This AAR is a megacampaign, running from CK2 → EU4 → Vic2, and will run to 1900.
Conversions were performed from both CK2 and EU4 once I hit particular in-game benchmarks, both of which happened well before each game’s stated end date. Also, as I’ve had a bad habit of abandoning AARs in the past, this whole thing is pre-written (which does, admittedly, limit how much I can respond in-game to feedback – although at least I have saves around for answering questions) and I intend to update daily, time permitting.
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The arrival of a polar bear was far from an unknown phenomenon for the people of the Kanin peninsula, or indeed for people living anywhere in the arctic; it was wise, if the manpower could be spared, to be aware of their locations. Not to kill them – killing one was a feat of arms only the bravest men could boast of – but to avoid hunting in the same areas, so that they did not steal their prey.
But the one who arrived from across the ice floes during the reign of Kolik the human – tradition says from the tiny island of Jan Mayen in the Arctic Ocean, but this may be mere legend – was different. Not content to leave the polar hunters be, he demanded tribute from the whole tribe – and, stranger still, received it. Kolik the Bear took the name of his predecessor, who he was reputed to have eaten, and those councilors who understood his grunts and growls as though they were a foreign language were said to have held that the two shared not just a name but a personality.
Religion, at least, was not an issue; this bear was reputed to be a follower of the great bear Otso, whose warriors comprised much of his friend circle, and of Tapio, god of hunting.
Kanin, it must be noted, was a small realm, even by the meager standards of the far north; Mezen, Zavarot, and Bjarmia were far more important. Bear totemism was not unknown in the region, so it was not always immediately clear to outsiders that Kolik the bear was a literal bear, and not a chieftain seeking novel ways of cementing his rule. For over a decade after his arrival, this situation held – few outsiders paid notice of the land's new ruler, and even fewer cared. Kolik, it must be said, was a competent ruler by the standards of bears – a prestigious warrior who developed the land and attracted a growing following of fighting men. But he wasn’t an important one.
However, the Viking Age had destabilized the region. Although best remembered for their exploits to the west and south against Christian societies, some vikings, like Hakon of Halagoland, instead looked east in search of plunder and new domains to rule. Hasaba the Chaste of Bjarmia was the victim of such a campaign, losing not only his capital but also a functioning army. And, as was often the case after viking raids, local rivals finished off the rulers that Norsemen had weakened; a process which has led many scholars to see Vikings as a stimulus for state consolidation.
Taking a broader view, the rise of a Kanin peninsula warlord to rule what was left of Bjarmia was not all that unusual by the standards of the period’s politics; except where the part where said ruler was a bear. One should not imagine the Jan Mayenese warlords as pioneering some new type of politics; they were merely taking the intertribal anarchy of the period, dominated by the rule of strongmen, to its logical conclusion; bears, after all, are far stronger than men.
Victory in Bjarmia, and proclamation as that region’s high chief, meant more than the addition of territory – not that a bear as lazy as Kolik needed more fish as tribute. It also meant a power base. Sirtya of Dvina was not a man history has spoken kindly of, and not only for betraying humanity; a one-eyed man heretofore best known for his cowardice, but also the magnate with the largest following in the region, he seems to have gone over fully to his new ursine master.
The alliance of Kanin and Dvina troops allowed Kolik to follow up his conquest of Bjarmia with one of Zavarot, and, after this victory, may have given him the confidence to press into Koshma. For whatever reason, Sirtya of Dvina did not answer this second call, but Somatu of Koshma’s slightly larger army of men seems to have lost heart when faced with an army containing polar bears.
Chief Hasaba of Kuloy, formerly of Bjarmia, apparently held a grudge over being conquered – or perhaps this was merely a pretext for Kolik’s most infamous act. Faced with a ‘vassal’ who showed no interest in contributing taxes or soldiers, Kolik challenged Hasaba to a 2nd fight: not a war with troops, but a one-on-one brawl. One version of the story claims that Hasaba accepted a fight because of Nenets views on honor, and went to his death intending to win. The other paints him as a martyr who knew it meant execution, but saw no alternative but to resist, throw away the lives of his followers, and ultimately face the same fate.
The fight began as something of a duel, a tribal equivalent to a gladiatorial game, man vs. bear. As expected, the bear won, and the mauling continued long past the point where the weapon had been wrested from Hasaba’s hands. Hasaba's 2nd son, Syudbya, was elected chief by the tribesmen of Kuloy and soon appointed chancellor, and his efforts in relaying his father’s fate are why we know this story; Kolik must have thought it useful to share this tale as a lesson to any who thought to defy his rule.
This victory, together with the Koshma war, seems to have finally given the creature who many were already calling the ‘bear king’ the confidence to take on Ngenoh the Quarreller of Mezen, a powerful Nenets lord whose lands stood directly in the center of Bjarmia’s expanding but disconnected territories.
Kolik’s men and bears were, in one sense, equal to the challenge. The task of gathering the Bjarmian armies was not an easy one, and the bear general himself lost the only battle of his five-year military career, but the bulk of his army successfully slipped through enemy lines to link up with the army of Dvina, and the 2nd battle would prove decisive.
But events in Tobysh soon diverted Kolik’s attention.
The province of Tobysh has often been treated as a dependency of Koshma/Pechora, but appears to have been independent at the time Kolik the bear sought to unify the Nenets lands. A quick campaign saw its elderly chief die – not in battle, but of old age during the siege – and his teenage son Syudbya, or an impostor of the same name, came to rule the land as governor.
Two years later, during the Mezen War, another man named Syudbya – or perhaps the same one – rebelled against Bjarmia, sacked the province of Tsilma, and forced Kolik into his final battle. The bear’s forces won, but had the weight of numbers to thank for their victory; their general was so wounded that he would live the rest of his life as an ordinary bear, swimming and hunting seals, with none of the intelligence he had heretofore displayed. His grown son Otso, named for the bear god, would henceforth rule in his name.
This Syudbya would be sacrificed by the son in the hopes of restoring his father’s senses, but to no avail. An eastward campaign to Izhma which began in Kolik’s name would conclude in the reign of High Chief Otso – now ruling in his own right.
Polar bears without the benefits of civilization live for 25 to 30 years, and Kolik may have been elderly by their standards at the time he arrived on the Kanin peninsula; only his intelligence sustained him long enough to nearly unify the Nenets people under ursine rule. Within a year or two of the Tobysh revolt, Kolik the Bear of Bjarmia would be dead.
Then again, he had six children.
Conversions were performed from both CK2 and EU4 once I hit particular in-game benchmarks, both of which happened well before each game’s stated end date. Also, as I’ve had a bad habit of abandoning AARs in the past, this whole thing is pre-written (which does, admittedly, limit how much I can respond in-game to feedback – although at least I have saves around for answering questions) and I intend to update daily, time permitting.
-
The arrival of a polar bear was far from an unknown phenomenon for the people of the Kanin peninsula, or indeed for people living anywhere in the arctic; it was wise, if the manpower could be spared, to be aware of their locations. Not to kill them – killing one was a feat of arms only the bravest men could boast of – but to avoid hunting in the same areas, so that they did not steal their prey.
But the one who arrived from across the ice floes during the reign of Kolik the human – tradition says from the tiny island of Jan Mayen in the Arctic Ocean, but this may be mere legend – was different. Not content to leave the polar hunters be, he demanded tribute from the whole tribe – and, stranger still, received it. Kolik the Bear took the name of his predecessor, who he was reputed to have eaten, and those councilors who understood his grunts and growls as though they were a foreign language were said to have held that the two shared not just a name but a personality.
Religion, at least, was not an issue; this bear was reputed to be a follower of the great bear Otso, whose warriors comprised much of his friend circle, and of Tapio, god of hunting.
Kanin, it must be noted, was a small realm, even by the meager standards of the far north; Mezen, Zavarot, and Bjarmia were far more important. Bear totemism was not unknown in the region, so it was not always immediately clear to outsiders that Kolik the bear was a literal bear, and not a chieftain seeking novel ways of cementing his rule. For over a decade after his arrival, this situation held – few outsiders paid notice of the land's new ruler, and even fewer cared. Kolik, it must be said, was a competent ruler by the standards of bears – a prestigious warrior who developed the land and attracted a growing following of fighting men. But he wasn’t an important one.
However, the Viking Age had destabilized the region. Although best remembered for their exploits to the west and south against Christian societies, some vikings, like Hakon of Halagoland, instead looked east in search of plunder and new domains to rule. Hasaba the Chaste of Bjarmia was the victim of such a campaign, losing not only his capital but also a functioning army. And, as was often the case after viking raids, local rivals finished off the rulers that Norsemen had weakened; a process which has led many scholars to see Vikings as a stimulus for state consolidation.
Taking a broader view, the rise of a Kanin peninsula warlord to rule what was left of Bjarmia was not all that unusual by the standards of the period’s politics; except where the part where said ruler was a bear. One should not imagine the Jan Mayenese warlords as pioneering some new type of politics; they were merely taking the intertribal anarchy of the period, dominated by the rule of strongmen, to its logical conclusion; bears, after all, are far stronger than men.
Victory in Bjarmia, and proclamation as that region’s high chief, meant more than the addition of territory – not that a bear as lazy as Kolik needed more fish as tribute. It also meant a power base. Sirtya of Dvina was not a man history has spoken kindly of, and not only for betraying humanity; a one-eyed man heretofore best known for his cowardice, but also the magnate with the largest following in the region, he seems to have gone over fully to his new ursine master.
The alliance of Kanin and Dvina troops allowed Kolik to follow up his conquest of Bjarmia with one of Zavarot, and, after this victory, may have given him the confidence to press into Koshma. For whatever reason, Sirtya of Dvina did not answer this second call, but Somatu of Koshma’s slightly larger army of men seems to have lost heart when faced with an army containing polar bears.
Chief Hasaba of Kuloy, formerly of Bjarmia, apparently held a grudge over being conquered – or perhaps this was merely a pretext for Kolik’s most infamous act. Faced with a ‘vassal’ who showed no interest in contributing taxes or soldiers, Kolik challenged Hasaba to a 2nd fight: not a war with troops, but a one-on-one brawl. One version of the story claims that Hasaba accepted a fight because of Nenets views on honor, and went to his death intending to win. The other paints him as a martyr who knew it meant execution, but saw no alternative but to resist, throw away the lives of his followers, and ultimately face the same fate.
The fight began as something of a duel, a tribal equivalent to a gladiatorial game, man vs. bear. As expected, the bear won, and the mauling continued long past the point where the weapon had been wrested from Hasaba’s hands. Hasaba's 2nd son, Syudbya, was elected chief by the tribesmen of Kuloy and soon appointed chancellor, and his efforts in relaying his father’s fate are why we know this story; Kolik must have thought it useful to share this tale as a lesson to any who thought to defy his rule.
This victory, together with the Koshma war, seems to have finally given the creature who many were already calling the ‘bear king’ the confidence to take on Ngenoh the Quarreller of Mezen, a powerful Nenets lord whose lands stood directly in the center of Bjarmia’s expanding but disconnected territories.
Kolik’s men and bears were, in one sense, equal to the challenge. The task of gathering the Bjarmian armies was not an easy one, and the bear general himself lost the only battle of his five-year military career, but the bulk of his army successfully slipped through enemy lines to link up with the army of Dvina, and the 2nd battle would prove decisive.
But events in Tobysh soon diverted Kolik’s attention.
The province of Tobysh has often been treated as a dependency of Koshma/Pechora, but appears to have been independent at the time Kolik the bear sought to unify the Nenets lands. A quick campaign saw its elderly chief die – not in battle, but of old age during the siege – and his teenage son Syudbya, or an impostor of the same name, came to rule the land as governor.
Two years later, during the Mezen War, another man named Syudbya – or perhaps the same one – rebelled against Bjarmia, sacked the province of Tsilma, and forced Kolik into his final battle. The bear’s forces won, but had the weight of numbers to thank for their victory; their general was so wounded that he would live the rest of his life as an ordinary bear, swimming and hunting seals, with none of the intelligence he had heretofore displayed. His grown son Otso, named for the bear god, would henceforth rule in his name.
This Syudbya would be sacrificed by the son in the hopes of restoring his father’s senses, but to no avail. An eastward campaign to Izhma which began in Kolik’s name would conclude in the reign of High Chief Otso – now ruling in his own right.
Polar bears without the benefits of civilization live for 25 to 30 years, and Kolik may have been elderly by their standards at the time he arrived on the Kanin peninsula; only his intelligence sustained him long enough to nearly unify the Nenets people under ursine rule. Within a year or two of the Tobysh revolt, Kolik the Bear of Bjarmia would be dead.
Then again, he had six children.
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