Stories Thread

[GMaximus]

Somewhere in Kappadokia

The wooden chair on which Mikithion sat creaked loudly as the Strategos leaned back, placing all his weight on the rear legs. Brushing some dust off of his easily noticeable robe, he cast an angry glance at the ceiling, before resuming reading the letter from Sarpedon Syriakes for what must've been the twentieth time that evening.

Hearing a silent knock on the doors that separated his small, humble room from the rest of the inn, the Hellene answered with a 'Come in, Polymarches'. Lysimakes and Polymarches were the only two people that he had allowed to disturb him, and the old herbalist was asleep in the room next to his; Mikithion could hear the honorable man snoring. Thus, Polymarches was the only one who could be behind the doors.

Indeed, the doors carefuly opened and Polymarches stepped into the room. "My lord, I appologize for disturbing you, but Alexander has returned, and he reports that Sarpedon Syriakes..."

"Yes, I know that we have his permission to join his army. And if that is the case, then Basileus must've approved my request to be assigned to the Pontic frontier." When Polymarches raised his eyebrows in surprise, Mikithion gestured with his free hand to the letter. "The Kleronomos asked me to take command of his army temporarily, until either he can reasume his position at its head, or that Makedonian joins us, Nikarchos Syriakes or whoever..."

Polymarches' eyebrows rose even further, and when they could no longer move up, the spear carrier expressed his surprise with his eyes. He went through a quick change of emotions as the surprise became awe, and awe became joy.

"You have been appointed to lead a Royal Army temporarily, my lord? That is great news indeed, a fine chance to prove your worth!"

Mikithion only yawned. "Indeed it is. Tell the men to be ready early in the morning, and send out one of them to Antiocheia. Not Alexander, let him rest. Tell whoever you send to... Wait, nevermind. Send him to my room some ten minutes from now, I'll have his orders then. And rest well yourself, we'll have a long way to go to reach Sarpedon's army."

Without even trying to distinguish his joy, Polymarches left the room. Mikithion yawned again, before asuming a more comfortable position for writing and beginning to scribble something on a piece of paper.

[kingsnake]

The Syrian Army's Fort, west of Mazaka.
Winter 266 BC

Everything was calm now. His army was experienced and loyal. Things ran smoothly and there were no worries, except for the occasional new recruits, but each captain could handle them effectively.
Wearing no armor, only fur to protect him from the winter morning cold, Aratos was walking towards the small wooden tower. Greeting, on his way, the few men who were already awake and the patrolling soldiers, he arrived at the tower. When Aratos reached the top, the tower guard automatically greeted and climbed down.
Aratos, looked up, closed his eyes, inspired the fresh air and sighed.
One more day. Soon the army will march up and enter Pontic lands. Opening his eyes, he looked north and observed the thin fog that covered and tried to slide down the rugged rocky peaks of the mountains. Soon the sun will climb up and destroy the fragile mist.
The camp was well positioned, away from the frontiers, though close enough for the planned surprise invasion. Our enemy will hardly suspect anything. The assault must be quick and effective, Aratos thought. Once the Pontic problem is dealt with, he could go south and aid against those damned Egyptians. Hell! He should be there right now! One of these days he’ll soon have to return to Persepolis, he misses his homeland and his son must have a persian education. Then, he won’t be able to avenge his father as he correctly wanted. His son was more important now and Aratos knew it, since the day he first held his baby on his arms.

[00jebus]

Cadeyren laugh shook the night "Across a desert? well, if they want to drag their troops to their death, I say we let them, they'll need to found a new city of the dead before they get here though"

Timarchos however looked at the scout that had just informed him of a large army advancing from Egypt, he spoke "where are they?"

"About one seasons march out" replied the scout in front of him

"Look, boss, if that were a celtic army, then it would literally melt in that heat.."

"But its not, I guess we'll deal with it if it manages to cross the desert, I just hope half of the men you saw were an illusion, cause if not this thing will die faster than it began."

Timarchos looked around his tent, "Gods I wish I was rich enough to buy some merc's.." he looked at his scout "go do a whip round, jews are supposed to be rich right? see if we can't get enough for something!"

Cadeyren looked sceptical "Thracians? we can't affort them..."

"I know, I'll get anything I can afford, we lack any heavy infantry, and now I really am starting to miss them"

"You've never commanded any"

"Not for greeks I havn't" a smile crossed Timarchos lips, Cadeyren stayed quite, by unspoken consent, neither wished to intrude on the others memories of wars gone by unless it was offered, but the Celt seriously doubted anyone east of Antioch even knew what true heavy infantry actually was.

[Celtic_Punk]

"I am a newly wed! I should be at home caring for my wife, not killing young lads..."
"You're losing your touch?! Bloody Hell Cuno, you are a General, and a soldier first, a husband second."
"Achaikos, does it really matter who commands these men? They have my best friend as their supreme commander. I am just here for the ride."
"Not true, you command the cavalry! What if Aratos falls? Who will command them then? You will, and you are the most qualified for such a job, you know these men, you saved their lives at Pamphylia."
Cunobelinus looks up at the sky "Perhaps... You've convinced me... My wife is young. Maybe with my time here away she will bud into a beautiful flower... I'll fight. For Galatia, my wife, and for the men."
"That's all I ask, brother. That's what all men fight for...Home, family, and the men next to you."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I wrote this sort of in honour of Remembrance Day, well the last speech anyway.

[GMaximus]

The Gates of Ipsus

“Well that wasn’t a pleasurable experience.” Mikithion groaned, making his way through the gates to the town of Ipsus, Polymarches and Lysimakes at his side and his bodyguard behind him. They had rode from Kappadokia to Ipsus without any prolonged stops; Mikithion was only glad that hopefully, he wouldn’t need to make such wild rides like from Kappadokia to Seleukeia or this journey. The army was supposed to move slower than a small party of horsemen, after all.

Polymarches only grunted something in response. The spear carrier was still grieving over the fact Mikithion’s power over the Royal Army of Sarpedon was so short-lived; this temporary promotion seemed to Polymarches like the gates to higher rank, glory, money and just about anything else, gates that have just been closed.

Mikithion himself did not pay that much attention to this brief interruption in his otherwise uneventful life as a Strategos; ever since sending out Alexander to Seleukeia with his request of reassignment, the Hellene could only imagine himself earning glory in this war. If he was lucky, he’d get to prove his mettle in a battle under Sarpedon and the Kleronomos would put in some words for him in the Council, maybe even enough for Mikithion to be assigned his own troops. If he was very lucky, then he might even become an Aid for the Satrap.

Both those options were appealing, and as he rode into Ipsus, Mikithion allowed himself a weary smile – this war was indeed a gift from Athena.

[00jebus]

Sidon market distict, 265

Cadeyren and Timarchos were looking at armour and swords, Cadeyren, although used to loud noise, kept his fingers in his ears when nobody was talking to him, eventually Timarchos had enough, it was starting to spoil his good mood

"ok, I give in, whats wrong old friend? nobody stabbed you did they? its not some Galatian thing when you kill another celt?"
"No, neither of them, its just, I never did like the market, always seemed to me too much like chaos, not like a battle or camp, then theres order to the noise.."
"chaos? this is economics!"
"gah! have you decided yet? I really need a drink"
"gods, cheer up, if I'm not mistaken I've just earned myself a promotion... that means I'm buying"
a small smile crossed Cadeyrens face, Timarchos picked out a new curiass and helmet to replace his old dented kit and a new Xiphos, and asked the clerk how long it would take too make, being told it would be ready before the end of the week.

Timarchos turned to Cadeyren
"before we go, have the new lads settled in ok?"
"ok? for some weird reason they love you, I can only guess that they havn't got to know you yet..."
"ha, or the burly galatian that wanders round after me making sure I've killed people properly"
"its not my fault your technique is sloppy, you get the hang of it and I can get on with my proper job of making sure the men kill people properly"

happy his friend was back to normal, his promotion probably secure, and the city was safe Timarchos wasted no time in telling his messangers that his troops could take the week off, for he deffinantly planned too

[00jebus]

barrakcs at Sidon, 265

Timarchos woke early, not by choice, the banging and crashing these new recruits were making during training was driving him mad, and no matter how often he threatened them with disembowlment, castration and evisaration, they still woke him during early morning drills

swearing, he rolled out of bed as a constast series of boots stamping on the ground shaked the thin walls of the barracks, he poked his head out of his window and shouted after the goup
"Gods! That should sound like a drum! none of you are eating till you get this right!"
A slave came running to dress him, Timarchos busied himself by looking at his statue of the smiling fat man and again wondered what it could be, he decided it was some kind of Indian version of Zeus, he was then just deciding on what to eat that morning, as that was the other thing the statue reminded him of, when Cadeyren came striding into his room, looking rather cheerful,
"Of course sir, if you trained them celtic style, they wouldn't need to all look the same when they marched, so their captian wouldn't have to march them round every morning, so you could get some more sleep..."
Timarchos looked thoughfully at this before declaring "No, I've got a better idea, pack up everything thats mine, I'm moving out!"
"To where?"
"Have not decided yet, but since I'm planning on spending winter in the city, I'm sure I can find a nice house of some Egyptian merchant that wont need it back for a while, fancy some house shopping today?"
"If you make me decorate this place, I will hurt you...."
"no no, just need your opinion on whats defendable, oh, and keep an eye out for a pool, or three, I want something thats kinda near the centre, preferable a nice garden, maybe a libary too...oh and somewhere for all the slaves...." A happily glazed look clossed over Mysiakes' face
"And the new recruits, who'll inspect them?"
Timarchos was slightly put out by the question... "you will, three times a week, I will once a month, so long as they finish their training before the next term starts, I don't really care, given the amount of time its taking them to get marching right, it will be a while."
A momment passed
"....and good square frontage too... and a wall, I don't want to have to lend people wine when they run out....."