Stories Thread

[johnhughthom]

In a mountain pass under clear blue skies around a dozen men are sitting around a fire readying themselves for another days marching. A messenger gallops up to the camp.

"Strategos, a message from the Basileus!"
"What is it man?"
"The paperwork confirming you as Satrap of Parthia!"
"What! The old fool actually has a brain then. Give me that.... Wait a minute you ******!! This is addressed to Phanias Laodikeias Lydikes!"
"Is that not you?"
"NO YOU ******* ******"
"Whoops"
"GET BACK HERE, MEN CHASE THAT FOOL DOWN!!!"

Polyxenidos Lykikos stands shouting after the messenger, who speeds away from the camp as fast as his horse will carry him, while around him Heronius tries to get on his horse to chase the messenger but can't as he is laughing too hard. The rest of the men can't even stand, some of them close to tears as they laugh at the Strategos.

[kingsnake]

271 BC, Siege of Tarsos.

It was late afternoon. To the west and beyond the city, over the small hills, lingered a fog and clouds which dispersed the last rays of the Sun, creating a fiery mist around the orange sun that did not hurt one's sight. The rest of the sky was Indigo blue, slowly getting darker to the east where a crescent moon was rising. Some lights could be spotted in the mist, those were of a small camp/outpost from the sieging army, or probably from a patrolling squad. There were 3 other similar outposts scattered around the city, in the distance, and another small camp near the forest. But there was a bigger and fortified camp laying beneath Strategos Syriakes' eyes. From the top of the hill where he and his bodyguards just arrived there was silence, with occasional bursts of hammering sounds. There and there a fire or torch would be lit up. Then, from the camp, someone shouted: "Strategos!" and a bell rang.

Aratos wavered forward and they started descending the hill on gallop. While lighter armoured rider sped off quicker than the main body towards the nearest small camp/outpost.
A bigger round red tent, was now illuminated from within and could be now spotted in the middle of the dark white tents.

Crossing the camps main pathway, the Strategos and the bodyguards were saluted and greeted. As they got closer to the luminated red tent the bodyguards went on to their tents, Aratos got off his horse and handed it to a man, meanwhile Hágárádáz appeared from the red tent and smiled to Aratos.

"My friend!" shouted Aratos and the two hugged.
"Yes nice to see you to Aratos." said Hágárádáz smiling, but is face grew grave now.
"Straight to the point as always, uh? Old man? What's the matter?"
The germanic responded: "I and Captain Herakleides have prepared everything, as you are used to. Also a man from the city came tried to bribe the captain. He is imprisioned now as is another diplomat. So?"

"Yes, except the diplomat..." he sighed "let him go, tie his hands and the briber's head to him."
Hágárádáz glanced at a guard. Aratos continued. "Also we'll be joined by a fellow Strategos, Cunobelinus is his family name, make space for him." The guard bowed his head and went.

They stepped in the tent.

"Oh... that reminds me, I decided to return back to my hometribe, I'm getting fed up with these lands. I'll fight by your side this last time, for everything your family and your father, specially, have done for me."

"It's your call Hágárádáz, and I will always support it... and I will fight by your side and we'll honour my father together. I will never forget you. You were like a father to me these last years, I won't forget you." Aratos smiled, "Now lets eat, I'm hungry - slave call Captain Herakleides here."

[00jebus]

271 BC, "A feild in the @£!* end of nowhere", Camp of Timarchos Anaias Mysiakes

Mysiakes was excited, like he imagined the crowds before the olympics these greeks were so fond of would be like, today, he was recieving his first fully legal command.
He had practically wet himself with happyness when he heard dust clouds and later the arche's banners had been spotted in the distance, and had already donned his bronze muscle curiass, however a horrid dent ruined the look of it.
He made a mental note to find a replacement as soon as was possible.
He looked at the one peice of gold that wasn't a coin in camp, a statue of a contented sitting down bald and fat man, clearly praying that he picked up during his early life but never found the meaning of, and that wasn't for lack of trying, he'd asked hundreds of philosophers what they thought it was ment to represent, every time being dissapointed by their answers, he pondered it night after night, every time slightly more confused, though he thanked whoever made it every time he looked at its polished belly, for it gave a perfect reflection.
Timorchos, though slightly put out by the amount of effort it would take to find replacement armour, was pleased to see the long months away from a city and its slaves, and the large dent in his armour, made him look like a veteran of several years campaigning, then, he reminded himself, he was.

"Sir, bad news from the north" it was his galatian swordbearer, Cadayren, who had quietly entered his tent, quite a feat for a man clad head to toe in mail, Timorchos reflected, as he eyed the celt in an inquisative mannor that asked him to continue,

"It appears as though one of the minor kingdoms to the south of armenia, Georgina? Forga? Georgia?
well, however its said in greek, it looks like they've sent an army, it'll be outside Karkathiokerta by the end of the season." Cadayren looked slightly annoyed at this.

"Good, one more battle to prove ourselfs in then, and think of all the money that they'll have, and a pretext for war with the Hai any time we want one!
and I can see the mountains again"

Cadayren looked a little more annoyed "I dont like mountains sir"

"Rubbish, everyone love's good clean mountain air!
Anyway kindly inform the royal army captains of this the momment they arrive, looks like they'll be stuck with me for winter, and send a courier to babylon, I'd hate for the baselius to think I've ran off with his sun's army..."

with a nod, Cadayren nodded and left, leaving Timarchos to resume pondering his little fat statue man.

[Celtic_Punk]

Achaikos walked through the semi-impressive market of Tarsos. Scanning the crowds for his friend. It was hard to stay on task, the commotion from the bartering at the stalls was astoundingly loud, something a farmer like him was not used to.

"hmmmm that fool is probably at the pub right now... We've only been here a week and the damn fool is already getting pissed." Achaikos thought to himself

Achaikos pushed the swivel door and scanned the room. Right up front chatting up the barman sat Cunobelinus. His mug being freshly topped off, and his hashpipe in hand. Smoke billowing from his nostrils.
"You certainly drink like a soldier. One could be easily fooled!"
Cunobelinus downed his beer
"Shut up. Enjoy yourself! We aren't going to be here for much longer. Aratos agreed to let us stay with the army!" Cunobelinus said smiling... More from the absurd amounts of alcohol he had drank than the news he bore.
"Exellent, so to Kypros is it? We should be training, not getting hammered, Cuno."
"Ahhh hogwash, we've got plenty of time to party. Besides look at all the fine women in this upstanding establisheshment! Aratos said he'd be coming too! It's gunna be one hell of a night, Have a drink on me, lets celebrate a good victory!" Cunobelinus and Achaikos raised their mugs.
"To fallen comrades! And to glorious victory!"

[00jebus]

Still a camp in the middle of the @£!* end of nowhere, summer of 271

Timarchos was disturbed from his pondering by Cadayren, who had brought two men with him, the first was short, stocky with close cropped hair and clad in a scale mail, unmistakably a Greek, the second didn't bother with any armour at all, or cutting his hair by the look of it, but smelled quite odd, and carried a composite bow, Cadayren introduce the men,

"Sir, the leaders of the royal army, captian Dion" the short, well built man inclined his head "and Tomayris" the hairy one bowed

"Tomayris is it? what do you do, forgive me, but you hardly seam like anyone trained in hellenic warfare like this army, and persians dont have hair that long..." (plus they bathe once in a while he thought)

"Well, I do much, I read trail and find army path, I lead bowmen or horses, and I cure with plants" he looked proud of his acheivments and skills, Timarchos wondered where a man with such an odd accent and set of skills came from

"and where are your people from?"

"the steppe" he said, unhelpfully and rather arrogently

very quickly changing the subject, Timarchos asked, "Ah, you'll be my herbalist then? I was promised one"

"Yes, is me" the greek looked thankful he wouldn't be stuck with a barbarian for much longer

"you stay with me then, not the army, captian dion, we will march the army to battle tomorrow, make sure your men are ready"

"yes sir" he half shouted before leaving the tent, the sound of his voice barking orders to his men would keep Timarchos up all night, at least until he asked Tomayris for something to help him sleep, at which point Timarchos barely had time to lie down before falling into a deep sleep.