Galatians in the South, 322 BC

[Dirty Chai]

Thousands upon thousands of feet have entered into Paeonia, climbing down from the mountain ranges above the Macedonian river valleys.

"Galatoi, Keltoi."

In reality, there are many tribes, full and replete, entering into the lands known as Hellas, but they are known under the tribe of their leader, the Volitae.
They are led by a man called "Brennos", and are not just mere raiders.

30,000 warriors

8,000 Professional (Nobles and Warriors)

Heavy Troops
Cavalry
Elite Troops

10,000 Allied (Illyrians, Paeonians, Triballi, other Celts)

Heavy
Light

12,000 Levy‏ (Celtic Levy)

Heavy
Light

WIP

[Lucius Malfoy]

The Arrival of the Celts: From Illyria came the rumored Celts, led by a great chieftain whose name is unknown to the Hellenistic World. Their sudden appearance north of the Macedonian realm has caught many unaware. This great tribe lingers north of their territory; their intentions unknown as well as their destination. This event will bring in the Celtic tribe led by Bastard Feudalism. It has been scripted since the beginning of the game. He will start with 30,000 troops with no means of replenishing them unless he settles somewhere. His tribe may be negotiated with and this will help determine the path of the Celts A major note to make that a roll, agreed upon the moderators, was made to determine if the Macedonian and Greek AORs are aware of their presence. Only the Macedonians know of their arrival while the Greeks are not. Depending upon the movement of the Celts and interaction among players, their presence may become known to the whole of the Hellenistic World.

[PilgrimStans]

A small party of riders approaches the vast sprawling camp of the Galatians. Their leader, Nikon, looked warily at the gathering forces, aware that he was not the first choice to negotiate with the Keltoi. Small, lithe and wiry the Greek would look conspicuous in such barbaric company and Cleitus himself wanted to negotiate but as the Thracian's still threatened Nikon was sent in his place. He had attempted to cover for his short-comings by arriving with the largest, ugliest and brutish looking Hetairoi in the entire army and decking himself in their iconic armour. Bronze plate covered his entire body from neck to shin and though inferior to iron in combat Nikon had no intent to fight. Mail reinforced crucial points on his body, mainly the joints and his horse was similarly adorned in felt barding and a bronze head plate. The men behind him were armed with Xyston and Kopis whereas Nikon simply preferred to ditch the long spear of the Xyston as he had no idea how to hold one, let alone thrust it, and stick with the familar short blade of the Kopis. However, even with all regalia of the famed Hetairoi the Greek still looked like a child in his father's uniform. Still, his grin never left his face.

Finally reaching the sentries guarding the camp Nikon reigned his horse and shouted in a voice he hoped would carry.

I am Nikon, advisor to Cleitus, ruler of the lands of Thrace and Northern Macedon. I wish audience with the man called Brennos​.

[Dirty Chai]

A small party of riders approaches the vast sprawling camp of the Galatians. Their leader, Nikon, looked warily at the gathering forces, aware that he was not the first choice to negotiate with the Keltoi. Small, lithe and wiry the Greek would look conspicuous in such barbaric company and Cleitus himself wanted to negotiate but as the Thracian's still threatened Nikon was sent in his place. He had attempted to cover for his short-comings by arriving with the largest, ugliest and brutish looking Hetairoi in the entire army and decking himself in their iconic armour. Bronze plate covered his entire body from neck to shin and though inferior to iron in combat Nikon had no intent to fight. Mail reinforced crucial points on his body, mainly the joints and his horse was similarly adorned in felt barding and a bronze head plate. The men behind him were armed with Xyston and Kopis whereas Nikon simply preferred to ditch the long spear of the Xyston as he had no idea how to hold one, let alone thrust it, and stick with the familar short blade of the Kopis. However, even with all regalia of the famed Hetairoi the Greek still looked like a child in his father's uniform. Still, his grin never left his face.

Finally reaching the sentries guarding the camp Nikon reigned his horse and shouted in a voice he hoped would carry.

I am Nikon, advisor to Cleitus, ruler of the lands of Thrace and Northern Macedon. I wish audience with the man called Brennos​.

The camp was more of a moving city, with pastures and enclosures filling the steep valley floor and its forested groves.
The sentries he approached were standing guard at the far southern end of the camp, which was bounded by stakes and minor trenching.

No one seemed to understand the approaching riders, and just stood still, their spears ready.
A sizable crowd gathered, filled with both warriors and people, all coming to look, gawk, and whisper at the strange Hellenes.

Eventually a figure slipped through the crowd and passed the sentry line and approached the mounted emissary.
Dressed in more decorative pants and given some finer jewelry, this man was a courtier of some sort.
He offered his hands up in a somewhat welcoming but brutish gesture.

"Come." One, rough Greek word.
"Leave." He pointed at the horsemen and then at the weapons.

A day after the arrival and departure of the Cleitid envoys, another series of riders appear. It was a lighter guard, more mobile. A single official from the Leonnatid court, the diplomat known as Peukestas, a cousin of the King of Macedon, approaches the a sprawling camp that their scouts had discovered awhile ago. Peukestas looks down at the camp from a high point, remembering the rumors of a people known as Celts who once came to the court of Alexander the Great. He snaps the reins of his horse and the mobile party approaches the camp.

At the gateway into the Celtic camp, Peukestas dismounts and approaches it.

I am Peukestas, cousin to the King of Macedon, Leonnatus Philopator, ruler of the Macedonians. I wish to speak with your honorable chieftain and treat with him.

A similar treatment awaited the second Macedonian group to approach the Gallic camp, but this time the people seemed less surprised.

This time a few more nobles came out, but generally asked the same things of these emissaries as they did the first.

[PilgrimStans]

The camp was more of a moving city, with pastures and enclosures filling the steep valley floor and its forested groves.
The sentries he approached were standing guard at the far southern end of the camp, which was bounded by stakes and minor trenching.

No one seemed to understand the approaching riders, and just stood still, their spears ready.
A sizable crowd gathered, filled with both warriors and people, all coming to look, gawk, and whisper at the strange Hellenes.

Eventually a figure slipped through the crowd and passed the sentry line and approached the mounted emissary.
Dressed in more decorative pants and given some finer jewelry, this man was a courtier of some sort.
He offered his hands up in a somewhat welcoming but brutish gesture.

"Come." One, rough Greek word.
"Leave." He pointed at the horsemen and then at the weapons.

Nikon handed over his kopis to a cavalryman behind him and followed the strange courtier into the camp. His spirits began to brighten at last, maybe the Galatians would talk.

[Dirty Chai]

Nikon handed over his kopis to a cavalryman behind him and followed the strange courtier into the camp. His spirits began to brighten at last, maybe the Galatians would talk.

The courtier led the way through the camp while some spearmen (some shirtless, other mailed) walked alongside.
Large amounts of people paused and watched, many following to see the funny man approach the king's tent.

It was brown and red, covered in swirls and animals.
After a moment, the courtier went in and out, and invited the Thracian inside, to which he would find an entire court.

On the right and left were small groups of women and men, the best dressed in the camp so far; they gave off pretentious stares, but didn't frown or glare.
Directly in the back, through the crowd of courtiers, was a table of ornate men, all but one bearing absurd facial hair.
Sitting on a rack and upon the ground were winged and feathered helmets, gilded longswords, and suits of barbarian chainmail - an armor new and ingenious in the world. These were kings to these people. Chieftains, feudal lords, masters of the world, listeners to their versions of the Olympians.

A central figure, to which all the others sat towards or at least paid attention to, was near clean-shaven and bore short hair, like a civilized man.
He dressed like his brothers, however, all woven and gilded.

This was Brennos. A war leader, a clever man, a practical king.
He stood, and the crowd parted.

"Approach, emissary," the king declared in better Greek.

Perkeutas dismounts his horse and orders the horsemen to remain with the horses. The emissary removes a sword from his side, but instead of handing it away, Perkeutas was ordered to give it to whomever the leader was. He bows his head, holding the ornate sword outward to them. He speaks a few Greek words back in reply.

Gift to your leader.

The closest Gaul, the one the sword was handed outwards to, seemed confused and even possibly offended, frowning and speaking to his peers in rough barbar.
Another shook his head, spoke more assured words, took the sword in his hand, and pointed the way.

The one holding the sword led the way to a large tent, all while it seemed an entire tribe gathered to watch the new funny man come to speak with the king.

The tent was brown and red, covered in swirls and animals.
The Macedonian was invited inside to the court.

On the right and left were small groups of women and men, the best dressed in the camp so far; they gave off pretentious stares, but didn't frown or glare.
Directly in the back, through the crowd of courtiers, was a table of ornate men, all but one bearing absurd facial hair.
Sitting on a rack and upon the ground were winged and feathered helmets, gilded longswords, and suits of barbarian chainmail - an armor new and ingenious in the world. These were kings to these people. Chieftains, feudal lords, masters of the world, listeners to their versions of the Olympians.

A central figure, to which all the others sat towards or at least paid attention to, was near clean-shaven and bore short hair, like a civilized man.
He dressed like his brothers, however, all woven and gilded.

This was Brennos. A war leader, a clever man, a practical king.
He stood, and the crowd parted.

The noble who took the gift approached the table and placed it before Brennos, to which he nodded in acknowledgement after a few muttered words.
He moved from the table, leaving his vassals, and stood before it, meeting the Macedonian.

"The Macedonian brings a gift because he wants something in return."

[PilgrimStans]

The courtier led the way through the camp while some spearmen (some shirtless, other mailed) walked alongside.
Large amounts of people paused and watched, many following to see the funny man approach the king's tent.

It was brown and red, covered in swirls and animals.
After a moment, the courtier went in and out, and invited the Thracian inside, to which he would find an entire court.

On the right and left were small groups of women and men, the best dressed in the camp so far; they gave off pretentious stares, but didn't frown or glare.
Directly in the back, through the crowd of courtiers, was a table of ornate men, all but one bearing absurd facial hair.
Sitting on a rack and upon the ground were winged and feathered helmets, gilded longswords, and suits of barbarian chainmail - an armor new and ingenious in the world. These were kings to these people. Chieftains, feudal lords, masters of the world, listeners to their versions of the Olympians.

A central figure, to which all the others sat towards or at least paid attention to, was near clean-shaven and bore short hair, like a civilized man.
He dressed like his brothers, however, all woven and gilded.

This was Brennos. A war leader, a clever man, a practical king.
He stood, and the crowd parted.

"Approach, emissary," the king declared in better Greek.

Nikon approached the King and performed a slight bow before grinning at all the people gathered in the colourful tent. Truly a remarkable people he thought.

Brennos, King, I come to you from the lands of Cleitus which include Thrace and northern Macedon and speak on my master's behalf. I do not presume to know your thoughts or plans but if I may I would like to speculate. Perhaps you seek riches, perhaps you seek lands or perhaps you seek battle. Mayhap even all three. I offer you a place where you can find them in abundance.

Nikon beamed in amusement and paused for effect, hoping he had captured the attention of all who listened.

Asia, King, Asia. It has all you wish in the world. My master has travelled to edges of the known world himself, conquered the entirety of it with the dead Basileus Alexander and seen what it has to offer. If you seek riches it has cities that glimmer with gold and temples of pure silver. If you seek lands Asia is massive and less populated than Greece and Macedon. It has more cattle, better horses and more fertile and arable land than can be imagined. If you seek battle and blood Asia has some of the most terrifying troops known to man. Kataphraktoi and war elephants await armoured in iron from head to foot with not an inch of flesh to be seen. My master wishes you and your people no harm and wants you to know that the way to Asia is clear and open. He would provide you passage from his capital in Byzántion across the narrow straights and would be honoured to feast with you and your compatriots in his palace.

Nikon paused again to gather his thoughts.

There have never been Galatians in Asia, King, and they will know your martial might and strength of arms and tremble. You shall be rulers of endless lands and the mighty shall fear you.

[Lucius Malfoy]

The closest Gaul, the one the sword was handed outwards to, seemed confused and even possibly offended, frowning and speaking to his peers in rough barbar.
Another shook his head, spoke more assured words, took the sword in his hand, and pointed the way.

The one holding the sword led the way to a large tent, all while it seemed an entire tribe gathered to watch the new funny man come to speak with the king.

The tent was brown and red, covered in swirls and animals.
The Macedonian was invited inside to the court.

On the right and left were small groups of women and men, the best dressed in the camp so far; they gave off pretentious stares, but didn't frown or glare.
Directly in the back, through the crowd of courtiers, was a table of ornate men, all but one bearing absurd facial hair.
Sitting on a rack and upon the ground were winged and feathered helmets, gilded longswords, and suits of barbarian chainmail - an armor new and ingenious in the world. These were kings to these people. Chieftains, feudal lords, masters of the world, listeners to their versions of the Olympians.

A central figure, to which all the others sat towards or at least paid attention to, was near clean-shaven and bore short hair, like a civilized man.
He dressed like his brothers, however, all woven and gilded.

This was Brennos. A war leader, a clever man, a practical king.
He stood, and the crowd parted.

The noble who took the gift approached the table and placed it before Brennos, to which he nodded in acknowledgement after a few muttered words.
He moved from the table, leaving his vassals, and stood before it, meeting the Macedonian.

"The Macedonian brings a gift because he wants something in return."

My master and cousin, the King of the Macedonians, Leonnatus Philopator, does not seek anything in return. This sword is an offering to the great chieftain of the Galatians, forged by other best swordmakers in Pella. Leonnatus welcomes you and your people to Macedonian and Thracian lands.

Perkeutas bows his head afterwards, bowing it lowly to this chieftain. After that, he raises his head slowly and continues to speak.

My King offers whatever needs your people may desire. He does not seek to be your enemy, but to offer a friendly hand to the newcomers of these lands. His designs do not seek to harm your people, for his mind, like many swords, is pointed at others who have deeply offended him. Whereas you have not done such a thing, thus he has no reason to be warmonger.

The emissary gestures southward.

Beyond this small territory lies the Kingdom of Macedon, if you come here and plan to keep moving through, I can assure you that my King will gladly offer you safe passage through his lands. He will even give you trinkets of our culture and share them with your people. Leonnatus only wishes to be a friend, not an enemy. He hopes that the Galatians and Macedonians can be friends, like our Thracian neighbors to the West of us, who are ruled by Cleitus of Thrace.

With that, Perkeutas falls silent and bows his head, letting the chieftain reply.

[Lucius Malfoy]

A similar treatment awaited the second Macedonian group to approach the Gallic camp, but this time the people seemed less surprised.

This time a few more nobles came out, but generally asked the same things of these emissaries as they did the first.

Perkeutas dismounts his horse and orders the horsemen to remain with the horses. The emissary removes a sword from his side, but instead of handing it away, Perkeutas was ordered to give it to whomever the leader was. He bows his head, holding the ornate sword outward to them. He speaks a few Greek words back in reply.

Gift to your leader.

[Lucius Malfoy]

A day after the arrival and departure of the Cleitid envoys, another series of riders appear. It was a lighter guard, more mobile. A single official from the Leonnatid court, the diplomat known as Peukestas, a cousin of the King of Macedon, approaches the a sprawling camp that their scouts had discovered awhile ago. Peukestas looks down at the camp from a high point, remembering the rumors of a people known as Celts who once came to the court of Alexander the Great. He snaps the reins of his horse and the mobile party approaches the camp.

At the gateway into the Celtic camp, Peukestas dismounts and approaches it.

I am Peukestas, cousin to the King of Macedon, Leonnatus Philopator, ruler of the Macedonians. I wish to speak with your honorable chieftain and treat with him.

[Ace_General]

The Athenians, not knowing the exact position of the Celts, but knowing their existence and estimate their postion somewhere around modern Bulgaria, send two expeditions to make contact with them.

One group is made up of mostly Thracian traders(orginating from Subject greek Poli on the Aegaen shore of thrace) that have a Greek agent attached to them who is knowledgeable of the local languages and dressed in the native costume. Another group of men is sent disguised as amber merchants to the mouth of the Ipos(Danube) river on the wine dark(black) sea

Two men who are also part of the Merchant group go to the Greek colonies of Odessos and Mesambria on the western Black sea coast


OOC: Well, is it metagaming to have some of my guys go to greek colonies in the area and ask around, or is it OMG CHEATING metagamming to have greeks know the location of greek colonies(alot of which are founded by members of the league) and have them go there

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

[Lucius Malfoy]

Ace, please go here: http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showt...8#post13965708

I made a thread separate from this one cause this is for the Galatian battle thread. Post there and I will merge it so you are the author.