Calanthian

WPC Diplo "Gods and Heroes" [Story Thread 1 - after restart]

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The Macdeons lived on the highlands of the Fiery Mountains.. worshipped fire and steel and their warlords who claimed themselves Gods and masters of all the Greek.

 

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There was the warlord, lord of life and death.. his chosen servants, the privileged ones, and the rest of the Macedons.. born and died as slaves of the empire.

 

The Macedons don't build wonders, they prefer military might above all. The vast highlands hide many barbarian tribes, so the Macedon army shall always be alerted, but even so the barbarians manage to pillage the land time to time.

 

While the Macedons have always claimed to be superior they had approached other tribes with friendship and offered open trade.. they could hardly conceal though that they would prefer to conquer all if they could and it might only be a matter of time.

The Macedon god has been angered when his envoy which was sent to Thrace was denied to establish trade route.. "So we offered firendship and we were asked how much we would pay for it?!.. well if they don't want to be our friends perhaps they wish to be our slaves!! Our fleet will contine to look for friends who are willing to trade with us and open border."

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The black adders are everywhere! Barbarians are creeping and stretching their cold sharp teeth to bite off a piece of Lydia.

 

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"Lord we have a message from Macedonia!"

 

"Read it to me.."

 

"Hmm.. let's prepare an official statement, as there seems to be some misunderstanding with our neighbours.

It is better to be very clear.."

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OFFICIAL STATEMENT

 

We Thracians do like to trade with all our neighbours.

Balanced trade is the thing we strive for.

Both parties involved should profit from a relationship, to make sure it can further blossom.

 

This is why we said that we like to trade with Macedonia, when our Thracian scouts have found a trade route which connect us:

as one sided trade profits does't seem fair to us.

 

Furthermore there is also the possibility that we find another, more creative understanding.

Please contact us so we may discuss at more length.

Edited by Calanthian

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Spartan messengers run to the Athenian and Epiran capitals: a pirate fleet has been spotted in the Gulf of Corinth! it is near the mouth of the gulf, heading west. Spartan ships have been dispatched to head it off, but we know not its final destination. Be warned, neighbors!

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The Rise and Fall of Illyria, from the Annals of Quintus Fabius Pictor

 

It is common knowledge that towards the end of King Labeates’ reign, he retired to the Adriatic to rule from warmer climates. His health was slowly declining, and his advisors, apothecaries, and magicians assured him that warmer climates would do wonders for his health. This left, however, an insatiable gulf in the Illyrians’ capital city, Skodra. What of pomp? What of ceremony? What of Empire? Without an ever-present emperor, how shalt the Illyrians recall their truer nature? It took little time for Agron, the wealthy senator, son of Gentius the Younger, to gather his supporters and maneuver for the throne. He needed both the backing of Labeates’ General Bardyllis and the fortuitous death of King Labeates. The first he acquired through gold and promises; the later through the help of the royal apothecary, Silvanus. Once done, he called for a vote of no confidence in the young prince, Plueratus, which successfully passed. Agron was installed as the ruling prefect until the princling came of age. The following spring, however, young Plueratus fell to his death while hunting in the western regions of Illyria. Agron’s reign was inaugurated soon thereafter. His dynasty was to stretch from the northern most tip of Pannonia to the southern reaches of Bylliones. Achieving much in his time, he is best known for solidifying the fractured city-states of Illyria under Labeates’ rule and ushering in a golden age of education and culture. During his time, the Illyrian’s, uncharacteristically, were a literate and flourishing people.

 

--QFP, Chapter XVI, The Triumph of Agron

 

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"My lord, have you heard the news?

 

It seems the Illyrians have finally left the times of turmoil behind them.

A certain Agron has become their new ruler, and we have reason to believe that the dynasty of late Labeates has come to it's demise.

There is talk about a hunting accident which happened to Labeates' son.."

 

"Well, it is certainly interesting to see that these kind of hunting accidents happen more often to an heir to the throne as to any other people.

Let my hunters know that if any of these hunting accidents happen to me or my family all hunters and their families will suffer the consequences.."

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"Send my regards and promise of future trade agreements to the new Illyrian ruler.

 

Let my best wishes be accompanied by 12 cases fo fine Thracian wine and some exquisite pieces of jewelry of the Royal goldsmith...

 

And don't forget to warn them against the barbarian robber bands which are pestering the lands. Tell them to build strong militairy units to keep them at bay."

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Fotios watched as his horse reared up in the moonlight, then slammed down hard onto the invader. Hidden in the darkness under a large shrub, he was safe for now; the other, however, now found his death under the beast. The horse continued its assault for a minute before slowing and finally stopping, convinced the threat to it had passed. Fotios, however, was far less comforted by this, knowing well that more invaders would be slipping through the low trees any moment, alerted by the commotion. Fotios remained still and silent as the sun rose and the horse grew two large wings. Now feeling safe, Fotios crept out and walked up to his horse. He had always dreamed of riding on its back, but knew it would never let him: beasts were not to be ridden, only to be hit with the stick. Still, now with two large, beautiful wings, he could not resist the urge to fly off with it. So he did, riding high into the clouds as the sun broke and cast its rosy hue onto the soft, ephemeral world around him.

 

The call of the nomiki bird pierced through the sound of the wind rushing fast past his head. Louder its song grew until its voice became that of the wind, tearing at Fotios' ears. The horse began to twist wildly in the heavens, its wings flailing with this new acoustic onslaught. As it lurched and swung wildly in the air, Fotios was thrown off. He began to fall madly to the earth, the sea and hills racing towards him, his village of Acriae as well, insistent on reclaiming him, punishing him for his desire to leave. All the while, the piercing sound of the nomiki grew louder with his speed, until the two overwhelmed even his sense of sight and the earth below dissolved from his thoughts. Soon, Fotios was left only with the sound of the bird and the feeling of needles on his back as he turned over in the straw.

 

With this, the nomiki flew off, frightened by the sudden noise. Fotios opened his eyes and greeted an already well risen sun. He looked around. His horse was grazing lazily nearby. For a moment he watched some ants that were crawling through the rough grass by his hand, carrying small bits and pieces of the world around with them. Fotios wondered where they would take them, and how they would rearrange the world. What new shape would they create, what new insect would they construct? What purpose in this mad collection? They never stopped... His mind still lost between the two realities, Fotios struggled to find his place and his own reason for being where he was, laying on top a pile of straw.

 

He slowly realized that he must have fallen asleep again on the range. Suddenly his sense of calm was cast off with the morning dew as he stood up and quickly went about gathering his things and the horse. Oh, thank the Fates that horse had not run off. They were so rare and valuable, his father surely would have cut off more than a finger for its loss. Fotios paused for a moment to check the horse's back, for a second thinking there may be some sign of wings, but he quickly resumed his rush home with some small disappointment.

 

Fotios stumbled quickly down the rocky slope towards his village, sidestepping the larger boulders and shrubs as he went. He stopped again for a moment, this time processing something his mind had registered somewhere in his descent. An odd shape, something, he wasn't sure. Something big yet infinitely small. Something in the sky, or the sea, or was it the hill? More than one, a whole group of these things, yet he could not recall the place of them, and looking around rapidly at his surroundings, he could only see what he would consider "normalcy". His horse neighed as it negotiated the hill, and Fotios snapped back to his purpose.

 

As the two came down from the hill and walked towards the village on the path that led to the main city of Helos in the north, Fotios was passed up by a messenger running quickly to the village. The man did not stop even more a minute to talk to Fotios, not even so much as a 'hello' on his hurried journey. His demeanor was one of mild panic, and Fotios was unsure what to make of this. He decided to pick up his own pace to follow the man and see what was up.

 

He and his horse approached the village and found the whole community up and huddled around this messenger. Each member looked ghastly afright, and Fotios knew his suspicions of the messenger's purpose were confirmed: another village had disappeared. The messenger bowed and gave a traditional salute to the village. A man, Fotios' uncle's best friend, walked over to the messenger and handed him a full flask of water and some bread, and with that the messenger waved again, thanked the man, and began to run further south towards the path to the next village down the coast.

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The Erymantean Boar

 

 

For his next labor, Eurystheus ordered Heracles to bring him the Erymanthian boar alive. Now, a boar is a huge, wild pig with a bad temper, and tusks growing out of its mouth.

 

This one was called the Erymanthian boar, because it lived on a mountain called Erymanthus. Every day the boar would come crashing down from his lair on the mountain, attacking men and animals all over the countryside, gouging them with its tusks, and destroying everything in its path.

 

On his way to hunt the boar, Heracles stopped to visit his friend Pholus, who was a centaur and lived in a cave near Mount Erymanthus. Everyone knows that centaur is a human from his head to his waist, and a horse for the rest of his body and his legs. Heracles was hungry and thirsty, so the kindly centaur cooked Heracles some meat in the fireplace, while he himself ate his meat raw.

 

When Heracles asked for wine, Pholus said that he was afraid to open the wine jar, because it belonged to all the centaurs in common. But Heracles said not to worry, and opened it himself.

 

Soon afterwards, the rest of the centaurs smelled the wine and came to Pholus's cave. They were angry that someone was drinking all of their wine. The first two who dared to enter were armed with rocks and fir trees.

 

Heracles grabbed burning sticks from the fireplace and threw them at the centaurs, then went after them with his club.

 

 

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He shot arrows at the rest of them and chased after them for about twenty miles. The rest of the centaurs fled in different directions. One of the centaurs, Chiron, received a wound that no amount of medicine would heal...but what happened to Chiron is another story.

 

While Heracles was gone, Pholus pulled an arrow from the body of one of the dead centaurs. He wondered that so little a thing could kill such a big creature. Suddenly, the arrow slipped from his hand. It fell onto his foot and killed him on the spot. So when Heracles returned, he found Pholus dead. He buried his centaur friend, and proceeded to hunt the boar.

 

It wasn't too hard for Heracles to find the boar. He could hear the beast snorting and stomping as it rooted around for something to eat. Heracles chased the boar round and round the mountain, shouting as loud as he could. The boar, frightened and out of breath, hid in a thicket. Heracles poked his spear into the thicket and drove the exhausted animal into a deep patch of snow.

 

Then he trapped the boar in a net, and carried it all the way to Mycenae. Eurystheus, again amazed and frightened by the hero's powers, hid in his partly buried bronze jar.

 

 

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After that, Heracles brought the boar to Artanes, where it became the first in a long line of prize boars.

 

 

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The captured Erymantean Boar living near Artanes

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Fotios was both relieved and fearful as he came into the central hexagon. He knew his father would now be less troubled by his nocturnal absence, yet the disappearance of another village was cold comfort for this twist. He decided to first tie the horse up by the house, then return to the square, hoping his father might not have noticed his being gone. He did so, taking the rope and pulling it around the post in the back of the house, tieing a simple knot, and then came out the front door into the street. His father was returning then, and didn't even notice Fotios as he walked past towards the restaurant near the beach. Fotios decided it best to walk on to the hexagon instead of bothering the man.

 

There he started up a conversation with a young girl named Zenovia. She told him that indeed another village had up and disappeared two nights earlier. It was the village of Xene Cleites about 15 kilometers to the south. This was very close, yes, Fotios knew why his father didn't see him now. Before, the villages had disappeared much farther away: 50km or 100km, far into the fronteir, in the newly settled areas of the Helosian region. Apparently, some of the people here knew of a few friends and distant relatives who lived there. This was the first time such a connection had been made with a disappeared village. The entire community wore the deathly look now.

 

It had been two months since these disappearances had begun. Fotios remembered the first time he heard of it: an entire village gone. Well, not the houses, but every man, woman, child, sheep, cow, horse, and all the belongings outside of some pots and pans gone overnight. No sign of trouble or conflict, no sign of any sort, not even so much as a letter, a goodbye, some mention to friends and relatives in neighboring villages. And those friends in the next village would wake up the next morning, get in their small boats, take to the seas, and where they expected to see their counterparts across the bay, they would see nothing but an empty beach. Later in the day, some would go over to do the usual trade and socializing, only to find the entire place deserted. Not even a collection of footprints to tell where everyone had headed off to. Just nothing. These neighbors would wait a couple of days, figuring the village to have "gotten religion" and gone to the mountain to pray or something - certainly finding reasons and logic for this was difficult - but eventually they had to accept the insane: everyone just wasn't there anymore.

 

Word slowly got around, and many other villages simply refused to believe the stories. Surely, these people must be crazy; no, no one ever lived there, there wasn't a village there in the first place; some wild men from the southern cape must have come up and pillaged the place and the neighbors must have not noticed the blood; something, anything to deny this even took place.

 

Then it happened again, 10km to the north. This time, it wasn't some newly settled outpost village on the edge of civilization, now it was in a place that had existed for a full generation. The links to the surrounding villages were strong, and the size of the village much larger. The first had been but a few dozen people, their disappearance hardly noteworthy in the grand scheme, but this second village (that we know of) was some two hundred people in size, many of its buildings made of stone, its herds quite large, and its trade indispensible in its local region.

 

And again overnight, all that disappeared, save the houses of course. And again, not a trace, not a footprint, nothing. In fact, there were no footprints at all in the mud or sand. It was as if the people had disappeared and taken all evidence of their ever having existed with them. Their neighbors noticed nothing the night before, or the day before, the presage this mystery.

 

Word spread more quickly this time, yet still it took weeks to be noticed in the regional capital of Helos. And it stopped there, what took some twenty days to get noticed, dismissed in a moment by the assembly. But the assembly would hear a new story just a few days later: yet another village gone, this one a small, new one again near the outskirts of known settlement. Again, dismissed. The assembly figured that the locals to the south were just getting a case of creative story-telling, anything to pass the time. Why, it must be horribly boring down there with nothing to do all day but fish, so distanced from civilization and modernity. These were just the ghost stories we all were used to. Tomorrow, someone would drop by and start talking about giant sea dragons and mountain gods breathing fire, laying waste to lost wanderers and fishermen who traveled too far out to sea. Such was the nature of simple villagers and settlers. Why, they didn't leave the cities because they had an excess of knowledge or intelligence...

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Although the first few 100 years were a struggle for the Troyan people (too much casualities due to barbarians and predators) live became better. After the construction of a handfull of war chariots barbarian settlements are brought down and roaming brutes are killed on sight. The heavy axes and armour they are carrying restricts them from fleeing from the swift chariots.

 

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Neighbouring civilations seem to be friendly so Troy is concentrating on building cities and harvesting resources.

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The macedon Warlord has announced a week long celebration after defeating the 30th barbarian raiding party.

"Now we defend our homes and the next day we will burn theirs"-He said.

 

We also send a message to those who seek diplomatic relations with us: we will allow your traders to visit our cities, but we are not interested establishing so called embassies. We need your goods not your company..

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"-Yes.. my Lord no doubt.. we have found Thracian settlements close to our land"

-THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!! We will NOT tolerate such insolence.. if they build settlements so close to us let's hope they can defend them too!!

 

If we can't agree on fair borders we will not rest unill we take what is ours!

 

note: Thracia has founded a city 23-25 tiles far from their capital and only 8 tiles from ours. this is unacceptable.

Edited by Seridur

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"Sire, have you heard the Macedonian statement ?"

 

"Yes let's react as follows, and carefull write down my words..

 

To the estemeed ruler of Macedonia,

 

we Thracians don't see why the Macedonians are outraged. And we like to add that it is good to talk first, before one threatenes with violence.

We are satisfied to agree to a border in these parts.

 

They have built 8 cities themselves, and never bothered to settle in this area.

 

Furthermore, we'd like to add that this was a barbarian city which our valiant men conquered.

So this city has been earned with Thracian blood.

 

Therefore we invite Macedonian diplomats to Bolbabria."

 

 

"You go that ?"

 

"Yes sire, but I wonder why you don't mention that the distances the Macedonians mention in their statement are wrong. It's much closer to our capital and further from theirs as they say it is."

 

"My friend, you still have to learn a lot about politics. When you want to solve things with your neighbour you must not put your finger on every inconsistency, it's better to focus on things you've got in common."

Edited by Calanthian

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The Spartan elder of Atreid decided now was the time for the Assembly to issue this edict:

 

The Peloponnese and surrounding islands are Spartan.

Woe to invaders.

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Thracian!

 

There is nothing to negotiate about. Your western city is 8 tiles away from our Capital and about 20 from yours. There is nothing in the world you could offer that we accept this. Yield the city at once so we may find an acceptable border or we will figth until we take it from you.. and we won't sop ever...we win or die with honour.

 

the angered Macedonian Warlord.

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"Men, assemble the Thracian axemen, make sure that if they enter our woods, they will not leave again."

 

 

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After this command Teres sends his uncle Hasperas to the Macedonian court to see if diplomacy still might accomplish something.

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- Thanks to our Immortals we still have our farms, our mines, our cities, our whole kingdom and our life itself. - King Lydus said to his son. - Take an example from them, son. Learn the bow, learn the spear and learn to ride well. Be strong and be aware, as there are many enemies in the world around us. I will ride with my immortals to punish some of them.

- Can I come with you, father?

- Sure, son. Come and see my immortals in action.

 

archers_darius_02.jpg

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See these Immortals move in such perfect unity!

It's amazing to see that their uniforms and posture are trained to such perfection you can't tell anymore who is who.

 

We Thracians stand in awe.

 

 

;)

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Yes, they even seem to command the skies above to follow in perfect synch :)

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The head of the Agis family eyed his chance at furthering his family's wealth and prestige. To the north, he envisioned a new city along the coast of the Gulf of Korinth. His settling party was forming, yet he was aware of a major problem in that northern sea: The Athenians, fates bless their pacifistic ways, had never managed in fifty generations to get the pirates of the north tamed. Just a few days prior, reports of fresh pirate activity had come through to him. This had already considerably upset the leading house of Atreid, and was working out a similar frustration in the other main houses. "Why should we Spartans tame the entire world so? We have had to tame our own lands, and have succeeded, only to have our scouts lost to bandits and raiders in the wilds of the north. Wilds that should have been tamed by the Macedonians and Athenians. Now, our ships must divert course to avoid pirates off the coast of Athens, while our own waters have been tamed by our navies and coastal guards for generations. And here, finally, the sea of the Athenians, which they have settled for as long as we have held the south, is still teeming with pirates! We will have to construct yet another navy now to pacify that sea, while the Athenians will sit idly by minding their plays. How ridiculous!" the man was heard shouting at night.

 

Still, diplomacy was important to Spartans, at least the simple, brunt, some might say "brutal" approach that was taken by their leaders. And so, emissaries were sent from the embassy in Athens to the court to discuss the security matters in full. The common sentiment was: no longer should Sparta remain aloof from the world and its neighbor so. We are a mighty power, and it is time we made our way to the stage of world kingdoms, even if just to berate them into patrolling their own waters for pirates. Perhaps the Spartans were not such diplomatic people, though. Perhaps they were, more or less, internally-focused. Perhaps even a bit paranoid of outside interaction and agreements. Perhaps they simply wanted to live in (well-armed) peace, uncaring for the movements of the wider world, trading a few things here and there but otherwise complacent with their insular peninsula. Still, when the outside world's annoying tendency to be worse armed came to be a bother rather than a point of humor, some action would need to be taken...

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"Draco, didn't I hear you mumble something a few days ago about a Macedonian messenger which had arrived ?"

 

"Hmm.. messenger". Long silence.

 

"What did you say ?"

 

"Excuse me sire, I completely forgot about that.

I was so busy with preparing the Maids of Artares for the upcoming Festival of Fertility."

 

"Preparing you say? You mean having your way with them, neh ?"

 

"Let's say I was giving them a headstart at the festival."

 

"Ha ha, you scoundrel, you can even make me laugh while you make terrible mistakes considering the future of our country.

Now go and fetch that messenger immediately so we can give them an answer."

 

"Yes, sire, and hmm..."

 

"What is it?"

 

"Will you be joining us later?"

 

"First work and then the ladies, so, yes of course.."

 

 

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Edited by Calanthian

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Macedonian lands raided by king's brother Hasperas

 

After seeing the wealth of the Macedonian lands and angered by the threat to our westernmost city, the kings brother Hasperas formed a war party.

As he was acting without orders from King Teres I, Hasperas knew that he had to move fast. He ordered his men to strike deep into the Macedonian mainland.

 

"Men, you all now that we either have to give up the city we conquered from the barbarians some years ago, or war with the Macedonians will come.

So let's fight this war on our terms and in our way. Let them know the strength of the true forest warriors."

 

 

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Thracian warriors kill off the guards which were accompanying a group of civilians working in the forest.

 

 

What will be his faith? What will king Teres do, when he is confronted with this situation?

 

 

 

OOC:

I never started such an early war with such a small army. But I just couldn't resist from a story telling point of view. It's a diplo game after all.

I hope the Macedonian side of the conflict will also be told in stories. AND I really want to see how my Thracian axemen will do ;)

Edited by Calanthian

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Simple.. you will die all of you. The Macedonian warlord ordered to raise a slave army of every man, be them young or old. no one shall rest untill Thracia is history.

You are cowards attacking civillians, we will do the word a service by getting rid of you.

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