Mythic Sparta

[Inalchuk]

My friend loves 300 and I love True 20. The following is my attempt to lure him and others into tabletop gaming with a little play-by-post. Enjoy!

***

Once upon a time, there lived a youth named Marcellian in what scholars now call the cradle of human civilization. Marcellian was known far and wide for his prodigious strength. He was as strong as a grown man at the age of seven, and was able to carry the weight of four men upon his shoulders by the time he turned twenty.

Men marveled at the sight of Marcellian, and women swooned at his touch. The Queen was so impressed by him that she personally gifted him with a magical spear. Marcellian named it the Falcon's Eye, because it never missed its mark and could be thrown as far as the eye could see.

When Marcellian turned 22, the kingdom was attacked by its neighbor to the east. The King, expecting little resistance, marched out confidently with his army to repel the invaders. Shockingly, only a single phalanx returned from the front -- they grimly reported the use of foul and unfamiliar magicks against them, and begged the Queen for the privilege of leading the reserves against the enemy.

The Queen was as cautious as she was beautiful, and promised an answer in three days. After the first night passed, she traveled to Marcellian's military college and sought him out. "Marcellian," the Queen explained tersely, "I have need of your shield and spear. Though your teachers declare that you and your companions are trained and ready to defend the kingdom, my dreams say otherwise. If you march with the others, you risk death. If you abandon this camp, you risk dishonor. I can tell you more of my dreams, but only if you wish to listen."

Marcellian knelt before her. "I listen."

[Inalchuk]

The Queen nodded. "To the west, I saw a shimmering sunset and felt cool water on my fingertips. To the north, I saw angry stormclouds roiling above jagged peaks, through which I glimpsed verdant fields caressed by shafts of sunlight. To the east, I saw a row of crystalline spears overtake a row of our bronze shields, leaving only blood-stained earth behind. To the south, I saw only darkness, though I felt unblinking eyes upon me." The Queen eyed Marcellian thoughtfully. "Ours is a nation of action. The elders care little about my dreams, and may push our youths east, toward a waiting forest of crystalline spears. I want you to find us an alternative."

Marcellian stood. "The elders are old men who have lost the ability to dream and to take action themselves. I trust in you, my queen. I will talk to my friends here and try to convince them to come with me. If I cannot convince them, I will walk alone, with only spear and shield to accompany me."

The Queen smiled. "If pressed, I will demand that the elders assemble the reserves at the palace first so that I may lead them in the Ritual of Retribution." She then leaned close and kissed Marcellian passionately. "You and your friends should have at least three weeks before the reserve army arrives at the Eastfort. Bring us hope."

[Inalchuk]

For the rest of the day, thoughts of duty and honor clashed with dreams of beauty and hope in Marcellian's mind. During a break, he watched as two squads practiced their shield walls. He tried to imagine an enemy who could defeat them, but the effort only made his head hurt.

With a fervent prayer to the gods, Marcellian picked up a stick and threw it high into the air. He watched as it tumbled end over end. It bounced twice. "South it is," Marcellian whispered to no one in particular, and waited for night.

***

The college was abuzz with the news of the army's defeat. The sentries at the gate were especially agitated, but quieted when they saw Marcellian walking resolutely toward them in full battle dress.

"Hail Marcellian!" One sentry sauntered into the middle of the road. "Is your squad scheduled for combat training tonight? If so, the moon does not rise for another hour..."

Marcellian walked up to the sentry. "I'm on a mission from the Queen. I have no time to bandy words with you, Orestes."

Orestes cursed as Marcellian shouldered him aside. "We have orders, too, you know! If you can wait just a moment, I will send Nikomachos to the commander for permission to let you pass!"

Marcellian grumbled under his breath before halting. "Fine, send Nicky. I'll wait." With that, he ground the butt of Falcon's Eye into the ground and pierced Orestes with his stare.

[Inalchuk]

As the saying goes: time flies -- except when it doesn't. In any case, Nikomachos soon returned...with Commander Peisander himself. As fit as most men half his age, the commander had served as an ephor ten years ago and was universally praised for his reform of the kingdom's educational system.

"And how is my niece, Marcellian?" The commander asked archly. "Corrupting youths and maligning elders, I presume? Please tell me...nay, tell us all...what you hope to accomplish by following her orders."

Marcellian began to doubt himself when he saw the commander approaching, but then he thought again of the Queen's words and strengthened his resolve. "She is well my lord, but troubled by dreams. Dreams that show the fall of our armies before the dark sorcery of our enemies. But, why do I tell you of this? I am sure she has told you herself."

"I don't know what I will accomplish, but even if I fail, it is only one spear that you will lose." Looking directly into the commander's eyes, Marcellian continued. "I do not leave the army out of cowardice, and I will slay any man that accuses me of it. I leave because I believe that the Queen dreams of something that might help us, and that I might bring back something more powerful than my single spear could ever provide."

"I will succeed, or die trying."

[Inalchuk]

Seconds passed. No one moved. And then Commander Peisander nodded. "Orestes, Nikomachos: since none from Marcellian's squad are here, you two will accompany him until the Fates declare otherwise." Commander Peisander saluted the three hoplites. "Report to me immediately when you return."

***

"So...where are we going?" Orestes asked the next morning as he followed Marcellian through the underbrush. "We'll be at the sea in a week -- are we going to the Oracle?"

Before Marcellian could answer, something roared.