Sons of Seleukos - A Seleucid AAR (Yes, another one)

[Socy]

I apologize to all for the delay in chapters, but I can assure you all that tomorrow the first one will be posted. I hope that I wont get an angry mob after me!

[Socy]

After an internet crash the chapter got delayed, once again. Anyway, here comes. This is "merely" a presentation of characters that will be of importance in chapters ahead. Other characterse might appear, and several existing ones that hasn't been mentioned here will probably make appearances later aswell. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Character Introduction

Antiochos Syriakos



The sun is high on the midday sky. Out in the fields farmers can be seen tending to their harvest. It is spring, and birds are singing their praise to life and fertility. On a small road an entourage of a dozen men can be seen riding fast on pride steeds. Dust is left in their wake. Their clothing is normal and raises no suspicion. The farmers barely look up as the men ride past them. As night approaches they halt near a small lake. The man that has been riding in front is old, yet retaining a strong appearance. He seems the most exhausted of the men.
” I can clearly feel how age has taken it’s toll on me”, he speaks, sweat pouring down on his forehead, ”Iason, water”.
”Yes my Lord, ofcourse” The man that hands the Basileus his bottle of water is tall, well built. The Basileus takes a drop or two out of the bottle.
”We make camp here, tomorrow we ride at dawn”, The other men starts to prepare for setting up camp. Their horses are stuffed with packings. It was on the Basileus’ orders that they rode without servants, as to increase their speed. Reaching Antiocheia was of uttermost importance for the war in the west. Messengers had already been sent in advance, so as to inform most satraps in the west about the Basileus’ plans. After a while a small camp has been set up, nothing too luxurious, and a fire is burning. The men are gathered around it and are talking in loud voices, laughing and singing. One might almost belive it was a celebration, had it not been for the lack of wine and entertainers. After a while the voices die out, being replaced by snores. All of the men are asleep, except for one who serves as a lookout. It is the same man that earlier handed his water to the Basileus, Iason. He is one of the Somatophylakes, and had been for almost a decade. His loyalty was unquestioned, as was his bravery. He sits atop a small hill near the camp, scouting out into the dark. It is a silent night, the birds have since long gone to sleep. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his shoulder, a firm grip. Quickly turning around, he draws his sword. As quickly as he drew his sword, he falls to his knees as he sees who it was that stood behind him. It was no other than Antiochos himself, Basileus of the Arche Seleukeia.
”My Lord, please forgiv..” He is interrupted by Antiochos.
”Do not apologize, Iason”, the Basileus smiles, ”It eases my mind to know that my lookout is alert and awake. Iason regards the Basileus, then sheats his sword. The Basileus sits down on the small hill.
”My Lord, why are you not asleep? We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow if we wish to reach Antiocheia in time”. Iason sits down besides the Basileus.
”I couldn’t sleep, Iason. Too many thoughts on my mind”. The king stares out into the night.
”My Lord..”
”Please, we’ve known each other so long Iason, call me Antiochos”. The Basileus turns his head and his eyes meets those of Iason. Being commander of the Hetairoi, he was one of the closest friends of the Basileus. Despite this, he often refered to Antiochos as his Lord, instead of his friend, a title Antiochos would have enjoyed much more.
”Forgive me. Tell me then, my friend, what is it on your mind that keeps you from sleeping?”
”This.. War we’re embarking on. The future, I suppose. The uncertainty. Do you know how long ago it was since I saw my sons, Iason?
”Last time we met them were in Seleukeia, almost seven years ago”.
”Seven years…” The Basileus goes silent, his mind wandering off. For minutes, the both men sit on the hill, accompanied only by the crackling sounds from the fire.
”You will see them again, Antiochos. Them, aswell as Stratonike”.
”We will all see our loved ones once this is all over, Iason. That, I promise you. But for now.. For now we’ll just try to stay alive”. The old man smiles. ”And now…I’ll follow your advice and get myself some sleep. Tomorrow we ride”. The Basileus walks down the hill, towards the camp. The other men are still sleeping. Iason looks towards the horizon. He thinks of his home in Syria… Of his estate, his wife… his children. He thinks of how he’ll never see them again. And accepts the thought.

Achaios Syriakos



The drunken man falls to the ground with a large thud. The entire hall erupts into laughter.
”And that! Is what happens.. To anyone.. That challenges a man of royal descent in a drinking contest!” The laughter increases. The old man that recently spoke takes his seat at his elevated chair in the lavishly decorated hall. The drunken man is carried away by his companions, muttering curses over his loss. Achaios is content. Living at the edge of civilization was pretty comfortable after all. Margian wine was some of the finest they had ever tasted. But trouble was brewing. Despite being relatively safe in the town of Antiocheia-Margiane, the easternmost provinces were rebelling, and Achaios, being satrap of the northeastern part of the Arche Seleukeia, had ordered all forces in both Marakanda and Alexandreia-Eschate to withdraw to Antiocheia-Margiane. To the northwest, Asaak was plagued by steppe-raiders. The Parthoi. Should the city come under siege, Achaios would not be able to send a relief force in time. It bothered him little. Asaak could be reconquered. Besides, Autophradates, the governor of Asaak, was disliked by him. For all that Achaios cared, he could die, increasing Achaios own sphere of influence when Asaak was reconquered. He had clearly and intentionally ignored the orders from his brother, Basileus Antiochos, and had held back his forces. He took another mouthfull of wine, and continued with the celebrations…

Andromachos Syriakos



Being the son of a man more devoted to wine than his Basileus gave Andromachos a certain curious position. Despite being the opposite of what his father, Achaios Syriakos, was, he was still held under suspicion in the Arche Seleukeia. Nevertheless he was appointed satrap of Persepolis, a city that had been of great importance to the Persian Empire, and now was as important to the Seleucid one. Enjoying the task of supervising the rebuilding-effort of the southeastern parts of the Arche Seleukeia he was content with his life. In the north, steppe-raiders had been encroaching upon Seleukid territory. It didn’t bother him directly, since he was in a pretty safe position. But the men and women that would surely die by the hands of them… The toughts of it alone made him depressed. Not only beacuse they would die, but beacuse they would die beacuse of his fathers reluctance to act. Yet still there was hope. If Andromachos himself could somehow aid the crumbling cities in the north.. Perhaps then, he could exculpate his familys name once and for all… And prove his loyalty to the Basileus, his uncle…

Theodoros Syriakos



The young man walks with sure steps towards his steed. It is a beautiful black steed, raised and tendered in the royal stables in Media. The mans face is cut in stone, determined and strong. He is clad in a fine armor, clearly marking him as part of the noblest of families. On his back he carries a darkblue mantle. Under his left arm, he carries his helm. A magnificent piece of work, with several plumes sticking out from it. He mounts his horse. Less than an hour ago he was found praying in the Temple of Anahita. Setting out on a military campaign without proper offerings to the gods was a bad omen. In walking pace he heads towards the gates of Ekbatana. Behind him several other men, both younger and older, ride in formation. All of them carry finely crafted armour and arms. In the streets people are cheering, as the young prince rides by them. He halts his horse at the gate. A young woman is seen standing there, an infant in her arms. Dismounting from his horse, he exchanges some words with her, then kisses her farewell. Once again on his horse, he continues to ride out from the city. He looks back at the city… At her. Focusing his mind on the future, he already begins planning. Planning for war. He is a boy, sent to do a mans job. Failure, however, is not an option. Knowing that when he returns to her, he will be a different man, he sets out, accompanied by the bloodred sunset.

Attalos Mysiakes Pergamou



The steps echoed as Attalos walked through the lofty halls of the great temple of Artemis at Ephesos. Attalos wasn’t a religious man by any means. He belived in hard work and himself, but not in any divinity. Despite that, he couldn’t deny that the building was truly marvelous. He was heading towards his home, having spoken to the priests in the temple. While he wasn’t religious himself, he was a skilled bureaucrat and as such understood the importance of religion. It keeped people in check, controlled them. And the priests were important figures in religion. Funding religious activities and maintaining religiously important buildings didn’t only keep people happy. It kept them united, an important task in these times, where loyalties changed as fast as imperial borders and rulers. Besides, appearing on religious holidays and publicly sponsoring anything related to religion furthered Attalos’ own popularity. Walking towards his home he noticed how clear the night was. The stars were clearly visible in the sky. When he arrived at his home, he would review some documents before going to bed. Attalos enjoyed life in Sardis. He was the appointed satrap of the westernmost edge of the Arche Seleukeia, governing both Sardis and Ipsos. Being the most westernmost provinces meant that the climate was warm and enjoyable combined with a green and fertile landscape. The disadvantage, though, was that he was basically cut of from the rest of the empire. Mazaka was the closest neighbouring city to Attalos’ sphere of influence, and even that city was not in an easy position to send reinforcements to should Attalos come under attack, due to the rough terrain. Indeed, Attalos wasn’t in the most favourable position, but things were about to change. Messengers had arrived at Sardis, telling that the Basileus himself, Antiochos Syriakos, was riding towards Antiocheia in order to begin campaigning in the western parts of the Empire. The first goal would be to liberate the southern coast of Mikra Asia from Ptolemaike control. It would not only crush Ptolemaike influence in all of Mikra Asia, but it would also ease troop-movements between Antiocheia and Sardis. Attalos himself would play a major part in the operation. His task would be to liberate the town of Side, freeing the Pamphylian coastline. Despite not being of royal descent, he would command a smaller army of his own, playing a crucial part in the liberation of Mikra Asia. Attalos had never seen any real battle before, despite being 45 years old. He was much more at ease directing architects and workers, upholding the law and looking over the finances of his region. It was due to his brilliance at these tasks that he had been appointed governor, and the reason that he had been given the hand of Antiochis, daughter of Achaios Syriakos, brother to the Basileus himself. In less than a week he would leave the relative safety of governing and go to war, and he hadn’t even told Antiochis yet, not in fear of what she would say, but that he might show her how much he actually loved her. He stopped a moment and looked up into the sky. He didn’t belive in the gods.. But if they existed.. If, he prayed that they would watch over him during his first battle. With a heavy sigh, he continued his stroll towards his home with heavy steps, thinking about how he would tell Antiochis…

[Maion Maroneios]

Guys, get ready for some action in the following chapters! We will (me and Socy) present you with a new feature, just wait and see. It'll be finished in a few days ;)

[||Lz3||]

nice! why do the basileus' brothers have to be drunkard

I cant wait to see the new feature

[Maion Maroneios]

nice! why do the basileus' brothers have to be drunkard

I cant wait to see the new feature

Well, it is well known that most hellenistic aristocrtats had a certain love for alcohol and women
Anyway, I'll start working on this new feature sometime soon so be patient!

[Lysimachos]

Anyway, I'll start working on this new feature sometime soon so be patient!

Wha? Not ready yet?

[Socy]

Chapter 1, part 1 – The fall of Side

The man scratches his long beard. His chest is bare, and he feels the gentle breeze caressing his torso. His name is Tasgetios.
”Well then, Galatian, what say you?”. The man in front of him is a long, thin man. If it wasn’t for his fine armour and the other armed men behind him Tasgetios would probably never had taken the man seriously.
”Tell me, what was your name again…”
”Attalos”. The Hellen replied.
”Yes, Attalos. Tell me, you want me and my soldiers to fight with you.. Against your own kind?”. Tasgetios hadn’t fully understood the Hellenic man yet.
”They are Hellens, yes, but they’re not my kind, as you express it.. We serve different kings”.
”Ah, I see! Now you’re starting to make sense. So you want to conquer this town, Side, in the name of your own king?
”That is correct”. The Hellenic man was growing impatient, evident from his way of speaking.
”What’s in it for me and my men?”.
”A large sum of money”, the man in front of Tasgetos said, a dry assertion.
”While my men and I do enjoy money, I’m afraid it wont be enough…”.
”And…Loot”. Tasgetios had been cut off mid-scentence.
”Loot? You’re going to pillage the town?”. Tasgetios was used to the hardness of life, but a Hellen looting a town consisting of Hellens? Times sure had changed.
”That is correct, Side will be looted once we’ve conquered it”.
”You’re a strange man, Attalos. Not only do you speak of looting a town that will become a future part of your kings possesions, but you also speak about victory with certainty in your voice”.
”By Hades, just give me an answer. Will you, or will you not join us in the fight?”. Attalos had lost his patience with this Barbarian. Tasgetios rubbed his chin for a while, pondering the offer.
”We will join you, Hellen. But we better be the first ones to pillage the town”.
”You will… You will”. The contempt in Attalos voice was clear, yet Tasgetios was content.
”Congratulations, Attalos, you’ve just recieved command of 2000 Galatians”. Tasgetios reached out his hand towards Attalos. He shaked hand with the Hellenic man. The deal was done, both buyer and supplier was content.

7 months later

”Strategos, Side is just behind that hill!”. The voice comes from one of the Galatians. With their lack of armour they are swifter than most of Attalos troops, and thus perfect scouts.
”The fools doesn’t even have a proper wall around the town! It’s ripe for the taking”, the young Galatian speaks with excitement in his voice. Clearly he knows what awaits him once Side has fallen. Attalos and his Somatophylakes rides to the top of the hill where they get a better view of the city. The town, clearly aware of their presence is almost completely silent. The only thing that can be even remotely heard is the barking of commands to the troops that are taking up defensive positions along the perimeters of the town. Attalos smiles. The only resistance he is going to face is poorly armed peasants. He looks back towards his own force. Nearly 4900 Phalangites, 1600 Peltastai and the 2000 Galatian mercenaries that he hired in northern Pamphylia. A small cavalry wing of some 450 Somatophylakes was also present, whom Attalos himself would lead into battle. He rides back towards his army and join their march towards the town. Its midday and before nightfall fortifications around the town must have been made.

2 weeks later

The citizens of Side are awakned by a loud trumpet-roar. Outside the city the troops that have been besieging their town are forming up into ranks. Obviously, the day when they will assault the city has come. The men that make up the defence of the city rallies at the town square. Their faces show feelings such as fear, anger and sadness. But most of all, it shows a broken spirit. They are facing troops with far better weapons and armour than themself. It is a grim situation.

Attalos rides behind the line of Phalangites. In front of them, the Peltastai are marching, and on the right flank, the Galatian mercenaries are keeping even steps with the rest of the battle-line. The defenders of Side are barricaded inside the town. Attalos doesn’t wish this to become a drawn out fight, nor does he wish to loose too many of his own men. The order to block of the exits to the town are made, and the forces split up. The Phalangites break off into two groups, one for each exit. The Galatians follow one of the groups, while the other one recieves the support of the Peltastai. Attalos joins the group with the Galatians, still unsure if he shall trust them fully. Everything is silent as the Seleukid army marches toward their positions. Then, suddenly, silence is broken. Movement is spurred inside the town of Side. The defenders, realizing the doom of being captured inside the city and fighting Phalangites in the city streets try to break out. The Phalangites are surprised and battle ensues. On Attalos side, the Phalangites haven’t been able to position themself in the streets yet, and have to fight out in the open.

The enemy, being poorly equipped, are unable to inflict any heavy casualties upon the Seleucid Phalangites. Attalos circles round the flank of the Phalangites and end up on their left side, where he smashes into the Ptolemaic forces. Meanwhile, the Galatians have charged the Ptolemaic right flank.

Seeing themself surrounded the Ptolemaic forces begin to rout, realizing defeat. On the other side of the town, the Phalangites have been able to place themself in the streets and have formed an impregnable wall of Sarrisas. Even here, the Ptolemaic forces tries to break out, but meet no success. Like animals they throw themself on the Phalangites Sarrisas.

But the Phalangite holds, killing all that assaults them.

The battle is going in Attalos favour, but the majority of Ptolemaic forces are still holed up inside the town-square. In an act of both bravery and foolishness, Attalos and his men ride towards the city-center, bent on getting the attention of Menelaos Salaminios. The plan works, and Menelaos pursues Attalos as he rides from one entrance to the city-square to another. Meanwhile, the Galatians have been circling the town, ending up near the exit towards where Attalos is heading.

Menelaos, unable to spot the trap that has been laid, pursues Attalos out from the town. Being greeted by a hail of javelins, Menelaos and his Somatophylakes are dumbstruck, unable to understand what just happened. Many of them are lying dead or wounded upon the ground. Utilizing the confusion caused amongst Menelaos Somatophylakes the Galatians charge against them, screaming.

Attalos and his Somatophylakes, having spun around in the open ground, turn around and charge the now static Somatophylakes of Menelaos. With their lances lowered, Menelaos Somatophylakes feels the full effect of their charge.

It doesn’t take long before they rout. Attalos swears, Menelaos made it out alive, but none of his bodyguards survived the slaughter. Runners are sent to the Phalangitai to move towards the town-square.

They encounter no resistance on the city streets. Having reached the town-square, some of the Ptolemaic forces makes a last desperate attempt to charge against the Phalangites once again. Standing firm, the Phalangites are able to repel the attackers.

Menelaos himself, and whats left of his personal cavalry, makes one last charge. It is their last, as all of them are killed by the Phalangites, pulled of their horses and slaughtered by the savage axes of the Phalangites.


With Menelaos dead, and most of the resistance severly weakened, Attalos orders one final charge. Fighting ensues in the town-square, with the Seleukid forces emerging as victors with few casualties.


While the more civilized troops under Attalos starts cheering, the Galatians rush of to plunder the city. The day is won, and the Galatians have honoured their part of the bargain. Attalos is pleased. Dismounting his horse, he removes his helm and brushes the sweat of his forehead. He notices that only one Galatian haven’t started looting the town. Tasgetios. With his arms crossed, he inspects the Seleucid troops, clearly making them nervous. Attalos aproaches him.
”The battle is won, plunder what you may as long as you can”. Attalos voice is firm.
”My men plunder for me, seeing as I’m there leader. I enjoy standing here watching this.. Magnificent host of yours. They fought bravely, you know, for being farmers”. The last scentence is filled both with sarcasm and admiration.
”Indeed. Know that this is but a fracture of the might of my kings empire”.
”Oh, it is? Say, would you care to tell me more about this, empire, of yours, Attalos?”. The large man suddenly gets a warmth in his voice. Attalos figures that having fought and emerged victorious he has gained the trust of this man, and with it, his men. Attalos shrugs.
”Another day, Tasgetios, another day”, Attalos says, not in the mood to engage in conversation with the barbarian. He starts walking towards the former house of Menelaos. Besides, he have other duties, such as to restore order to the town, and get it up and running again. As the adrenaline rush starts wearing off, he starts to feel pain in his body. He looks down upon his left arm and notices a large gash. He will have it seen to by a doctor later. The things I do for the Arche, he thinks, as he head towards the governors house.