The Palace of Nebuchadnezzar II
The Palace of Nebuchadnezzar II
ITT: We RP our characters before the Treaty Event.
The sun beat down upon the city, and worse, the heat was humid. 102 F (39C) today, most of the Babylonians were swimming in the Euphrates, thousands of nude barbaroi seeking to escape the misery. The priests say this city was old when immortal Achilles fought Hector and Troy burned. I believe it, but I still hate this place. This city degrades the spirit, weakens the flesh, and numbs the mind. Alexander died here, the hero of our people. I will be glad to be rid of this place...but first his memory must not be stained by the greed of my comrades. They may think themselves able to maintain what only the god-king Alexander could forge, but they are only men...we are all men.
Lysimachus looks out from the edges of the palace walls from a lavish patio shaded by fine silks and sees and thinks these over in his mind. Lately though he had turned increasingly to drink, as a soldier is wont to do when boredom sets in.
Yelling to a slave "Bring me Wine!"
The slave scurries to do this and brings cushions. Lysimachus begins to drink to numb out the heat....hopefully.
It all seems unclear to me. With Alexander, our King, gone and no heir named I cannot see this gathering ending well. All that we have achieved throughout these many years of hardship is now about to come apart. The fighting has begun and we are already murdering each other over who was his better friend... It is ironic that some of my closest friends today may very well be my enemies tomorrow. It is a painful thought...
Also how are we going to hold this Empire together when most of the men here do share Alexander's enthusiasm about the East, and its people? Truth be told most men of the army simply want to go home now and I cannot blame them. They have been gone for over ten years and now look like they may actually never be able to return... To be honest I'm also starting to wonder if I will ever return to Macedonia,
Ptolemy's thoughts are interrupted by the distinct sound of Lysimachus yelling.
Last edited by Holger Danske; July 29, 2012 at 09:09 AM.
In another part of the labyrinthian palace, Perdiccas had stumbled upon a small group of ladies-in-waiting for the mistresses of court. Ever the tactful politician, he had issued orders to his men that none of the girls were to be defiled, and that Macedonian discipline would be enforced to allay the anxieties of their newly-conquered subjects that their daughters would remain as they were, chaste virgins. To this end, he offered his personal protection to many of the most famous beauties of court; yet, he would often confess privately that he was a better conqueror than guardian.
Arwia let out a quiet moan. Arwia was it? Or perhaps Arahunaa? Her jet black hair contrasted perfectly the pale of her skin with deep, dark eyes that could draw even Aphrodite's envy. Definitely not Stateira, she was last night. Ecstasy rolled in a palpable wave throughout her body. Her plump breasts and curvaceous figure almost demanded to be touched. But something Babylonian. Perdiccas bent whomever she was over the cusp of the cushion. They were surrounded by a handful of trusted slaves and the other virgins under Perdiccas' "protection." The room had been an auxiliary bedchamber occupied by a key member of Darius' court, a vizier, perhaps. Perdiccas had made his personal residence as a sign of good faith. The Imperial bedroom, by contrast, was occupied by Roxana and the newborn king, Alexander, and it was Perdiccas' desire that it should stay that way. His father, Alexander, was not only the greatest of conquerors, but also the greatest of friends. It was utterly the least that he could do.
Arwia's moans grew louder; they echoed through parts of the chamber, causing some anxiety amongst the slaves. Before them hung a massive tapestry depicted some important religious or cultural event. Perdiccas motioned to a slave to explain. "The tapestry was commissioned by Darius III," the servant hesitated, "It depicts Ahura Mazda granting Cyrus the Great the keys to the the City of Babylon" Arwia screamed, "to illustrate the immortality of the Achaemenid Empire." They both collapsed from exhaustion.
He turned to slave girl, barely fourteen, and motioned for her to bring wine. His draught was punctuated by exasperated gargles as he both struggled regain his breadth and retort with a laconic quip. "Well, it would seem that your God's blessings are no match for Macedonian steel." With another motion of his hand, two slaves appeared with his afternoon garments. He turned back to Arwia, who was still enraptured in post-coital ecstasy and laid a passionate kiss on her neck. "I'll see you tonight, Arwia?" She paused for a moment, and without glancing, responded with her correct name. "Ishtar."
Without a moment's hesitation, Perdiccas was out of the chamber. At the door he was met by Asklepios, his aide-de-camp. He greeted him with his routine question. "What news?"
"The Men are restless, the finances are in complete disarray, the Generals are demanding a regent to be elected, and Roxana wishes to speak with you." He paused. "What were you doing in there?"
"Grieving. The Macedonian way."
Last edited by cfmonkey45; July 26, 2012 at 08:21 PM.
Leonnatus wished this day had never come. Alexander, his commander, his brother in all but name, was dead at only 32. The same age as Leonnatus. Together they had been boys in Macedonia and men in Alexander's campaigns. But now Alexander was dead, and his empire was set to be torn apart by men who had fought side by side against anyone who stood in Alexander's way. Somatophylax, satrap, and general alike would clash on a scale the world may have never seen. Perhaps there was some hope for a semblance of peace, but it would require every great warrior present in Babylon to restrain themselves. Something Leonnatus doubted could be accomplished.
Peucestas torn up by his emotions, walked silently through the hallways of the palace. He was in no mood for his Warmhearted nature, but his exterior said nothing was wrong with him. As he sipped more wine from his Kylix he reminisced on the past. The days when young Peucestas met Alexandros before he was Megas. The wonderful days he lived in Mieza, were he enjoyed life as a young boy. Then as he sipped some more wine he noticed; his battle scars that littered his body, he then remembered of the days he carried the Hieros Aspis before battle. The days of the Alexandros conquest were still fresh in his mind. The countless battles he had fought in the name of the king. One engagement he thought of the most; was the day Alexander assaulted a city in the Malwa region of India, there he himself saved Alexander's life.
At this point he had noticed his during his reminiscing, he had spilled all of what was left of his wine. His thoughts was now on concerned of the noises; the commotion of voices Babaroi, and Macedonian alike. Then he realized he wasn't alone in this ordeal, and he decided to take a seat on a chair near a bedchamber. He knew very well of what happens to men whom use their greed like coins. He then thought of his position in all of this. He was of course a member of the elite circle of the Somatophylakes. Ptolemy, Lysimachus, Peithon, Leonnatus, whom all had a better position than he did. Peucestas's emotions were starting to overcome to him again, and he called upon a slave for more wine. Peucestas noticed the soldiers that passed by him; he seen those under command of Ptolemy Lagides, then some more of Lysimachus's circle, and most startling a large bevy of Perdiccas's own Bodyguards. " Peucestas it is a fine day to drink isn't it?" Said the similar voice of his most trusted friend.
Peucestas replied,"most certainly Diodotus, however these barbarians know nothing of respect.""Here have my wine," Diodotus said handing over his warm wine, "Peucestas don't get so down you are still young" he finished with a laugh, "Alright Diodotus let's go for a walk then," Peucestas said as he got off the small uncomfortable chair. "Well I'm going to have to make the most of this long day," Peucestas thought. Just as Peucestas and Diodotus began strolling, it was his friend that started a more serious discussion. "It doesn't look good my friend", Diodotus hesitated trying to not realize the situation he put himself in. Peucestas was keen at this topic; and knowing of Diodotus's ignorance, he decided to dropped the hammer, "what do you expect Diodotus? I have a hold on nearly the least amount of provinces, the once bodyguards of Alexander are ready to slit each other's throat, the Macedonian satraps conspire against us....And those men above me well are laughing at us."
"We must make an alliance as soon as possible Peucestas," the fearful Diodotus said. Peucestas usually the more calmer character replies, "we will have to wait for now, so Diodotus is it true no women at night is ugly?".......As a silence caught the tongue of the two, the figure of Perdiccas began to show up from a open door. "Who knows." Diodotus said starring at the great man that is Perdiccas. Just as Perdiccas was going to turn around and face them, Peucestas felt a great force from his stomach, and he finally realized why he was having a bad start to his day.
Last edited by Nikephoros Kapatsos; July 26, 2012 at 10:44 PM.
While the others among Alexander's court carried on with their as of late usual listlessness, Eumenes still had obligations and tasks that needed attending to.
Even now, Eumenes was busy overseeing his clerks in sorting documents of all sorts from around the kingdom; mercenary contracts, land titles, treaties, and other such things that running such a massive state would require.
Despite the enormous amount of booty plundered from conquered peoples, Alexander's treasury always remained near empty, as the expenses of maintaining his massive army often met or exceeded what he gained in his conquests. Often, it was Eumenes' stewards who dealt with those to whom the late king owed debts, debts which, now, would be void, much to the dismay of the king's creditors.
Ever the outsider, Eumenes was in a curious position now. He could see the ambition and pride of the generals overtaking their loyalty even weeks after Alexander's death. His only hope was that he could help keep them together long enough to establish an order. Otherwise, who knows what lies ahead?
Peithon was as disappointed, mournful, and shocked at the death of Megas Alexandros as the next man. Thoughts and memories of his times with the young King, both at home in Macedonia, and more recently his time as his Somatophylake, reverberated around his mind, like a particularly powerful headache. To distract himself from these sorrows of his troubled mind, he set upon the task of teaching his eldest son some swordplay for the day. Alketas, his eldest, was twelve years old now, and just at the brink of adolescence. And so father and son retired to a quiet, isloated courtyard of the expansive Bablyonian palace.
'Now, my boy, what it this sword called?' Began Peithon, holding firmly in his grasp a kopis. He had paid through the nose for a fancy Greek educator to tutor the boy for some years, and now he hoped to guide his education towards more practical, martial ends. 'Uhm..a..a Kopis! You use it hack..and slash, father!' replied Alketas, rather nervously. Peithon smiled, clearly aklowedging the answer to be true. He then placed the kopis down, and raised a xiphos. 'And this one?' asked Peithon, continuing to test the young boy. 'Erm..ah..a ..xyston?' Peithon glared at his son's jarring mistake. Indeed, it enraged Peithon, for it was the final, perfect spark that triggered all his locked up, reclusive, and base emotions over Alexandros' death.
And so Peithon exploded, screaming and yelling and letting out all of his sorrows and emotions in one torrent at his young son, the xiphos flailing wildly in his hand. 'No, you stupid boy! This bloody little thing is nothing like a Xyston! This a damned xiphos, you fool. Gods be damned, how are you to become a hetaroi like I was when you can't even remember three bloody weapons! By the Gods, it is not a difficult task: Xiphos, Xyston and Kopis! EVEN BASE PERSIANS CAN REMEMBER IT!' Alketas recoiled in terror, fearing his father may go as far as to strike him. 'Fo..forgive me..father...' he whispered quietly. Luckily for the young Macedonian, Peithon's outburst had fulfilled its purpose, and Peithon felt far less anguish, and far less anger. After a awkward silence, Peithon decided to ignore the whole incident, and carry on with his swordplay lesson.
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Menes was worried. And hot too, for that matter. Even with two slaves fanning him he still borke out into sweat. Still, the heat was the least of his problems. Megas Alexandros, their fearless and magnificent leader, had fallen. The Companions and Somatophylakes yet remained, but Alexandros was gone. Now the bickering satraps and generals were to come together and decide the fate of the his mighty empire. Menes did not have high expectations for the success of the meeting. Although he hoped the empire would be preserved, he did not believe that those present, himself included, would be reasonable enough to allow that to happen. Still, he would try.
People's Republic of CascadiaOriginally Posted by Ancient Aliens
Seleukus looks out towards the city of babylon, now one of the most important sites within the late king Alexander's empire. The city was not a safe haven anymore, there had already been "accidents" over the issue of who should rule and he did not intend to be one of them. Outside his command tent his Silvershields stood in attendance, while most of them were in their sixties by now they were also rightly feared for their experiance. These would be what gave him authority over the empire, not those blithering fools within the palace.
"I, Pinkie Pie, declare that these treats are fit for a king, or a queen, or a princess!"
"Me? Ruin? I'm not the ruiner, I'm the ruinee! Or is it ruinness? Ruinette?"
"She's ahead of the litter all right. The pick of the litter. The cat's pajamas. Oh wait. Why would Applejack take some poor kitty's pj's? That's not very sporting of her."
"More balloons! No, that's too many balloons. More candy! No, less candy. Ooh! I know! Streamers!"
"Oh my gosh. Hold on to your hooves – I am just about to be brilliant!"
Alexander's sudden death left Roxana as a young widow. Despite her esteemed status as Alexander's favoured wife,
Roxana remained a barbaroi. She now had the difficult task facing her of asserting the newborn Alexander IV's right to rule the vast Alexandrian Empire.
The conversation had droned on for sometime. The infant king was being coddled by an entourage of Babylonian and Persian handmaidens, while the queen Roxana fumed. Her eyes stung from the tears of grief and mourning. Perdiccas had tried to ease the situation as best he could, but the recent passing of Alexander the Great, coupled with disunity within the court, and the queen's pregnancy, have made this a near sisyphean task.
"But Alexander must rule. This Empire is his birthright! I will not have that bastard child usurp the throne."
"Milady, you need not worry, I have assurances from the strategoi that the boy will be king. I will see to it myself. I will call the strategoi, personally, and demand that they recognize Alexander's birthright as King, not Heracles nor Phillip."
"Will it really be that simple? Will they listen to you?"
"We shall see."
After taking his leave from the queen, Perdiccas was met in the hall by Asklepios. He carried a scroll from Eumenes, who had been the Empire's accountant. One brief glance after the breaking seal and he knew that today was not going to be a good day. No wonder Alexander loathed to see Eumenes; he only ever brought bad news. Nevertheless, despite his frugality and his boundless ability to inspire boredom in the late King's day, he was quite good at his job, and his reports were accurate. The Empire was broke. The mercenaries had eaten up the lion's share of the Imperial treasury, and Alexander's creditors have already begun sending in letters and couriers demanding their repayment upon his untimely death. To acquiesce to them would require taxes, and taxes would incite rebellion. To ignore them, however, would likewise incite rebellion.
"Do you ever bring good news?"
"A group of Greek noblemen have arrived, and one of them, I hear, has a daughter whose beauty said to rival that of Helen of Troy."
His lips parted to reveal a toothed smile, one that he had tried to resist. Perdiccas realized at this moment that his extended bouts of drinking and fornicating were far exceeding his preferred limitations. Alexander's death had affected him more than he would have liked to admit. He still could not get over the fact that he had died so young, and in such vigorous health.
"There will be time for that later. Assemble the generals, and have them meet me in the main hall. There we will allot the titles and satrapies of the Empire and where I will declare that Alexander's son the rightful king."
Asklepios paused for a moment and looked Perdiccas candidly in the eye.
"What makes you think that they will listen to you? Your only accomplishment so far is that you've managed to deflower half the virgins of the city and, in the process, nearly drunk the palace dry."
"I think that's why Alexander liked me so much. I can do that and still conqueror empires for him. Ruling them can't be that hard. And Asklepios..."
He paused for a moment, clearly considering the gravity of the mantle placed upon his shoulders. He glanced back at Asklepios; his grayish greek beard and fatherly advice befitted a philosopher more than a warrior, yet, nevertheless, he was right.
"...I'll see what I can do about getting the finances and politics in order."
As he turned to walk away, a slave girl bowed slightly, offering him a draught of wine on a silver platter. He rejected the offer with a slight raise of his hand, though it took some considerable strength to resist the temptation. He wanted his composure to be pristine, and to not reek of heavy drink and perfume before meeting the generals.
He heard Asklepios call his name.
"Perdiccas... Her names is Aphrodisios."
"The Greek beauty, of course."
Last edited by cfmonkey45; July 27, 2012 at 10:23 PM.
"Too much of anything is not good for the body," Said a Babaroi Physician .
"Alexander's doctor himself told me the same.......But I never listen." Peucestas said catching his breath. “Last time I seen you run so fast was at the Hydaspes," Diodotus said trying not to laugh. "Just don't worry. Several slaves went right away, to clean the mess you created. " Diodotus added. " You should take a rest, and drink water." The old Physician said and continued , " I suggest you refrain from participating in the drinking party; that you Greeks participate in." "How dare you call my friend a Greek, he is full Macedonian!" Diodotus screamed feeling his friend was insulted . “I thank you for giving your guidance....You must go now; for your wisdom is needed elsewhere." Peucestas replied trying to dissolve what would have erupted into a tense situation . As the Physician quickly limped away he murmured “You’re all Greeks to me." As the two men walked, Peucestas then changed the subject to an event not too long ago..."So how was Perdiccas reaction?" Peucestas asked and was answered by Diodotus, " Your friend has other things to deal with, than worrying about his friend; especially when his friend is enjoying life. "Although he was surprised of course, that you still could run that quick." “My Father always said I had the blessings of Hermes,” Peucestas replied.
The two men laughed off this situation, only to stop when Peucestas reached his bedchamber ."So did the delivery arrive yet Diodotus?" "Yes they have here see for yourself." Diodotus handed Peucestas several scrolls. As Peucestas slowly opened the scrolls, the more anxious he became. He examined them carefully, which caught Diodotus's attention. As he peered at the scrolls carefully, Diodotus realized these scrolls were indeed maps. “That’s very odd. Who did you get these outdated maps from?" Peucestas said somewhat irritated. “I followed your instructions right down to the letter." Diodotus replied confused. "These maps stop at Arachosia, they should end at India the end of the world!" Peucestas yelled , then Diodotus replied “Come on Peucestas, you are in no condition of thinking right now." "Your right Diodotus I am quite thirsty too, good thing we are in Babylon. Well I can always relieve my anger, on one of this exotic, fine, whores.” Just as Diodotus was about to head off for water, slaves came in with goods, food, and most of all water. Behind them arrived Peucestas’s most trusted circle of men, most of them veterans whom have served alongside Peucestas. “I have just heard of the news, how is your health Peucestas?”Announced a herculean Philokrates, the most trusted of Peucestas band of brothers, with exception of Diodotus. “Where were you Philokrates and your men? What if something worse happened to Peucestas?” Diodotus demanded from Philokrates.
“It is the fault of their superior Diodotus. I told them all myself to enjoy last night’s symposium.” Peucestas commented to douse the flames, of yet again what could have been an argument. “I am sorry Peucestas, your well being is our well being also,” Philokrates added. “Enough I have changed into new my new garments, I feel better now we must now make offerings to the gods.” Peucestas said; knowing he would need the favour of the gods, in this rough, dangerous, time. “A sacrifice to Tyche never fails!” Philokrates said as they prepared to leave. “With turbulent years to come; we will have to rely more of the blind mistress of fortune, may she guide us through the obstacles ahead.” Peucestas said anxiously. “So be it. We must go to an altar as soon as possible.” Diodotus stated, watching the blazing sun in the sky.
As the men left Peucestas didn’t forget one thing. “I want you to clean my chambers, and then lock this room, let no one in. If I do find anything missing it will be your head for my taking.” Peucestas ordered a slave, before Peucestas and his troupe left to make a thyesthai. As they made their way to a makeshift altar; Peucestas still with much uneasiness, clenched his Makhaira which rested in it's scabbard. The same Makhaira he recieved when he first served Alexandros; not as an simple file rank officer, but as a somatophylax.
Last edited by Nikephoros Kapatsos; July 27, 2012 at 09:56 PM.
As the sun dipped towards the horizon, leaving a trail of light dancing across the sky, Menes continued to reflect on the current state of affairs. Hopefully a few of the others would try to keep things together, but the majority would grab their share of the empire and kill their neighbors, plunging the world back into tyranny. Alexandros would be rolling in his grave. He was not so foolish as to allow his power hungry subordinates to dictate the policies of his rule. No, he fought not for himself but for mankind. A great Brotherhood of Men, cutting across religion, culture, and language, with the vices of humanity held in check by a single, almost godlike ruler. No divisions to separate us, just one behemoth set of customs, laws, and beliefs, composed of a mixture of the practices of every nation and every race, yet followed by all. If only Alexandros had lived to finish his work, then perhaps the world would be perfected. Still, there was hope. If the Partition broke down, then an enterprising man could carve his own state out of the remains. Then, if that man's goals were noble instead of selfish, then perhaps the Brotherhood of Man could exist at last. Yes, if Menes could take his own share of the spoils, then Alexandros would not have died in vain. The Brotherhood of Man would emerge once again, and Menes would be there to secure its final triumph.
People's Republic of CascadiaOriginally Posted by Ancient Aliens
As time for the ever so decisive meeting draws closer Ptolemy stands at a large table overlooking a vast and intricately detailed map of the Empire he had been a part of forging, slowly marking a route along it reflecting over the various battles fought, the River Granicus, Halicarnassus, Issus, the epic siege of Tyre, Gaugamela, the Sogdian Rock, and all the way to India. Clearly remembering one particular conversation he had with Alexander when he was trying to march the army across the mighty Hindu Kush into the mysterious lands known as India. Here Alexander was expecting to find the end of the World and sail all the way back to Greece,
Hindu Kush. 5 years earlier...
“Now there is a sight,”
“Indeed… The surveyors are saying that Zeus chained the Titan Prometheus up there. In one of those caves. They say there's a giant eagle's nest about it.”
“You remember what Aristotle told us about these moutains, Ptolemy?”
“Yes. Yes I do... That when we reach these heights we would look back and see Macedonia to the west... and the outer ocean to the east... But I fear this world is much larger than anyone could have dreamt of. ”
“A world of Titans, Ptolemy...”
“Our scouts have been up every known trail, Alexander. There is no way across the mountains... Except to the south, into India.”
“Were we gods, we would simply breach these walls to the eastern ocean...”
“We will, Alexander... In a few years we will return, but first, the men must see home again..”
Have you found your home... Ptolemy?”
More and more, I think it will be Alexandria... Well, at least it's hot there. And my wife, she loved it there...”
Women bring men home... I have no such desire,”
You have Babylon, Alexander! Where your mother awaits you to invite her!”
Yes, Ptolemy... I have Babylon... But each land, each boundary I cross I strip away another illusion... I sense death will be the last... Yet still I push harder and harder to reach this illusive home... Now where has our eagle gone?... We must go on, Ptolemy. Until we find an end!”
…And sure enough a way was found through the mountains and into India where we, for the first time in over ten years started to suffer some serious setbacks. Thousands of our men would perish to mysterious deceases, mythical creatures, and hostile natives. We nearly lost a battle there, the closets Alexander would ever come to being defeated… But in a sense he was defeated. India somehow shattered his visions of reaching the end of the World. The army was nearly destroyed. Not by another army, but by his ambitions which firmly devided his army. Mutiny came and went and from there on everything went wrong for Alexander… Now here I stand, ready to go in and decided the fate of his legacy… Better remember to bring my sword this time…
Last edited by Holger Danske; July 29, 2012 at 05:45 PM.
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