1st Narrative Post

    As mentioned in my previous posts, I will have an ongoing narrative that accompanies the scenarios I play through in order to provide some fun context. This first post will serve as an introduction to events in Cyrene and the mercenary Nikanthos. Many of the scenarios I play will feature his mercenaries and their adventures around the Mediterranean. 

    Blood sprayed across Nikanthos as his xiphos cut through the unprotected neck of his opponent. The blood was hot and stung at the cuts on his arm. He hardly noticed the pain or his own exhaustion because a feeling of nausea dominated his consciousness. This sickness was an unusual sensation. Nikanthos was battle hardened, he had killed before and experienced the gruesome horrors of war. But, this time was different. This whole situation was different from the scenarios Nikanthos was used to. This wasn’t a fight against a foreign foe. These were fellow Greeks and their bright red blood was vividly plastered across the beaming white marble floors of the Prytaneion. Yes, these dead and dying men had been his enemies. But, they were still his people and some had even been his comrades just a few days before.

    A loud clatter brought Nikanthos back to reality. A man scuttling backwards on his arms and ass had knocked over a potted amphora. It was one of the aristocrats allied to Xanthe, the now deceased usurper. The cowering nobleman lifted out both hands in supplication as one of Nikanthos’ men, the Illyrian Bardylis, marched directly at him. Bardylis yanked the cowering man by his hair, jerking his head back to expose the man’s neck to his sword.
“No!” Nikanthos wailed.

Bardylis gave Nikanthos a curt and confused glance before he executed his sobbing victim. More blood painted the floors and spattered on the gleaming bronze armor Bardylis wore. He looked like a demon out of some mythical poem. The whole agora resembled a horror scene from Hades. Bile boiled up in Nikanthos’ chest until he burst out vomit.

    Omiros, second in command and childhood friend of Nikanthos, walked over and rubbed a reassuring hand on Nikanthos’ back.

“This isn’t your first fight.” Omiros murmured.

“This is different.” Nikanthos replied.

“How is it different?” Omiros asked in a genuine tone.

“These people were Greek citizens, Omiros, not soldiers. And this isn’t a battlefield, it’s the agora. I can’t explain why, but it feels wrong.” Nikanthos clarified.

Omiros rubbed his hand across his chin as Bardylis walked over to them.

“You Greeks and your fucking philosophy. You think too hard. We must be killing this man. I no kill this man, he goes home and he get his friends and his slaves then come back and kill me. And he kill you and he kill your woman. He kill us all and then Alexander come here and Macedonians fuck this whole city.” Bardylis said mockingly.

Omiros stopped rubbing his stubble and nodded at Nikanthos. It could be because he had a blunt and barbaric way of thinking, or his struggle with translating his thoughts into Greek. But, Bardylis always seemed to have a clear and simple answer to morally ambiguous things.

“He is right, you know. These men knew this was a possible outcome for their scheming.” Omiros added.

“You are seeing the point? They are enemies so we must be killing them.” Bardylis gesticulated at Nikanthos, sword in hand.
Deep in his heart, Nikanthos knew that Bardylis was right. The realization was painful and nearly made him sick again.

Bardylis wiped the blood from his sword off on the chiton of a dead guard. Then he trailed off to scavenge with the rest of the surviving attackers.

    After a few moments of rest, Nikanthos prepared himself for the mental stress of planning out their next move.

“We need to check on the men, see if anyone got injured, or worse. Then I want to send the pages out. Send a runner to Isidoris’ house first. Inform him and the surviving archons that Xanthe and his party are dead. They should urgently form a new government and elect a new Tyrant.” Nikanthos commanded Omiros.

Omiros raised his eyebrows at Nikanthos.

“No. I don't want to be Tyrant!” Nikanthos snapped at his companion.

“They pushed for you before. And now, you’ve killed the reigning Tyrant. You’re already Strategos of the city, and you have powerful friends under your cloak…. And in your bed” Omiros contented.

Nikanthos glared back at Omiros for the remark. He didn’t want to admit it, but Omiros raised good arguments. And now that blood had been spilt there were few alternatives. 

“By the gods, how have things come to this?” Nikanthos thought. Mere months ago he had arrived in Cyrene as an officer in his mercenary band. And now he was to be Tyrant of the most prominent Greek city in Africa? Fate had seen fit to bring the struggles of politics from Thessaly with Nikanthos. His father would be gloating at the idea of Nikanthos obtaining a far higher position than the man could have ever dreamed. Nikanthos pushed aside thoughts of home and honed in on the fight at hand.

“Alright.” Nikanthos sighed back at Omiros. “If I’m to be Tyrant, then we need to plan this out so I keep my head.”

“Keep it long enough for Alexander to come and lop it off.” Omiros mused.

“If we don’t win over the other cities of Cyrenaica he won’t have to. They’ll serve my head to him on a platter.” Nikanthos pointed out.

“How do we win over the rest of Cyrenaica?” Omiros asked.

“We don’t give them a choice. I have a plan.” Nikanthos answered back with a smirk. Next Time Hopefully I'll finally have a post with some painted miniatures for you all. I'll also be providing some historical information on the units in the post. It might be Thureophoroi or Spartans. Engagement Questions Are there any historical fiction books that you enjoy? I really like The Warrior of Rome series by Harry Sidebottom, and really all of his books are good. I also enjoyed the Tyrant series by Christian Cameron. Both of those have been big influences for me. While not historical fiction, I also enjoy classic Sword and Sorcery adventures and plan on trying to work those into my narratives and scenarios.