The Legacy of Megas Alexandros - a seleucid AAR

[Lysimachos]

Thank you :)

I see you are always here to comment when i'm posting ;)

[Aaldaemon]

Aye. Reading aar updates on this forum has become my religion. It's made easy by the fact I spend a lot of time writing on my computer, (no, not for my aar) and soloing in AoC (and alt tabing out everytime I zone to surf a bit, due to soloing boredom overkill).

[General Appo]

Great AAR. Keep it up.

[Lysimachos]

Thank you :)

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 5: Defeat in Victory

The sky is dull. A moderate breeze is blowing from the east. Theodoros is squinting. The daylight hurts his eyes, not because the sun would be gleaming, which it doesn't, but because he still has a serious hangover and the new day still isn't welcome.
This farewell banquet has been a little too much for sitting upright on a horse.

Almost a year has passed since he arrived in Antiocheia-Margiana and met his uncle. The following months he spend by training new warriors, by improving his own skills and by accompanying Achaios on excursions through the province, occasions on which he learned of the sweet margianian wine and made friends with it.
Sometimes he thought about his wife Laodike and children, who still were in Seleukeia, but Achaios, who had experience with living at the edge of the world, taught him how to feel comfortable with how the things were and at large Theodoros was well.
However, there were some duties waiting for him. Parnoi still were raiding seleucid land and Theodoros felt that his father would expect him to do something about it. So he decided to force them into submission, again.

The army has left Antiocheia-Margiana in western direction, marching deep into the land of the Dahae. People leave their homes, soldiers avoid a fight, while the seleucid host is slowly crawling forward like a centipede, through the meager country.
Theodoros has been informed, that a powerful leader has his headquarters in a town called Nisa. This is where he heads to, in order to deliver a decisive battle, against the barely tangible dahaen horse armies.

Finally, after a long journey full of privations, Nisa is in sight. It is a small settlement, even without any defensive structures. Still, no sign of an enemy army.
Theodoros has ordered his Arachosians, who have proven themselves as reliable scouts, to explore the vicinity, before taking offensive actions, but they have found no sign of a trap.
The phalanx slowly marches forward. This should be no long fight, only a small garrison has been reported. But it smells so wrong! How can the Parnoi let them strike so deep into their land without even giving a fight? Theodoros is calm in appearance, but in turmoil inside, deafening himself against the uncertainty with a hearty draft from his wineskin.
He watches his men overcoming the few enemies. Only a young warlord and his guard put up a harder fight – an opportunity to through himself into the heat of battle, where he will have no time for worries. Theodoros spurs his horse, leads his Somatophylakes into the mids of the fight, without any sense of danger. He hacks his bloody path through the enemy, inwardly unmoved, emotionless, until not one enemy is standing anymore.

Theodoros is still suspicious, he still fears a trap, so he takes drastic measures. All food found in the city is confiscated, all men estimated fit for military service sold into slavery. Theodoros is awaiting the enemy and a battle, his battle, but the Parnoi deny it.

A shame. They don't follow how it should be, they don't abide by the rules of warfare, how civilized people would do. How can someone stand this mess being sober? Have the gods deserted me?
“Strategos!” A shout disrupts his foggy thoughts. “Strategos, the town is burning, we have to leave. Do you understand? It is burning everywhere. I'll get you out of here.”

No general, no army had the courage to meet Theodoros in battle, but women and old men fought on. They have put their own town on fire, on several places. A conflagration started and thousands decease in the flames.
An army, defeated, but not in battle leaves behind smoking debris. The morale is low and the supply is short and now they fear battle, fear the host that has to be there, in the steppes, waiting for their weakness.

Hunger and austerity mark the men's faces. They have suffered on the long march that began when their supplies burned down, in the mids of the Dahaen's lands. Every day, they suffered thirst and hunger, every day they had to fear the enemy might descend upon them, until they saw the walls of Antiocheia-Margiana and they realize: he did not come. Theodoros, a shadow of his former vigour, leads the army into the town, defeated victors.
Courtiers welcome him and he dismounts his horse. “I have to speak with my uncle, as soon as possible.” Unease is increasing around him. “Strategos, the satrap Achaios is dead.”
A twitch appears in the corners of his mouth. Then, he slowly ascends the steps to the residence.

[Aaldaemon]

Good update as usual. I was expecting a Seleukid Carrhae... guess it's still to come - hopefully. More dramatic to receive a beating before victory, no?

[I of the Storm]

Great update! I guess Theodoros started drinking, eh? I hope you have something in store with the Pahlava...

[rider]

Thanks.

My notebook is quite a few years old - I don't even remember when it was bought (2002 or 2003); anyways, it used to be my father's old notebook but then he got himself a better one and I have this. Quite sufficient for going to the internet and writing a few files (ever though of... making an AAR up from no campaign? I did, yesterday... :D). The stats are

Total Physical Memory 256,00 MB
Total Virtual Memory 2,00 GB

Those two I got from 'System Information' and the rest is from the 'My Computer -> Properties', so forgive me if I repeat myself. I dare think I know something about computers but it's more about the various programs and how to use them and which for what than the actual base setting categories:

mobile AMD Athlon(tm) XP2400+ the processor unit, right?
1.79 GHz
196 MB of RAM

I can't really tell which one is better. Both seem like... mammoths of an ancient age to me... :P But tell me when you are going to buy a new one - then I'll know mine is the last one alive. :)

Oh... and do you want to know the most interesting thing? I'm running Office 2007. Takes an age to load up MS Word.

[Lysimachos]

But tell me when you are going to buy a new one - then I'll know mine is the last one alive. :)

That depends... Next year i'll start earning money myself and as notebooks have become damn cheap maybe i'll buy a new one then. On the other hand i could perhaps get a used desktop PC from my brother, so i would continue using this notebook for the things that depend on mobility.

Oh... and do you want to know the most interesting thing? I'm running Office 2007. Takes an age to load up MS Word.

I use OpenOffice.org. It is free, has all functions i need, is easy to use and i have no problem with loading times.


Anyway, i'll stop offtopic now
My next post in this thread will be Chapter 15, promised

[Seleukos I Nikator]

Seleukid AAR ! Just what I need. And I find it very interesting. Keep up, I'll be one of your top readers.

[I of the Storm]

I'm looking forward to your next update!

[Lysimachos]

Chapter 35: A Chain of Gold



The Golden Jackal's howl sounds in the night. A chilly breeze blows from the Hyrkanian - or Caspian - Sea. The carnivore strides the sleeping land, restless and alone. This little creature, despite struggling for its bare existence day by day and night by night, must seem most enviable for another restless and solitary mind, awake under the hyrkanian sky. Its only ambition is to live and to stay alive in the blood of his offspring, the only sorrows it has to bear are its own, the only rules and codes it has to obey are the capacity of its legs and fangs.
The restless and envious mind belongs to a young man, sitting atop a large rock. The man is looking down to the shy and playful dance of the waves, adorned by a magical sparkle of reflected moonlight, and the glimmer of thousands of thousands stars on the clear and indefinite sky, a spectacle so simple and unsophisticated, yet so unfathomably beautiful that its mere sight might make the unguarded man's heart forget to beat, a spell that has to be conceived and cast by an entity of higher virtue and imagination.
But still, this invaluable gift of nature fails to attract the young man's attention, fails to lift his spirits, fails to spark the inspiration, the exaltation which leads people to think the unimaginable and achieve the impossible. Perhaps, in this very moment on the face of earth there is no being with a greater opportunity to experience the divine touch in the simplest things in nature, to feel the freedom to do anything, but still he feels imprisoned, chained to a certain destiny, an inevitable fate, chained with an artful and golden, but firm and heavy chain.
While his mind is traveling through the deepest depths of his emotions, his fingers subconsciously wander along the hem of his Chiton, where they find a small rip in the cloth, an unsteadiness in the garment's flow, the sensation of which allures the finger tips to run along the edge, again and again, unintentionally unraveling threads of the expensive fabric.
The young man's conscience does not perceive this, does not waste effort on what his fingers do, but bathes in the painful solitude of his fortune, enduring the cold grasp which firmly, relentlessly closes around his chest, squeezing his lungs, allowing only a dolorously straining breathing.
A deep sigh heaves from his breast. Is this really what he is supposed to be? Is it not his place to be with his family, with his wife and son? But no longer is this his decision to make, a stronger mind that doesn't tolerate contradiction has made this to be his place, made him, who suffers under his own destiny's weight, a wielder of destiny himself, a king beside the king, a general, a leader, leading men, who can resist his word just as little as he can resist his father's, leading them - to what?
The stars' glow and the night's innocent beauty slowly fade away, as the canopy goes pale and grey, bearing the signs of yet another day. A day, when the soldiers again will look up to him and await his decisions, trusting in his judgment, more than he himself ever could.
Seleukos Kallinikos, joined king of the Arche Seleukeia, slides down from the silent and lonesome rock, which in its intimacy with solitude has been like a sympathetic companion in this late spring night. He feels the cold gravel under his bare feet, sharp edges carving tiny cuts in the skin that is used to be protected by soles of the softest and finest leather in the east. The slight pain which is itching in his feet while slowly walking upwards the rocky beach is an anchor, fixed somewhere in reality, a rope which he gratefully takes to pull himself at least a small way out of the gloom - not of the dying night, but inside his mind. Slowly follows step after step, each one accompanied by a bite from the solidly real gravel, each one carrying him closer to the camp and closer to awareness, each one a small victory for the sense of responsibility, acceptance of the inevitable, hardly won against the desperate cravings of every fiber in his body.
"Who is there?" A barking voice ruptures the barrier build up around his conscience, only a small breach, just enough to make him notice and decide to ignore.
In the moment of cognition the guard gasps and goes down on his knee. "Basileus!" Kallinikos cringes, when the cold grip around his heart closes again, inflicting a sting of pain. A free Hellen on his knee - for him! It was hard enough to accustom to the men abasing themselves in front of his father, paying Proskynesis to the king after his victory over Sarpedon Prodotis - Sarpedon the Traitor - but for himself? Oh, now he was called a king too, still - how could he possibly find himself worthy of this salute?