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In Fine, Solum Est Tibi (A Quest in Rome, During The Fall of the Republic)
- Thread starter Magoose
- Start date
- Original Mature Historic
2.4: A Mark of Greatness.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
2.4: A Mark of Greatness.
For a brief moment, you had thought to humiliate the boy that was in front of you, this boy who, above all else, probably had used every shred of his families influence to earn him a position, if not a high position in this army, then a position that would greatly increase his standing on the political compass and situation among the military and the Senate itself.
Yet in his eyes, you saw something more. There was pain behind those sparkling sapphires that were his eyes. They were lost, as if the Gods themselves have cast him out to sea, and he was lost, desperately trying to find a way to new lands, to new grounds… To a new home that was now forever lost to him.
The men seemed to gather around behind you, waiting for you to do something that was deemed proper. To accept or to distance themselves from him.
Instead, you remembered the story that your father told you, a long time ago, when your mother had died, and you were alone.
"Already grasping for the glory of foreign sands I see." The statement was not something you really put any thought into, not really anyway, as you had just found yourself saying it aloud. You remembered the Story of Aeneas, and the Trojans who had fled Troy and would later, find the city that was now Rome.
You then stepped forward, you saw this boy, Caesar, seem to flinch at your very presence, unsure of himself, unsure of how to handle the situation. After all, he saw the stripes on your toga, and knew that, above all else.
You then decided to lighten the mood, to welcome him into this camp. You then clasped his forearm, and the nervousness vanished, and the boy who had jumped off a ship returned. "Well met Aeneid, it does well to see such motivation in the Legion."
At that, there was laughter from all, and Caeser was feeling, above all else, welcomed by the men of the 5th Legion.
It seemed now, that the Legion was finally complete.
-------------------------------------------------------------
September 1st, 84 BCE, Dawn
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
The Black Sea (Unknown Location)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Smell of the Sea air was invigorating as you felt the world seem to feel right. You had never had an attachment to the Sea, but your mother always remembered to take you out to the wondrous ocean, or the river and made you swim in it. You were very young, the memories faint and broken, but they were there.
Your mother always spoke of how the Sea was a bountiful and beautiful thing, where there was much to be gained.
She had always said that Rome, in their quest to dominate, forgot that the one thing that they could not conquer was the Sea. They could only be custodians, masters, only of what Poseidon and Neptune gave them.
That the Storms were always about. That there was nothing to gain until they learned the Blessings of them.
As you sat atop the Mast, you only could wonder about what your parents would say to you.
But alas, you could not. Not now at least.
You would have work to do.
------------------------------
What do you Do?:
(Choose 3)
[]The Mind of the Legate: His plan, while simple, was remarkably easy to understand and comprehend. That in itself was not a problem. No, the problem was, he was putting far too much stock into… nothing.
[]The Primus Centurion: The most senior Centurion does not like you all that much. That much you could account to being a woman, and so young. Perhaps, he may see that change. But right now, you would need to talk to him.
[]The Tribunes: The Twins took well to Caeser's gusto and support, but there are a few things that worry you, particularly their poor swordsmanship. There is so much that they need to learn.
[]Caesar's Conundrum: Why was Caesar here? That was a question that was on your mind since he Arrived.
[]The Winds of Destiny: The Auger has yet to look into the future. There were not many things known. But the Gods may help.
[]A Feeling of Home: You never knew of your mother's homeland. Pip knows it, so why has he not spoken of it? Speak Pip!
[]The Hope for Messages: Uncle Ion sent a message? What is it about, what is it for? And how did this letter find the Fleet?
[]The Sail Calls: You have never been one to sail, but you want to take the rudder, the sail, and understand, what it means to sail.
AN: A moratorium for the next two hours. The vote will remain open till Friday night.
Enjoy and please vote in plan format please!
For a brief moment, you had thought to humiliate the boy that was in front of you, this boy who, above all else, probably had used every shred of his families influence to earn him a position, if not a high position in this army, then a position that would greatly increase his standing on the political compass and situation among the military and the Senate itself.
Yet in his eyes, you saw something more. There was pain behind those sparkling sapphires that were his eyes. They were lost, as if the Gods themselves have cast him out to sea, and he was lost, desperately trying to find a way to new lands, to new grounds… To a new home that was now forever lost to him.
The men seemed to gather around behind you, waiting for you to do something that was deemed proper. To accept or to distance themselves from him.
Instead, you remembered the story that your father told you, a long time ago, when your mother had died, and you were alone.
"Already grasping for the glory of foreign sands I see." The statement was not something you really put any thought into, not really anyway, as you had just found yourself saying it aloud. You remembered the Story of Aeneas, and the Trojans who had fled Troy and would later, find the city that was now Rome.
You then stepped forward, you saw this boy, Caesar, seem to flinch at your very presence, unsure of himself, unsure of how to handle the situation. After all, he saw the stripes on your toga, and knew that, above all else.
You then decided to lighten the mood, to welcome him into this camp. You then clasped his forearm, and the nervousness vanished, and the boy who had jumped off a ship returned. "Well met Aeneid, it does well to see such motivation in the Legion."
At that, there was laughter from all, and Caeser was feeling, above all else, welcomed by the men of the 5th Legion.
It seemed now, that the Legion was finally complete.
-------------------------------------------------------------
September 1st, 84 BCE, Dawn
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
The Black Sea (Unknown Location)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Smell of the Sea air was invigorating as you felt the world seem to feel right. You had never had an attachment to the Sea, but your mother always remembered to take you out to the wondrous ocean, or the river and made you swim in it. You were very young, the memories faint and broken, but they were there.
Your mother always spoke of how the Sea was a bountiful and beautiful thing, where there was much to be gained.
She had always said that Rome, in their quest to dominate, forgot that the one thing that they could not conquer was the Sea. They could only be custodians, masters, only of what Poseidon and Neptune gave them.
That the Storms were always about. That there was nothing to gain until they learned the Blessings of them.
As you sat atop the Mast, you only could wonder about what your parents would say to you.
But alas, you could not. Not now at least.
You would have work to do.
------------------------------
What do you Do?:
(Choose 3)
[]The Mind of the Legate: His plan, while simple, was remarkably easy to understand and comprehend. That in itself was not a problem. No, the problem was, he was putting far too much stock into… nothing.
[]The Primus Centurion: The most senior Centurion does not like you all that much. That much you could account to being a woman, and so young. Perhaps, he may see that change. But right now, you would need to talk to him.
[]The Tribunes: The Twins took well to Caeser's gusto and support, but there are a few things that worry you, particularly their poor swordsmanship. There is so much that they need to learn.
[]Caesar's Conundrum: Why was Caesar here? That was a question that was on your mind since he Arrived.
[]The Winds of Destiny: The Auger has yet to look into the future. There were not many things known. But the Gods may help.
[]A Feeling of Home: You never knew of your mother's homeland. Pip knows it, so why has he not spoken of it? Speak Pip!
[]The Hope for Messages: Uncle Ion sent a message? What is it about, what is it for? And how did this letter find the Fleet?
[]The Sail Calls: You have never been one to sail, but you want to take the rudder, the sail, and understand, what it means to sail.
AN: A moratorium for the next two hours. The vote will remain open till Friday night.
Enjoy and please vote in plan format please!
Crushed
- Location
- Hawaii
Crushed
Everything ached. Severianus had failed his latest attempt to challenge the Tribune. Sure, it stung his pride to have lost ten bouts to the older girl when he had been so handily trouncing the common legionaries, but as his father had so often drilled into his thick skull, victory came down to instinct and the whims of Fortuna, as much as skill. And having been on the receiving end ten times, Severianus was sure that the Tribune had him beat in skill and instinct. After all, it was difficult to predict what she would do next when her face was so distracting- that is, he was trying to read her intentions from her expression, rather than the movement of her limbs! That was it! Severianus was well aware that excuse would not work on his father, who had undoubtedly heard the rumors as they spread among the men.
But still, he was able to nurse his wounded pride with the fact that by the end of this latest defeat, he could see a glimmer of respect in her sharp gaze. After all, he was the only legionary that had made more than two attempts, and of the dozens of men she had crushed in the sparring circle, he was the only one who had landed anything resembling a blow on her. It had only been a glancing blow, and merely knocked her braid out of the bun it had been gathered in, but had Fortuna turned her wheel but an inch more, it might have landed true on her neck. And with steel, rather than blunted training blades... well, no use moping over 'what ifs' and 'could have beens.'
"Father would give me a thrashing if he saw me sulking like this. Nothing to do but pick myself up and work harder. Any battle you can walk away from and learn from is its own victory. So long as death does not take you, you can come back and grow. Harder, better, faster, stronger." After all, father had survived the campaigns in Gaul and Numidia where many others didn't. The collected wisdom of this twenty-year veteran was all the inheritance that Severianus would get from his father. He intended for it to be a tradition that would be passed down through the generations.
"Now, what was father's advice again? 'the scutum is the legionary's greatest tool. Not only does it protect you and the man beside you from missiles and blade, it is a battering ram that breaches the gates of an enemy's defense'... mmm, breaching the Tribune's defenses... No! Stop that! Focus!"
A passing legionary could only look on in bewilderment as he witnessed Severianus beating his head against his scutum and slapping his cheeks.
Everything ached. Severianus had failed his latest attempt to challenge the Tribune. Sure, it stung his pride to have lost ten bouts to the older girl when he had been so handily trouncing the common legionaries, but as his father had so often drilled into his thick skull, victory came down to instinct and the whims of Fortuna, as much as skill. And having been on the receiving end ten times, Severianus was sure that the Tribune had him beat in skill and instinct. After all, it was difficult to predict what she would do next when her face was so distracting- that is, he was trying to read her intentions from her expression, rather than the movement of her limbs! That was it! Severianus was well aware that excuse would not work on his father, who had undoubtedly heard the rumors as they spread among the men.
But still, he was able to nurse his wounded pride with the fact that by the end of this latest defeat, he could see a glimmer of respect in her sharp gaze. After all, he was the only legionary that had made more than two attempts, and of the dozens of men she had crushed in the sparring circle, he was the only one who had landed anything resembling a blow on her. It had only been a glancing blow, and merely knocked her braid out of the bun it had been gathered in, but had Fortuna turned her wheel but an inch more, it might have landed true on her neck. And with steel, rather than blunted training blades... well, no use moping over 'what ifs' and 'could have beens.'
"Father would give me a thrashing if he saw me sulking like this. Nothing to do but pick myself up and work harder. Any battle you can walk away from and learn from is its own victory. So long as death does not take you, you can come back and grow. Harder, better, faster, stronger." After all, father had survived the campaigns in Gaul and Numidia where many others didn't. The collected wisdom of this twenty-year veteran was all the inheritance that Severianus would get from his father. He intended for it to be a tradition that would be passed down through the generations.
"Now, what was father's advice again? 'the scutum is the legionary's greatest tool. Not only does it protect you and the man beside you from missiles and blade, it is a battering ram that breaches the gates of an enemy's defense'... mmm, breaching the Tribune's defenses... No! Stop that! Focus!"
A passing legionary could only look on in bewilderment as he witnessed Severianus beating his head against his scutum and slapping his cheeks.
A Severianus omake! As you might have guessed, he and his father are ancestors of that Severin family. The one from La Chanson and Rebirth of the World. The founders of a soldiering tradition that will be passed down through the generations! Also, Severianus has a particular taste in women. He's intentionally thinking of Claudia in her military role, because if he thinks of her as a woman, that leads to dangerous thoughts. Also, have a Daft Punk reference, just because.
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Stories of the Aeneid: Aeneas' Wanderings (I)
Orion Ultor
Everything’s Got A Price.
- Location
- East Coast
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Stories of the Aeneid: Aeneas' Wanderings (I)
After having led her fellow Tribune through the camp, letting him know of his various responsibilities to the men and what expectations would be placed upon him, they retired to her work station, where they proceeded to outline the loading of the men onto the ships. Eventually, as the official matters of the day would run their course, she turned to contemplate him for a moment in silence.
"Tell me Caesar, if I may be so bold," she asked, breaking the silence as she reclined further into her camp stool, continuing once given a slow nod in return, "but now that matters of state and war have been, for the moment, attended to and I must ask for curiosity's sake alone, but what tales of our forefathers Aeneas and Romulus have survived these long centuries within your family?"
"For what purpose, if I may ask?" Caesar said, slightly
"I'm sure that you've heard the mutterings about my writings, of how many in Rome's priesthood find it as somewhat heretical to their own teachings," she began, "Then I'll have you know, the vast majority of those writings were written in the stylings of Herodotus to chronicle the traditions as kept within my own familia, and given to him freely as a gift in the twilight hours of his life. But it was in the process of creating that gift, binding all that he had ever endeared to teach me into a cohesive codex, that I came to find that I had a hidden passion for acquiring such knowledge and have endeared to speak to many throughout the Legion about such matters, comparing and contrasting their tales to my own to see what lessons their ancestors had prized.
But I freely admit to you that many of my father's accounts had to be carefully reconstructed over a manner of years, given the unfortunate current state of my House, as many truths we once held dear have been lost to the cruel hands of time. Of their number, Aeneas' journeys by and large suffered the most from this, rendered almost entirely disjointed from the overall tale of our times; until you, I had little hope of inquiring on such matters directly from a more direct line of Aeneas, and so with your permission I hope that I may be able to restore and chronicle these lost truths to mine descendants, giving them a sense of character beyond just giving context to our present."
Caesar was silent but a moment, blinking twice in rapid concession, before nodding his assent, settling down in the offered stool across from here
"Very well, though if it isn't too much to ask I'd like a copy for mine own as well," he says, continuing once she gave it, "Given your bearing, I will dispense with the Homeric sagas of the Trojan War and our ancestors part in them, given your stated...disagreements with his works, and instead begin with the Aeneas' flight from the city, beginning thus his journey to the West.
In the midst of the night, as the Veneficus Ulysses burned the city of Troy from within, King Priam charged the young Prince Aeneas with not only the safety of their remaining family but also the Lares and Penates, so they would not fall into the hands of the traitorous Graeca, so that the history of their people would not pass into Oblivio. Angered at this charge, at the thought of abandoning the peoples of his city, to watch their peoples become scattered and all manner of foul peoples stealing away Troy's sons and daughter for terrible and vile purposes [the most heinous of their number made by Jupiter himself for stealing the child prince Catamitus to his chambers], the young Aeneas gathered up his arms to follow his father, Anchises, into battle in die an honorable death and was only stopped by the actions of his wife, Creusa. She begged him to think of her and their young children, of the duty he now held to his people and the final wish of his king, an old argument they had had many a time before and one that fell once more to deaf ears...if not for the intervention of Vesta, who swaddled their infant son Ascanius in bright flame of Mars' wandering star. Aeneas, heart laden with great sorrow, took up his oaths once more and, in the midst of the city's sacking, gathered a loose fleet of seven-and-twenty ships, comprised of everything from humble fishing vessels to the few remaining warships, taking with him all manner of Trojan peoples, similarly comprised.
But it was in the midst of this gathering that Creusa vanished from Aeneas' sight, instead finding in her stead her youngest sister Polyxena, niece Helena, and Sarpedon's infant son, his wife having chosen to sacrifice herself to save the children from their fate. In the depths of his grief, as he stared at his beloved city disappear into the infinite horizon, he received visions of his late wife who gave the account of her final fate, that it was by the will of Ceres and Venus that she pass into the Underworld with dignity, having sacrificed her life to spare the lives of her fellow Trojans and, before her departure, she burdened him with the weight of prophecy, that he was destined to make landfall in Hesperia and marriage to another; thrice, Aeneas attempted to grasp her and hold her to him, begging forgiveness all the while and swearing to never love another, naming her a queen among women, and thrice she escaped his grasp, begging him with reason once more.
Juno, having heard the words of prophecy and learning that it would lead to the destruction of her favored peoples, attempted to send many a storm to sink his vessels and forever end the line of Illum. In doing so, she angered Neptune for daring to intrude on his domain, and [though he was no friend to the Trojans] so choose to steal away the winds and create a great flood to sweep away a great many of her favored peoples."
"While I wish for you to continue the tale, the hour is growing late," she interrupted, somewhat startling her Tribune in doing so, "We shall continue this another time."
"Ah, right then," Caesar said, standing stiffly from his seat, clearly having rested on one leg for too long, "Though before I depart, I hope it isn't too much to ask you for a character in your family's ancestry for an oration at a later time?"
"While there are many tales I could share with you of the line of Nerva," she said after a moment's thought, "I cannot rightly verify the oldest of them without access to mine villa, and so must turn to my mother's people and say that of her line the most well known was that of King Thoas."
"The one slaughtered by the Amazonians of Lemnos?" he asked, eyes flashing with a brief glimpse of fear.
"From my understanding, any and all Amazons have simply been Scythian warrior women who struck fear in the hearts of Delian men, who hid their shame by naming them daughters of Hercules," she says, spitting Delian out with some venom, "And he did not die by their hand, but by Apollo guiding Menelaus' hand for giving his aid to Achilles."
"The men already believe you to be an Amazon, what difference does it make if you're also a Scythian?" he jests, and while she knows it is irrational...it is late, and despite the unintentional slight to her heritage, she gives in.
"Caesar?" she says with false calm, her expression suddenly dead.
"Yes?" he says as he suddenly snaps to attention, a look of fear briefly passing before his eyes.
"This evening, let your men know to prepare themselves for the morning, and, if you haven't already, I would have you properly store your pack. It would not good for the men to see their Tribune do poorly on a standard, seven-thousand-pace ruck run before we go to sea."
She shouldn't be so amused by that look of pain, but she is.
A/N: Beyond making allusions to the various syncretism's of various world myths, I've been throwing in references to various other materials and have yet to be called out for any of them...but that might be my fault for repeating the same myth from three different perspectives in the last few snippets. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series and if you have any request for a Claudiae Fabulae retelling of any myth, any of them at all, I'll see what I can do about working that in at some point...though I will say, there's a reason I've avoided any mention of Hades beforehand in these retellings.
After having led her fellow Tribune through the camp, letting him know of his various responsibilities to the men and what expectations would be placed upon him, they retired to her work station, where they proceeded to outline the loading of the men onto the ships. Eventually, as the official matters of the day would run their course, she turned to contemplate him for a moment in silence.
"Tell me Caesar, if I may be so bold," she asked, breaking the silence as she reclined further into her camp stool, continuing once given a slow nod in return, "but now that matters of state and war have been, for the moment, attended to and I must ask for curiosity's sake alone, but what tales of our forefathers Aeneas and Romulus have survived these long centuries within your family?"
"For what purpose, if I may ask?" Caesar said, slightly
"I'm sure that you've heard the mutterings about my writings, of how many in Rome's priesthood find it as somewhat heretical to their own teachings," she began, "Then I'll have you know, the vast majority of those writings were written in the stylings of Herodotus to chronicle the traditions as kept within my own familia, and given to him freely as a gift in the twilight hours of his life. But it was in the process of creating that gift, binding all that he had ever endeared to teach me into a cohesive codex, that I came to find that I had a hidden passion for acquiring such knowledge and have endeared to speak to many throughout the Legion about such matters, comparing and contrasting their tales to my own to see what lessons their ancestors had prized.
But I freely admit to you that many of my father's accounts had to be carefully reconstructed over a manner of years, given the unfortunate current state of my House, as many truths we once held dear have been lost to the cruel hands of time. Of their number, Aeneas' journeys by and large suffered the most from this, rendered almost entirely disjointed from the overall tale of our times; until you, I had little hope of inquiring on such matters directly from a more direct line of Aeneas, and so with your permission I hope that I may be able to restore and chronicle these lost truths to mine descendants, giving them a sense of character beyond just giving context to our present."
Caesar was silent but a moment, blinking twice in rapid concession, before nodding his assent, settling down in the offered stool across from here
"Very well, though if it isn't too much to ask I'd like a copy for mine own as well," he says, continuing once she gave it, "Given your bearing, I will dispense with the Homeric sagas of the Trojan War and our ancestors part in them, given your stated...disagreements with his works, and instead begin with the Aeneas' flight from the city, beginning thus his journey to the West.
In the midst of the night, as the Veneficus Ulysses burned the city of Troy from within, King Priam charged the young Prince Aeneas with not only the safety of their remaining family but also the Lares and Penates, so they would not fall into the hands of the traitorous Graeca, so that the history of their people would not pass into Oblivio. Angered at this charge, at the thought of abandoning the peoples of his city, to watch their peoples become scattered and all manner of foul peoples stealing away Troy's sons and daughter for terrible and vile purposes [the most heinous of their number made by Jupiter himself for stealing the child prince Catamitus to his chambers], the young Aeneas gathered up his arms to follow his father, Anchises, into battle in die an honorable death and was only stopped by the actions of his wife, Creusa. She begged him to think of her and their young children, of the duty he now held to his people and the final wish of his king, an old argument they had had many a time before and one that fell once more to deaf ears...if not for the intervention of Vesta, who swaddled their infant son Ascanius in bright flame of Mars' wandering star. Aeneas, heart laden with great sorrow, took up his oaths once more and, in the midst of the city's sacking, gathered a loose fleet of seven-and-twenty ships, comprised of everything from humble fishing vessels to the few remaining warships, taking with him all manner of Trojan peoples, similarly comprised.
But it was in the midst of this gathering that Creusa vanished from Aeneas' sight, instead finding in her stead her youngest sister Polyxena, niece Helena, and Sarpedon's infant son, his wife having chosen to sacrifice herself to save the children from their fate. In the depths of his grief, as he stared at his beloved city disappear into the infinite horizon, he received visions of his late wife who gave the account of her final fate, that it was by the will of Ceres and Venus that she pass into the Underworld with dignity, having sacrificed her life to spare the lives of her fellow Trojans and, before her departure, she burdened him with the weight of prophecy, that he was destined to make landfall in Hesperia and marriage to another; thrice, Aeneas attempted to grasp her and hold her to him, begging forgiveness all the while and swearing to never love another, naming her a queen among women, and thrice she escaped his grasp, begging him with reason once more.
Juno, having heard the words of prophecy and learning that it would lead to the destruction of her favored peoples, attempted to send many a storm to sink his vessels and forever end the line of Illum. In doing so, she angered Neptune for daring to intrude on his domain, and [though he was no friend to the Trojans] so choose to steal away the winds and create a great flood to sweep away a great many of her favored peoples."
"While I wish for you to continue the tale, the hour is growing late," she interrupted, somewhat startling her Tribune in doing so, "We shall continue this another time."
"Ah, right then," Caesar said, standing stiffly from his seat, clearly having rested on one leg for too long, "Though before I depart, I hope it isn't too much to ask you for a character in your family's ancestry for an oration at a later time?"
"While there are many tales I could share with you of the line of Nerva," she said after a moment's thought, "I cannot rightly verify the oldest of them without access to mine villa, and so must turn to my mother's people and say that of her line the most well known was that of King Thoas."
"The one slaughtered by the Amazonians of Lemnos?" he asked, eyes flashing with a brief glimpse of fear.
"From my understanding, any and all Amazons have simply been Scythian warrior women who struck fear in the hearts of Delian men, who hid their shame by naming them daughters of Hercules," she says, spitting Delian out with some venom, "And he did not die by their hand, but by Apollo guiding Menelaus' hand for giving his aid to Achilles."
"The men already believe you to be an Amazon, what difference does it make if you're also a Scythian?" he jests, and while she knows it is irrational...it is late, and despite the unintentional slight to her heritage, she gives in.
"Caesar?" she says with false calm, her expression suddenly dead.
"Yes?" he says as he suddenly snaps to attention, a look of fear briefly passing before his eyes.
"This evening, let your men know to prepare themselves for the morning, and, if you haven't already, I would have you properly store your pack. It would not good for the men to see their Tribune do poorly on a standard, seven-thousand-pace ruck run before we go to sea."
She shouldn't be so amused by that look of pain, but she is.
A/N: Beyond making allusions to the various syncretism's of various world myths, I've been throwing in references to various other materials and have yet to be called out for any of them...but that might be my fault for repeating the same myth from three different perspectives in the last few snippets. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the series and if you have any request for a Claudiae Fabulae retelling of any myth, any of them at all, I'll see what I can do about working that in at some point...though I will say, there's a reason I've avoided any mention of Hades beforehand in these retellings.
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Stories of the Pirate: Hoist the Colors
Orion Ultor
Everything’s Got A Price.
- Location
- East Coast
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Stories of the Pirate: Hoist the Colors
In the dark of the night, she hears in the near distance the wailing cry of her Uncle's working song, that could be charitably called a paean by some, crying out to the distant sea.
"Κάπου πέρα από τη θάλασσα," he crooned, bringing old memories to the forefront, old rhythms of stranger tides, "Κάπου με περιμένει, Ο εραστής μου στέκεται σε χρυσή άμμο, Και παρακολουθεί άλλα πλοία που πλέουν."
While there are certainly other matters for her to attend to, she can't help but be entranced by the melody, by the sheer sorrow conveyed by their emotion. Even as men join in to aid in the chorus, and the song changes from that which holds the distant dream of freedom close to their breast to one that tells the tale of the mighty Poseidon Enosichthon, she can't help but see their struggle as their own.
She hears the words, and sees visions of the firstborn god as a child defending himself and his sisters from being devoured by their father, hearing the wretched cries of their mother attempting to save them from the cruel hands of her husband as he is the last to be savored. She sees his futile struggle to hold his siblings together as they are devoured and reborn each day and night within that furious cauldron of a stomach, their divinity the only saving grace from Oblivion; even rescued by the machinations of their youngest brother, the devoured gods find that their powers have been greatly lessened and only a modicum of their original strength survives. She hears of the mighty Nyx who offers the young Olympians shelter from the depravity of Cronus, who had slain their mother Rhea for her part in orchestrating their release, and raises them as her own.
As the song ends and another begins, another servii taking up the act, she can see Poseidon standing apart from his siblings as he savors the freedom he now possesses and, hearing for the first time the gentle laugh of his sisters, is the first to choose to rebel against the tyranny of Cronus; taking up the nearest spear, makeshift in its nature as a farming tool, he bids Nyx farewell as he goes to fight a war against the Titans. Though diminished, it is his acumen as both a warrior, raider and statesmen that has him create the alliances that bind the gods, humanity and monsters together in the coming war, laying the foundation for the gods strength in the coming Titanomachy...before this song loses you for a moment as it suggests that Poseidon is the true father to Dionysus, that Zeus had never lain with the mortal Semele. You can see your uncle, while not happy with this version of the tale, is ultimately accepting of it in the spirit it was given (and clearly much too into the swing of things to even consider breaking it).
Another takes up the torch, and sings of Poseidon's conquest of the mighty Demeter Erinys, in the ancient form of a mare, having been once so enraged by Poseidon's acts that she grew a mane of venomous vipers possessing a stare capable of ending the life of many.
On and on it went round the circle, each man singing praise unto Poseidon, the Rebellious One...it was only when her uncle turned and looked directly into her eyes and winked, that she realized that she had long overstayed her welcome as a passive observer and silent partner. Stepping forth into their circle, she joined their song with the memory of her mother's words and the piercing desire for freedom that burned eternal within her heart, the desire to act without any of the shackling others placed upon her, for a man chooses...
"Μου είπε η μητέρα μου, Κάποια μέρα θα αγόραζα," she cries out to the heavens above, the fleeting memory of her mother before her in the pale moonlight, "Γαλέρες με καλά κουπιά, Πλεύστε σε μακρινές ακτές..."
In the dark of the night, she hears in the near distance the wailing cry of her Uncle's working song, that could be charitably called a paean by some, crying out to the distant sea.
"Κάπου πέρα από τη θάλασσα," he crooned, bringing old memories to the forefront, old rhythms of stranger tides, "Κάπου με περιμένει, Ο εραστής μου στέκεται σε χρυσή άμμο, Και παρακολουθεί άλλα πλοία που πλέουν."
While there are certainly other matters for her to attend to, she can't help but be entranced by the melody, by the sheer sorrow conveyed by their emotion. Even as men join in to aid in the chorus, and the song changes from that which holds the distant dream of freedom close to their breast to one that tells the tale of the mighty Poseidon Enosichthon, she can't help but see their struggle as their own.
She hears the words, and sees visions of the firstborn god as a child defending himself and his sisters from being devoured by their father, hearing the wretched cries of their mother attempting to save them from the cruel hands of her husband as he is the last to be savored. She sees his futile struggle to hold his siblings together as they are devoured and reborn each day and night within that furious cauldron of a stomach, their divinity the only saving grace from Oblivion; even rescued by the machinations of their youngest brother, the devoured gods find that their powers have been greatly lessened and only a modicum of their original strength survives. She hears of the mighty Nyx who offers the young Olympians shelter from the depravity of Cronus, who had slain their mother Rhea for her part in orchestrating their release, and raises them as her own.
As the song ends and another begins, another servii taking up the act, she can see Poseidon standing apart from his siblings as he savors the freedom he now possesses and, hearing for the first time the gentle laugh of his sisters, is the first to choose to rebel against the tyranny of Cronus; taking up the nearest spear, makeshift in its nature as a farming tool, he bids Nyx farewell as he goes to fight a war against the Titans. Though diminished, it is his acumen as both a warrior, raider and statesmen that has him create the alliances that bind the gods, humanity and monsters together in the coming war, laying the foundation for the gods strength in the coming Titanomachy...before this song loses you for a moment as it suggests that Poseidon is the true father to Dionysus, that Zeus had never lain with the mortal Semele. You can see your uncle, while not happy with this version of the tale, is ultimately accepting of it in the spirit it was given (and clearly much too into the swing of things to even consider breaking it).
Another takes up the torch, and sings of Poseidon's conquest of the mighty Demeter Erinys, in the ancient form of a mare, having been once so enraged by Poseidon's acts that she grew a mane of venomous vipers possessing a stare capable of ending the life of many.
On and on it went round the circle, each man singing praise unto Poseidon, the Rebellious One...it was only when her uncle turned and looked directly into her eyes and winked, that she realized that she had long overstayed her welcome as a passive observer and silent partner. Stepping forth into their circle, she joined their song with the memory of her mother's words and the piercing desire for freedom that burned eternal within her heart, the desire to act without any of the shackling others placed upon her, for a man chooses...
"Μου είπε η μητέρα μου, Κάποια μέρα θα αγόραζα," she cries out to the heavens above, the fleeting memory of her mother before her in the pale moonlight, "Γαλέρες με καλά κουπιά, Πλεύστε σε μακρινές ακτές..."
A Legionary Legacy
- Location
- Hawaii
A Legionary Legacy
Severianus gazed out at the sea, the Pontic coast visible in the distance. Called the Pontus Euxinus in the tongue of the Greeks, it was a language Severianus could only speak brokenly. It was also the tongue his father Severus grew up speaking in the streets of Massilia. Severianus' father had come a long way from a street rat that would beg, borrow and steal in the wealthiest port in Gallia.
"What thoughts weigh so heavy on you like Jove's stormclouds, my son?"
"Father! It's this sea voyage. Not much we can do aboard a ship, and every night when we make landfall, I worry that Mithridates's army will pounce upon us in our sleep."
"Son, here's a bit of advice I learned from my campaigns with the legions. Do everything in your power to prepare for what you can. But for every worry that you, personally, can't prepare for, put it out of your mind. Leave the problems of ships and sailing to the captains and sailors, and leave problems of camp security to myself and the other centurions. I hate being on ships, because I know next to nothing about working them, and my own skills are largely useless on a ship. But should we march to war, then for us it is: "Over the seas and far away, Rome commands and the legions obey." Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. We will do whatever is commanded of us, regardless of our personal feelings or distaste."
"Good, good. At sea, soldiers are at the mercy of Neptune, Mercury and Fortuna, and only our prayers to them and the faith in the skill of the sailors will see us to our destination. Once we arrive, then we may exercise our skills; place our hand on Fortuna's wheel. Let me tell you, son, this trip is much less nerve wracking compared to my first voyage by sea."
"How so father? Haven't you been posted to the far corners of the overseas provinces?"
"Aye, but that was years after my first trip. It was hrrm, twenty-three years ago now. I was a velite of the Gallic legions, and we had just suffered a crushing blow at the hands of the ferocious Cimbri and their vassals at Burdigala. The remnants of the army tricked back to Massilia, and several towns rose in revolt at the defeat. I saw none of that, for by some whimsy of Neptune, Mercury and Fortuna, I ended up on a ship that took me to Africa with the newly raised legions under Marius. So take heart, lad, that you're where you're supposed to be, and not headed to some Numidian hellhole."
"A hellhole you survived, father."
"That I did. But a great many others did not. If it wasn't Numidian raiders on horseback, it was the heat, disease, or poor food and bad water that did them in. A lot of the lessons learned in Africa against Jugurtha and in Gaul against the Cimbri went into Marius' reform of the legions two decades ago. Consider this: when I was your age, I was a mere velite, protected by fur and leather. When I left Numidia, I was a hastatus, armed and armored with what I could scavenge from the dead. Today, you are a professional legionary, provided armor and weapons by Rome, rather than some family heirloom of questionable quality and what drill could be fit between planting and harvest.
"And while I know the men love to complain about setting up the castra at the end of the day's march, trust me, it's well worth the effort. Before the Battle of Aquae Sextiae, we had set up a castra near the Rhone. The vast horde of Teutones, stretching far as the eye could see, tried to goad us into giving up the high ground and giving them a straight fight where they had the advantage. After that failed, they tried starving us out, then they attempted to storm the castra. They hurled wave after wave of warriors to break upon the fortifications. After three days of failure, they gave up for easier pickings." Raising his voice to be clearly heard to the eavesdropping legionaries, Severus shouts, "And that's why you always fortify your camp every night, you lazy bastards! So if you want more than a snowball's chance in Vulcan's forge in case you run into a numberless horde of barbarians, you FORTIFY THE DAMNED CAMP! So I don't want to hear any more bitching and moaning, you fresh-faced, wet-behind-the-ears knuckle draggers! You lads don't know how good you've got it! Back in the day- "
"By the gods, he's going to go on all day!"
"Gods have mercy, for the centurions have none!"
"He's not stuck on the boat with us, we're stuck with him!"
Severianus gazed out at the sea, the Pontic coast visible in the distance. Called the Pontus Euxinus in the tongue of the Greeks, it was a language Severianus could only speak brokenly. It was also the tongue his father Severus grew up speaking in the streets of Massilia. Severianus' father had come a long way from a street rat that would beg, borrow and steal in the wealthiest port in Gallia.
"What thoughts weigh so heavy on you like Jove's stormclouds, my son?"
"Father! It's this sea voyage. Not much we can do aboard a ship, and every night when we make landfall, I worry that Mithridates's army will pounce upon us in our sleep."
"Son, here's a bit of advice I learned from my campaigns with the legions. Do everything in your power to prepare for what you can. But for every worry that you, personally, can't prepare for, put it out of your mind. Leave the problems of ships and sailing to the captains and sailors, and leave problems of camp security to myself and the other centurions. I hate being on ships, because I know next to nothing about working them, and my own skills are largely useless on a ship. But should we march to war, then for us it is: "Over the seas and far away, Rome commands and the legions obey." Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. We will do whatever is commanded of us, regardless of our personal feelings or distaste."
"Good, good. At sea, soldiers are at the mercy of Neptune, Mercury and Fortuna, and only our prayers to them and the faith in the skill of the sailors will see us to our destination. Once we arrive, then we may exercise our skills; place our hand on Fortuna's wheel. Let me tell you, son, this trip is much less nerve wracking compared to my first voyage by sea."
"How so father? Haven't you been posted to the far corners of the overseas provinces?"
"Aye, but that was years after my first trip. It was hrrm, twenty-three years ago now. I was a velite of the Gallic legions, and we had just suffered a crushing blow at the hands of the ferocious Cimbri and their vassals at Burdigala. The remnants of the army tricked back to Massilia, and several towns rose in revolt at the defeat. I saw none of that, for by some whimsy of Neptune, Mercury and Fortuna, I ended up on a ship that took me to Africa with the newly raised legions under Marius. So take heart, lad, that you're where you're supposed to be, and not headed to some Numidian hellhole."
"A hellhole you survived, father."
"That I did. But a great many others did not. If it wasn't Numidian raiders on horseback, it was the heat, disease, or poor food and bad water that did them in. A lot of the lessons learned in Africa against Jugurtha and in Gaul against the Cimbri went into Marius' reform of the legions two decades ago. Consider this: when I was your age, I was a mere velite, protected by fur and leather. When I left Numidia, I was a hastatus, armed and armored with what I could scavenge from the dead. Today, you are a professional legionary, provided armor and weapons by Rome, rather than some family heirloom of questionable quality and what drill could be fit between planting and harvest.
"And while I know the men love to complain about setting up the castra at the end of the day's march, trust me, it's well worth the effort. Before the Battle of Aquae Sextiae, we had set up a castra near the Rhone. The vast horde of Teutones, stretching far as the eye could see, tried to goad us into giving up the high ground and giving them a straight fight where they had the advantage. After that failed, they tried starving us out, then they attempted to storm the castra. They hurled wave after wave of warriors to break upon the fortifications. After three days of failure, they gave up for easier pickings." Raising his voice to be clearly heard to the eavesdropping legionaries, Severus shouts, "And that's why you always fortify your camp every night, you lazy bastards! So if you want more than a snowball's chance in Vulcan's forge in case you run into a numberless horde of barbarians, you FORTIFY THE DAMNED CAMP! So I don't want to hear any more bitching and moaning, you fresh-faced, wet-behind-the-ears knuckle draggers! You lads don't know how good you've got it! Back in the day- "
"By the gods, he's going to go on all day!"
"Gods have mercy, for the centurions have none!"
"He's not stuck on the boat with us, we're stuck with him!"
@Magoose Another Severianus omake! According to the map below, the main current in the Black Sea flows counterclockwise, so in sailing to Crimea, the Romans must sail along the north coast of Anatolia, the Kingdom of Pontus. Ships of this era had to stay within sight of land, and would typically make landfall at night. Murena would be relying on the fog of war and the slow speed of communication to protect the fleet every night. It's unlikely Mithridates would have a mustered army a few hours march from whatever random cove the Roman fleet decides to come ashore at every night, and even if a scout spots them, he would have to ride back to gather reinforcements; likely nothing large enough to challenge a single legion, even for a night raid would be available. And the Romans could "forage" by threatening to pillage a small fishing village if they don't hand over provisions.
The defeat Severus mentions before his first boat trip is the Battle of Burdigala (modern Bordeaux), where the Gallic Legions were ambushed on their way to attack the city. A quarter of the Roman army was lost that day (10k of 40k), and both its legates killed. The rest of the army was spared destruction by agreeing to surrender most of their supplies and retreating under the yoke.
Marius, the senior consul of 107 BC, led an army to fight Jugurtha in Numidia, returning in triumph in 104 (Jugurtha was betrayed by his father-in-law, the king of Mauritania, to Sulla in 105. Marius claimed credit for the capture). The Gallic Legions were almost completely destroyed by the Cimbri in October of 105 at Arausio due to egoistic idiocy, rivalry and classism. This left Italy open to invasion and panic ensued. Then Marius returns with one of Rome's notorious enemies in chains. As a conquering war hero, he is (illegally and unconstitutionally) reelected consul in 104 (legally, one must wait 10 years after the end of his consulship before he can be eligible again), kickstarting the Marian Reforms. The events Severus described did happen a couple of weeks before the Battle of Aquae Sextiae, and the Teutones did assault the castra for three days, then decided to bypass the army and loot northern Italy. Marius shadowed them, got drawn into a skirmish that escalated into a battle (Marius won, but at the cost of not having a fortified camp), then lured the Teutones into a battle on ground of his choosing (It's over,Anakin Teutobod, I have the high ground!), tricking enemy and ally alike to win an overwhelming victory (100:1 K: D ratio on the low end, 200:1 on the high end). I'll probably do an omake series where Severus tells his war stories, similar to the Storytime with Papa Severin omakes in La Chanson.
And we have a name for our Severin ancestor, the founder who passed down the soldiering tradition through the Severin line through the generations! He's also doing obnoxious NCO stuff with a literal captive audience.
The defeat Severus mentions before his first boat trip is the Battle of Burdigala (modern Bordeaux), where the Gallic Legions were ambushed on their way to attack the city. A quarter of the Roman army was lost that day (10k of 40k), and both its legates killed. The rest of the army was spared destruction by agreeing to surrender most of their supplies and retreating under the yoke.
Marius, the senior consul of 107 BC, led an army to fight Jugurtha in Numidia, returning in triumph in 104 (Jugurtha was betrayed by his father-in-law, the king of Mauritania, to Sulla in 105. Marius claimed credit for the capture). The Gallic Legions were almost completely destroyed by the Cimbri in October of 105 at Arausio due to egoistic idiocy, rivalry and classism. This left Italy open to invasion and panic ensued. Then Marius returns with one of Rome's notorious enemies in chains. As a conquering war hero, he is (illegally and unconstitutionally) reelected consul in 104 (legally, one must wait 10 years after the end of his consulship before he can be eligible again), kickstarting the Marian Reforms. The events Severus described did happen a couple of weeks before the Battle of Aquae Sextiae, and the Teutones did assault the castra for three days, then decided to bypass the army and loot northern Italy. Marius shadowed them, got drawn into a skirmish that escalated into a battle (Marius won, but at the cost of not having a fortified camp), then lured the Teutones into a battle on ground of his choosing (It's over,
And we have a name for our Severin ancestor, the founder who passed down the soldiering tradition through the Severin line through the generations! He's also doing obnoxious NCO stuff with a literal captive audience.
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Stories of the Undertaker: The Cycle of Zagreus (III)
Orion Ultor
Everything’s Got A Price.
- Location
- East Coast
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Stories of the Undertaker: The Cycle of Zagreus (III)
It was a silent day, where not even the wind deigned take breath, when she made way to the family mausoleum basket in hand, a red shawl with yellow piping wrapped around her small shoulders.
Each step seemed a cruelty, each breath a taunt, as she shuffled the worn path alone, this the first year in ages that her father was absent, entrusting her to make the walk on her own; tears dared creep into the corners of her eyes as she came closer and closer, her will faltering even as her duty drove her each step. The distant sound of 'snicker-snack' came from off the path (likely the gardener attending to the surrounding stones), the scent of cut grass and grapes strong in the air as she stepped into the hall of the honored dead. Gently, she began the rites of preparation, taking off her sandals and washing her feet in water and anointing them lightly in oil [as to not to offend the ancestors in their rest].
Taking a wet cloth, she began the arduous process of cleansing their stones and masks, reading aloud their name and reciting their deeds from memory; this continued long into the noon day sun, the cleansing of these hallowed halls, never once allowing her tears to fall, even during the rare moments as she chokes reciting the deeds of her ancestors. It's only as she ends with the most recent name, added some three years past that she begins to utterly lose her bearing and only her sense of duty prevents her from breaking...that is, until she makes no less than seven paces from the mausoleum and falls down to the side of path, and her sobs tear their way from her breast. As she is without a retinue, left at the bottom of the steps, she remains there in tears for a length of time unmeasurable, none to see her tears fall.
This ends with a gentle hand on her shoulder, the scent of grapes, grass and decay overpowering all else.
"My lady," comes their voice, a gentle bass, "this is a terrible day to be caught alone in the rain, come quickly we must get you dry."
It takes her a moment to get the stranger's meaning, startled by their sudden presence, the sky crisp and naught a cloud in sight.
"Thank you kindly," she says, pulling her shawl close, as the man gently leads her to the nearby homestead, "I seemed to have misplaced my coverings."
"It is of no trouble," he says as he brings her inside the humble abode at the edge of the cemetery, his garb placing him as their gardener, a man she'd rarely seen, "it wouldn't due to catch a cold in this weather."
Seating her with a nearby stool, he graciously turns his back to her as she hastily wipes her tears away, preparing some sort of heated beverage.
"Here," he says to her, handing her a cup of hot stock, "this should aid you to recover some from this terrible weather."
She takes it gratefully, sipping at it carefully; strange, she could not place the manner of beast or fowl.
For a time he works silently about the abode, leaving her grateful as she recovers some measure of bearing. Eventually, she realizes her rudeness asks of him his name.
"My lady, in this life I am called Nektarios," the man says, pulling a hand through his curly beard, appearing strangely familial in doing so, pulling from it twigs and what appear to be berries, "I am but a simple man tending the best he can for the living."
"Strange then that you work with the dead," she says without thought, freezing as the man coughs out a laugh, his amethyst eyes full of mirth.
"Ah, but the dead care not for these stones," Niktarios says, sitting down across from her, "only for the living whom hold them in memory, where they shall dwell forever. In that manner, do you care for a tale?"
She nods, not trusting herself to speak, ears still burning with fading horror.
"The birth of Dionysus Zagreus, called Bacchus Liber by the Romans, is said to have been a surprise to Lady Despoina, an utterly virgin birth. Attended to by the Ladies Artemis and Nyx, she was startled and amazed by the birth of her youngest child, naming him Zagreus in honor of her sister...and when the time came to show him to her family, she was horrified by his sudden death as she entered the mortal realm. Unable to continue her duties as stewardess of the Dead and tender of the Fields of Asphodel, she fled to the Overworld and hid from her family, one and all, following a fairly crass remark by Lord Zeus of her state. Her disappearance, such as it was, brought about such great sorrow and wrath from her mother Demeter, who refused to tend to the living until the matter had been solved and her daughter returned...and for a great many years, it would not be so.
No matter how the Olympians search, how studiously or arduously, they could not find the goddess.
Then came the day that Hephaestus met with a young man, wreathed in shadow, stepped forth into his domain and asked for his aid in creating a mighty working, a Helm like no other. Hephaestus, reluctant to create the work, asked of a simple favor...and when the young man pulled back his cloak, his eyes piercing the very center of his being, the god began toiling away near endlessly and without pause to create the Helm, calling upon his sister Athena to aid him weaving the young man's cloak of shadow into the Helm. When finally given the Helm, that which would allow him to walk in the realm of mortals, the young man smiled and thanked his brother, eyes full of mirth as he stepped once more into shadow, and Stepped into a forgotten glade.
It was there that the thricebourne god Dionysus Zagreus, now the Dread Lord of all Hades, met with his lover, mother and wife, and promised that no matter how difficult the task or how long he must wait, he would find his way to her. It was then he took his Helm, carefully extricating it from the horns that marked his station, and told her, even as he fell asunder in the realm of mortals and giving her one last kiss, that he would be waiting for her in their home.
It was this way that Spring returned, when the Lady Persephone returned and begged her mother for forgiveness; her mother merely kissed her cheek and held her close, telling her there was nothing to forgive, and smiled as life returned to the hills and valleys, glad to her daughter with her close at hand. When she returned to the Underworld, she kissed her husband passionately once and forever more, returning to him his Helm, and even now that they are seated as Rulers below."
"You are saying then," she began a moment after he fell silent, "that even in their passing, we must hold them in memory and work in their name."
He smiles gently, "If that is the lesson you see fit to take from this, then yes, Lyksos."
She stayed for a time after, continuing to enjoy their time together, before taking her leave to the villa.
It wouldn't be until her return a week later, hoping to enjoy his company once more, that she realized there had never been a gardener there, finding the abode abandoned and overgrown with vines, their fruit beautiful and ripe, a gentle laugh full of mirth on the wind.
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Vote closed
3.0. The End of A New Beginning.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
3.0. The End, and A New Beginning.
-[X]The Primus Centurion: The most senior Centurion does not like you all that much. That much you could account to being a woman, and so young. Perhaps, he may see that change. But right now, you would need to talk to him. Rolled:
August 12th, 84 BCE
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
The Black Sea, off the coast of Pontus
The Centurion Severus was not very happy to see you as you greeted him on his ship, as it prepared to set sail a little further ahead of the fleet, to scout out and bait out any Pontus forces that were waiting for the coves ahead, preparing foraging parties and scouts.
Creating diversions so that the camp could be established, and later, abandoned. To give the legion more time to move.
He, however, was not pleased with your presence on his ship, or with his cohort. "I do not like the Legate or his tribunes to be watching me like a hawk." He had a calm frown on his face, and he clearly was trying to hide not only his disgust but his intrigue. He wished to see more from you, but not in front of his men, where he would have to do so much more.
You had, without even knowing it, taken away one of his key advantages, distance and time to think and make a decision without any fear of reprisal. It was something you almost didn't really notice, but you did notice when he looked up to the sky and saw the setting sun.
"I did not wish for my presence to degrade you or to show a lack of respect or faith in your abilities Centurion Severus." You stated, trying to look relaxed, but clearly, it was not working. "I just wished to-"
That made Severus raise his hand. "If you want me to respect you, get a shield, and prepare for a landing."
You frown, confused and not understanding. "And what shall I do?"
Severus smiled. "If you want me to follow you, prove to me that you will listen. To fight alongside these men. And to never put yourself into a position where you can take from these men that are not duly noted by the law."
He then jumped down onto the deck where his men were waiting. His very presence frightened the legionaries that were, in your mind, sleeping on the job. But then again, considering the movement that they were about to do, it was wise to get as much rest as they could. "Come on you shits! Get up, we're about to get supplies for the fleet, which means we need to be quick and deadly! We are not after Gold, silver, or jewels!" His men beat their shields as they stood up and prepared themselves for getting closer to shore.
"The Tribune, in her most infinite wisdom, or the fact that we are out here doing the good, will be joining us. That does not mean her orders will not be followed. But remember your orders! Supplies are what we need!"
You followed down the ship, and towards the men, shield, and sword in hand, though lacking a helmet. "Where is your helmet?" Severus asked.
You did not answer, but instead took one that was discarded from the deck from an Equitii, and placed in on your face. It did not fit that well, and even trying it on was not going to prevent it from shaking around.
But it would fit.
That made Severus smile. "We move like shadows, and as Thanatos himself, aye!"
"Aye!" You all shouted.
-----------------------------
Morning, the Following Day:
He smiled as he stood by you. "You did well."
"I hope that my presence was not degrading to the morale of the men." You stated.
Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I thought you were like that Caesar Boy or the twins that never held a sword in their lives." He then gave a small, quick smile. "Guess i was wrong."
"I would hope that my abilities spoke for themselves." You replied.
"Your a good soldier, and to be fair, If I had a hundred like you, there would be no place on this earth that we could not conquer." He said.
Reward: You have gained the trust and confidence of the Prime Centurion, and he thinks you are a decent officer.
He has trust that you can lead well, and not get them all killed.
The Legion Centurions now view you favorably.
Cohort 12, the Ghosts of Gracia have been met.
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-[X]The Tribunes: The Twins took well to Caeser's gusto and support, but there are a few things that worry you, particularly their poor swordsmanship. There is so much that they need to learn. Rolled:
You looked at the three junior tribunes and frowned. They were not ready for prolonged combat. They may have passed the Roman basic training and had many of the skills that were needed and required for Rome to view them as soldiers.
But they were also patricians and they did not have a father who trained them from birth to be a soldier.
The twins were hesitant, and lacking in the refinement of their swordsmanship, their throwing was far better, and their ability to move was hampered by their lack of coordination. They were skilled at the more important, mundane, and administrative tasks, but again, what you wanted to see, was the task of soldiering.
Of tactics.
Of killing men.
That of course, however, was something you realized early on, was not something you needed to worry about. At least on the basis of command ability.
They had spent much of their youth traveling the Peninsula Countryside, playing and creating several games and learning how to take a lay of the land, that they could, with hardly a glance, discover a brilliant position not only to defend but how to take advantage of an enemy position. They also took up a great deal of cartography, and Baachus' Dream is to go North, to find the fabled land of Albion, that he had heard so much about from traders and Gaulish slaves.
In fact, at every stop that occurred on the sailing, he would spend numerous hours into the night drawing and making sure the maps of the coastlines that the legion needed, and was being created, were accurate and capable to be used for the future endeavors of the Legion and later to Rome.
Gaius on the other hand was actually taking to your lessons rather well. In fact, he had actually become, after numerous times of being humiliated by you, over the course of days and weeks, competent with his blade, and his shield. You then drilled the men in formation, and he did remarkably well.
Enough to stay alive at least, and that was enough.
Then there was Caesar. And you were sure that he would not be the one who impressed you the most with his… well gravitas and Zeal. He put his entire effort into being the one thing that was needed of him, a follower, and a leader of men.
In a sense, it was like you were not watching a man who was wishing to be anywhere near here, but still doing what he needed to do.
And one thing stood out to you that seemed, almost uncanny.
He was lucky.
There was nothing that could say. Just that he seemed to be lucky. You didn't think anything of it, but you still think this.
There are powerful gods watching him, just like there are others watching you all.
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Reward: You and the Tribunes have trained and learned more about each other. Gaius is a far better fighter now, and if given command he will not suffer a great roll malus.
Baachus cartography will grant roll bonuses when invading Anatolia and The Tuaric Peninsula, and for planning its defense for future settlement.
Ceasar has taken to the soldiering life very well. Like he was born for it. You also notice his great luck.
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-[X]The Hope for Messages: Uncle Ion sent a message? What is it about, what is it for? And how did this letter find the Fleet? Rolled:
The Letter Came a few days before you landed on the Peninsula. From a ship from his flotilla.
Reward: A letter from your Uncle.
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October 30th, 84 BCE
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
Off the coast of the Tuaric Peninsula.
What do you do?:
[]Convince the Legate to negotiate with the Scythians (High Risk of being denied): You need to handle this alliance and not face the mounted horsemen of the Steppe. You need the Greeks to be outnumbered.
[]Make a Base Camp (Low risk of being denied.): You need a place to land, and to escape quickly in case there is an adventurous band of Greek soldiers trying to find you, and kill you.
[]Blokade the port (Medium Risk of being denied): You need to cut off this city from the Rest of the World. So you will try and do that. Well, the legion will at least.
[]Write in (You have a plan. The Longer and more detailed, the more likely it will be accepted by the Legate.)
AN: Enjoy and the vote is a moratorium for a few hours.
-[X]The Primus Centurion: The most senior Centurion does not like you all that much. That much you could account to being a woman, and so young. Perhaps, he may see that change. But right now, you would need to talk to him. Rolled:
August 12th, 84 BCE
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
The Black Sea, off the coast of Pontus
The Centurion Severus was not very happy to see you as you greeted him on his ship, as it prepared to set sail a little further ahead of the fleet, to scout out and bait out any Pontus forces that were waiting for the coves ahead, preparing foraging parties and scouts.
Creating diversions so that the camp could be established, and later, abandoned. To give the legion more time to move.
He, however, was not pleased with your presence on his ship, or with his cohort. "I do not like the Legate or his tribunes to be watching me like a hawk." He had a calm frown on his face, and he clearly was trying to hide not only his disgust but his intrigue. He wished to see more from you, but not in front of his men, where he would have to do so much more.
You had, without even knowing it, taken away one of his key advantages, distance and time to think and make a decision without any fear of reprisal. It was something you almost didn't really notice, but you did notice when he looked up to the sky and saw the setting sun.
"I did not wish for my presence to degrade you or to show a lack of respect or faith in your abilities Centurion Severus." You stated, trying to look relaxed, but clearly, it was not working. "I just wished to-"
That made Severus raise his hand. "If you want me to respect you, get a shield, and prepare for a landing."
You frown, confused and not understanding. "And what shall I do?"
Severus smiled. "If you want me to follow you, prove to me that you will listen. To fight alongside these men. And to never put yourself into a position where you can take from these men that are not duly noted by the law."
He then jumped down onto the deck where his men were waiting. His very presence frightened the legionaries that were, in your mind, sleeping on the job. But then again, considering the movement that they were about to do, it was wise to get as much rest as they could. "Come on you shits! Get up, we're about to get supplies for the fleet, which means we need to be quick and deadly! We are not after Gold, silver, or jewels!" His men beat their shields as they stood up and prepared themselves for getting closer to shore.
"The Tribune, in her most infinite wisdom, or the fact that we are out here doing the good, will be joining us. That does not mean her orders will not be followed. But remember your orders! Supplies are what we need!"
You followed down the ship, and towards the men, shield, and sword in hand, though lacking a helmet. "Where is your helmet?" Severus asked.
You did not answer, but instead took one that was discarded from the deck from an Equitii, and placed in on your face. It did not fit that well, and even trying it on was not going to prevent it from shaking around.
But it would fit.
That made Severus smile. "We move like shadows, and as Thanatos himself, aye!"
"Aye!" You all shouted.
-----------------------------
Morning, the Following Day:
He smiled as he stood by you. "You did well."
"I hope that my presence was not degrading to the morale of the men." You stated.
Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I thought you were like that Caesar Boy or the twins that never held a sword in their lives." He then gave a small, quick smile. "Guess i was wrong."
"I would hope that my abilities spoke for themselves." You replied.
"Your a good soldier, and to be fair, If I had a hundred like you, there would be no place on this earth that we could not conquer." He said.
Reward: You have gained the trust and confidence of the Prime Centurion, and he thinks you are a decent officer.
He has trust that you can lead well, and not get them all killed.
The Legion Centurions now view you favorably.
Cohort 12, the Ghosts of Gracia have been met.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-[X]The Tribunes: The Twins took well to Caeser's gusto and support, but there are a few things that worry you, particularly their poor swordsmanship. There is so much that they need to learn. Rolled:
You looked at the three junior tribunes and frowned. They were not ready for prolonged combat. They may have passed the Roman basic training and had many of the skills that were needed and required for Rome to view them as soldiers.
But they were also patricians and they did not have a father who trained them from birth to be a soldier.
The twins were hesitant, and lacking in the refinement of their swordsmanship, their throwing was far better, and their ability to move was hampered by their lack of coordination. They were skilled at the more important, mundane, and administrative tasks, but again, what you wanted to see, was the task of soldiering.
Of tactics.
Of killing men.
That of course, however, was something you realized early on, was not something you needed to worry about. At least on the basis of command ability.
They had spent much of their youth traveling the Peninsula Countryside, playing and creating several games and learning how to take a lay of the land, that they could, with hardly a glance, discover a brilliant position not only to defend but how to take advantage of an enemy position. They also took up a great deal of cartography, and Baachus' Dream is to go North, to find the fabled land of Albion, that he had heard so much about from traders and Gaulish slaves.
In fact, at every stop that occurred on the sailing, he would spend numerous hours into the night drawing and making sure the maps of the coastlines that the legion needed, and was being created, were accurate and capable to be used for the future endeavors of the Legion and later to Rome.
Gaius on the other hand was actually taking to your lessons rather well. In fact, he had actually become, after numerous times of being humiliated by you, over the course of days and weeks, competent with his blade, and his shield. You then drilled the men in formation, and he did remarkably well.
Enough to stay alive at least, and that was enough.
Then there was Caesar. And you were sure that he would not be the one who impressed you the most with his… well gravitas and Zeal. He put his entire effort into being the one thing that was needed of him, a follower, and a leader of men.
In a sense, it was like you were not watching a man who was wishing to be anywhere near here, but still doing what he needed to do.
And one thing stood out to you that seemed, almost uncanny.
He was lucky.
There was nothing that could say. Just that he seemed to be lucky. You didn't think anything of it, but you still think this.
There are powerful gods watching him, just like there are others watching you all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reward: You and the Tribunes have trained and learned more about each other. Gaius is a far better fighter now, and if given command he will not suffer a great roll malus.
Baachus cartography will grant roll bonuses when invading Anatolia and The Tuaric Peninsula, and for planning its defense for future settlement.
Ceasar has taken to the soldiering life very well. Like he was born for it. You also notice his great luck.
----------------------------------------------------------------
-[X]The Hope for Messages: Uncle Ion sent a message? What is it about, what is it for? And how did this letter find the Fleet? Rolled:
The Letter Came a few days before you landed on the Peninsula. From a ship from his flotilla.
My Dear Claudia,
I write this message to you with haste, to warn you that there is great danger from beyond the steppe. The Scythians, I and your mother's people have an alliance with the People of Pontus, and are waiting there with a force of 25,000 mounted riders, along with the small army there but do not fret at them. They will be free of their allience.
You never knew our people, and you knew that we were Greek, but our mother was not. She was a member of the Scythian tribes and that heritage may assist you.
Do not mistake this message for a warning, to abandon the campaign, for I have a message for them.
Remember what happened in the Day of Fear, and who rescued them while their cities and lands burned, And who carried their women and horses to safety, and they will recognize what message has been sent and by whom.
But remember this, do not make promises of territory, or they will think I am asking under duress. And will kill you.
Do not worry for me, The Pontic king Mithridates is a terrible negotiator, who thinks he can buy my loyalty for coin, and nothing else.
Take care my child, and if you need me, look up into the sky, and pray to Poseidon, and my dear, everything will be alright.
I will be there for you.
Ion.
I write this message to you with haste, to warn you that there is great danger from beyond the steppe. The Scythians, I and your mother's people have an alliance with the People of Pontus, and are waiting there with a force of 25,000 mounted riders, along with the small army there but do not fret at them. They will be free of their allience.
You never knew our people, and you knew that we were Greek, but our mother was not. She was a member of the Scythian tribes and that heritage may assist you.
Do not mistake this message for a warning, to abandon the campaign, for I have a message for them.
Remember what happened in the Day of Fear, and who rescued them while their cities and lands burned, And who carried their women and horses to safety, and they will recognize what message has been sent and by whom.
But remember this, do not make promises of territory, or they will think I am asking under duress. And will kill you.
Do not worry for me, The Pontic king Mithridates is a terrible negotiator, who thinks he can buy my loyalty for coin, and nothing else.
Take care my child, and if you need me, look up into the sky, and pray to Poseidon, and my dear, everything will be alright.
I will be there for you.
Ion.
Reward: A letter from your Uncle.
---------------------------------------
October 30th, 84 BCE
The Year of Carbo and Cinna
Off the coast of the Tuaric Peninsula.
What do you do?:
[]Convince the Legate to negotiate with the Scythians (High Risk of being denied): You need to handle this alliance and not face the mounted horsemen of the Steppe. You need the Greeks to be outnumbered.
[]Make a Base Camp (Low risk of being denied.): You need a place to land, and to escape quickly in case there is an adventurous band of Greek soldiers trying to find you, and kill you.
[]Blokade the port (Medium Risk of being denied): You need to cut off this city from the Rest of the World. So you will try and do that. Well, the legion will at least.
[]Write in (You have a plan. The Longer and more detailed, the more likely it will be accepted by the Legate.)
AN: Enjoy and the vote is a moratorium for a few hours.
Last edited:
Vote closed