Enomotia [Seleucid pseudo-AAR]

Hekatolympos
The stench of dead assaulted Nikolas' nostrils, he never grew used to it, despite the fact this was the seventh seige since he had taken up residence here as a child refugee from Alexandria-Eschate nearly 20 years ago, which had fallen to the Pahlava soon after he had left with his family and all he could carry, abandoned to save the province of Margiane to its south. No matter how much death he saw, he never grew used to the smell, he could handle even the most gruesome sights after so much experience, but the smell permiated the city for weeks afterwards, just like the chips knocked out of the walls by careless spear and sword strikes. Soon they would be the only testament to the hard fight fought by Nikolas and his friends atop the walls that had probably seen more use in the last two decades than the walls of Babylonia had ever seen or would ever see in the next two centuries.
The Persians came here, as they did at Ektrabana in the West, to break the ring of stone that had been placed around the Caspian settlements that had fallen in the first few years of the war, Zadrakata chief among them. Only once had the militia forces that defended those settlements ever gone on the offensive, Nikolas had never seen such slaughter in his life, he still had nightmares of the Pahlavan horse sending huge arrows into his friends and family from close range, arrows that had punched through the shields the spearmen carried and killed them regardless, and of arrows aimed at the feet of the spearmen to stop them from retreating.
Less than a third of the spearmen from that expedition had returned, Nikolas himself loosing his officer and six of his closest friends on that god forsaken peice of Persian desert.
But now they were fighting on there own ground, and they had the advantage, they could endure seige after seige, all the while growing more experienced and better trained...... they were already the best trained group of shopkeepers and small merchants in the entire plateau, with most other cities on the frontline having better grade soldiers available, perhaps even the armoured soldiers of the Thuderepoi, but still the mighty field armies in the West did not turn east to face them, the last courier who had arrived before the seige told of the seige of Mazaka, its breaking and the subsequent offensive on Pontos, one of the many lesser diadochi.
One of his few surviving friends appeared around a corner, holding his spear in one hand and an axe in the other, his shield already stacked in the armoury with the others that needed holes patching and blood washed off. "Hey Nikolas, Ive got something for you!", he flipped the axe for end and proffered it to Nikolas haft-first.
"Where did you get this?" he said as he accepted it and felt its weight in his right hand, noting that his friend already had one hooked to a fresh loop on his tunic.
"Off the bodies of the Phalangites that tried to force the left wall, we outnumbered them three to one and still they came up those handful of ladders..." his expression went from his normal jovial one to something far darker, "they got Theodoros, someone hit him with the end of a broken sarissa".
Nikolas stopped thinking about the axe and tried to think who Theodoros was... and then came up with the answer, he was the blacksmith in the next street, a kindly old man who you would never believe was an officer in the militia, it was hard to believe he had ever held a weapon in his life. Suddenly he had a desire to return to his house and curl up with his wife, and not worry about the crew that were dismantling the seige weapons for steel and wood, not worry about the war for just a few hours of peaceful bliss.
He thanked his friend for the axe, tucked it into his belt, said his farewells and started up the street towards his house, where it rested under the boughs of the Cypress tree.


OOC: A cookie to who gets the reference to popular culture

a pop culture reference? rats! confounded!

What, no pics? Will there be another update as well? Oh yeah, and what exactly are the ''Thuderepoi''?

Chapter II: The Long March
It was nearly midday when Nikolas again set foot on the muster field at the centre of town, which was currently filled with numerous of his fellow spearmen and even a freshly trained detachment of local archers, he had been ordered here by a runner that had left immediately to alert more men, many of whoom were streaming onto the field from all sides.
Wondering what on earth could be happening, he turned to the nearest man from his Enomotia and asked him "What on earth is going on?", the man, a burly immigrant from the now-rebel satrapy of Bactria, simply sheathed the short sword he had been studying and said, "We are being ordered to march for Amaseia to releive the garrison there"
"Wait, what? What happened to the army that Prince brought North from Mesopotamia?"
"That army has been ordered to attack the Persians at Phraaspa to try and regain the iniative"
"God, thats suicide!"
"Well yes Nikolas, but those were the orders, but he is rather better equipped than you were when they sent you into that death-trap"
Suddenly the voice of an officer of militia called out from the back of a cart that was dispensing spears to the light infantry that comprised the force soon to march from the South gate and start the long trip to Amaseia, and to battle.
"Many of you know me, for those who dont my name is Artipatros, and I will be leading this detachment during our trip to Amaseia, and possibly during the battle that may follow, depending on if the seige of Phraaspa by our professinoal comrades from Mesopotamia persuades them to withdraw to defend the territories they already hold, our spies report that the enemy have constructed a battering ram and will assault imminently, thus we must march immeditaely and fast, for if we do not we will arrive only in time to disrupt the victory celebrations of the Pahlavan foe, and many of you know what that will mean to the loyal populace of the town. Onwards now my friends, on to glory and victory on the field!" He raised his sword and turned the last few words into a shout, which was taken up by many of the men, especially the younger ones, as they formed up into marching columns and started to march towards the South Gate, through streets lined with people, Nikolas did as he was ordered, but could not help noticing thatt he hand that was holding his spear was shaking as he walked through the gate, out into the wilderenss.
History couldnt repeat itself, it just couldnt.

Well written stuff. Look forward reading more. On another note, what is Enomotia? Is it a military unit?

Yep, look I found this from Wikipedia;
''The basic combat element of the Greek armies was the stoichis or stoichos (meaning "rank") or enomotia (meaning "sworn") 16 to 25 men strong, led by a decadarchos who was assisted by a dimoerites and two decasteroe (sing. decasteros)''.

Think Vietnam war film, and I shall have the first actually on-story battle once I actually fight it :D