Lesches
!!8IfW6KKOZX2
(ID: QuGJ87ca)
10/23/2025, 3:31:34 AM
No.6322011
The ride continues for several more minutes, and your pace increases as you descend from the hills surrounding Trachis. Cresting over a ridgeline, you are greeted with an unimpeded view of the Malian Gulf. This part of Hellas is thickly settled, despite its political strife – fields and farms stretch out almost to the edge of the shallow ocean. The waters are a bright and lazy blue, and hardly deeper than a river.
You let Eurykratides babble on about this and that, saying little of note of yourself, until you realize that the man has started to poke and prod at Argive matters. He asks no outright question of you, but poses half-rhetorical questions to the rushing morning air – “Ah, but I wonder what Tydeus of Calydon might think of this tournament?” and “Hmm, your cousin Capaneus might able to smash a battalion in his own right, presuming that he is of the mind to do so!” Clearly, he hopes to bait you into conversation. You simply grunt in response – the Trachian is no Odysseus, and is of a much lower standing than yourself, despite your respective titles. You can simply ignore these fitful interrogations and Eurykratides eventually falls into silence.
As you draw closer to the beach, you see that Eurykratides has assembled a circular, fenced arena – perhaps two stades in diameter – with a very large number of spectator stands ringing it. Your eyesight is akin to an eagle’s, so you can easily make out that there are four, large reinforced carts that have been joined to the north side of the fencing, with their doors held upright by heavy joists. These will be cast aside when the time comes, slamming the heavy door shut, and jailing a captive bull within. On the south side of the arena, you note that there are seven gates, currently shut, built into the fencing, and directly above, multi-layer stands for the crowd. You intuit that the cattle will burst from these closed gates when the time comes and are no doubt being whipped into a frenzy at this very moment.
The crowd notices your arrival, of course, as you draw near – huge waves of screaming, shouting and applause buffet your eardrums. The familiar rush rises within your breast, and you raise a mighty fist to the air, roaring your greeting in return! Is there anything sweeter than the acclaim of men?! κλέος– it is your breath and blood! You vault the fencing easily and make your way to the center of the arena. At first, you hardly notice your fellow competitors in the area as you bathe in the worship of common Danaans – but after a minute, you turn to them:
>cont
You let Eurykratides babble on about this and that, saying little of note of yourself, until you realize that the man has started to poke and prod at Argive matters. He asks no outright question of you, but poses half-rhetorical questions to the rushing morning air – “Ah, but I wonder what Tydeus of Calydon might think of this tournament?” and “Hmm, your cousin Capaneus might able to smash a battalion in his own right, presuming that he is of the mind to do so!” Clearly, he hopes to bait you into conversation. You simply grunt in response – the Trachian is no Odysseus, and is of a much lower standing than yourself, despite your respective titles. You can simply ignore these fitful interrogations and Eurykratides eventually falls into silence.
As you draw closer to the beach, you see that Eurykratides has assembled a circular, fenced arena – perhaps two stades in diameter – with a very large number of spectator stands ringing it. Your eyesight is akin to an eagle’s, so you can easily make out that there are four, large reinforced carts that have been joined to the north side of the fencing, with their doors held upright by heavy joists. These will be cast aside when the time comes, slamming the heavy door shut, and jailing a captive bull within. On the south side of the arena, you note that there are seven gates, currently shut, built into the fencing, and directly above, multi-layer stands for the crowd. You intuit that the cattle will burst from these closed gates when the time comes and are no doubt being whipped into a frenzy at this very moment.
The crowd notices your arrival, of course, as you draw near – huge waves of screaming, shouting and applause buffet your eardrums. The familiar rush rises within your breast, and you raise a mighty fist to the air, roaring your greeting in return! Is there anything sweeter than the acclaim of men?! κλέος– it is your breath and blood! You vault the fencing easily and make your way to the center of the arena. At first, you hardly notice your fellow competitors in the area as you bathe in the worship of common Danaans – but after a minute, you turn to them:
>cont