilders, about half of what it was all worth, but that was still more than enough to purchase a Light Warhorse or a House in a Major City like Nuln.
As for the equipment that I did keep for myself and my new companions, I had the Elite Platemail Enchanted to be resistant to flame, electricity, cold, and acid, as well as alchemically treated with oil to lower noise and allow for ease of movement. Each Balanced Sword was enchanted to bypass mystical protections and to deal an extra measure of damage to undead and servants of the Ruinous Powers. All of the swords and armor were also enchanted to never need maintenance. In short, they were masterpieces of equipment, and I presented them to my companions, who, after a bit of questioning, agreed that the items were what I claimed they were.
Precisely six days after waking up on Mundus, I was finally ready to begin doing something. Martine, Ruggiero, Anders, Radamenes, and I left the small town of Alynda, traveling west toward the hills and the Arabyan Ruins beyond. What we would find there, when we finally got to delving into the ruins, would be a trove of artefacts, guarded by ancient magics. First, however, we would have to approach the ruins.
And that would bring us into conflict with the Bloodhillz Tribe of Goblins, led by Warboss Legslica. . .
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AN: All right, so here's the next chapter. Any of you who picked Kislevite for the MC's new background win an internet cookie. Of course, the Border Princes, being the Border Princes, are a massive melting pot for the restless and dispossessed from across the Old World, so you can expect folks from all backgrounds to be here. Case in point, the MC's latest group of companions consists of an Imperial Hedgefolk Spellcaster from Wissenland, a Runaway Bretonnian Noblewoman with an interesting past, and a Tilean Mercenary who may or may not be telling the truth about coming from Luccini instead of Sartosa.
At any rate, the next chapter will involve the approach to the Ruins and the encounter with the Bloodhillz Goblins. I'll also have an updated character sheet for the MC and a few more images out before then as well.
Stay tuned. . .
