Stories Thread

[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.