The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
As Taengea sail towards war, their allies in the north prepare to support them. In the open coastline just behind the city of Midas, units of soldiers prepare for battle. Fields of equipment, simple tents, armour and weaponry are laid out, with Captains patrolling the lines to ensure that each and every soldier under his command is suitably equipped. Beyond their extras, each fighter wears his own armour, ready for inspection for dents, breaks or damage. It is the last check upon the men before they are preparing to set sail and is supervised by the Captains and Commanders, awaiting the arrival of General Vangelis of Kotas to give his final seal of approval before plans are made to set sail upon the war ships culminating along the coastline...
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
As Taengea sail towards war, their allies in the north prepare to support them. In the open coastline just behind the city of Midas, units of soldiers prepare for battle. Fields of equipment, simple tents, armour and weaponry are laid out, with Captains patrolling the lines to ensure that each and every soldier under his command is suitably equipped. Beyond their extras, each fighter wears his own armour, ready for inspection for dents, breaks or damage. It is the last check upon the men before they are preparing to set sail and is supervised by the Captains and Commanders, awaiting the arrival of General Vangelis of Kotas to give his final seal of approval before plans are made to set sail upon the war ships culminating along the coastline...
The Call of Duty Event - Colchis
As Taengea sail towards war, their allies in the north prepare to support them. In the open coastline just behind the city of Midas, units of soldiers prepare for battle. Fields of equipment, simple tents, armour and weaponry are laid out, with Captains patrolling the lines to ensure that each and every soldier under his command is suitably equipped. Beyond their extras, each fighter wears his own armour, ready for inspection for dents, breaks or damage. It is the last check upon the men before they are preparing to set sail and is supervised by the Captains and Commanders, awaiting the arrival of General Vangelis of Kotas to give his final seal of approval before plans are made to set sail upon the war ships culminating along the coastline...
Vangelis had a theory when it came to efficiency.
There were many men who considered themselves to be efficient and organised; able to complete tasks in a timely manner and to a high quality. And yet, within that sphere of men, there were many who failed to complete as many tasks as Vangelis could within a day.
A standard stretch from time from sunup to sundown for Vangelis consisted of much - especially when he was in the capitol and able to take up his duties as crown prince and baron of Chaossis. His morning began several hours before the sun had even truly risen and by the time tie orb had left the hold of the horizon entirely, Vangelis was always several hours through a physical workout and returning to his chambers for a quick bathe and dress. Then there were the missives to be settled, the authorisations that were sent from his steward in Chaossis to be finalised. He would usually manage to complete some of this before he broke fast. The meal was often delivered to his chambers, before he would then go about his business outside of the Kotas manor. Sometimes it was meeting conducted with barons who were in town, if there were issues to be raised about their province's yield. As Head of House, that was Vangelis' duty when it came to the Kotas vassals. Sometimes it was to military men. Soldiers injured in battles he had led them in whom he visited, commanders who wished to confirm reports and training measures, weaponry suppliers who needed to verify shipments. Sometimes the day consisted of public events - like the opening of the bath houses the other week or other such celebrations.
Generally, he was outside of the manor and handling business for the entire day, spending more of his time in a saddle than on his own feet. He would return to his chambers to finish his paperwork, to answer any new missives he had received in during the day, to conduct another practice work out, to study current affairs on all of their military flanks. Dinner was an affair shared with his family late in the day - for all of the Kotas were busy men - and then the group divided to return to their own chambers. Where Vangelis spent the time studying new reports on military procedure, techniques and one-to-one melee tactics, making notes of which he would pass to Nike and which he would give to other Captains to practice and instigate within their units.
Vangelis would fall asleep somewhere in the dark of night, after the candles in his room and the fire in his hearth had died away, and then wake perhaps four or five hours later to repeat the cycle.
All of it was perhaps three times the amount of work a normal noble with significant duties would complete in a day. Possibly ten times that of less busy nobles who were able to while away their week with only one or two important meetings on their schedule. But Vangelis was a man who held the positions of at least three others and he held a strong and easy theory upon efficiency.
Screw politeness, and get the job done.
Perhaps it was part of the reason the man had been dubbed the 'Stone Prince' and perhaps there were ways for him to do his job being slightly more friendly. But friendliness led to invitations and invitations led to wine and wine led to lingering and jovial reputations led to having to stop in the streets and wave to passers-by.
Vangelis was a man who could bear witness to the advantage of being well liked, but gave far more credence to being able to keep his kingdom in its highest form of strength and security simply through the sacrifice of his own personal reputation.
For the five days, Vangelis had had a shadow on these journeys.
Forced to be up earlier than Vangelis in order to make it to the Kotas manor before the crown prince reached the courtyard for training, Silanos of Valaoritis had been given his orders on the first morning he arrived, the day after the military meeting within his brother's rented home. He was to do everything that Vangelis did.
When Vangelis worked through physical techniques and fighting manoeuvres only soldiers with decades of experience could hack, Silanos was expected to carry them out too. When Vangelis rode for miles meeting his vassals and soldiers, Silanos rode with him. When Vangelis worked on his study and missives, he had given Silanos two options: study a particular set of tactical military books or do push ups.
Silanos was never permitted to eat with the Kotas family and given the lateness of the hour that they normally dined in, he was sent home when Vangelis turned to the call of a servant explaining that dinner was prepared.
Under pain of death, Silanos had also been banned from drink.
Thus, had been the younger Valaoritis' existence for the last five days.
"Silanos, take a tablet and stylus." Vangelis said that morning after they had eaten, waving a hand at his desk where several wooden frames with clay tablets within had been left for note taking. Styluses were kept in a little golden pot beside them. "You'll be making notes on this trip."
For most of the other visitations that Vangelis had made over the last few days with his strange and resentful shadow, Vangelis had not required Silanos to do anything except stand quietly. He was never permitted to sit and he was tested on what the meeting had been about when the horses were re-saddled and they had departed for the next location; ergo he was forced to pay attention. But he had never been given an actual job before.
Without any clearer explanation or addition, Vangelis shrugged into a long tunic cut himation that hung like an arabian jacket from shoulders to ankles, armless and open at the front over his long chiton and headed down the corridors of the Kotas manor and down towards the courtyard where their horses would have been prepared, waiting for them to go and inspect the troops outside of the city.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Vangelis had a theory when it came to efficiency.
There were many men who considered themselves to be efficient and organised; able to complete tasks in a timely manner and to a high quality. And yet, within that sphere of men, there were many who failed to complete as many tasks as Vangelis could within a day.
A standard stretch from time from sunup to sundown for Vangelis consisted of much - especially when he was in the capitol and able to take up his duties as crown prince and baron of Chaossis. His morning began several hours before the sun had even truly risen and by the time tie orb had left the hold of the horizon entirely, Vangelis was always several hours through a physical workout and returning to his chambers for a quick bathe and dress. Then there were the missives to be settled, the authorisations that were sent from his steward in Chaossis to be finalised. He would usually manage to complete some of this before he broke fast. The meal was often delivered to his chambers, before he would then go about his business outside of the Kotas manor. Sometimes it was meeting conducted with barons who were in town, if there were issues to be raised about their province's yield. As Head of House, that was Vangelis' duty when it came to the Kotas vassals. Sometimes it was to military men. Soldiers injured in battles he had led them in whom he visited, commanders who wished to confirm reports and training measures, weaponry suppliers who needed to verify shipments. Sometimes the day consisted of public events - like the opening of the bath houses the other week or other such celebrations.
Generally, he was outside of the manor and handling business for the entire day, spending more of his time in a saddle than on his own feet. He would return to his chambers to finish his paperwork, to answer any new missives he had received in during the day, to conduct another practice work out, to study current affairs on all of their military flanks. Dinner was an affair shared with his family late in the day - for all of the Kotas were busy men - and then the group divided to return to their own chambers. Where Vangelis spent the time studying new reports on military procedure, techniques and one-to-one melee tactics, making notes of which he would pass to Nike and which he would give to other Captains to practice and instigate within their units.
Vangelis would fall asleep somewhere in the dark of night, after the candles in his room and the fire in his hearth had died away, and then wake perhaps four or five hours later to repeat the cycle.
All of it was perhaps three times the amount of work a normal noble with significant duties would complete in a day. Possibly ten times that of less busy nobles who were able to while away their week with only one or two important meetings on their schedule. But Vangelis was a man who held the positions of at least three others and he held a strong and easy theory upon efficiency.
Screw politeness, and get the job done.
Perhaps it was part of the reason the man had been dubbed the 'Stone Prince' and perhaps there were ways for him to do his job being slightly more friendly. But friendliness led to invitations and invitations led to wine and wine led to lingering and jovial reputations led to having to stop in the streets and wave to passers-by.
Vangelis was a man who could bear witness to the advantage of being well liked, but gave far more credence to being able to keep his kingdom in its highest form of strength and security simply through the sacrifice of his own personal reputation.
For the five days, Vangelis had had a shadow on these journeys.
Forced to be up earlier than Vangelis in order to make it to the Kotas manor before the crown prince reached the courtyard for training, Silanos of Valaoritis had been given his orders on the first morning he arrived, the day after the military meeting within his brother's rented home. He was to do everything that Vangelis did.
When Vangelis worked through physical techniques and fighting manoeuvres only soldiers with decades of experience could hack, Silanos was expected to carry them out too. When Vangelis rode for miles meeting his vassals and soldiers, Silanos rode with him. When Vangelis worked on his study and missives, he had given Silanos two options: study a particular set of tactical military books or do push ups.
Silanos was never permitted to eat with the Kotas family and given the lateness of the hour that they normally dined in, he was sent home when Vangelis turned to the call of a servant explaining that dinner was prepared.
Under pain of death, Silanos had also been banned from drink.
Thus, had been the younger Valaoritis' existence for the last five days.
"Silanos, take a tablet and stylus." Vangelis said that morning after they had eaten, waving a hand at his desk where several wooden frames with clay tablets within had been left for note taking. Styluses were kept in a little golden pot beside them. "You'll be making notes on this trip."
For most of the other visitations that Vangelis had made over the last few days with his strange and resentful shadow, Vangelis had not required Silanos to do anything except stand quietly. He was never permitted to sit and he was tested on what the meeting had been about when the horses were re-saddled and they had departed for the next location; ergo he was forced to pay attention. But he had never been given an actual job before.
Without any clearer explanation or addition, Vangelis shrugged into a long tunic cut himation that hung like an arabian jacket from shoulders to ankles, armless and open at the front over his long chiton and headed down the corridors of the Kotas manor and down towards the courtyard where their horses would have been prepared, waiting for them to go and inspect the troops outside of the city.
Vangelis had a theory when it came to efficiency.
There were many men who considered themselves to be efficient and organised; able to complete tasks in a timely manner and to a high quality. And yet, within that sphere of men, there were many who failed to complete as many tasks as Vangelis could within a day.
A standard stretch from time from sunup to sundown for Vangelis consisted of much - especially when he was in the capitol and able to take up his duties as crown prince and baron of Chaossis. His morning began several hours before the sun had even truly risen and by the time tie orb had left the hold of the horizon entirely, Vangelis was always several hours through a physical workout and returning to his chambers for a quick bathe and dress. Then there were the missives to be settled, the authorisations that were sent from his steward in Chaossis to be finalised. He would usually manage to complete some of this before he broke fast. The meal was often delivered to his chambers, before he would then go about his business outside of the Kotas manor. Sometimes it was meeting conducted with barons who were in town, if there were issues to be raised about their province's yield. As Head of House, that was Vangelis' duty when it came to the Kotas vassals. Sometimes it was to military men. Soldiers injured in battles he had led them in whom he visited, commanders who wished to confirm reports and training measures, weaponry suppliers who needed to verify shipments. Sometimes the day consisted of public events - like the opening of the bath houses the other week or other such celebrations.
Generally, he was outside of the manor and handling business for the entire day, spending more of his time in a saddle than on his own feet. He would return to his chambers to finish his paperwork, to answer any new missives he had received in during the day, to conduct another practice work out, to study current affairs on all of their military flanks. Dinner was an affair shared with his family late in the day - for all of the Kotas were busy men - and then the group divided to return to their own chambers. Where Vangelis spent the time studying new reports on military procedure, techniques and one-to-one melee tactics, making notes of which he would pass to Nike and which he would give to other Captains to practice and instigate within their units.
Vangelis would fall asleep somewhere in the dark of night, after the candles in his room and the fire in his hearth had died away, and then wake perhaps four or five hours later to repeat the cycle.
All of it was perhaps three times the amount of work a normal noble with significant duties would complete in a day. Possibly ten times that of less busy nobles who were able to while away their week with only one or two important meetings on their schedule. But Vangelis was a man who held the positions of at least three others and he held a strong and easy theory upon efficiency.
Screw politeness, and get the job done.
Perhaps it was part of the reason the man had been dubbed the 'Stone Prince' and perhaps there were ways for him to do his job being slightly more friendly. But friendliness led to invitations and invitations led to wine and wine led to lingering and jovial reputations led to having to stop in the streets and wave to passers-by.
Vangelis was a man who could bear witness to the advantage of being well liked, but gave far more credence to being able to keep his kingdom in its highest form of strength and security simply through the sacrifice of his own personal reputation.
For the five days, Vangelis had had a shadow on these journeys.
Forced to be up earlier than Vangelis in order to make it to the Kotas manor before the crown prince reached the courtyard for training, Silanos of Valaoritis had been given his orders on the first morning he arrived, the day after the military meeting within his brother's rented home. He was to do everything that Vangelis did.
When Vangelis worked through physical techniques and fighting manoeuvres only soldiers with decades of experience could hack, Silanos was expected to carry them out too. When Vangelis rode for miles meeting his vassals and soldiers, Silanos rode with him. When Vangelis worked on his study and missives, he had given Silanos two options: study a particular set of tactical military books or do push ups.
Silanos was never permitted to eat with the Kotas family and given the lateness of the hour that they normally dined in, he was sent home when Vangelis turned to the call of a servant explaining that dinner was prepared.
Under pain of death, Silanos had also been banned from drink.
Thus, had been the younger Valaoritis' existence for the last five days.
"Silanos, take a tablet and stylus." Vangelis said that morning after they had eaten, waving a hand at his desk where several wooden frames with clay tablets within had been left for note taking. Styluses were kept in a little golden pot beside them. "You'll be making notes on this trip."
For most of the other visitations that Vangelis had made over the last few days with his strange and resentful shadow, Vangelis had not required Silanos to do anything except stand quietly. He was never permitted to sit and he was tested on what the meeting had been about when the horses were re-saddled and they had departed for the next location; ergo he was forced to pay attention. But he had never been given an actual job before.
Without any clearer explanation or addition, Vangelis shrugged into a long tunic cut himation that hung like an arabian jacket from shoulders to ankles, armless and open at the front over his long chiton and headed down the corridors of the Kotas manor and down towards the courtyard where their horses would have been prepared, waiting for them to go and inspect the troops outside of the city.
"Here are stacks of parchment so you write to us whenever you can."
Maximus stood at a soldiers attention while the servants equipped his Cardiophylax around his pectoral muscles. His father: Adonis clasped his hands behind his back giving the Maximus the same stern look he would always give him whenever he was training. His mother: Selene looked slightly nervous talking to Maximus as she began packing his things for the journey. Maximus put on a soliders face, never flinching only moving whenever his servants needed to equip a piece of armor on him. It was happeneing at last, the Colchian realm was finally going to war with Egypt. It was inevitable given the events that transpired in Tangea.
The realms usually like to squabble with on another but when one Kingdom was threatened, everyone drops their petty fighting unite to defeat the common foe. That was always the Greek way. The King has called for his units to rally at the Isle of Kos for final inspection and to gather their weapons to set sail for war. Maximus' armor was in pristine condition, he made sure that every dent, any sign of rust was taken care of. He was born and bred for this moment. Maximus wanted to go to war to acheive glory but at the same time he was nervous. The risk of death was high and is already annoying hearing the wobbling tone of his mother.
"I am a man mother," Maximus said in a cold tone that surprised even himself. "You should not weep for me for I am trained rain death on my enemies. I am trained to protect the women and children of Colchis. For the desert I'll go as a man but I'll come back as another legend for our family."
"Maximus!" Adonis said as Selene dropped his things and began to weep. "Do not talk to your mother like that. She is a woman and women are more attached to their children even the strong women of Colchis can be reduced to tears."
Maximus gave a mental sigh just when he was trying to become more of a man he ends up hurting the people he loved. Maximus loves his mother with all his heart but he is a soldier and had his duty to fulfill. The young man winced as the servants placed the Curiass and wrapped it tight his chest and back while moving towards placing the Manicae on his elbows. Maximus' stomach felt light again this was a big event in his life sure he's killed before but the skirmishes will not be brutal compared to the long and adrious campaign in a strange land.
"You've never been a real battle before Maximus," Adonis said continuing to inspect Maximus. "And I know what your feeling right now like your belly is tied to a knot and you're afraid that you will shame yourself in battle."
Maximus dropped the facade of disicpline and stared at his father flabbergasted at what he said. Was he psychic? Did he gain powers of a Witch? Adonis gave Maximus a rare smile as he stepped closer to his son, Selene stopped her weeping being helped up by her handmaidens and continued to pack Maximus' things in silence though Maximus could hear a sniff every now and then.
"Every boy feels that same feeling in their first battle son." Adonis said with a warmth Maximus never felt by his father before. "There is no shame in feeling fear unless you let it consume you. All soldiers experience terror in their career. It's how we adapt over come is how we move forward. Just know that your brother beside your will fear and his brother next to him."
Maximus felt his greeves being slid on to forearms as he gulped and nodded. He wished he'd seen this side of his father it was soft yet still brutally honest. "I'm not afraid," Maximus said trying to be brave.
"There's bravery," Adonis said. "And then there's foolishness take care of controlling yourself on the battlefield afterall your brothers are relying on you so the Phalanx can move as one. The wars that Greece has been in has enough dead heroes."
Maximus frowned, he always told himself if he was going to die, he would die gloriously but his father was right. The fate of his family line was reliant on him. If Maximus died then his family bloodline will be extinct. Of course that's not accounting for the curse he carried. "Whatever happens in battle," Adonis said. "Know that it happened before. I am old Maximus and I have fought in many battles to know of its glorious, its wretched and its most absurd and even the most funny. You may shit yourself like I did in my first battle, you may be cry out obsenities that you never knew that was in your vocabulary. It all happened my son."
Maximus felt the last of armor placed on him as the carriage that had soldiers called out Maximus' name. "Be careful my son," Maximus said. "The Gods watch over you."
"Come back with your shield or on it," Selene gave Maximus his bag as he took it fighting back tears.
"And don't everything you're told in Egypt," Adonis said. "There will be questions asked about you, your superiors may use you."
"What?" Maximus said confused of it all.
"Just know," Adonis placed a hand on Maximus' armored shoulder. "That when you return, we will talk about your family roots."
Maximus nodded fiercely and stood at attention. "I will come back mother and father," he said. "Farewell."
Maximus turned on his heel and entered the carriage that will be taking them to the ship. Soon they'll be heanding to the Isle of Kos, he was still overwhelmed about his father's statement. Taking one more look as the carriage began to move he saw Adonis and Selene staring at him with Adonis raking his eyes with his wrists. It was first time that Maximus saw his father emotional and warm tears touched his cheeks as he turned around and looked at the path ahead.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"Here are stacks of parchment so you write to us whenever you can."
Maximus stood at a soldiers attention while the servants equipped his Cardiophylax around his pectoral muscles. His father: Adonis clasped his hands behind his back giving the Maximus the same stern look he would always give him whenever he was training. His mother: Selene looked slightly nervous talking to Maximus as she began packing his things for the journey. Maximus put on a soliders face, never flinching only moving whenever his servants needed to equip a piece of armor on him. It was happeneing at last, the Colchian realm was finally going to war with Egypt. It was inevitable given the events that transpired in Tangea.
The realms usually like to squabble with on another but when one Kingdom was threatened, everyone drops their petty fighting unite to defeat the common foe. That was always the Greek way. The King has called for his units to rally at the Isle of Kos for final inspection and to gather their weapons to set sail for war. Maximus' armor was in pristine condition, he made sure that every dent, any sign of rust was taken care of. He was born and bred for this moment. Maximus wanted to go to war to acheive glory but at the same time he was nervous. The risk of death was high and is already annoying hearing the wobbling tone of his mother.
"I am a man mother," Maximus said in a cold tone that surprised even himself. "You should not weep for me for I am trained rain death on my enemies. I am trained to protect the women and children of Colchis. For the desert I'll go as a man but I'll come back as another legend for our family."
"Maximus!" Adonis said as Selene dropped his things and began to weep. "Do not talk to your mother like that. She is a woman and women are more attached to their children even the strong women of Colchis can be reduced to tears."
Maximus gave a mental sigh just when he was trying to become more of a man he ends up hurting the people he loved. Maximus loves his mother with all his heart but he is a soldier and had his duty to fulfill. The young man winced as the servants placed the Curiass and wrapped it tight his chest and back while moving towards placing the Manicae on his elbows. Maximus' stomach felt light again this was a big event in his life sure he's killed before but the skirmishes will not be brutal compared to the long and adrious campaign in a strange land.
"You've never been a real battle before Maximus," Adonis said continuing to inspect Maximus. "And I know what your feeling right now like your belly is tied to a knot and you're afraid that you will shame yourself in battle."
Maximus dropped the facade of disicpline and stared at his father flabbergasted at what he said. Was he psychic? Did he gain powers of a Witch? Adonis gave Maximus a rare smile as he stepped closer to his son, Selene stopped her weeping being helped up by her handmaidens and continued to pack Maximus' things in silence though Maximus could hear a sniff every now and then.
"Every boy feels that same feeling in their first battle son." Adonis said with a warmth Maximus never felt by his father before. "There is no shame in feeling fear unless you let it consume you. All soldiers experience terror in their career. It's how we adapt over come is how we move forward. Just know that your brother beside your will fear and his brother next to him."
Maximus felt his greeves being slid on to forearms as he gulped and nodded. He wished he'd seen this side of his father it was soft yet still brutally honest. "I'm not afraid," Maximus said trying to be brave.
"There's bravery," Adonis said. "And then there's foolishness take care of controlling yourself on the battlefield afterall your brothers are relying on you so the Phalanx can move as one. The wars that Greece has been in has enough dead heroes."
Maximus frowned, he always told himself if he was going to die, he would die gloriously but his father was right. The fate of his family line was reliant on him. If Maximus died then his family bloodline will be extinct. Of course that's not accounting for the curse he carried. "Whatever happens in battle," Adonis said. "Know that it happened before. I am old Maximus and I have fought in many battles to know of its glorious, its wretched and its most absurd and even the most funny. You may shit yourself like I did in my first battle, you may be cry out obsenities that you never knew that was in your vocabulary. It all happened my son."
Maximus felt the last of armor placed on him as the carriage that had soldiers called out Maximus' name. "Be careful my son," Maximus said. "The Gods watch over you."
"Come back with your shield or on it," Selene gave Maximus his bag as he took it fighting back tears.
"And don't everything you're told in Egypt," Adonis said. "There will be questions asked about you, your superiors may use you."
"What?" Maximus said confused of it all.
"Just know," Adonis placed a hand on Maximus' armored shoulder. "That when you return, we will talk about your family roots."
Maximus nodded fiercely and stood at attention. "I will come back mother and father," he said. "Farewell."
Maximus turned on his heel and entered the carriage that will be taking them to the ship. Soon they'll be heanding to the Isle of Kos, he was still overwhelmed about his father's statement. Taking one more look as the carriage began to move he saw Adonis and Selene staring at him with Adonis raking his eyes with his wrists. It was first time that Maximus saw his father emotional and warm tears touched his cheeks as he turned around and looked at the path ahead.
"Here are stacks of parchment so you write to us whenever you can."
Maximus stood at a soldiers attention while the servants equipped his Cardiophylax around his pectoral muscles. His father: Adonis clasped his hands behind his back giving the Maximus the same stern look he would always give him whenever he was training. His mother: Selene looked slightly nervous talking to Maximus as she began packing his things for the journey. Maximus put on a soliders face, never flinching only moving whenever his servants needed to equip a piece of armor on him. It was happeneing at last, the Colchian realm was finally going to war with Egypt. It was inevitable given the events that transpired in Tangea.
The realms usually like to squabble with on another but when one Kingdom was threatened, everyone drops their petty fighting unite to defeat the common foe. That was always the Greek way. The King has called for his units to rally at the Isle of Kos for final inspection and to gather their weapons to set sail for war. Maximus' armor was in pristine condition, he made sure that every dent, any sign of rust was taken care of. He was born and bred for this moment. Maximus wanted to go to war to acheive glory but at the same time he was nervous. The risk of death was high and is already annoying hearing the wobbling tone of his mother.
"I am a man mother," Maximus said in a cold tone that surprised even himself. "You should not weep for me for I am trained rain death on my enemies. I am trained to protect the women and children of Colchis. For the desert I'll go as a man but I'll come back as another legend for our family."
"Maximus!" Adonis said as Selene dropped his things and began to weep. "Do not talk to your mother like that. She is a woman and women are more attached to their children even the strong women of Colchis can be reduced to tears."
Maximus gave a mental sigh just when he was trying to become more of a man he ends up hurting the people he loved. Maximus loves his mother with all his heart but he is a soldier and had his duty to fulfill. The young man winced as the servants placed the Curiass and wrapped it tight his chest and back while moving towards placing the Manicae on his elbows. Maximus' stomach felt light again this was a big event in his life sure he's killed before but the skirmishes will not be brutal compared to the long and adrious campaign in a strange land.
"You've never been a real battle before Maximus," Adonis said continuing to inspect Maximus. "And I know what your feeling right now like your belly is tied to a knot and you're afraid that you will shame yourself in battle."
Maximus dropped the facade of disicpline and stared at his father flabbergasted at what he said. Was he psychic? Did he gain powers of a Witch? Adonis gave Maximus a rare smile as he stepped closer to his son, Selene stopped her weeping being helped up by her handmaidens and continued to pack Maximus' things in silence though Maximus could hear a sniff every now and then.
"Every boy feels that same feeling in their first battle son." Adonis said with a warmth Maximus never felt by his father before. "There is no shame in feeling fear unless you let it consume you. All soldiers experience terror in their career. It's how we adapt over come is how we move forward. Just know that your brother beside your will fear and his brother next to him."
Maximus felt his greeves being slid on to forearms as he gulped and nodded. He wished he'd seen this side of his father it was soft yet still brutally honest. "I'm not afraid," Maximus said trying to be brave.
"There's bravery," Adonis said. "And then there's foolishness take care of controlling yourself on the battlefield afterall your brothers are relying on you so the Phalanx can move as one. The wars that Greece has been in has enough dead heroes."
Maximus frowned, he always told himself if he was going to die, he would die gloriously but his father was right. The fate of his family line was reliant on him. If Maximus died then his family bloodline will be extinct. Of course that's not accounting for the curse he carried. "Whatever happens in battle," Adonis said. "Know that it happened before. I am old Maximus and I have fought in many battles to know of its glorious, its wretched and its most absurd and even the most funny. You may shit yourself like I did in my first battle, you may be cry out obsenities that you never knew that was in your vocabulary. It all happened my son."
Maximus felt the last of armor placed on him as the carriage that had soldiers called out Maximus' name. "Be careful my son," Maximus said. "The Gods watch over you."
"Come back with your shield or on it," Selene gave Maximus his bag as he took it fighting back tears.
"And don't everything you're told in Egypt," Adonis said. "There will be questions asked about you, your superiors may use you."
"What?" Maximus said confused of it all.
"Just know," Adonis placed a hand on Maximus' armored shoulder. "That when you return, we will talk about your family roots."
Maximus nodded fiercely and stood at attention. "I will come back mother and father," he said. "Farewell."
Maximus turned on his heel and entered the carriage that will be taking them to the ship. Soon they'll be heanding to the Isle of Kos, he was still overwhelmed about his father's statement. Taking one more look as the carriage began to move he saw Adonis and Selene staring at him with Adonis raking his eyes with his wrists. It was first time that Maximus saw his father emotional and warm tears touched his cheeks as he turned around and looked at the path ahead.
It felt odd, to be back in the getup of war, but strangely, it also felt like coming home. But to Nike of Acaris, war, fighting, a struggle for survival and the need to be well versed at self protection has been her life for as long as she knew it. She could barely recall how it had been like to be a young girl, for she had assimilated so easily and seamlessly into life as being part of the military, she didn't think she could ever do without. She did miss her long hair, the lack of a need to bind her chest (which she suspected would never grow too large from excessive binding) and the freedom to not be terrified of being found out wherever she went, but in the end, the campaign grounds was her home.
Dressed in her full getup for war, the Commander had her unit of men up before the sun, and her captain's patrolling her unit's practice before she came to inspect their armor and weapons. Her men were well trained, coming under a Commander who had been personally trained by Vangelis himself. Nike was as ruthless as the General, if a little less stoney herself. She was known to join her men around a fire for a meal, even to share a joke or two, but there would always be questions surrounding her, questions she never could answer. Like why she wouldn't join them for baths, or why she never imbibed overly much in drink. She had perhaps, seen every one of her men drunk on drink before when off duty, yet no one could attest the same to her.
It was a life she had chosen, and a life she had embraced very well... it was the only life she knew, at this point. Her dark green tunic had the leather armor laid over it. Instead of one, she now had two daggers into the side of her heavy boots, and her shortsword was by now replaced by her heavier, longer claymore strapped to her back, its hilt polished to shine in the rising sun as she watched her captain's inspecting the men's tools. The hair had recently been cropped, short and flying in the morning breeze as the sails were chinched, and tensions ran high.
Everyone knew what was at stake.
As she overlooked the preparations of the other units along with her own, a glimpse at the side saw the entry of the General himself and - the one who made Nike raise a brow - a shadow in the shape of young Silanos of Valaoritis. Ah, it seems his punishment had finally come to light. And it would seem the young boy wasn't too happy about it either. Nevertheless, he would learn. Nike had seen many young nobleman's son learn their duties, responsibilities and grow up in their ranks, but nothing forced someone to maturity more then impending death on a battlefield. She doubted Silanos would have an easy time, but at least the time would be fulfilling. As long as he survived it, that is.
The moment Vangelis approached, Nike straightened her body out of habit, and greeted the General as was appropriate, before giving a quick rundown of what has happened for the morning, and what has been prepared. "All final checks has been done, General." It was a final tone for Nike's words as she finished up. The woman had never made much, or any mistakes in recent years since she took up the mantle of Commander, and she wasn't about to start now.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It felt odd, to be back in the getup of war, but strangely, it also felt like coming home. But to Nike of Acaris, war, fighting, a struggle for survival and the need to be well versed at self protection has been her life for as long as she knew it. She could barely recall how it had been like to be a young girl, for she had assimilated so easily and seamlessly into life as being part of the military, she didn't think she could ever do without. She did miss her long hair, the lack of a need to bind her chest (which she suspected would never grow too large from excessive binding) and the freedom to not be terrified of being found out wherever she went, but in the end, the campaign grounds was her home.
Dressed in her full getup for war, the Commander had her unit of men up before the sun, and her captain's patrolling her unit's practice before she came to inspect their armor and weapons. Her men were well trained, coming under a Commander who had been personally trained by Vangelis himself. Nike was as ruthless as the General, if a little less stoney herself. She was known to join her men around a fire for a meal, even to share a joke or two, but there would always be questions surrounding her, questions she never could answer. Like why she wouldn't join them for baths, or why she never imbibed overly much in drink. She had perhaps, seen every one of her men drunk on drink before when off duty, yet no one could attest the same to her.
It was a life she had chosen, and a life she had embraced very well... it was the only life she knew, at this point. Her dark green tunic had the leather armor laid over it. Instead of one, she now had two daggers into the side of her heavy boots, and her shortsword was by now replaced by her heavier, longer claymore strapped to her back, its hilt polished to shine in the rising sun as she watched her captain's inspecting the men's tools. The hair had recently been cropped, short and flying in the morning breeze as the sails were chinched, and tensions ran high.
Everyone knew what was at stake.
As she overlooked the preparations of the other units along with her own, a glimpse at the side saw the entry of the General himself and - the one who made Nike raise a brow - a shadow in the shape of young Silanos of Valaoritis. Ah, it seems his punishment had finally come to light. And it would seem the young boy wasn't too happy about it either. Nevertheless, he would learn. Nike had seen many young nobleman's son learn their duties, responsibilities and grow up in their ranks, but nothing forced someone to maturity more then impending death on a battlefield. She doubted Silanos would have an easy time, but at least the time would be fulfilling. As long as he survived it, that is.
The moment Vangelis approached, Nike straightened her body out of habit, and greeted the General as was appropriate, before giving a quick rundown of what has happened for the morning, and what has been prepared. "All final checks has been done, General." It was a final tone for Nike's words as she finished up. The woman had never made much, or any mistakes in recent years since she took up the mantle of Commander, and she wasn't about to start now.
It felt odd, to be back in the getup of war, but strangely, it also felt like coming home. But to Nike of Acaris, war, fighting, a struggle for survival and the need to be well versed at self protection has been her life for as long as she knew it. She could barely recall how it had been like to be a young girl, for she had assimilated so easily and seamlessly into life as being part of the military, she didn't think she could ever do without. She did miss her long hair, the lack of a need to bind her chest (which she suspected would never grow too large from excessive binding) and the freedom to not be terrified of being found out wherever she went, but in the end, the campaign grounds was her home.
Dressed in her full getup for war, the Commander had her unit of men up before the sun, and her captain's patrolling her unit's practice before she came to inspect their armor and weapons. Her men were well trained, coming under a Commander who had been personally trained by Vangelis himself. Nike was as ruthless as the General, if a little less stoney herself. She was known to join her men around a fire for a meal, even to share a joke or two, but there would always be questions surrounding her, questions she never could answer. Like why she wouldn't join them for baths, or why she never imbibed overly much in drink. She had perhaps, seen every one of her men drunk on drink before when off duty, yet no one could attest the same to her.
It was a life she had chosen, and a life she had embraced very well... it was the only life she knew, at this point. Her dark green tunic had the leather armor laid over it. Instead of one, she now had two daggers into the side of her heavy boots, and her shortsword was by now replaced by her heavier, longer claymore strapped to her back, its hilt polished to shine in the rising sun as she watched her captain's inspecting the men's tools. The hair had recently been cropped, short and flying in the morning breeze as the sails were chinched, and tensions ran high.
Everyone knew what was at stake.
As she overlooked the preparations of the other units along with her own, a glimpse at the side saw the entry of the General himself and - the one who made Nike raise a brow - a shadow in the shape of young Silanos of Valaoritis. Ah, it seems his punishment had finally come to light. And it would seem the young boy wasn't too happy about it either. Nevertheless, he would learn. Nike had seen many young nobleman's son learn their duties, responsibilities and grow up in their ranks, but nothing forced someone to maturity more then impending death on a battlefield. She doubted Silanos would have an easy time, but at least the time would be fulfilling. As long as he survived it, that is.
The moment Vangelis approached, Nike straightened her body out of habit, and greeted the General as was appropriate, before giving a quick rundown of what has happened for the morning, and what has been prepared. "All final checks has been done, General." It was a final tone for Nike's words as she finished up. The woman had never made much, or any mistakes in recent years since she took up the mantle of Commander, and she wasn't about to start now.
It took about three days to get to the Isle of Kos. Along the way, Maximus did his best to remember his training. Glory awaited him but Maximus also remembered the last bits of his father's advice on staying close to his unit and not to worry if he embarrassed himself during battle. No one would care because they will be too busy fighting for their lives or losing theirs. However the most important thing that was on Maximus' mind was that his father was going to talk to Maximus about his family roots when he gets back from tour. Maximus did not know what spurred his father to finally unveil where his family came from and why they had to leave. Perhaps Adonis wanted to give Maximus extra motivation to survive, perhaps he wanted to give him a peace of mind before he gets married.
In any case, the news was motivation for Maximus to stay alive. No matter what he'll do, Maximus will survive. Still there were grave warnings about what Maximus' father said about not trusting everything he was said and that his superiors will use him. Of course the first one he can easily brush off as rumors spread by his brothers, but what did the latter mean that his superiors would use him.
He didn't have time to think much further as he heard the horn signaling Maximus' unit to exit the ship and get to the commanding officers for final inspection. There were many soldiers reporting for duty and inspecting them would take hours. Maximus stood at attention eager to get going but as time went by his body felt like it was to collapse. Maximus' eyelids felt droopy and by the time it was his turn he felt a familiar voice: "All final checks has been done, General."
It was Nike! And he missed Maximus' shaking off the tiredness. Next to Nike however, was his commanding officer who looked as though he was going rip his head off. Maximus raced towards the front dreading what his commanding officer would do to him. "WAIT!" Maximus shouted. "You forgot to inspect me!"
Reaching to his commander, Maximus sprang at attention. "Maximus of Laconia reporting for duty sir!" he said in a rush. "I trust you'll fine my armor in the prime condition! Sir!"
What an embarrassing shit show Maximus was in.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It took about three days to get to the Isle of Kos. Along the way, Maximus did his best to remember his training. Glory awaited him but Maximus also remembered the last bits of his father's advice on staying close to his unit and not to worry if he embarrassed himself during battle. No one would care because they will be too busy fighting for their lives or losing theirs. However the most important thing that was on Maximus' mind was that his father was going to talk to Maximus about his family roots when he gets back from tour. Maximus did not know what spurred his father to finally unveil where his family came from and why they had to leave. Perhaps Adonis wanted to give Maximus extra motivation to survive, perhaps he wanted to give him a peace of mind before he gets married.
In any case, the news was motivation for Maximus to stay alive. No matter what he'll do, Maximus will survive. Still there were grave warnings about what Maximus' father said about not trusting everything he was said and that his superiors will use him. Of course the first one he can easily brush off as rumors spread by his brothers, but what did the latter mean that his superiors would use him.
He didn't have time to think much further as he heard the horn signaling Maximus' unit to exit the ship and get to the commanding officers for final inspection. There were many soldiers reporting for duty and inspecting them would take hours. Maximus stood at attention eager to get going but as time went by his body felt like it was to collapse. Maximus' eyelids felt droopy and by the time it was his turn he felt a familiar voice: "All final checks has been done, General."
It was Nike! And he missed Maximus' shaking off the tiredness. Next to Nike however, was his commanding officer who looked as though he was going rip his head off. Maximus raced towards the front dreading what his commanding officer would do to him. "WAIT!" Maximus shouted. "You forgot to inspect me!"
Reaching to his commander, Maximus sprang at attention. "Maximus of Laconia reporting for duty sir!" he said in a rush. "I trust you'll fine my armor in the prime condition! Sir!"
What an embarrassing shit show Maximus was in.
It took about three days to get to the Isle of Kos. Along the way, Maximus did his best to remember his training. Glory awaited him but Maximus also remembered the last bits of his father's advice on staying close to his unit and not to worry if he embarrassed himself during battle. No one would care because they will be too busy fighting for their lives or losing theirs. However the most important thing that was on Maximus' mind was that his father was going to talk to Maximus about his family roots when he gets back from tour. Maximus did not know what spurred his father to finally unveil where his family came from and why they had to leave. Perhaps Adonis wanted to give Maximus extra motivation to survive, perhaps he wanted to give him a peace of mind before he gets married.
In any case, the news was motivation for Maximus to stay alive. No matter what he'll do, Maximus will survive. Still there were grave warnings about what Maximus' father said about not trusting everything he was said and that his superiors will use him. Of course the first one he can easily brush off as rumors spread by his brothers, but what did the latter mean that his superiors would use him.
He didn't have time to think much further as he heard the horn signaling Maximus' unit to exit the ship and get to the commanding officers for final inspection. There were many soldiers reporting for duty and inspecting them would take hours. Maximus stood at attention eager to get going but as time went by his body felt like it was to collapse. Maximus' eyelids felt droopy and by the time it was his turn he felt a familiar voice: "All final checks has been done, General."
It was Nike! And he missed Maximus' shaking off the tiredness. Next to Nike however, was his commanding officer who looked as though he was going rip his head off. Maximus raced towards the front dreading what his commanding officer would do to him. "WAIT!" Maximus shouted. "You forgot to inspect me!"
Reaching to his commander, Maximus sprang at attention. "Maximus of Laconia reporting for duty sir!" he said in a rush. "I trust you'll fine my armor in the prime condition! Sir!"
What an embarrassing shit show Maximus was in.
It was close now, the impending war with Egypt. Maleos was ready, his men were ready. And yet, the heavy weight of what was to come was no less. He had seen battle many times before, had come out victorious every time. Yet, he knew that at some point his luck would run out, that his skill would fail him, and his life would be given in service of Colchis. A fate he had known he would fall to since he was a boy, one that did not scare him, yet it was not something he wished to hasten. There was a chance that he would not return to Colchis, that his last breath would be taken on the field of battle in foreign lands.
The weight of war weighed heavy on a man, no matter how many times it was felt.
Thoughts of Leto had filled his mind in the previous days, since it had been confirmed that the men of the Colchian military would march. Now, he pushed such thoughts aside, in favour of turning his mind towards the task ahead of them.
The men of his unit were lined up, standing at attention in perfect rows, with space between them so their Captain could inspect their gear. They stood silent, all chatter and goodwill of brotherhood paused for the moment as each man was scrutinized by Maleos, a man they respected deeply, and a man that they all knew held high standards for the conduct of his unit.
His blue-green eyes roamed each man, taking in every inch of armour, every bit of equipment, and ensuring that not a single man would go to war without being properly prepared.
He heard the news that General Vangelis had arrived, and the final preparations had begun. Satisfied with the state of his unit, Maleos moved to the front and awaited command or words from his superiors. His own armour was in pristine condition, custom fit and crafted specifically for the Captain. He had decided to finally retire the blade that had carried him through all these years, the fated blade that had been purchased in his youth. Instead he now carried two, one sheathed on either side of him, sharpened and balanced perfectly, he hoped the blades would see the blood of many Egyptians upon the fields of battle.
He waited silently with his unit, standing proud and at attention, his stoic gaze betrayed none of his thoughts as he awaited what ever came next.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was close now, the impending war with Egypt. Maleos was ready, his men were ready. And yet, the heavy weight of what was to come was no less. He had seen battle many times before, had come out victorious every time. Yet, he knew that at some point his luck would run out, that his skill would fail him, and his life would be given in service of Colchis. A fate he had known he would fall to since he was a boy, one that did not scare him, yet it was not something he wished to hasten. There was a chance that he would not return to Colchis, that his last breath would be taken on the field of battle in foreign lands.
The weight of war weighed heavy on a man, no matter how many times it was felt.
Thoughts of Leto had filled his mind in the previous days, since it had been confirmed that the men of the Colchian military would march. Now, he pushed such thoughts aside, in favour of turning his mind towards the task ahead of them.
The men of his unit were lined up, standing at attention in perfect rows, with space between them so their Captain could inspect their gear. They stood silent, all chatter and goodwill of brotherhood paused for the moment as each man was scrutinized by Maleos, a man they respected deeply, and a man that they all knew held high standards for the conduct of his unit.
His blue-green eyes roamed each man, taking in every inch of armour, every bit of equipment, and ensuring that not a single man would go to war without being properly prepared.
He heard the news that General Vangelis had arrived, and the final preparations had begun. Satisfied with the state of his unit, Maleos moved to the front and awaited command or words from his superiors. His own armour was in pristine condition, custom fit and crafted specifically for the Captain. He had decided to finally retire the blade that had carried him through all these years, the fated blade that had been purchased in his youth. Instead he now carried two, one sheathed on either side of him, sharpened and balanced perfectly, he hoped the blades would see the blood of many Egyptians upon the fields of battle.
He waited silently with his unit, standing proud and at attention, his stoic gaze betrayed none of his thoughts as he awaited what ever came next.
It was close now, the impending war with Egypt. Maleos was ready, his men were ready. And yet, the heavy weight of what was to come was no less. He had seen battle many times before, had come out victorious every time. Yet, he knew that at some point his luck would run out, that his skill would fail him, and his life would be given in service of Colchis. A fate he had known he would fall to since he was a boy, one that did not scare him, yet it was not something he wished to hasten. There was a chance that he would not return to Colchis, that his last breath would be taken on the field of battle in foreign lands.
The weight of war weighed heavy on a man, no matter how many times it was felt.
Thoughts of Leto had filled his mind in the previous days, since it had been confirmed that the men of the Colchian military would march. Now, he pushed such thoughts aside, in favour of turning his mind towards the task ahead of them.
The men of his unit were lined up, standing at attention in perfect rows, with space between them so their Captain could inspect their gear. They stood silent, all chatter and goodwill of brotherhood paused for the moment as each man was scrutinized by Maleos, a man they respected deeply, and a man that they all knew held high standards for the conduct of his unit.
His blue-green eyes roamed each man, taking in every inch of armour, every bit of equipment, and ensuring that not a single man would go to war without being properly prepared.
He heard the news that General Vangelis had arrived, and the final preparations had begun. Satisfied with the state of his unit, Maleos moved to the front and awaited command or words from his superiors. His own armour was in pristine condition, custom fit and crafted specifically for the Captain. He had decided to finally retire the blade that had carried him through all these years, the fated blade that had been purchased in his youth. Instead he now carried two, one sheathed on either side of him, sharpened and balanced perfectly, he hoped the blades would see the blood of many Egyptians upon the fields of battle.
He waited silently with his unit, standing proud and at attention, his stoic gaze betrayed none of his thoughts as he awaited what ever came next.
Silanos was coming to think he had misjudged Maleos. For, having recently been blessed with the opportunity to spend some time with the poe faced soldier, Sil had made up his mind that the man was responsible for what was quite possibly the most miserable days of his life. His brief tenure as a..well, he didn’t even know what he’d been - a reluctant recruit under the Captain of the Men of the Heights had been a brutal awakening for a lord more used to whiling away his days and drinking and whoring away his nights. He had hated almost every moment of it and would have sworn on any of the Gods that nothing could make him more unhappy.
Until he had arrived at the Order House five days prior to this one, and been faced with the uncompromising reality of atoning for his misdeeds.
Early mornings, before Helios had even thought to bring the sun, to ensure he was at the Kotas Manor by the time the crown prince had risen. And the much to Sil’s dismay this expectation that he was to endure the same physical training regime that Vangelis himself took part in. It was a baptism of fire for the Valaoritis lord, even after his trials under Maleos and Daxos. Fire in his muscles as they protested at such demands, fire in his lungs as they tried to catch a breath. Burning. Hurting. It was fucking horrible.
The rest of his days did not get much better. What he had thought would be tedious but bearable hours spent tuning out whatever bureaucratic stuff the prince filled his days with became exhausting lengths of standing and trying to follow what was being said because it was clear Vangelis did not mean to give Silanos even the smallest amount of breathing room. What the young lord had thought of as an easy way to write off his wrongdoings was proving anything but. He felt like his every step was being watched, like he daren’t even slouch for a moment and even harder for Sil to adjust to was the flinty presence of the prince himself.
After several, possibly misguided attempts to break the cold silence - a thing which Silanos particularly despised- were met with yet even stonier silence, he had given up, and now just constantly bit his tongue whenever he felt the urge to say something irreverent or...well, say anything really.
It had been a long five days.
And a long 4 nights.
It had been made abundantly clear to Silanos that wine was not an indulgence he was permitted any longer, the ramifications of breaking said rule enough to see the young Lord resign himself to not even attempting to flout it. Perhaps then it was some blessing that Maleos had already instilled a similar restriction and that Sil had at least had to lessen his dependence on that, and poppy and whatever else he could get his hands on. He was usually so bone-tired by the time Vangelis sent him trudging back to the order House that shoving some food in his face before falling into his bed was about all he was good for.
And he had only dreamt a couple of the nights, one time had woken himself with a jolt, and then sat awake until it was time to rise, the other time he’d been shaken awake by one of the soldiers, and Silanos had slipped away to the kitchen without meeting the man’s eyes, for it was shameful to be so affected by a fucking dream of all things.
It meant he was tired, but when was he not, and Silanos had sort of fallen into the routine of his days, so when Vangelis’ voice informed him of a departure from said routine, Sil shot a sideways glance at the man as he moved to do as he’d been told. He picked up the weighty clay tablet and a stylus and wondered what was so different about today.
The Valaoritis lord managed to keep his curiosity in check for as long as he followed the prince down the corridors of the manor house, thinking that Vangelis would expound upon the need, but the prince did not so Silanos eventually rolled his eyes at the man’s very rigid back and chanced a “And where are we going, your highness?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Silanos was coming to think he had misjudged Maleos. For, having recently been blessed with the opportunity to spend some time with the poe faced soldier, Sil had made up his mind that the man was responsible for what was quite possibly the most miserable days of his life. His brief tenure as a..well, he didn’t even know what he’d been - a reluctant recruit under the Captain of the Men of the Heights had been a brutal awakening for a lord more used to whiling away his days and drinking and whoring away his nights. He had hated almost every moment of it and would have sworn on any of the Gods that nothing could make him more unhappy.
Until he had arrived at the Order House five days prior to this one, and been faced with the uncompromising reality of atoning for his misdeeds.
Early mornings, before Helios had even thought to bring the sun, to ensure he was at the Kotas Manor by the time the crown prince had risen. And the much to Sil’s dismay this expectation that he was to endure the same physical training regime that Vangelis himself took part in. It was a baptism of fire for the Valaoritis lord, even after his trials under Maleos and Daxos. Fire in his muscles as they protested at such demands, fire in his lungs as they tried to catch a breath. Burning. Hurting. It was fucking horrible.
The rest of his days did not get much better. What he had thought would be tedious but bearable hours spent tuning out whatever bureaucratic stuff the prince filled his days with became exhausting lengths of standing and trying to follow what was being said because it was clear Vangelis did not mean to give Silanos even the smallest amount of breathing room. What the young lord had thought of as an easy way to write off his wrongdoings was proving anything but. He felt like his every step was being watched, like he daren’t even slouch for a moment and even harder for Sil to adjust to was the flinty presence of the prince himself.
After several, possibly misguided attempts to break the cold silence - a thing which Silanos particularly despised- were met with yet even stonier silence, he had given up, and now just constantly bit his tongue whenever he felt the urge to say something irreverent or...well, say anything really.
It had been a long five days.
And a long 4 nights.
It had been made abundantly clear to Silanos that wine was not an indulgence he was permitted any longer, the ramifications of breaking said rule enough to see the young Lord resign himself to not even attempting to flout it. Perhaps then it was some blessing that Maleos had already instilled a similar restriction and that Sil had at least had to lessen his dependence on that, and poppy and whatever else he could get his hands on. He was usually so bone-tired by the time Vangelis sent him trudging back to the order House that shoving some food in his face before falling into his bed was about all he was good for.
And he had only dreamt a couple of the nights, one time had woken himself with a jolt, and then sat awake until it was time to rise, the other time he’d been shaken awake by one of the soldiers, and Silanos had slipped away to the kitchen without meeting the man’s eyes, for it was shameful to be so affected by a fucking dream of all things.
It meant he was tired, but when was he not, and Silanos had sort of fallen into the routine of his days, so when Vangelis’ voice informed him of a departure from said routine, Sil shot a sideways glance at the man as he moved to do as he’d been told. He picked up the weighty clay tablet and a stylus and wondered what was so different about today.
The Valaoritis lord managed to keep his curiosity in check for as long as he followed the prince down the corridors of the manor house, thinking that Vangelis would expound upon the need, but the prince did not so Silanos eventually rolled his eyes at the man’s very rigid back and chanced a “And where are we going, your highness?”
Silanos was coming to think he had misjudged Maleos. For, having recently been blessed with the opportunity to spend some time with the poe faced soldier, Sil had made up his mind that the man was responsible for what was quite possibly the most miserable days of his life. His brief tenure as a..well, he didn’t even know what he’d been - a reluctant recruit under the Captain of the Men of the Heights had been a brutal awakening for a lord more used to whiling away his days and drinking and whoring away his nights. He had hated almost every moment of it and would have sworn on any of the Gods that nothing could make him more unhappy.
Until he had arrived at the Order House five days prior to this one, and been faced with the uncompromising reality of atoning for his misdeeds.
Early mornings, before Helios had even thought to bring the sun, to ensure he was at the Kotas Manor by the time the crown prince had risen. And the much to Sil’s dismay this expectation that he was to endure the same physical training regime that Vangelis himself took part in. It was a baptism of fire for the Valaoritis lord, even after his trials under Maleos and Daxos. Fire in his muscles as they protested at such demands, fire in his lungs as they tried to catch a breath. Burning. Hurting. It was fucking horrible.
The rest of his days did not get much better. What he had thought would be tedious but bearable hours spent tuning out whatever bureaucratic stuff the prince filled his days with became exhausting lengths of standing and trying to follow what was being said because it was clear Vangelis did not mean to give Silanos even the smallest amount of breathing room. What the young lord had thought of as an easy way to write off his wrongdoings was proving anything but. He felt like his every step was being watched, like he daren’t even slouch for a moment and even harder for Sil to adjust to was the flinty presence of the prince himself.
After several, possibly misguided attempts to break the cold silence - a thing which Silanos particularly despised- were met with yet even stonier silence, he had given up, and now just constantly bit his tongue whenever he felt the urge to say something irreverent or...well, say anything really.
It had been a long five days.
And a long 4 nights.
It had been made abundantly clear to Silanos that wine was not an indulgence he was permitted any longer, the ramifications of breaking said rule enough to see the young Lord resign himself to not even attempting to flout it. Perhaps then it was some blessing that Maleos had already instilled a similar restriction and that Sil had at least had to lessen his dependence on that, and poppy and whatever else he could get his hands on. He was usually so bone-tired by the time Vangelis sent him trudging back to the order House that shoving some food in his face before falling into his bed was about all he was good for.
And he had only dreamt a couple of the nights, one time had woken himself with a jolt, and then sat awake until it was time to rise, the other time he’d been shaken awake by one of the soldiers, and Silanos had slipped away to the kitchen without meeting the man’s eyes, for it was shameful to be so affected by a fucking dream of all things.
It meant he was tired, but when was he not, and Silanos had sort of fallen into the routine of his days, so when Vangelis’ voice informed him of a departure from said routine, Sil shot a sideways glance at the man as he moved to do as he’d been told. He picked up the weighty clay tablet and a stylus and wondered what was so different about today.
The Valaoritis lord managed to keep his curiosity in check for as long as he followed the prince down the corridors of the manor house, thinking that Vangelis would expound upon the need, but the prince did not so Silanos eventually rolled his eyes at the man’s very rigid back and chanced a “And where are we going, your highness?”
When Vangelis and his new slave of accompaniment reached the courtyard of the Kotas manor, Vangelis was pleased to see Phobos fully tacked up and ready to go. Despite the business of his hours, Vangelis had ensured that he spared a half hour every evening after dinner training the animal to heel. Now fully broken in manners if not in spirit, Phobos was ready to take his first war campaign under Vangelis' guidance whilst his predecessor Windrunner was finally allowed retirement in the fields of the Kotas estate.
The jet-black stallion was large, even for one of his breed, and stood with an impressive power in his legs and hindquarters. Bred to be the perfection of a war horse and presented as a gift of enticement to the crown prince, Phobos reminded him of himself. Bred to be something that would be impressive to others but within itself simply who he was.
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand upon the creature’s nose and Phobos was content to nudge against his palm in a way that showed recognition for his smell and authority. It had taken nearly a full month but the animal was finally content to admit to who was master.
Yet Phobos was still young, only a few annuals or so out of his colt years and skittish in attitude when it came to something he wanted, he required a firm hand even post-breaking and Vangelis was pleased for it. He liked the notion of being constantly on watch for any slight turn of behaviour in the animal beneath him. It would keep him sharp, keep him focused.
Taking a hand on either side of the low leather saddle upon the animal's back, Vangelis pulled himself in a motion that was smooth and well-practiced but also more challenging than it had been upon the slightly shorter Windrunner and took up his mantel and place upon the stallion's back.
Silanos' own horse that he used to journey between his board and his new duties with the Kotas was presented to the man equally ready for travel. When the young man asked where they were headed whilst mounting the creature, Vangelis gave a simple answer with the sideways jutting of his jaw. The expression hinted at far clearer information hiding behind the limited words that left him in a cryptic answer-
"To war, Lord Valaoritis."
And with that, Vangelis kicked his steed into movement, Phobos launching into a strong, cantering stride from stillness and forcing Silanos and Vangelis' private guard of a half dozen mounted soldiers to follow him out of the main gates of the Kotas manor and out into the city of Midas.
As they rode, Vangelis did not slow the speed of their progress. At mid-morning there were men and women in the streets of the city but more often than not they were attending to their work indoors. By they of domestic focus or merchant means, the Colchians of the capitol were within their stores or their homes and the pathways left clear for the prince and his retinue.
Some civilians of the city moved to windows or looked out of the doorways to witness the spectacle of his passing. Others called out or waves, hailed the prince and their king as he hurried down the streets. Vangelis looked at, or responded, to none of them as he went by, maintaining his image of the Stone Prince; a man who was unfriendly but a solid wall between them and their enemies.
Vangelis might have had few friends within the people of his nation but he was a prince and commander in whom his people trusted. Regardless of lost pleasantries.
The military powers of Colchis that Vangelis had assigned to be journeying with them to the south were stationed for preparation outside of the Midas city walls.
A few miles down the main road that led to the capitol was an open space of several fields. Down the south western border lay the coastline; a rocky bay of beachland that heralded no sand but plenty of stones. Small boats and transports lay along the line of the rustling shore. Some came sporting soldiers from galleys and ships further out to sea, still arriving in order to be organised and inspected. Others were empty, waiting to take said soldiers back to the larger vessels and out to sea in their war campaign in a few days’ time.
Along the southern line stretched out the road that now ran behind Vangelis and his envoys, out towards the capitol city. To the east lay the hills and shallow valleys that progressed into mountains and eventually led into the high altitudes of the province of Eubocris. And to the north farmlands and the limited agriculture of the Isle of Kos could be seen stretching out to the horizon. Here, north of the capitol, was the only open space in which troops could be arranged in such large convoys. On other islands, in other provinces, there were patches of open space large enough. But here on Kos, it was here or nowhere.
At his arrival, the first Commander to greet his presence - in no surprise to himself - was Commander Nike. A man in all ways but one and with a gender that Vangelis was fully aware of, he had never yet been given cause to regret his decision to ignore the lies she had told to enter into the military. He trusted her as a Commander of his armies, and when she wasn't occupied with such duties, she remained the leader and organiser of his personal protection unit. In all of her responsibilities she had shown nothing by the highest of standards.
"Silanos." Vangelis stated, turning to give orders to the man who had ridden by him at an admirable pace. "Dismount and inspect Commander Nike's troops. Take your tablet. I want a report on every missing chink of armour and spots of tarnish on blades."
No matter how good a Commander was at their job, they could not personally guarantee perfection from every soldier in a unit of hundreds. Or in multiple units that amounts to thousands. There would be mistakes and there would be chinks in the otherwise strong armour of the men. And Vangelis was charging Silanos with the task of finding it. Every book he had given Silanos to study since he had come under Vangelis' instruction had been on soldier preparation and equipment protocol... Now, it was obvious as to why.
"I want the nature of each and every break in standards and the name of the soldier in question. For every error you find, you can have a half hour respite from your duties as my aide."
And with such a task given in the form of a dismissal, Vangelis then dismounted from Phobos, handed the reins of the creature to one of his soldiers and was interrupted before anything else he could say by a young soldier who rushed to present himself to Nike.
Whilst Vangelis had no idea who this man was, he recognised the armour as a style preferred in Laconia. Such a unit had been assigned alongside the Red Knights and under Nike's control.
"You appear to have been missing a soldier, Nike." Vangelis commented with a wry tone upon the situation. "See to it that he isn't late again."
And leaving the punishment of such a man to Nike's discretion, Vangelis marched forwards, inspecting the front line of her forces himself and approving of what he saw.
Letting Silanos inspect them in more detail, Vangelis moved on to approach the armies of Eubocris. This was one of the units that Vangelis would be commanding himself and he greeted Maleos with a nod. His eye scanned over the crowd that stood with order and professionalism.
"Everything satisfactory, Captain Maleos?" He asked, as his stare became more detailed upon the men closest to him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
When Vangelis and his new slave of accompaniment reached the courtyard of the Kotas manor, Vangelis was pleased to see Phobos fully tacked up and ready to go. Despite the business of his hours, Vangelis had ensured that he spared a half hour every evening after dinner training the animal to heel. Now fully broken in manners if not in spirit, Phobos was ready to take his first war campaign under Vangelis' guidance whilst his predecessor Windrunner was finally allowed retirement in the fields of the Kotas estate.
The jet-black stallion was large, even for one of his breed, and stood with an impressive power in his legs and hindquarters. Bred to be the perfection of a war horse and presented as a gift of enticement to the crown prince, Phobos reminded him of himself. Bred to be something that would be impressive to others but within itself simply who he was.
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand upon the creature’s nose and Phobos was content to nudge against his palm in a way that showed recognition for his smell and authority. It had taken nearly a full month but the animal was finally content to admit to who was master.
Yet Phobos was still young, only a few annuals or so out of his colt years and skittish in attitude when it came to something he wanted, he required a firm hand even post-breaking and Vangelis was pleased for it. He liked the notion of being constantly on watch for any slight turn of behaviour in the animal beneath him. It would keep him sharp, keep him focused.
Taking a hand on either side of the low leather saddle upon the animal's back, Vangelis pulled himself in a motion that was smooth and well-practiced but also more challenging than it had been upon the slightly shorter Windrunner and took up his mantel and place upon the stallion's back.
Silanos' own horse that he used to journey between his board and his new duties with the Kotas was presented to the man equally ready for travel. When the young man asked where they were headed whilst mounting the creature, Vangelis gave a simple answer with the sideways jutting of his jaw. The expression hinted at far clearer information hiding behind the limited words that left him in a cryptic answer-
"To war, Lord Valaoritis."
And with that, Vangelis kicked his steed into movement, Phobos launching into a strong, cantering stride from stillness and forcing Silanos and Vangelis' private guard of a half dozen mounted soldiers to follow him out of the main gates of the Kotas manor and out into the city of Midas.
As they rode, Vangelis did not slow the speed of their progress. At mid-morning there were men and women in the streets of the city but more often than not they were attending to their work indoors. By they of domestic focus or merchant means, the Colchians of the capitol were within their stores or their homes and the pathways left clear for the prince and his retinue.
Some civilians of the city moved to windows or looked out of the doorways to witness the spectacle of his passing. Others called out or waves, hailed the prince and their king as he hurried down the streets. Vangelis looked at, or responded, to none of them as he went by, maintaining his image of the Stone Prince; a man who was unfriendly but a solid wall between them and their enemies.
Vangelis might have had few friends within the people of his nation but he was a prince and commander in whom his people trusted. Regardless of lost pleasantries.
The military powers of Colchis that Vangelis had assigned to be journeying with them to the south were stationed for preparation outside of the Midas city walls.
A few miles down the main road that led to the capitol was an open space of several fields. Down the south western border lay the coastline; a rocky bay of beachland that heralded no sand but plenty of stones. Small boats and transports lay along the line of the rustling shore. Some came sporting soldiers from galleys and ships further out to sea, still arriving in order to be organised and inspected. Others were empty, waiting to take said soldiers back to the larger vessels and out to sea in their war campaign in a few days’ time.
Along the southern line stretched out the road that now ran behind Vangelis and his envoys, out towards the capitol city. To the east lay the hills and shallow valleys that progressed into mountains and eventually led into the high altitudes of the province of Eubocris. And to the north farmlands and the limited agriculture of the Isle of Kos could be seen stretching out to the horizon. Here, north of the capitol, was the only open space in which troops could be arranged in such large convoys. On other islands, in other provinces, there were patches of open space large enough. But here on Kos, it was here or nowhere.
At his arrival, the first Commander to greet his presence - in no surprise to himself - was Commander Nike. A man in all ways but one and with a gender that Vangelis was fully aware of, he had never yet been given cause to regret his decision to ignore the lies she had told to enter into the military. He trusted her as a Commander of his armies, and when she wasn't occupied with such duties, she remained the leader and organiser of his personal protection unit. In all of her responsibilities she had shown nothing by the highest of standards.
"Silanos." Vangelis stated, turning to give orders to the man who had ridden by him at an admirable pace. "Dismount and inspect Commander Nike's troops. Take your tablet. I want a report on every missing chink of armour and spots of tarnish on blades."
No matter how good a Commander was at their job, they could not personally guarantee perfection from every soldier in a unit of hundreds. Or in multiple units that amounts to thousands. There would be mistakes and there would be chinks in the otherwise strong armour of the men. And Vangelis was charging Silanos with the task of finding it. Every book he had given Silanos to study since he had come under Vangelis' instruction had been on soldier preparation and equipment protocol... Now, it was obvious as to why.
"I want the nature of each and every break in standards and the name of the soldier in question. For every error you find, you can have a half hour respite from your duties as my aide."
And with such a task given in the form of a dismissal, Vangelis then dismounted from Phobos, handed the reins of the creature to one of his soldiers and was interrupted before anything else he could say by a young soldier who rushed to present himself to Nike.
Whilst Vangelis had no idea who this man was, he recognised the armour as a style preferred in Laconia. Such a unit had been assigned alongside the Red Knights and under Nike's control.
"You appear to have been missing a soldier, Nike." Vangelis commented with a wry tone upon the situation. "See to it that he isn't late again."
And leaving the punishment of such a man to Nike's discretion, Vangelis marched forwards, inspecting the front line of her forces himself and approving of what he saw.
Letting Silanos inspect them in more detail, Vangelis moved on to approach the armies of Eubocris. This was one of the units that Vangelis would be commanding himself and he greeted Maleos with a nod. His eye scanned over the crowd that stood with order and professionalism.
"Everything satisfactory, Captain Maleos?" He asked, as his stare became more detailed upon the men closest to him.
When Vangelis and his new slave of accompaniment reached the courtyard of the Kotas manor, Vangelis was pleased to see Phobos fully tacked up and ready to go. Despite the business of his hours, Vangelis had ensured that he spared a half hour every evening after dinner training the animal to heel. Now fully broken in manners if not in spirit, Phobos was ready to take his first war campaign under Vangelis' guidance whilst his predecessor Windrunner was finally allowed retirement in the fields of the Kotas estate.
The jet-black stallion was large, even for one of his breed, and stood with an impressive power in his legs and hindquarters. Bred to be the perfection of a war horse and presented as a gift of enticement to the crown prince, Phobos reminded him of himself. Bred to be something that would be impressive to others but within itself simply who he was.
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand upon the creature’s nose and Phobos was content to nudge against his palm in a way that showed recognition for his smell and authority. It had taken nearly a full month but the animal was finally content to admit to who was master.
Yet Phobos was still young, only a few annuals or so out of his colt years and skittish in attitude when it came to something he wanted, he required a firm hand even post-breaking and Vangelis was pleased for it. He liked the notion of being constantly on watch for any slight turn of behaviour in the animal beneath him. It would keep him sharp, keep him focused.
Taking a hand on either side of the low leather saddle upon the animal's back, Vangelis pulled himself in a motion that was smooth and well-practiced but also more challenging than it had been upon the slightly shorter Windrunner and took up his mantel and place upon the stallion's back.
Silanos' own horse that he used to journey between his board and his new duties with the Kotas was presented to the man equally ready for travel. When the young man asked where they were headed whilst mounting the creature, Vangelis gave a simple answer with the sideways jutting of his jaw. The expression hinted at far clearer information hiding behind the limited words that left him in a cryptic answer-
"To war, Lord Valaoritis."
And with that, Vangelis kicked his steed into movement, Phobos launching into a strong, cantering stride from stillness and forcing Silanos and Vangelis' private guard of a half dozen mounted soldiers to follow him out of the main gates of the Kotas manor and out into the city of Midas.
As they rode, Vangelis did not slow the speed of their progress. At mid-morning there were men and women in the streets of the city but more often than not they were attending to their work indoors. By they of domestic focus or merchant means, the Colchians of the capitol were within their stores or their homes and the pathways left clear for the prince and his retinue.
Some civilians of the city moved to windows or looked out of the doorways to witness the spectacle of his passing. Others called out or waves, hailed the prince and their king as he hurried down the streets. Vangelis looked at, or responded, to none of them as he went by, maintaining his image of the Stone Prince; a man who was unfriendly but a solid wall between them and their enemies.
Vangelis might have had few friends within the people of his nation but he was a prince and commander in whom his people trusted. Regardless of lost pleasantries.
The military powers of Colchis that Vangelis had assigned to be journeying with them to the south were stationed for preparation outside of the Midas city walls.
A few miles down the main road that led to the capitol was an open space of several fields. Down the south western border lay the coastline; a rocky bay of beachland that heralded no sand but plenty of stones. Small boats and transports lay along the line of the rustling shore. Some came sporting soldiers from galleys and ships further out to sea, still arriving in order to be organised and inspected. Others were empty, waiting to take said soldiers back to the larger vessels and out to sea in their war campaign in a few days’ time.
Along the southern line stretched out the road that now ran behind Vangelis and his envoys, out towards the capitol city. To the east lay the hills and shallow valleys that progressed into mountains and eventually led into the high altitudes of the province of Eubocris. And to the north farmlands and the limited agriculture of the Isle of Kos could be seen stretching out to the horizon. Here, north of the capitol, was the only open space in which troops could be arranged in such large convoys. On other islands, in other provinces, there were patches of open space large enough. But here on Kos, it was here or nowhere.
At his arrival, the first Commander to greet his presence - in no surprise to himself - was Commander Nike. A man in all ways but one and with a gender that Vangelis was fully aware of, he had never yet been given cause to regret his decision to ignore the lies she had told to enter into the military. He trusted her as a Commander of his armies, and when she wasn't occupied with such duties, she remained the leader and organiser of his personal protection unit. In all of her responsibilities she had shown nothing by the highest of standards.
"Silanos." Vangelis stated, turning to give orders to the man who had ridden by him at an admirable pace. "Dismount and inspect Commander Nike's troops. Take your tablet. I want a report on every missing chink of armour and spots of tarnish on blades."
No matter how good a Commander was at their job, they could not personally guarantee perfection from every soldier in a unit of hundreds. Or in multiple units that amounts to thousands. There would be mistakes and there would be chinks in the otherwise strong armour of the men. And Vangelis was charging Silanos with the task of finding it. Every book he had given Silanos to study since he had come under Vangelis' instruction had been on soldier preparation and equipment protocol... Now, it was obvious as to why.
"I want the nature of each and every break in standards and the name of the soldier in question. For every error you find, you can have a half hour respite from your duties as my aide."
And with such a task given in the form of a dismissal, Vangelis then dismounted from Phobos, handed the reins of the creature to one of his soldiers and was interrupted before anything else he could say by a young soldier who rushed to present himself to Nike.
Whilst Vangelis had no idea who this man was, he recognised the armour as a style preferred in Laconia. Such a unit had been assigned alongside the Red Knights and under Nike's control.
"You appear to have been missing a soldier, Nike." Vangelis commented with a wry tone upon the situation. "See to it that he isn't late again."
And leaving the punishment of such a man to Nike's discretion, Vangelis marched forwards, inspecting the front line of her forces himself and approving of what he saw.
Letting Silanos inspect them in more detail, Vangelis moved on to approach the armies of Eubocris. This was one of the units that Vangelis would be commanding himself and he greeted Maleos with a nod. His eye scanned over the crowd that stood with order and professionalism.
"Everything satisfactory, Captain Maleos?" He asked, as his stare became more detailed upon the men closest to him.
Silanos just about stifled the frustrated huff that wanted to escape him at the crown prince’s predictably taciturn response. He didn’t bother trying to get any more out of the man, not that he was given much chance to, because almost as soon as he was mounted, the prince had urged his flashy black horse out of the gates of the manor, and it was left for Sil and the accompanying guards to keep pace with the man.
And whilst Silanos thought this kind of exercise the perfect chance to go slowly and smile winningly at the pretty girls they passed, there was not even time for that, for the Stone Prince did not set a gentle pace and so the Valaoritis Lord scowled at the missed opportunity. And it left him with the ride to consider precisely what Vangelis might have meant by them going to war.
Because Sil was quite sure they were not, at this moment, riding to war. And if they were? Well he wanted to tell the prince not to be so ridiculous and rein his horse around. He was no soldier, as he thought he had proven beyond doubt during the vile training sessions he’d been forced to endure, and then again the first few times Prince Vangelis had quizzed him after he’d stood audience to one of the man’s meetings. He’d mangled most of the military terminology to make a point, but that didn't matter. The fact of it was he’d done most everything within his power to convince the man that the plan proposed at the meet held at the Valaoritis manor was not a good one.
Timaeus wanted to go, Silanos didn’t. It had seemed perfectly logical to him. Still did. So it was more than a little alarming that there did not seem to have been any adjustment in the crown prince’s position on the matter. As the city fell away behind them and the party made their way towards the coast, the Valaoritis Lord was faced with the fact that time to change his fate was quickly running out.
For here, on the rocky coastline of the Kirakles, Colchis was readying for war. Ships lay at anchor in the deeper waters, whilst smaller vessels were pulled up on to the beach.And on the flat expanse of ground, the men of Colchis were gathered, rank upon rank of glinting armour,spears and shields. It made for an impressive site, but not one that Silanos was too enamoured with.
Tightening the reins enough that his horse drew to a half after that of Vangelis, Sil watched as the man was greeted by the Commander Nike,and he’d let his attention drift on from the sharp featured soldier who was just in a class of many who he skirted around now.
But almost as if he sensed the young lord’s wandering focus, the crown prince had spoken his name and Silanos looked over at the man, not quite hiding the incredulous expression fast enough as he heard the instruction to inspect the soldiers. Eyes shifting to the row after row of men, there was a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach, and he shot a quick look at the Commander too, because if he did find anything, it was only going to reflect badly upon Nike. Fucking great.
The boring as hell books that the crown prince had insisted he study for the past days suddenly had a new relevance other than just making him miserable, which is what he had decided was Vangelis’ intent. Sil was hoping that some of it had been retained, particularly when the prince delivered some extra motivation with his next words.
Half an hour to himself? That was a fucking gift from the gods in the long days that he’d been keeping. He’d dent someone’s armour himself if he thought he could get away with it.
“Yes, your highness” came the young lord’s reply, as he slid from the back of his horse and retrieved said tablet from the saddle bags. Given that the prince had turned his attention elsewhere, Silanos first led his horse over to tether on the lines provided for that very purpose, and then stood a moment and surveyed the assembled soldiers as he racked his brains for all the information he’d been forced to digest over the past five days.
The men in front of him were...hoplites. And he looked at the nearest one over and made a quick catalogue of the armour the soldier wore, the weaponry he carried. Ok. Ok, so some of it made some sense. Spears and swords, shields. He could do this. Squaring his shoulders, the Valaoritis lord looked to the Commander. “Do you want to lead the way then?” he asked, threading on the “Commander” as he watched the slight shift in expression and remembered himself.
In his experience, Nike was about as talkative as the General, so Silanos had resigned himself to yet more near silence as the pair wandered down the assembled lines of soldiers. The lord looked each man over with a critical eye, observing as much as he could presume to judge of the state of the weaponry and armour that each bore. It became increasingly clear that that the Commander ran a tight ship, and he directed a dark look towards the back of the man who was in front of him, because it seemed like Silanos’ chance of accumulating some time off was dwindling respectively.
Which was why, when they moved on to the fifth row, and Sil found what could negligibly be considered a blemish on a xiphos that one of the men carried, he felt a definite sense of achievement. Holding out his hand to take the sword from the soldier and turning it to better see the slight notch visible on the edge of the blade, he handed it back before making the first mark in the clay of the tablet he carried.
“Name?” he asked, raising his gaze back to the hoplite, unapologetically. It wasn’t as if he counted any of these men as friends, and the promise of some freedom was too much for him to set aside to spare the blushes of any of the soldiers he currently shared lodgings with. It became a bit of a challenge then, Silanos keeping himself amused by making bets with himself how many issues he could find in each row of men, because otherwise the monotony of it would bore him to death.
But that was not exactly riveting either, so his attention flickered towards the Commander, and Silanos asked idly “So you’ve known the crown prince a fair while then? I bet you two have some fascinating conversations?” Fascinating, monosyllabic conversations.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Silanos just about stifled the frustrated huff that wanted to escape him at the crown prince’s predictably taciturn response. He didn’t bother trying to get any more out of the man, not that he was given much chance to, because almost as soon as he was mounted, the prince had urged his flashy black horse out of the gates of the manor, and it was left for Sil and the accompanying guards to keep pace with the man.
And whilst Silanos thought this kind of exercise the perfect chance to go slowly and smile winningly at the pretty girls they passed, there was not even time for that, for the Stone Prince did not set a gentle pace and so the Valaoritis Lord scowled at the missed opportunity. And it left him with the ride to consider precisely what Vangelis might have meant by them going to war.
Because Sil was quite sure they were not, at this moment, riding to war. And if they were? Well he wanted to tell the prince not to be so ridiculous and rein his horse around. He was no soldier, as he thought he had proven beyond doubt during the vile training sessions he’d been forced to endure, and then again the first few times Prince Vangelis had quizzed him after he’d stood audience to one of the man’s meetings. He’d mangled most of the military terminology to make a point, but that didn't matter. The fact of it was he’d done most everything within his power to convince the man that the plan proposed at the meet held at the Valaoritis manor was not a good one.
Timaeus wanted to go, Silanos didn’t. It had seemed perfectly logical to him. Still did. So it was more than a little alarming that there did not seem to have been any adjustment in the crown prince’s position on the matter. As the city fell away behind them and the party made their way towards the coast, the Valaoritis Lord was faced with the fact that time to change his fate was quickly running out.
For here, on the rocky coastline of the Kirakles, Colchis was readying for war. Ships lay at anchor in the deeper waters, whilst smaller vessels were pulled up on to the beach.And on the flat expanse of ground, the men of Colchis were gathered, rank upon rank of glinting armour,spears and shields. It made for an impressive site, but not one that Silanos was too enamoured with.
Tightening the reins enough that his horse drew to a half after that of Vangelis, Sil watched as the man was greeted by the Commander Nike,and he’d let his attention drift on from the sharp featured soldier who was just in a class of many who he skirted around now.
But almost as if he sensed the young lord’s wandering focus, the crown prince had spoken his name and Silanos looked over at the man, not quite hiding the incredulous expression fast enough as he heard the instruction to inspect the soldiers. Eyes shifting to the row after row of men, there was a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach, and he shot a quick look at the Commander too, because if he did find anything, it was only going to reflect badly upon Nike. Fucking great.
The boring as hell books that the crown prince had insisted he study for the past days suddenly had a new relevance other than just making him miserable, which is what he had decided was Vangelis’ intent. Sil was hoping that some of it had been retained, particularly when the prince delivered some extra motivation with his next words.
Half an hour to himself? That was a fucking gift from the gods in the long days that he’d been keeping. He’d dent someone’s armour himself if he thought he could get away with it.
“Yes, your highness” came the young lord’s reply, as he slid from the back of his horse and retrieved said tablet from the saddle bags. Given that the prince had turned his attention elsewhere, Silanos first led his horse over to tether on the lines provided for that very purpose, and then stood a moment and surveyed the assembled soldiers as he racked his brains for all the information he’d been forced to digest over the past five days.
The men in front of him were...hoplites. And he looked at the nearest one over and made a quick catalogue of the armour the soldier wore, the weaponry he carried. Ok. Ok, so some of it made some sense. Spears and swords, shields. He could do this. Squaring his shoulders, the Valaoritis lord looked to the Commander. “Do you want to lead the way then?” he asked, threading on the “Commander” as he watched the slight shift in expression and remembered himself.
In his experience, Nike was about as talkative as the General, so Silanos had resigned himself to yet more near silence as the pair wandered down the assembled lines of soldiers. The lord looked each man over with a critical eye, observing as much as he could presume to judge of the state of the weaponry and armour that each bore. It became increasingly clear that that the Commander ran a tight ship, and he directed a dark look towards the back of the man who was in front of him, because it seemed like Silanos’ chance of accumulating some time off was dwindling respectively.
Which was why, when they moved on to the fifth row, and Sil found what could negligibly be considered a blemish on a xiphos that one of the men carried, he felt a definite sense of achievement. Holding out his hand to take the sword from the soldier and turning it to better see the slight notch visible on the edge of the blade, he handed it back before making the first mark in the clay of the tablet he carried.
“Name?” he asked, raising his gaze back to the hoplite, unapologetically. It wasn’t as if he counted any of these men as friends, and the promise of some freedom was too much for him to set aside to spare the blushes of any of the soldiers he currently shared lodgings with. It became a bit of a challenge then, Silanos keeping himself amused by making bets with himself how many issues he could find in each row of men, because otherwise the monotony of it would bore him to death.
But that was not exactly riveting either, so his attention flickered towards the Commander, and Silanos asked idly “So you’ve known the crown prince a fair while then? I bet you two have some fascinating conversations?” Fascinating, monosyllabic conversations.
Silanos just about stifled the frustrated huff that wanted to escape him at the crown prince’s predictably taciturn response. He didn’t bother trying to get any more out of the man, not that he was given much chance to, because almost as soon as he was mounted, the prince had urged his flashy black horse out of the gates of the manor, and it was left for Sil and the accompanying guards to keep pace with the man.
And whilst Silanos thought this kind of exercise the perfect chance to go slowly and smile winningly at the pretty girls they passed, there was not even time for that, for the Stone Prince did not set a gentle pace and so the Valaoritis Lord scowled at the missed opportunity. And it left him with the ride to consider precisely what Vangelis might have meant by them going to war.
Because Sil was quite sure they were not, at this moment, riding to war. And if they were? Well he wanted to tell the prince not to be so ridiculous and rein his horse around. He was no soldier, as he thought he had proven beyond doubt during the vile training sessions he’d been forced to endure, and then again the first few times Prince Vangelis had quizzed him after he’d stood audience to one of the man’s meetings. He’d mangled most of the military terminology to make a point, but that didn't matter. The fact of it was he’d done most everything within his power to convince the man that the plan proposed at the meet held at the Valaoritis manor was not a good one.
Timaeus wanted to go, Silanos didn’t. It had seemed perfectly logical to him. Still did. So it was more than a little alarming that there did not seem to have been any adjustment in the crown prince’s position on the matter. As the city fell away behind them and the party made their way towards the coast, the Valaoritis Lord was faced with the fact that time to change his fate was quickly running out.
For here, on the rocky coastline of the Kirakles, Colchis was readying for war. Ships lay at anchor in the deeper waters, whilst smaller vessels were pulled up on to the beach.And on the flat expanse of ground, the men of Colchis were gathered, rank upon rank of glinting armour,spears and shields. It made for an impressive site, but not one that Silanos was too enamoured with.
Tightening the reins enough that his horse drew to a half after that of Vangelis, Sil watched as the man was greeted by the Commander Nike,and he’d let his attention drift on from the sharp featured soldier who was just in a class of many who he skirted around now.
But almost as if he sensed the young lord’s wandering focus, the crown prince had spoken his name and Silanos looked over at the man, not quite hiding the incredulous expression fast enough as he heard the instruction to inspect the soldiers. Eyes shifting to the row after row of men, there was a sinking sort of feeling in his stomach, and he shot a quick look at the Commander too, because if he did find anything, it was only going to reflect badly upon Nike. Fucking great.
The boring as hell books that the crown prince had insisted he study for the past days suddenly had a new relevance other than just making him miserable, which is what he had decided was Vangelis’ intent. Sil was hoping that some of it had been retained, particularly when the prince delivered some extra motivation with his next words.
Half an hour to himself? That was a fucking gift from the gods in the long days that he’d been keeping. He’d dent someone’s armour himself if he thought he could get away with it.
“Yes, your highness” came the young lord’s reply, as he slid from the back of his horse and retrieved said tablet from the saddle bags. Given that the prince had turned his attention elsewhere, Silanos first led his horse over to tether on the lines provided for that very purpose, and then stood a moment and surveyed the assembled soldiers as he racked his brains for all the information he’d been forced to digest over the past five days.
The men in front of him were...hoplites. And he looked at the nearest one over and made a quick catalogue of the armour the soldier wore, the weaponry he carried. Ok. Ok, so some of it made some sense. Spears and swords, shields. He could do this. Squaring his shoulders, the Valaoritis lord looked to the Commander. “Do you want to lead the way then?” he asked, threading on the “Commander” as he watched the slight shift in expression and remembered himself.
In his experience, Nike was about as talkative as the General, so Silanos had resigned himself to yet more near silence as the pair wandered down the assembled lines of soldiers. The lord looked each man over with a critical eye, observing as much as he could presume to judge of the state of the weaponry and armour that each bore. It became increasingly clear that that the Commander ran a tight ship, and he directed a dark look towards the back of the man who was in front of him, because it seemed like Silanos’ chance of accumulating some time off was dwindling respectively.
Which was why, when they moved on to the fifth row, and Sil found what could negligibly be considered a blemish on a xiphos that one of the men carried, he felt a definite sense of achievement. Holding out his hand to take the sword from the soldier and turning it to better see the slight notch visible on the edge of the blade, he handed it back before making the first mark in the clay of the tablet he carried.
“Name?” he asked, raising his gaze back to the hoplite, unapologetically. It wasn’t as if he counted any of these men as friends, and the promise of some freedom was too much for him to set aside to spare the blushes of any of the soldiers he currently shared lodgings with. It became a bit of a challenge then, Silanos keeping himself amused by making bets with himself how many issues he could find in each row of men, because otherwise the monotony of it would bore him to death.
But that was not exactly riveting either, so his attention flickered towards the Commander, and Silanos asked idly “So you’ve known the crown prince a fair while then? I bet you two have some fascinating conversations?” Fascinating, monosyllabic conversations.
It was always a field of haphazard mess, yet in the mess there was order. There always had to be, if one wanted to win a war, and Nike refused to accept any other outcome. Sure and clear in her job as well as the obedience of those under her command, the Commander's eyes narrowed when she heard a loud, uncouth shout before a man with skin darker then usual sprang to attention to a captain next to her, her brows furrowing in distaste at the complete lack of control this soldier had.
Recognizing his uniform to be that of Laconia, the woman's frown only deepened to a scowl as her General picked up on it. Generally just hating to appear as if she had missed a crack in her work, Nike nodded curtly to Vangelis as he strolled off, before flashing a sharp eye to the latecomer. "Stable duty. Clean all the tacks and check on every last hoof of the horses we are to ride into battle, soldier." Her voice and tone was like a whiplash, clearly displeased with the incoherent display by Maximus.
Turning around, she grabbed a nearby sack of sand, and tossed two to the man. "While having both of these strapped on your back. Maybe then, you'll learn the value of being on time and not blathering about in front of your superiors." she snapped at the end, before turning on her heel and walking off without a second look. Her captains would ensure her orders for the latecomer was carried out, or they would face punishments even worst then what she had just meted out to Maximus, and they all understood that.
Leading the young Valaoritis lord to where her troops stood, a quick whistle from Nike and a sharp shout of "Men!" was enough for a few seconds of scrambling, before they all stood in line sharp as tacks, ready to be inspected. They were a team of men Nike had personally trained, both through heart, and hard work. While they did would likely balk at the very idea of being trained by a woman, Nike had no intention of letting anyone ever find out, and it was yet another point of pride for her that she's heard rumors of herself being one of the toughest Commanders to train under, yet also one of the most rewarding. If annything, Nike would be the one to understand that results were not a genetic luck, but more a process and result of hard work.
Taking a step back to allow the young lord to carry out the duty that Vangelis had assigned him, Nike took no offense to the details pointed out that she had missed. Instead, it was necessary purely for that reason. With a command of so many under her, one pair of eyes was simply insufficiennt to ensure perfection, which was what was needed to make sure these men survive in battle. But what she did realize though, this being the second time she was inspecting her men, was that Silanos of Valaoritis needed to be more watchful.
"Many years, but none of the conversations are pertinent for your attention, my lord." Her response was sharp, but still with the usage of the proper titles, as she paused, and then waited for Silanos to notice she had stopped in her paces, before cocking a finger at him. Turning around again, she backtracked about ten soldiers, before waiting to ensure Silanos was watching, and then used a finger to point out a dent in one's shield, easily missed should the sun be reflecting at the wrong angle. Satisfied that he had seen, she walked past five more, before pausing at yet another, and used a finger to pick at an armor missing a chain link, an easily fatal yet tiny mistake should this incomplete armor be placed on the battlefield. "Correct yourselves, men." Nike commanded sharply, once she was ensured Silanos had noticed, before turning to the lord. "Perhaps you should focus on your eyes, instead of trying to have conversations?" While she did not intend to be mean, Nike could be unforgiving when it came to tasks. Afterall, these tasks were a matter of life and death. Surely, the young lord needed to learn that.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
It was always a field of haphazard mess, yet in the mess there was order. There always had to be, if one wanted to win a war, and Nike refused to accept any other outcome. Sure and clear in her job as well as the obedience of those under her command, the Commander's eyes narrowed when she heard a loud, uncouth shout before a man with skin darker then usual sprang to attention to a captain next to her, her brows furrowing in distaste at the complete lack of control this soldier had.
Recognizing his uniform to be that of Laconia, the woman's frown only deepened to a scowl as her General picked up on it. Generally just hating to appear as if she had missed a crack in her work, Nike nodded curtly to Vangelis as he strolled off, before flashing a sharp eye to the latecomer. "Stable duty. Clean all the tacks and check on every last hoof of the horses we are to ride into battle, soldier." Her voice and tone was like a whiplash, clearly displeased with the incoherent display by Maximus.
Turning around, she grabbed a nearby sack of sand, and tossed two to the man. "While having both of these strapped on your back. Maybe then, you'll learn the value of being on time and not blathering about in front of your superiors." she snapped at the end, before turning on her heel and walking off without a second look. Her captains would ensure her orders for the latecomer was carried out, or they would face punishments even worst then what she had just meted out to Maximus, and they all understood that.
Leading the young Valaoritis lord to where her troops stood, a quick whistle from Nike and a sharp shout of "Men!" was enough for a few seconds of scrambling, before they all stood in line sharp as tacks, ready to be inspected. They were a team of men Nike had personally trained, both through heart, and hard work. While they did would likely balk at the very idea of being trained by a woman, Nike had no intention of letting anyone ever find out, and it was yet another point of pride for her that she's heard rumors of herself being one of the toughest Commanders to train under, yet also one of the most rewarding. If annything, Nike would be the one to understand that results were not a genetic luck, but more a process and result of hard work.
Taking a step back to allow the young lord to carry out the duty that Vangelis had assigned him, Nike took no offense to the details pointed out that she had missed. Instead, it was necessary purely for that reason. With a command of so many under her, one pair of eyes was simply insufficiennt to ensure perfection, which was what was needed to make sure these men survive in battle. But what she did realize though, this being the second time she was inspecting her men, was that Silanos of Valaoritis needed to be more watchful.
"Many years, but none of the conversations are pertinent for your attention, my lord." Her response was sharp, but still with the usage of the proper titles, as she paused, and then waited for Silanos to notice she had stopped in her paces, before cocking a finger at him. Turning around again, she backtracked about ten soldiers, before waiting to ensure Silanos was watching, and then used a finger to point out a dent in one's shield, easily missed should the sun be reflecting at the wrong angle. Satisfied that he had seen, she walked past five more, before pausing at yet another, and used a finger to pick at an armor missing a chain link, an easily fatal yet tiny mistake should this incomplete armor be placed on the battlefield. "Correct yourselves, men." Nike commanded sharply, once she was ensured Silanos had noticed, before turning to the lord. "Perhaps you should focus on your eyes, instead of trying to have conversations?" While she did not intend to be mean, Nike could be unforgiving when it came to tasks. Afterall, these tasks were a matter of life and death. Surely, the young lord needed to learn that.
It was always a field of haphazard mess, yet in the mess there was order. There always had to be, if one wanted to win a war, and Nike refused to accept any other outcome. Sure and clear in her job as well as the obedience of those under her command, the Commander's eyes narrowed when she heard a loud, uncouth shout before a man with skin darker then usual sprang to attention to a captain next to her, her brows furrowing in distaste at the complete lack of control this soldier had.
Recognizing his uniform to be that of Laconia, the woman's frown only deepened to a scowl as her General picked up on it. Generally just hating to appear as if she had missed a crack in her work, Nike nodded curtly to Vangelis as he strolled off, before flashing a sharp eye to the latecomer. "Stable duty. Clean all the tacks and check on every last hoof of the horses we are to ride into battle, soldier." Her voice and tone was like a whiplash, clearly displeased with the incoherent display by Maximus.
Turning around, she grabbed a nearby sack of sand, and tossed two to the man. "While having both of these strapped on your back. Maybe then, you'll learn the value of being on time and not blathering about in front of your superiors." she snapped at the end, before turning on her heel and walking off without a second look. Her captains would ensure her orders for the latecomer was carried out, or they would face punishments even worst then what she had just meted out to Maximus, and they all understood that.
Leading the young Valaoritis lord to where her troops stood, a quick whistle from Nike and a sharp shout of "Men!" was enough for a few seconds of scrambling, before they all stood in line sharp as tacks, ready to be inspected. They were a team of men Nike had personally trained, both through heart, and hard work. While they did would likely balk at the very idea of being trained by a woman, Nike had no intention of letting anyone ever find out, and it was yet another point of pride for her that she's heard rumors of herself being one of the toughest Commanders to train under, yet also one of the most rewarding. If annything, Nike would be the one to understand that results were not a genetic luck, but more a process and result of hard work.
Taking a step back to allow the young lord to carry out the duty that Vangelis had assigned him, Nike took no offense to the details pointed out that she had missed. Instead, it was necessary purely for that reason. With a command of so many under her, one pair of eyes was simply insufficiennt to ensure perfection, which was what was needed to make sure these men survive in battle. But what she did realize though, this being the second time she was inspecting her men, was that Silanos of Valaoritis needed to be more watchful.
"Many years, but none of the conversations are pertinent for your attention, my lord." Her response was sharp, but still with the usage of the proper titles, as she paused, and then waited for Silanos to notice she had stopped in her paces, before cocking a finger at him. Turning around again, she backtracked about ten soldiers, before waiting to ensure Silanos was watching, and then used a finger to point out a dent in one's shield, easily missed should the sun be reflecting at the wrong angle. Satisfied that he had seen, she walked past five more, before pausing at yet another, and used a finger to pick at an armor missing a chain link, an easily fatal yet tiny mistake should this incomplete armor be placed on the battlefield. "Correct yourselves, men." Nike commanded sharply, once she was ensured Silanos had noticed, before turning to the lord. "Perhaps you should focus on your eyes, instead of trying to have conversations?" While she did not intend to be mean, Nike could be unforgiving when it came to tasks. Afterall, these tasks were a matter of life and death. Surely, the young lord needed to learn that.
King Tython had long been content to leave the General to his tasks. Vangelis had been performing as General for long enough to know full well what his duties were, not just as the General of the Colchian armies, but also as the crown prince of the kingdom. Surely, his son also understood that if Tython himself were ever to fall in battle, this would no longer be the duty of the prince. Whatever General followed in Vangelis' footsteps would one day have extremely high standards to live up to. Tython could not imagine that Vangelis would be as relaxed with his General as Tython was with him.
Then again, the two had an iron-clad trust between them. Tython trusted that Vangelis would perform his duties to the King's standards without ever having to be reminded or reprimanded. Vangelis trusted that his father would keep his hands out of his business, instead taking up his place as the figurehead for the Kingdom. That said, if Tython ever truly did notice something out of sorts, he would have noted it outright, but he had never needed to. Vangelis was thorough.
That did not stop the king of Colchis from making the decision to find his way down to the Isles of Kos in order to survey the troops of his own accord. Tython always did and he always would. If he and his son were to lead these men into battle against Egypt, then King Tython would also attend on the men to ensure that they were well and truly up to the standards that Tython himself required of his military. A hardened people, Tython was not willing to take soldiers across the sea just to become bodies butchered on desert sands. If anyone was not well and truly built for a war such as this, they would not be taken, no matter how badly Greece needed the numbers.
There was taking your men to war, and there was taking your men to a massacre. Tython refused to be part of the latter.
The king rode with two guards, though he mentally asserted that they were more for show than actual protection. With one hand on the reins of his horse and the other settled on his right leg, the king stared straight ahead for most of the ride from Midas into Kos. He checked his surroundings multiple times, but the King was not the type to hold a conversation with those around him, especially not while on horseback. The ride was not long and as soon as the encampment and the troops came into view, the King prodded his horse to pick up its pace. Falling into a canter, Tython soon trailed down to the shore.
He initially said absolutely nothing as he dismounted, his own armor heavy on his body, though he no longer felt it. Ever since Vangelis had become General, Tython had kept the same tradition. He had his own son check his armor for any flaws or damage, and he did the same for Vangelis. Striding across the mixture of cold seagrass, sand, and muddied ground, Tython removed his helmet, pressing it against his left side as he walked along the lines of men who were being inspected. Spotting his son speaking with Captain Maleos, Tython took a moment to get close to the soldiers and inspect them himself, casting a cursory glance to the side to watch Commander Nike shaming the Valaoritis boy.
Keeping his features schooled and impassive, he glanced toward Nike once and then approached on nearly dead silent feet to stand directly behind Lord Silanos. "Is there a problem here, Commander?" the king asked very smoothly, staring slightly down at the shorter form of the Valaoritis lord, knowing that his mere presence would be intimidating if the man were to turn in face him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
King Tython had long been content to leave the General to his tasks. Vangelis had been performing as General for long enough to know full well what his duties were, not just as the General of the Colchian armies, but also as the crown prince of the kingdom. Surely, his son also understood that if Tython himself were ever to fall in battle, this would no longer be the duty of the prince. Whatever General followed in Vangelis' footsteps would one day have extremely high standards to live up to. Tython could not imagine that Vangelis would be as relaxed with his General as Tython was with him.
Then again, the two had an iron-clad trust between them. Tython trusted that Vangelis would perform his duties to the King's standards without ever having to be reminded or reprimanded. Vangelis trusted that his father would keep his hands out of his business, instead taking up his place as the figurehead for the Kingdom. That said, if Tython ever truly did notice something out of sorts, he would have noted it outright, but he had never needed to. Vangelis was thorough.
That did not stop the king of Colchis from making the decision to find his way down to the Isles of Kos in order to survey the troops of his own accord. Tython always did and he always would. If he and his son were to lead these men into battle against Egypt, then King Tython would also attend on the men to ensure that they were well and truly up to the standards that Tython himself required of his military. A hardened people, Tython was not willing to take soldiers across the sea just to become bodies butchered on desert sands. If anyone was not well and truly built for a war such as this, they would not be taken, no matter how badly Greece needed the numbers.
There was taking your men to war, and there was taking your men to a massacre. Tython refused to be part of the latter.
The king rode with two guards, though he mentally asserted that they were more for show than actual protection. With one hand on the reins of his horse and the other settled on his right leg, the king stared straight ahead for most of the ride from Midas into Kos. He checked his surroundings multiple times, but the King was not the type to hold a conversation with those around him, especially not while on horseback. The ride was not long and as soon as the encampment and the troops came into view, the King prodded his horse to pick up its pace. Falling into a canter, Tython soon trailed down to the shore.
He initially said absolutely nothing as he dismounted, his own armor heavy on his body, though he no longer felt it. Ever since Vangelis had become General, Tython had kept the same tradition. He had his own son check his armor for any flaws or damage, and he did the same for Vangelis. Striding across the mixture of cold seagrass, sand, and muddied ground, Tython removed his helmet, pressing it against his left side as he walked along the lines of men who were being inspected. Spotting his son speaking with Captain Maleos, Tython took a moment to get close to the soldiers and inspect them himself, casting a cursory glance to the side to watch Commander Nike shaming the Valaoritis boy.
Keeping his features schooled and impassive, he glanced toward Nike once and then approached on nearly dead silent feet to stand directly behind Lord Silanos. "Is there a problem here, Commander?" the king asked very smoothly, staring slightly down at the shorter form of the Valaoritis lord, knowing that his mere presence would be intimidating if the man were to turn in face him.
King Tython had long been content to leave the General to his tasks. Vangelis had been performing as General for long enough to know full well what his duties were, not just as the General of the Colchian armies, but also as the crown prince of the kingdom. Surely, his son also understood that if Tython himself were ever to fall in battle, this would no longer be the duty of the prince. Whatever General followed in Vangelis' footsteps would one day have extremely high standards to live up to. Tython could not imagine that Vangelis would be as relaxed with his General as Tython was with him.
Then again, the two had an iron-clad trust between them. Tython trusted that Vangelis would perform his duties to the King's standards without ever having to be reminded or reprimanded. Vangelis trusted that his father would keep his hands out of his business, instead taking up his place as the figurehead for the Kingdom. That said, if Tython ever truly did notice something out of sorts, he would have noted it outright, but he had never needed to. Vangelis was thorough.
That did not stop the king of Colchis from making the decision to find his way down to the Isles of Kos in order to survey the troops of his own accord. Tython always did and he always would. If he and his son were to lead these men into battle against Egypt, then King Tython would also attend on the men to ensure that they were well and truly up to the standards that Tython himself required of his military. A hardened people, Tython was not willing to take soldiers across the sea just to become bodies butchered on desert sands. If anyone was not well and truly built for a war such as this, they would not be taken, no matter how badly Greece needed the numbers.
There was taking your men to war, and there was taking your men to a massacre. Tython refused to be part of the latter.
The king rode with two guards, though he mentally asserted that they were more for show than actual protection. With one hand on the reins of his horse and the other settled on his right leg, the king stared straight ahead for most of the ride from Midas into Kos. He checked his surroundings multiple times, but the King was not the type to hold a conversation with those around him, especially not while on horseback. The ride was not long and as soon as the encampment and the troops came into view, the King prodded his horse to pick up its pace. Falling into a canter, Tython soon trailed down to the shore.
He initially said absolutely nothing as he dismounted, his own armor heavy on his body, though he no longer felt it. Ever since Vangelis had become General, Tython had kept the same tradition. He had his own son check his armor for any flaws or damage, and he did the same for Vangelis. Striding across the mixture of cold seagrass, sand, and muddied ground, Tython removed his helmet, pressing it against his left side as he walked along the lines of men who were being inspected. Spotting his son speaking with Captain Maleos, Tython took a moment to get close to the soldiers and inspect them himself, casting a cursory glance to the side to watch Commander Nike shaming the Valaoritis boy.
Keeping his features schooled and impassive, he glanced toward Nike once and then approached on nearly dead silent feet to stand directly behind Lord Silanos. "Is there a problem here, Commander?" the king asked very smoothly, staring slightly down at the shorter form of the Valaoritis lord, knowing that his mere presence would be intimidating if the man were to turn in face him.
Silanos was not dumb, despite what might have been suggested by his occasionally questionable decision making skills. In fact, the Valaoritis Lord was pretty sharp when something caught his attention. The problem was when he got bored, he was easily distracted, and looking over row after row of soldiers was pretty dull. Though Mihail might enjoy it he mused as he wandered along ahead of the Commander, giving each man he passed a once over.
Armour, weapons, he was able to name them all confidently.Surprisingly enough, reading was somewhat preferable to push-ups and it appeared that with enough repetition, even unwanted information began to permeate. Scuffed blade there, frayed strap there, Sil marked each one of the tablet he carried with him.
He had been quietly satisfied with the handful of things he’d found, mounting up to more than a couple of hours free from his enforced servitude.It was almost enough to bring a smile to his face. Though perhaps he should have known better than to try and make conversation: it seemed the silent prince liked to surround himself with equally unforthcoming companions, and instead of making what was a tiresome exercise slightly less so, Commander Nike decided to be all snippy with him instead.
“Oh come on. Nothing? Not one little story to..”
The young lord tailed off, Sil glancing over his shoulder with a frown, noticing that the other had stopped and he had been merrily wandering along and talking to himself. Excellent . He turned slowly to find the Commander beckoning him back down the line of soldiers, and Sil retraced his steps. Scowling when the dent in the shield was pointed out to him, he was similarly discontent with the other omission from his records that Nike identified. Why could these soldiers not be responsible for their own fucking equipment? About to open his mouth and establish that he’d spotted more than he’d missed, and that a little conversation had never killed anyone, Sil nearly jumped out of his skin when another voice sounded from right behind him. Turning around, he was hardly comforted to find himself face to face with King Tython himself.
By no means short, it was rather unnerving for Silanos to find himself having to look up at both the Crown Prince, and now at the King. And the fact that the man was outfitted in full armour made him no less intimidating a sight. The Valaoritis Lord’s eyes widened fractionally, and he took a hurried step back, almost crashing into the next row of soldiers as he did. Fuck.
Sil bowed quickly, side-eyeing Nike as he straightened and hoping that the Commander wasn’t about to drop him in it for no good reason at all. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of staying out of the King’s way thus far, and given that Silanos had no idea how much, if anything, the man knew about why he was trailing around after his eldest son, he was rather keen to keep it that way.
Just in case.
“No problem, your majesty” he said quickly, even though it hadn’t been him the King addressed. “Commander Nike was just showing me where I went wrong. And I see it now. Thank you Commander.” He turned to look at the Commander with a slightly pleading expression.
Suddenly, he found he actually didn’t mind the idea of inspecting the rest of the rows of soldiers if it meant he could excuse himself from this little gathering, but Silanos was not fool enough to move away until Nike or the King had at least dismissed him.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Silanos was not dumb, despite what might have been suggested by his occasionally questionable decision making skills. In fact, the Valaoritis Lord was pretty sharp when something caught his attention. The problem was when he got bored, he was easily distracted, and looking over row after row of soldiers was pretty dull. Though Mihail might enjoy it he mused as he wandered along ahead of the Commander, giving each man he passed a once over.
Armour, weapons, he was able to name them all confidently.Surprisingly enough, reading was somewhat preferable to push-ups and it appeared that with enough repetition, even unwanted information began to permeate. Scuffed blade there, frayed strap there, Sil marked each one of the tablet he carried with him.
He had been quietly satisfied with the handful of things he’d found, mounting up to more than a couple of hours free from his enforced servitude.It was almost enough to bring a smile to his face. Though perhaps he should have known better than to try and make conversation: it seemed the silent prince liked to surround himself with equally unforthcoming companions, and instead of making what was a tiresome exercise slightly less so, Commander Nike decided to be all snippy with him instead.
“Oh come on. Nothing? Not one little story to..”
The young lord tailed off, Sil glancing over his shoulder with a frown, noticing that the other had stopped and he had been merrily wandering along and talking to himself. Excellent . He turned slowly to find the Commander beckoning him back down the line of soldiers, and Sil retraced his steps. Scowling when the dent in the shield was pointed out to him, he was similarly discontent with the other omission from his records that Nike identified. Why could these soldiers not be responsible for their own fucking equipment? About to open his mouth and establish that he’d spotted more than he’d missed, and that a little conversation had never killed anyone, Sil nearly jumped out of his skin when another voice sounded from right behind him. Turning around, he was hardly comforted to find himself face to face with King Tython himself.
By no means short, it was rather unnerving for Silanos to find himself having to look up at both the Crown Prince, and now at the King. And the fact that the man was outfitted in full armour made him no less intimidating a sight. The Valaoritis Lord’s eyes widened fractionally, and he took a hurried step back, almost crashing into the next row of soldiers as he did. Fuck.
Sil bowed quickly, side-eyeing Nike as he straightened and hoping that the Commander wasn’t about to drop him in it for no good reason at all. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of staying out of the King’s way thus far, and given that Silanos had no idea how much, if anything, the man knew about why he was trailing around after his eldest son, he was rather keen to keep it that way.
Just in case.
“No problem, your majesty” he said quickly, even though it hadn’t been him the King addressed. “Commander Nike was just showing me where I went wrong. And I see it now. Thank you Commander.” He turned to look at the Commander with a slightly pleading expression.
Suddenly, he found he actually didn’t mind the idea of inspecting the rest of the rows of soldiers if it meant he could excuse himself from this little gathering, but Silanos was not fool enough to move away until Nike or the King had at least dismissed him.
Silanos was not dumb, despite what might have been suggested by his occasionally questionable decision making skills. In fact, the Valaoritis Lord was pretty sharp when something caught his attention. The problem was when he got bored, he was easily distracted, and looking over row after row of soldiers was pretty dull. Though Mihail might enjoy it he mused as he wandered along ahead of the Commander, giving each man he passed a once over.
Armour, weapons, he was able to name them all confidently.Surprisingly enough, reading was somewhat preferable to push-ups and it appeared that with enough repetition, even unwanted information began to permeate. Scuffed blade there, frayed strap there, Sil marked each one of the tablet he carried with him.
He had been quietly satisfied with the handful of things he’d found, mounting up to more than a couple of hours free from his enforced servitude.It was almost enough to bring a smile to his face. Though perhaps he should have known better than to try and make conversation: it seemed the silent prince liked to surround himself with equally unforthcoming companions, and instead of making what was a tiresome exercise slightly less so, Commander Nike decided to be all snippy with him instead.
“Oh come on. Nothing? Not one little story to..”
The young lord tailed off, Sil glancing over his shoulder with a frown, noticing that the other had stopped and he had been merrily wandering along and talking to himself. Excellent . He turned slowly to find the Commander beckoning him back down the line of soldiers, and Sil retraced his steps. Scowling when the dent in the shield was pointed out to him, he was similarly discontent with the other omission from his records that Nike identified. Why could these soldiers not be responsible for their own fucking equipment? About to open his mouth and establish that he’d spotted more than he’d missed, and that a little conversation had never killed anyone, Sil nearly jumped out of his skin when another voice sounded from right behind him. Turning around, he was hardly comforted to find himself face to face with King Tython himself.
By no means short, it was rather unnerving for Silanos to find himself having to look up at both the Crown Prince, and now at the King. And the fact that the man was outfitted in full armour made him no less intimidating a sight. The Valaoritis Lord’s eyes widened fractionally, and he took a hurried step back, almost crashing into the next row of soldiers as he did. Fuck.
Sil bowed quickly, side-eyeing Nike as he straightened and hoping that the Commander wasn’t about to drop him in it for no good reason at all. He thought he’d done a pretty good job of staying out of the King’s way thus far, and given that Silanos had no idea how much, if anything, the man knew about why he was trailing around after his eldest son, he was rather keen to keep it that way.
Just in case.
“No problem, your majesty” he said quickly, even though it hadn’t been him the King addressed. “Commander Nike was just showing me where I went wrong. And I see it now. Thank you Commander.” He turned to look at the Commander with a slightly pleading expression.
Suddenly, he found he actually didn’t mind the idea of inspecting the rest of the rows of soldiers if it meant he could excuse himself from this little gathering, but Silanos was not fool enough to move away until Nike or the King had at least dismissed him.
Maleos stood silently waiting, standing at attention as he always did in the appropriate situations. His blue-green eyes watched as the Crown Prince approached him and questioned him on the state of his troops. He had taken the time previous to Vangelis’ arrival to thoroughly inspect every single person in his unit on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Daxos to assist, but Maleos wasn’t the type of man to say that his troops were in good condition if he himself hadn’t confirmed exactly that. He took pride in his career, and in the unit that he had dedicated the past few years to whipping into shape. Under Timaeus, the men had done well, but Maleos was stricter. The first and only focus for each man in his unit was expected to be training and subsequent battles. He did not allow wine to cloud their minds, and everything else came secondary to their duties as soldiers. Even their friends and family.
“Your Highness.” Maleos greeted first and foremost, providing a formal and appropriate bow of respect towards the man who held far greater military and political title than he did. Maleos might not have been the best in social situations, but he knew enough to know how to show the respect needed to the proper people.
“All defects found in armour or weapons have been addressed and will be corrected before we hit the shores of Egypt, Your Highness. My men are ready and eager to serve Colchis and her people.” He replied. He was always very thorough with his men, and making sure their equipment was battle ready. His reputation proceeded him, and any man who joined his unit knew that he was strict, but serving in his unit meant the chance for greater glory under his leadership.
He couldn’t help as his gaze momentarily turned to the commotion happening in the distance, a few units away from his own men. It seemed he was to be haunted by the presence of Silanos where ever he went. Not even the march to war could see the terrible brat from his life. He took satisfaction at the King’s approach, and how absolutely terrified Silanos looked at being near him.
His attentions turned back to the Crown Prince in front of him before too long, not wishing to be disrespectful, as much as he was enjoying watching Silanos being absolutely terrified by merely being near the King. Maleos held great respect for the royal family. They had proven themselves strong warriors over and over.
Maleos recalled the pride he had felt at the war meeting just a few days ago, when the Crown Prince had agreed with the plan he had set forth, and had taken it into account when forming their tentative battle plans. Maleos hoped that he had made a good impression, the Crown Prince or the King were the ones he needed to impress if he was to ever hope for a promotion beyond his current title.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Maleos stood silently waiting, standing at attention as he always did in the appropriate situations. His blue-green eyes watched as the Crown Prince approached him and questioned him on the state of his troops. He had taken the time previous to Vangelis’ arrival to thoroughly inspect every single person in his unit on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Daxos to assist, but Maleos wasn’t the type of man to say that his troops were in good condition if he himself hadn’t confirmed exactly that. He took pride in his career, and in the unit that he had dedicated the past few years to whipping into shape. Under Timaeus, the men had done well, but Maleos was stricter. The first and only focus for each man in his unit was expected to be training and subsequent battles. He did not allow wine to cloud their minds, and everything else came secondary to their duties as soldiers. Even their friends and family.
“Your Highness.” Maleos greeted first and foremost, providing a formal and appropriate bow of respect towards the man who held far greater military and political title than he did. Maleos might not have been the best in social situations, but he knew enough to know how to show the respect needed to the proper people.
“All defects found in armour or weapons have been addressed and will be corrected before we hit the shores of Egypt, Your Highness. My men are ready and eager to serve Colchis and her people.” He replied. He was always very thorough with his men, and making sure their equipment was battle ready. His reputation proceeded him, and any man who joined his unit knew that he was strict, but serving in his unit meant the chance for greater glory under his leadership.
He couldn’t help as his gaze momentarily turned to the commotion happening in the distance, a few units away from his own men. It seemed he was to be haunted by the presence of Silanos where ever he went. Not even the march to war could see the terrible brat from his life. He took satisfaction at the King’s approach, and how absolutely terrified Silanos looked at being near him.
His attentions turned back to the Crown Prince in front of him before too long, not wishing to be disrespectful, as much as he was enjoying watching Silanos being absolutely terrified by merely being near the King. Maleos held great respect for the royal family. They had proven themselves strong warriors over and over.
Maleos recalled the pride he had felt at the war meeting just a few days ago, when the Crown Prince had agreed with the plan he had set forth, and had taken it into account when forming their tentative battle plans. Maleos hoped that he had made a good impression, the Crown Prince or the King were the ones he needed to impress if he was to ever hope for a promotion beyond his current title.
Maleos stood silently waiting, standing at attention as he always did in the appropriate situations. His blue-green eyes watched as the Crown Prince approached him and questioned him on the state of his troops. He had taken the time previous to Vangelis’ arrival to thoroughly inspect every single person in his unit on his own. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Daxos to assist, but Maleos wasn’t the type of man to say that his troops were in good condition if he himself hadn’t confirmed exactly that. He took pride in his career, and in the unit that he had dedicated the past few years to whipping into shape. Under Timaeus, the men had done well, but Maleos was stricter. The first and only focus for each man in his unit was expected to be training and subsequent battles. He did not allow wine to cloud their minds, and everything else came secondary to their duties as soldiers. Even their friends and family.
“Your Highness.” Maleos greeted first and foremost, providing a formal and appropriate bow of respect towards the man who held far greater military and political title than he did. Maleos might not have been the best in social situations, but he knew enough to know how to show the respect needed to the proper people.
“All defects found in armour or weapons have been addressed and will be corrected before we hit the shores of Egypt, Your Highness. My men are ready and eager to serve Colchis and her people.” He replied. He was always very thorough with his men, and making sure their equipment was battle ready. His reputation proceeded him, and any man who joined his unit knew that he was strict, but serving in his unit meant the chance for greater glory under his leadership.
He couldn’t help as his gaze momentarily turned to the commotion happening in the distance, a few units away from his own men. It seemed he was to be haunted by the presence of Silanos where ever he went. Not even the march to war could see the terrible brat from his life. He took satisfaction at the King’s approach, and how absolutely terrified Silanos looked at being near him.
His attentions turned back to the Crown Prince in front of him before too long, not wishing to be disrespectful, as much as he was enjoying watching Silanos being absolutely terrified by merely being near the King. Maleos held great respect for the royal family. They had proven themselves strong warriors over and over.
Maleos recalled the pride he had felt at the war meeting just a few days ago, when the Crown Prince had agreed with the plan he had set forth, and had taken it into account when forming their tentative battle plans. Maleos hoped that he had made a good impression, the Crown Prince or the King were the ones he needed to impress if he was to ever hope for a promotion beyond his current title.
The unit over which Stephanos had been given command was one he hadn’t yet been able to meet until today. He’d sent letters and met with one or two principle captains in the unit, but they were from the mountains of Kirakles, or somewhere thereabouts. His knowledge of Colchian geography was improving, but he didn’t yet have everything memorized. What he did know was the Golden Shields hailed from Arcanaes, the baron there was a woman he’d not met, and that the whole of the soldiers that the baroness could spare save for a few guards were before him.
Stephanos moved between the neat rows, hands behind his back, his own hired ‘Silanos’ at his heels. Of all the people Colchis had to offer, Stephanos was mildly disappointed that he was getting men who he suspected hadn’t seen much battle. He didn’t know that for a fact, of course, but he’d heard that Arcanaes was comprised mostly of leatherworkers and jewelsmiths. What were they going to do? Bring their adorable little hammers to battle and gently tap the enemy’s armor until the Egyptians submitted?
He did not outwardly complain, though. To do so would be a grave insult to Vangelis and he trusted that the Crown Prince had his reasons for this group in particular. Time would be spent putting these men through their paces between now and when they sailed. Stephanos had no intention of wandering down to Egypt with a group he knew absolutely nothing about. His plan was to memorize names, faces, and talents, all put down in list form and to utilize the knowledge of his captains under his command. That way he wouldn’t be foolish enough to place this portion of men here when they’d be better utilized there.
Movement along the rocky coast caught his eye and he watched Vangelis and Silanos dismount. The king arrived. Some to-do was happening with Commander Nike but he couldn’t see exactly what. Another of the men from the meet was there. A Captain...Malbus? Maleobus? Malaki? Something like that, was there inspecting his soldiers, too. Stephanos turned his attention back to the task at hand, not overly interested in getting involved with whatever scuffle was happening. He turned to his aid and pointed to a dented breastplate in one of the men’s armor.
“This one needs to see the blacksmith. What’s your name, soldier?” The man answered, his name was scribbled on the tablet, and Stephanos moved on, hands ever clasped behind his back, all traces of humor completely gone from his features. He was not easy going when something of this magnitude was to be handled, and he wanted to prove to Vangelis that there had been no mistake; he could do this.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The unit over which Stephanos had been given command was one he hadn’t yet been able to meet until today. He’d sent letters and met with one or two principle captains in the unit, but they were from the mountains of Kirakles, or somewhere thereabouts. His knowledge of Colchian geography was improving, but he didn’t yet have everything memorized. What he did know was the Golden Shields hailed from Arcanaes, the baron there was a woman he’d not met, and that the whole of the soldiers that the baroness could spare save for a few guards were before him.
Stephanos moved between the neat rows, hands behind his back, his own hired ‘Silanos’ at his heels. Of all the people Colchis had to offer, Stephanos was mildly disappointed that he was getting men who he suspected hadn’t seen much battle. He didn’t know that for a fact, of course, but he’d heard that Arcanaes was comprised mostly of leatherworkers and jewelsmiths. What were they going to do? Bring their adorable little hammers to battle and gently tap the enemy’s armor until the Egyptians submitted?
He did not outwardly complain, though. To do so would be a grave insult to Vangelis and he trusted that the Crown Prince had his reasons for this group in particular. Time would be spent putting these men through their paces between now and when they sailed. Stephanos had no intention of wandering down to Egypt with a group he knew absolutely nothing about. His plan was to memorize names, faces, and talents, all put down in list form and to utilize the knowledge of his captains under his command. That way he wouldn’t be foolish enough to place this portion of men here when they’d be better utilized there.
Movement along the rocky coast caught his eye and he watched Vangelis and Silanos dismount. The king arrived. Some to-do was happening with Commander Nike but he couldn’t see exactly what. Another of the men from the meet was there. A Captain...Malbus? Maleobus? Malaki? Something like that, was there inspecting his soldiers, too. Stephanos turned his attention back to the task at hand, not overly interested in getting involved with whatever scuffle was happening. He turned to his aid and pointed to a dented breastplate in one of the men’s armor.
“This one needs to see the blacksmith. What’s your name, soldier?” The man answered, his name was scribbled on the tablet, and Stephanos moved on, hands ever clasped behind his back, all traces of humor completely gone from his features. He was not easy going when something of this magnitude was to be handled, and he wanted to prove to Vangelis that there had been no mistake; he could do this.
The unit over which Stephanos had been given command was one he hadn’t yet been able to meet until today. He’d sent letters and met with one or two principle captains in the unit, but they were from the mountains of Kirakles, or somewhere thereabouts. His knowledge of Colchian geography was improving, but he didn’t yet have everything memorized. What he did know was the Golden Shields hailed from Arcanaes, the baron there was a woman he’d not met, and that the whole of the soldiers that the baroness could spare save for a few guards were before him.
Stephanos moved between the neat rows, hands behind his back, his own hired ‘Silanos’ at his heels. Of all the people Colchis had to offer, Stephanos was mildly disappointed that he was getting men who he suspected hadn’t seen much battle. He didn’t know that for a fact, of course, but he’d heard that Arcanaes was comprised mostly of leatherworkers and jewelsmiths. What were they going to do? Bring their adorable little hammers to battle and gently tap the enemy’s armor until the Egyptians submitted?
He did not outwardly complain, though. To do so would be a grave insult to Vangelis and he trusted that the Crown Prince had his reasons for this group in particular. Time would be spent putting these men through their paces between now and when they sailed. Stephanos had no intention of wandering down to Egypt with a group he knew absolutely nothing about. His plan was to memorize names, faces, and talents, all put down in list form and to utilize the knowledge of his captains under his command. That way he wouldn’t be foolish enough to place this portion of men here when they’d be better utilized there.
Movement along the rocky coast caught his eye and he watched Vangelis and Silanos dismount. The king arrived. Some to-do was happening with Commander Nike but he couldn’t see exactly what. Another of the men from the meet was there. A Captain...Malbus? Maleobus? Malaki? Something like that, was there inspecting his soldiers, too. Stephanos turned his attention back to the task at hand, not overly interested in getting involved with whatever scuffle was happening. He turned to his aid and pointed to a dented breastplate in one of the men’s armor.
“This one needs to see the blacksmith. What’s your name, soldier?” The man answered, his name was scribbled on the tablet, and Stephanos moved on, hands ever clasped behind his back, all traces of humor completely gone from his features. He was not easy going when something of this magnitude was to be handled, and he wanted to prove to Vangelis that there had been no mistake; he could do this.
Maximus had worked with Nike before all those months back in the Great Fire. He always admired Nike staying calm under pressure and barking orders. It was something Maximus aspired to be but was failing miserably at. From being constantly being bothered by a barbarian ambush during his first day on the field to melting into a puddle in front of a beautiful woman like Nethis, Maximus' career as a solider got off to a rocky start to say the least. The young man gulped and stood up in front of Nike when she called him out. Barely touched land on Kos and already he was late. Maximus always made it a habit to arrive on time. "A solider that is late means that many of his brothers die in battle!" His father's voice echoed in his head.
His stomach churned and despite keeping a stoic expression, a tint of red covered Maximus' cheeks. Already he felt shame for not getting to inspection on time. "Ares," Maximus thought. "Forgive me....."
Nike gave Maximus two sacks full of sand ordered him to strap to back. It was actually a relief, Maximus feared the worst like 40 lashes or day in the hole however considering that they are heading to war, the last thing Colchis needed was their soldiers being demoralized. "SIR! YES SIR!" Maximus grabbed the sacks with swift enthusiasm and slung them both behind his back.
It was hard enough carrying a bag full of the necessitates needed to set up the camp combine it with the two sacks of sand and Maximus felt as though he was carrying the a young Killer Whale on his back. The young man kept his composure standing at attention to Nike while he struggled to get in line with the rest of his unit. It could've been a lot worse, Maximus could've gotten 40 lashes or spent a day In the hole but because they were gong to war it was necessary to have a soldiers morale as high as possible. That didn't mean that the men should relax.
Nike's tone was that of disappointment more than genuine anger. He witnessed Maximus' acts of heroism during the fires and expected better from him. The young man held his head up high despite the thoughts in his mind telling him to look down in shame. There was war going on and Maximus needed to do better than what he just done otherwise he wouldn't leave Egypt alive.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Maximus had worked with Nike before all those months back in the Great Fire. He always admired Nike staying calm under pressure and barking orders. It was something Maximus aspired to be but was failing miserably at. From being constantly being bothered by a barbarian ambush during his first day on the field to melting into a puddle in front of a beautiful woman like Nethis, Maximus' career as a solider got off to a rocky start to say the least. The young man gulped and stood up in front of Nike when she called him out. Barely touched land on Kos and already he was late. Maximus always made it a habit to arrive on time. "A solider that is late means that many of his brothers die in battle!" His father's voice echoed in his head.
His stomach churned and despite keeping a stoic expression, a tint of red covered Maximus' cheeks. Already he felt shame for not getting to inspection on time. "Ares," Maximus thought. "Forgive me....."
Nike gave Maximus two sacks full of sand ordered him to strap to back. It was actually a relief, Maximus feared the worst like 40 lashes or day in the hole however considering that they are heading to war, the last thing Colchis needed was their soldiers being demoralized. "SIR! YES SIR!" Maximus grabbed the sacks with swift enthusiasm and slung them both behind his back.
It was hard enough carrying a bag full of the necessitates needed to set up the camp combine it with the two sacks of sand and Maximus felt as though he was carrying the a young Killer Whale on his back. The young man kept his composure standing at attention to Nike while he struggled to get in line with the rest of his unit. It could've been a lot worse, Maximus could've gotten 40 lashes or spent a day In the hole but because they were gong to war it was necessary to have a soldiers morale as high as possible. That didn't mean that the men should relax.
Nike's tone was that of disappointment more than genuine anger. He witnessed Maximus' acts of heroism during the fires and expected better from him. The young man held his head up high despite the thoughts in his mind telling him to look down in shame. There was war going on and Maximus needed to do better than what he just done otherwise he wouldn't leave Egypt alive.
Maximus had worked with Nike before all those months back in the Great Fire. He always admired Nike staying calm under pressure and barking orders. It was something Maximus aspired to be but was failing miserably at. From being constantly being bothered by a barbarian ambush during his first day on the field to melting into a puddle in front of a beautiful woman like Nethis, Maximus' career as a solider got off to a rocky start to say the least. The young man gulped and stood up in front of Nike when she called him out. Barely touched land on Kos and already he was late. Maximus always made it a habit to arrive on time. "A solider that is late means that many of his brothers die in battle!" His father's voice echoed in his head.
His stomach churned and despite keeping a stoic expression, a tint of red covered Maximus' cheeks. Already he felt shame for not getting to inspection on time. "Ares," Maximus thought. "Forgive me....."
Nike gave Maximus two sacks full of sand ordered him to strap to back. It was actually a relief, Maximus feared the worst like 40 lashes or day in the hole however considering that they are heading to war, the last thing Colchis needed was their soldiers being demoralized. "SIR! YES SIR!" Maximus grabbed the sacks with swift enthusiasm and slung them both behind his back.
It was hard enough carrying a bag full of the necessitates needed to set up the camp combine it with the two sacks of sand and Maximus felt as though he was carrying the a young Killer Whale on his back. The young man kept his composure standing at attention to Nike while he struggled to get in line with the rest of his unit. It could've been a lot worse, Maximus could've gotten 40 lashes or spent a day In the hole but because they were gong to war it was necessary to have a soldiers morale as high as possible. That didn't mean that the men should relax.
Nike's tone was that of disappointment more than genuine anger. He witnessed Maximus' acts of heroism during the fires and expected better from him. The young man held his head up high despite the thoughts in his mind telling him to look down in shame. There was war going on and Maximus needed to do better than what he just done otherwise he wouldn't leave Egypt alive.