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Res Publica: A Quest of Ancient Rome

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SwordsmanofS said:
(why oh why didn't they just burn the pagan temple to the ground, and crucify the priestess so she died watching her life burn before her eyes. Like real Romans)
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Um... because of reasons that were discussed in detail at the time? Among them that we're not actually going for the maximum-schrecklichkeit approach that the Romans only sometimes adopted in their conquests? Also, an uneasy fear of divine wrath in a setting where the gods may very well actually exist and we're kind of ambiguous on this point. Also, time being a factor since we were trying to get on to the next town.

Also, kiiinda pot and kettle for a classical Roman quest to be referring to a temple of Mephitis as "pagan" with the implications that this is a criticism of some kind.

xa na xa said:
I find the lack of discussion about her a bit dismaying and disconcerting...

If going to Abellinum is not the best option, it should beat least argued as to why and why other options are superior.
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That is exactly the point that is most under discussion and you would have to ignore multiple pages of discussion not to recognize it. In particular, the mission to the Hirpini is vastly more important (so much so we have to hope Sertorius handles it himself; we're probably not qualified), and the city of Bovianum is far more important strategically (city full of Samnites specifically asking us for help in suppressing the pro-independence rebels so they can get on with their life, a large and rich city, the "Athens of Samnium.")

3 out of the 4 options are about complex negotiations, and the fourth is to be relegated to be the muscle of whackamoling second rate rebels in the second rate northern sector of the theatre.
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What makes you think the northern sector is second rate? Making a lot of assumptions here.

But that question of where is a question of whom and for whom too.

We can do this as the instrument of someone else, as the Hand of Sertorius for instance, or let our own Hand write History.

It's clear as the Diamonds of Ampscantus we didn't take as booty that Visellia Mertia is our nemesis.

If as our nemesis she is the personification of the Samnite warrior spirit, that makes us the personification of Rome's warrior spirit.

I sense a reluctance among many questers to confront Visellia, because they're unsure how to handle her. "She's spooky, let us play general and move troops around and speechify, stuff we're good at, and let's pretend she doesn't exist."

But if are going to win the war, especially win the war in way that let us leave our personal mark on it, we have to have confidence in more than ourselves. More than our personal traits and qualities. More than our skills and wits. More than our ability to wield a sword and a command staff.

We have to have faith in Rome. Our ancestors. Our Gods.
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Making a loooooooot of assumptions here. It's like, Visella Tertia was important to us in that one scene, so that makes her important to everything as a divine champion, which in turn makes us a divine champion, which makes overcoming her super-important...

Let Mars play the ruffian with the dagger, and Minerva the wise bodyguard offering protection, and Mephitis can choose for herself to whom she'd paid money.

We will follow whatever signs the augurs show us in dealing with the priestess of Mephitis.
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Uh... you do realize that Telamon models the outcomes of auguries as dice rolls, right?

I mean, I respect how you're going super maximum hardcore on the intense mystical faith in the Roman gods and all. But, uh... wow. Talk about 'go big or go broke.'

firestorm440 said:
I think the prevailing mood is more that there's no sense throwing good rounds after bad. Could that have gone better for us? Yes, but that's the point of this being a quest. We screwed up by letting one priestess live, fine. More importantly, Bovianum is a centre of Samnite culture and history that chose to bend the knee to Rome unconditionally instead of rising up, and is now paying the price for it. While letting some priestess live may be a stain upon our personal honor, we do not have the luxury of acting purely in our own interests.
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I'm not even sure 'stain upon our honor' is anywhere near the right word. She appealed to us for a chance to rebuild her religious sect, we gave it to her out of respect for the goddess, she took that and abused it. Her call, not ours.
 
A big part of my issue with this vote, honestly, is that the level of religious zeal involved seems... out of character... for what is typical of the Roman elite at the time. Plus the beginnings of some kind of a complex. In modern times something we'd call a messiah complex, and which in ancient times led to the megalomaniacal "I am a god" crap some ancient rulers got up to. "We are the warrior spirit of Rome in this" or the like.

I mean, this is Quest With Mild Possibly-Supernatural Elements, not You Are Explicitly the Chosen Son of the Gods Quest.* We got that special 'Gift of Minerva' boon, but then... Sertorius and Sulla both have corresponding boons; it's a property of being especially gifted in one area, not a sign that Quintus Atellius is some kind of Roman quasi-messiah.

Furthermore, this 'double down on religious zeal' vote choice is kiiiinda neglecting our actual job, including object-level concerns like "that one centurion who's beating the hell out of the troops to the point where some of them can't even march." I feel that this is on some level grossly irresponsible from a "do your duty" point of view.
_______________

*(On which note congratulations to @Telamon for creating the right level of ambiguity about whether in-setting the Roman gods actually exist, so that people who out-of-setting don't believe in them are still thinking seriously about them)
 
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Basarin said:
That sounds like some of the Choice of Games stories I've seen.

Tin Star had a history timeline you could check in on every chapter to see how history would remember you, especially depending on notoriety vs obscurity score. One chapter has you defending a carriage convoy from bandits. Depending on how obscure your character keeps themselves and how successful you were, the story can eventually morph into a legend later adapted to a heavy metal song.
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Telamon said:
Yeah, it was Tin Star I was talking about. That game is a favorite of mine.
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Are there any links to Tin Star?
 
Alternately, I'm pretty sure this is the same company, so you can play a free demo on your browser.

Also, here's a tally. It's a nail-biter, that's for sure. :rolleyes:
Adhoc vote count started by Publicola on Mar 19, 2018 at 2:16 PM, finished with 1461 posts and 38 votes.
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Omake: The Dogs of War
  • Apocrypha
    • The Dogs of War
    ​
    Screams fill the air as you follow your charge into the narrow streets of this accursed place. Aeclanum. They had felt Rome's fury before for their impudence and were granted a small mercy in return afterwards by being allowed to keep their wretched ruin of a home. Now they had risen up again, and so another generation of Roman blood is tested and spilled in these very streets. As you march alongside to reinforce the rest of the cohort your old bones can hear the echoing clash of arms through the empty streets, the sound of steel striking steel and flesh in equal measure, all of it causing you to slip back somewhat to older days. Hispania, even now you found yourself reminiscing about bygone days where you were a simple Centurion serving under a different Cingulatus. The conflict in the air brought back vivid images to you, of standing at the forefront of a century with a scutum in one hand and gladius in the other as you fought shoulder to shoulder against waves and waves of Celtic and Iberian tribesmen. Once again you found yourself in an army led by Sertorius, yet at the moment you were apprehensive. Atellus was like a son to you, having practically raised him from birth. You had taught him almost everything you knew, which made you the best person to know his measure. Many great Romans had tried to tame the Samnites, with the latest in Sulla having clearly failed as well. With this town standing as an homage to his failure here you found yourself wondering how Atellus would fare under this test. However, as you marched further and further into the town proper, the sounds of smells of battle became clearer and clearer to you. Gripping your sword tighter in response, you found your mind drawn to the sounds of the shouts of men, the clashes of steel, alongside the smell of spilled blood, sweaty bodies, and overall carnage. While they could take the man out of the Legion, they would never take the Legion out of the man.

    Sighting the scene of the fighting, you can tell immediately that the combat is fierce. Blood runs unimpeded through the streets, and corpses lie directly at the feet of the men. Even the hardened veterans of the first cohort struggle against the ferocity of the Samnites. Some may have thought it impossible for a bunch of ill-led rabble to withstand the might of one of Rome's Legions, however in your experienced eye you can tell that they are no mere disorganized mob. No, in each and every one of their eyes you can see an ironclad determination that binds each and every one of them together. It does not matter if before they were simply farmers, butchers, or what have you. At the moment they are fighting like cornered animals, and those are often the fiercest when near the end. You would not faulted your charge if he had not risen to the occasion and led the men forward from here, it was his first command after all and no matter how much training he receives sometimes no amount of training prepares you for leading men into battle. Yet as you expected he did not disappoint you. Staring into the tumultuous combat taking place down below, you watch as his aquiline features set themselves in determination.

    "Men of the Sixth! Hear me! Before you now lay the Samnites, cursed and wretched foes that our forefathers and ancestors have fought for generations. We stand here today as arbiters of Roman justice and retribution. Take heart men, for Rome is watching. Every Samnite you slay here is another that is not ravaging Roman lands. I cannot say that all of you will live to see the end of this day. But, know that I will too will lead from the front and fight alongside you, and for those of you who fall, your names will live on forever. Men, follow me and I will lead you to riches and glory alike. For we are the Sixth! The Blessed of Mars! Now, show these curs the might of Rome!" comes the rallying cry from Atellus, his charisma and confidence inspiring the men before you, proud veterans all, to let out war cries of their own as the implacable advance of the cohort becomes a furious charge as you all burst into the fray.

    Up ahead you can see that the Samnites have finally noticed you and the remains of the cohort. Eyes widen, mouths gape, and tunics are wet with piss as they see your charge about to reach them.

    It is Atellus of course who reaches the enemy first, a flanking group of Samnites who were trying to envelop the first group led by Mercator. Ducking under the errant swing of one of the desperate men before him, a woodsman's axe goes high over his head, before he buries his gladius deep into the gut of the one who had tried to end him in a single, quick, and vicious stab that has the man holding onto his wound briefly before collapsing onto the ground.

    Soon enough you find yourself joining him in the clash moments later. While your bones may be old and your muscles not as firm as they used to be in their prime, a lifetime of experience in Rome's Legions has given you more than enough to defeat the foe before you. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the legionnaires beside you, you use your scutum to expertly block the furious blows sent your way. Stabs from a pitchfork fail to penetrate the shield you are carrying, a blow from a club is deftly deflected and turned through a parry of your own. All the while you continue to stab forward with your gladius, your seasoned eye allowing you to spot momentary openings in an instant and seize upon them. You are pure efficiency as you continue to scythe through the opposition before you. One man you stab in the eye, your blade piercing his skull in the instant he overextended, another you stabbed him through his armpit while he was distracted by the legionnaire at your side. Through it all, you find yourself getting reacquainted with the feeling of steel sliding through flesh and bone, a jolting sensation that only one who lives to make war can ever get used to.

    While the men beside you and behind you had at first thought you were a simple servant at first, your time in the yard with them and in a few routine spars had shown that beneath your leathery exterior laid a man of iron. You had earned their respect, and their trust. While you may not have been one of them at this moment, you were still a product of the legions and that granted you courtesy and respect enough.

    It was a grinding advance, one that favored the legion, but an annoying situation all the same. You found that even your sword arm was getting somewhat tired from having to stab them over and over and over again. Oh sure, the Samnites tried many times to outwit Atellus and the cohort with a feigned retreat there, an ambush from a side street here, or the old pretending to be dead under the bodies trick there. None of that fazed your charge however. Fighting nearby you watched as he led the lead detachment forward, passing a ruined manse while successfully fixing the flanking detachment before him. Standing at the forefront, with his badge of office clear for all to seem, the Samnites, being the canny fighters that they were, charged him. While they may have fought furiously and for a worthy cause in their eyes, Atellus simply fought and led better. Deflecting blows with an odd grace, and dealing devastating damage with that flashing blade of his, the enemy quickly found that even anger and righteousness fury were not everything. That was the last thing they learned in any case, as Atellus was more than cunning enough to use this situation to his advantage, as while they were fixated on him they noticed too late before another detachment slammed in behind them and cut them to pieces.

    Even through all of this however, you have to give the Samnites credit, for all the devastating losses they had suffered, all of the death and destruction dealt upon them, they still did not give up when many other foes, many you remember being better provisioned and equipped, would have simply fallen apart. Carpets of Samnite dead litter the streets, their lifeblood flowing through the mixture of dirt and cobbled roads creating an almost squelching mud as you continued your advance.

    Where before you found yourself facing men in their fighting prime, now you were fighting youths and women as they tried to avenge their fallen. What was once an ebbing tide swelled forth back again as they came at you and the cohort from everywhere. Standing side to side, with a shieldwall presented to towards them you felt a press of bodies meet you all while the Samnites make their final stand. Daggers and swords are thrust at you, a legionnaire further to your right falling to an upthrust sword aimed at him by a youth younger than even your charge, one who is quickly cut down by the legionnaire who steps forth to fill his spot in the line, with the youth quickly going to join his father in whatever wretched afterlife the Samnites believe in.

    What was once a steady advance had become an arduous crawl. The foes before you now were unending in their fury as they charged at the cohort with reckless abandon, their eyes bloodshot and their bodies resilient as you see many take more wounds than they could possibly survive and continue fighting despite it, one woman simply charging through the gladius that had impaled her to club the legionnaire and take him to the ground.

    On and on this goes, enemies uncountable fall to your blade. You know that this cannot go on, yet you are not in a position to do anything about it. At the same time however, you are sure that if you know, Atellus likely does as well. Fighting nearby him, you can see that even as the sweat continues to stream down his face, and the blood continues to drip down his arm, his expression remains as poised and composed as ever. To you, that assures you that he has a plan and that he has some gambit that will deliver you from this ordeal. Soon enough, your trust is paid off when you see one, two, three, and more fires erupt around the city, illuminating this charnel house with blood and flame. As soon as the smoke plumes can be seen rising into the blue sky above you, the screams of those burning piercing the shroud of the battlefield, you can see the hope die within the eyes of the Samnites before you as many drop their weapons and turn to flee.

    It is at this moment that Atellus lets you loose.

    "Tercerus, round up the rest, " is the simple order given to you as he dispatches you and a detachment of legionnaires to gather up the remaining Samnites.

    "Acknowledged. You heard the Tribune, follow me," you bellow as you have the legionnaires with you march double time to catch up to the fleeing Samnites.

    As your detachment rumbles through the streets, you make sure to detach groups here and there in order to secure certain sections of city and to make good on your order. Wailing women and children are dragged back towards the assembly area which Atellus has formed to reorganize the cohort. Along the way you can see that the looting has already begun as you pass more than a few legionnaires with bags full of plundered silver, gold, and other trinkets.

    It is as you are heading northwards however, that your speed pays off for you see a familiar figure in the distance. Leading a caravan of horses and mules, whose saddlebags appeared to be loaded with loot is none other than Spurio the would-be traitor. Around him are perhaps a dozen men, some of them resemble the men who he had led before Atellus to parley, the others seemed to be ordinary Samnites. But that is no matter to you, what is, is the look he seems to get within his eyes, one of panic as he sees you and the men behind you rush up the street. In haste he tries to order his men to quicken their advance, however all of that ill-gotten treasure he has on him has slowed him down enough for you to catch him.

    "Pila!" you below out, causing the men beside you to grab onto the javelins they carry with them, all while preparing to throw them.

    "Loose!" you order again, and watch as the dozen or so projectiles fly through the air and impact the men and beast before you.

    The group before you collapses into disorder as more than half of their number now find themselves impaled upon the thrown pila, their lifeblood dripping out of them. Luckily for you, one of the thrown pila managed to hit the horse carrying Spurio who is now partially trapped under it. As the rest of the legionnaires with you cut through the men before you, you on the other hand approach Spurio who is cursing up a storm.

    "Shit! Fuck! Damn it!" cries the infamous bandit as he nurses his likely broken leg, turning about as soon as he sees you coming, with sword drawn.

    "S-servant! I see you've found me...no hard feelings right? A man's got to make coin after all," comes the pathetic reply from Spurio as you continue to advance towards him.

    "Come now don't be like that," he says as he tries to back away from you, something that causes you savor the fear he has in his eyes.

    "Wait! W-wait! Don't kill me...please, j-just take this, all of this, just spare me," he says with tears coming to his eyes as he begins to crack, shoving the bags full of plunder towards you, something you ignore as you silently step over them and get closer and closer to him.

    "Hmph, where was all the bravado you had before traitor? Did you not say you would take the gold from our corpses after this battle? How pathetic," you say as you spit on the ground beside him.

    "P-please, I was only doing what only sane man would do, honest. J-just spare me and I'll make everything up for you,'' he promises to you in desperation.

    "And what could you possibly offer to us?" you ask with a dismissive tone.

    "I...I know things...about the Samnites. I'm sure your master would love to hear about them. Spare me and I'll tell him everything!" he says with increased intensity, eyeing your gladius in fear.

    "Hah! Do you honestly think I'll fall for that one. No one would trust you, a known turncoat, after what you'd attempted to do at the parley. No, I will not spare you, I think you've lived long enough," you say as you plant a boot on his chest and stomp him into the ground causing him to let loose an explosive breath.

    "W-wait...you have to...urgh...grrrrh," comes the last words of Spurio as you bury your gladius into his ribcage, making sure to twist a little before extricating your blade.

    Watching for a moment as the light dims from his eyes and the blood finishes exiting his mouth, you take a moment before you decapitate him in one swift blow. You'd think Atellus would like this one's head mounted on a pike, especially after the utterly despicable attempt at extortion earlier.

    Soon enough you are organizing the men around you, who have taken great pleasure in grabbing the saddlebags filled with gold, and then you set off back to Atellus.


    Marching alongside Atellus, you feel a familiar pride well up in your chest as you and cohort he commanded are greeted with cheers and adulation as you enter the camp of the Sixth Legion. As the column treks up the via praetoria, as you are at its head with Atellus you immediately spot the visage of Sertorius as he awaits your charge in front of the Principia.

    Watching the exchange that occurs between them, you cannot help but make comparisons to a different Cingulatus. In your minds eye you find yourself transposing Atellus' father in his place. Instead of the fields of Samnium you find yourself back in the hills of Hispania once again. Sertorius is once again before you commending a Cingulatus, but before you find yourself too drawn into memories of the past you return. You watch as Atellus displays and presents the treasured mural to Sertorius in a flair for dramatics that was totally unlike his father. For as much as Atellus was his father's son, you could see at this moment, as does Sertorius, that he is more than that, and for that you are grateful.

    (Around 2800 words)
     
    Last edited:
  • Apocrypha
    • Japanime said:
    The Dogs of War
    ​
    Screams fill the air as you follow your charge into the narrow streets of this accursed place. Aeclanum. They had felt Rome's fury before for their impudence and were granted a small mercy in return afterwards by being allowed to keep their wretched ruin of a home. Now they had risen up again, and so another generation of Roman blood is tested and spilled in these very streets. As you march alongside to reinforce the rest of the cohort your old bones can hear the echoing clash of arms through the empty streets, the sound of steel striking steel and flesh in equal measure, all of it causing you to slip back somewhat to older days. Hispania, even now you found yourself reminiscing about bygone days where you were a simple Centurion serving under a different Cingulatus. The conflict in the air brought back vivid images to you, of standing at the forefront of a century with a scutum in one hand and gladius in the other as you fought shoulder to shoulder against waves and waves of Celtic and Iberian tribesmen. Once again you found yourself in an army led by Sertorius, yet at the moment you were apprehensive. Atellus was like a son to you, having practically raised him from birth. You had taught him almost everything you knew, which made you the best person to know his measure. Many great Romans had tried to tame the Samnites, with the latest in Sulla having clearly failed as well. With this town standing as an homage to his failure here you found yourself wondering how Atellus would fare under this test. However, as you marched further and further into the town proper, the sounds of smells of battle became clearer and clearer to you. Gripping your sword tighter in response, you found your mind drawn to the sounds of the shouts of men, the clashes of steel, alongside the smell of spilled blood, sweaty bodies, and overall carnage. While they could take the man out of the Legion, they would never take the Legion out of the man.

    Sighting the scene of the fighting, you can tell immediately that the combat is fierce. Blood runs unimpeded through the streets, and corpses lie directly at the feet of the men. Even the hardened veterans of the first cohort struggle against the ferocity of the Samnites. Some may have thought it impossible for a bunch of ill-led rabble to withstand the might of one of Rome's Legions, however in your experienced eye you can tell that they are no mere disorganized mob. No, in each and every one of their eyes you can see an ironclad determination that binds each and every one of them together. It does not matter if before they were simply farmers, butchers, or what have you. At the moment they are fighting like cornered animals, and those are often the fiercest when near the end. You would not faulted your charge if he had not risen to the occasion and led the men forward from here, it was his first command after all and no matter how much training he receives sometimes no amount of training prepares you for leading men into battle. Yet as you expected he did not disappoint you. Staring into the tumultuous combat taking place down below, you watch as his aquiline features set themselves in determination.

    "Men of the Sixth! Hear me! Before you now lay the Samnites, cursed and wretched foes that our forefathers and ancestors have fought for generations. We stand here today as arbiters of Roman justice and retribution. Take heart men, for Rome is watching. Every Samnite you slay here is another that is not ravaging Roman lands. I cannot say that all of you will live to see the end of this day. But, know that I will too will lead from the from the front and fight alongside you, and for those of you who fall, your names will live on forever. Men, follow me and I will lead you to riches and glory alike. For we are the Sixth! The Blessed of Mars! Now, show these curs the might of Rome!" comes the rallying cry from Atellus, his charisma and confidence inspiring the men before you, proud veterans all, to let out war cries of their own as the implacable advance of the cohort becomes a furious charge as you all burst into the fray.

    Up ahead you can see that the Samnites have finally noticed you and the remains of the cohort. Eyes widen, mouths gape, and tunics are wet with piss as they see your charge about to reach them.

    It is Atellus of course who reaches the enemy first, a flanking group of Samnites who were trying to envelop the first group led by Mercator. Ducking under the errant swing of one of the desperate men before him, a woodsman's axe goes high over his head, before he buries his gladius deep into the gut of the one who had tried to end him in a single, quick, and vicious stab that has the man holding onto his wound briefly before collapsing onto the ground.

    Soon enough you find yourself joining him in the clash moments later. While your bones may be old and your muscles not as firm as they used to be in their prime, a lifetime of experience in Rome's Legions has given you more than enough to defeat the foe before you. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the legionnaires beside you, you use your scutum to expertly block the furious blows sent your way. Stabs from a pitchfork fail to penetrate the shield you are carrying, a blow from a club is deftly deflected and turned through a parry of your own. All the while you continue to stab forward with your gladius, your seasoned eye allowing you to spot momentary openings in an instant and seize upon them. You are pure efficiency as you continue to scythe through the opposition before you. One man you stab in the eye, your blade piercing his skull in the instant he overextended, another you stabbed him through his armpit while he was distracted by the legionnaire at your side. Through it all, you find yourself getting reacquainted with the feeling of steel sliding through flesh and bone, a jolting sensation that only one who lives to make war can ever get used to.

    While the men beside you and behind you had at first thought you were a simple servant at first, your time in the yard with them and in a few routine spars had shown that beneath your leathery exterior laid a man of iron. You had earned their respect, and their trust. While you may not have been one of them at this moment, you were still a product of the legions and that granted you courtesy and respect enough.

    It was a grinding advance, one that favored the legion, but an annoying situation all the same. You found that even your sword arm was getting somewhat tired from having to stab them over and over and over again. Oh sure, the Samnites tried many times to outwit Atellus and the cohort with a feigned retreat there, an ambush from a side street here, or the old pretending to be dead under the bodies trick there. None of that fazed your charge however. Fighting nearby you watched as he led the lead detachment forward, passing a ruined manse while successfully fixing the flanking detachment before him. Standing at the forefront, with his badge of office clear for all to seem, the Samnites, being the canny fighters that they were, charged him. While they may have fought furiously and for a worthy cause in their eyes, Atellus simply fought and led better. Deflecting blows with an odd grace, and dealing devastating damage with that flashing blade of his, the enemy quickly found that even anger and righteousness fury were not everything. That was the last thing they learned in any case, as Atellus was more than cunning enough to use this situation to his advantage, as while they were fixated on him they noticed too late before another detachment slammed in behind them and cut them to pieces.

    Even through all of this however, you have to give the Samnites credit, for all the devastating losses they had suffered, all of the death and destruction dealt upon them, they still did not give up when many other foes, many you remember being better provisioned and equipped, would have simply fallen apart. Carpets of Samnite dead litter the streets, their lifeblood flowing through the mixture of dirt and cobbled roads creating an almost squelching mud as you continued your advance.

    Where before you found yourself facing men in their fighting prime, now you were fighting youths and women as they tried to avenge their fallen. What was once an ebbing tide swelled forth back again as they came at you and the cohort from everywhere. Standing side to side, with a shieldwall presented to towards them you felt a press of bodies meet you all while the Samnites make their final stand. Daggers and swords are thrust at you, a legionnaire further to your right falling to an upthrust sword aimed at him by a youth younger than even your charge, one who is quickly cut down by the legionnaire who steps forth to fill his spot in the line, with the youth quickly going to join his father in whatever wretched afterlife the Samnites believe in.

    What was once a steady advance had become an arduous crawl. The foes before you now were unending in their fury as they charged at the cohort with reckless abandon, their eyes bloodshot and their bodies resilient as you see many take more wounds than they could possibly survive and continue fighting despite it, one woman simply charging through the gladius that had impaled her to club the legionnaire and take him to the ground.

    On and on this goes, enemies uncountable fall to your blade. You know that this cannot go on, yet you are not in a position to do anything about it. At the same time however, you are sure that if you know, Atellus likely does as well. Fighting nearby him, you can see that even as the sweat continues to stream down his face, and the blood continues to drip down his arm, his expression remains as poised and composed as ever. To you, that assures you that he has a plan and that he has some gambit that will deliver you from this ordeal. Soon enough, your trust is paid off when you see one, two, three, and more fires erupt around the city, illuminating this charnel house with blood and flame. As soon as the smoke plumes can be seen rising into the blue sky above you, the screams of those burning piercing the shroud of the battlefield, you can see the hope die within the eyes of the Samnites before you as many drop their weapons and turn to flee.

    It is at this moment that Atellus lets you loose.

    "Tercerus, round up the rest, " is the simple order given to you as he dispatches you and a detachment of legionnaires to gather up the remaining Samnites.

    "Acknowledged. You heard the Tribune, follow me," you bellow as you have the legionnaires with you march double time to catch up to the fleeing Samnites.

    As your detachment rumbles through the streets, you make sure to detach groups here and there in order to secure certain sections of city and to make good on your order. Wailing women and children are dragged back towards the assembly area which Atellus has formed to reorganize the cohort. Along the way you can see that the looting has already begun as you pass more than a few legionnaires with bags full of plundered silver, gold, and other trinkets.

    It is as you are heading northwards however, that your speed pays off for you see a familiar figure in the distance. Leading a caravan of horses and mules, whose saddlebags appeared to be loaded with loot is none other than Spurio the would-be traitor. Around him are perhaps a dozen men, some of them resemble the men who he had led before Atellus to parley, the others seemed to be ordinary Samnites. But that is no matter to you, what is, is the look he seems to get within his eyes, one of panic as he sees you and the men behind you rush up the street. In haste he tries to order his men to quicken their advance, however all of that ill-gotten treasure he has on him has slowed him down enough for you to catch him.

    "Pila!" you below out, causing the men beside you to grab onto the javelins they carry with them, all while preparing to throw them.

    "Loose!" you order again, and watch as the dozen or so projectiles fly through the air and impact the men and beast before you.

    The group before you collapses into disorder as more than half of their number now find themselves impaled upon the thrown pila, their lifeblood dripping out of them. Luckily for you, one of the thrown pila managed to hit the horse carrying Spurio who is now partially trapped under it. As the rest of the legionnaires with you cut through the men before you, you on the other hand approach Spurio who is cursing up a storm.

    "Shit! Fuck! Damn it!" cries the infamous bandit as he nurses his likely broken leg, turning about as soon as he sees you coming, with sword drawn.

    "S-servant! I see you've found me...no hard feelings right? A man's got to make coin after all," comes the pathetic reply from Spurio as you continue to advance towards him.

    "Come now don't be like that," he says as he tries to back away from you, something that causes you savor the fear he has in his eyes.

    "Wait! W-wait! Don't kill me...please, j-just take this, all of this, just spare me," he says with tears coming to his eyes as he begins to crack, shoving the bags full of plunder towards you, something you ignore as you silently step over them and get closer and closer to him.

    "Hmph, where was all the bravado you had before traitor? Did you not say you would take the gold from our corpses after this this battle? How pathetic," you say as you spit on the ground beside him.

    "P-please, I was only doing what only sane man would do, honest. J-just spare me and I'll make everything up for you,'' he promises to you in desperation.

    "And what could you possibly offer to us?" you ask with a dismissive tone.

    "I...I know things...about the Samnites. I'm sure your master would love to hear about them. Spare me and I'll tell him everything!" he says with increased intensity, eyeing your gladius in fear.

    "Hah! Do you honestly think I'll fall for that one. No one would trust you, a known turncoat, after what you'd attempted to do at the parley. No, I will not spare you, I think you've lived long enough," you say as you plant a boot on his chest and stomp him into the ground causing him to let loose an explosive breath.

    "W-wait...you have to...urgh...grrrrh," comes the last words of Spurio as you bury your gladius into his ribcage, making sure to twist a little before extricating your blade.

    Watching for a moment as the light dims from his eyes and the blood finishes exiting his mouth, you take a moment before you decapitate him in one swift blow. You'd think Atellus would like this one's head mounted on a pike, especially after the utterly despicable attempt at extortion earlier.

    Soon enough you are organizing the men around you, who have taken great pleasure in grabbing the saddlebags filled with gold, and then you set off back to Atellus.


    Marching alongside Atellus, you feel a familiar pride well up in your chest as you and cohort he commanded are greeted with cheers and adulation as you enter the camp of the Sixth Legion. As the column treks up the via praetoria, as you are at its head with Atellus you immediately spot the visage of Sertorius as he awaits your charge in front of the Principia.

    Watching the exchange that occurs between them, you cannot help but make comparisons to a different Cingulatus. In your minds eye you find yourself transposing Atellus' father in his place. Instead of the fields of Samnium you find yourself back in the hills of Hispania once again. Sertorius is once again before you commending a Cingulatus, but before you find yourself too drawn into memories of the past you return. You watch as Atellus displays and presents the treasured mural to Sertorius in a flair for dramatics that was totally unlike his father. For as much as Atellus was his father's son, you could see at this moment, as does Sertorius, that he is more than that, and for that you are grateful.

    (Around 2800 words)
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    Very nice.

    400 XP to command!

    (2307/6000) XP to Rank 7!
     
    Caesar said:
    So, I had some free time today, and thought it might be useful for people to have a cliffnotes list of prominent Romans and their political leanings.
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    @Telamon, given that this was threadmarked as 'Informational', and given the obvious research and effort that went into it, do you think @Caesar deserves an omake bonus for writing it up?

    Perhaps the XP could be allotted to the 'Charisma' stat (for insightful social analysis) or to 'Subterfuge' (since this is basically 'opposition research' on rival factions in the Republic).
     
    Below I'm pretty much just Min-Maxing. Let me just make clear that I don't think any of this should be the major reason to pick a voting option. Such choices should, in my opinion, mainly depend on the narrative. It's more something to keep in the back of our minds. Maybe let it influence the voting choice in cases where there are no strong narrative reasons to value one learning-action over another.

    I was looking over our stats and the dice-modifiers they give us. Overall, I found there are 5 stats which, mechanically speaking, we should consider boosting over the next few turns.
    Three Stats/Skill are only one rank below giving us slightly better dice modifiers:
    Stewardship: Poor (4) -- (Levels 3-4) (-2 Modifier) -- (300/4000) to Rank 5! (No Modifier)
    Law:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (285/9000) XP left to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
    Diplomacy:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (0/9000) to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)

    There are also our two 'Macro'-military stats, both of which are two ranks below giving us increased modifers:
    Military: Accomplished (13) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (2583/10000) to Rank 14
    Command:     Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (2307/6000) XP to Rank 7!

    Military: Accomplished (13) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (2583/10000) to Rank 14
    Charisma:     Accomplished (11) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (700/10,000) XP to Rank 12
    Stewardship    : Poor (4) -- (Levels 3-4) (-2 Modifier) -- (300/4000) to Rank 5! (No Modifier)
    Intelligence:     Renowned (15) -- (Levels 15-17) (+4 Modifier) -- (0/15000[?]) to Rank 16
    Education    : Accomplished (10) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (0/10000) to Rank 11
    Subterfuge    : Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (400/6000) to Rank 7!

    Combat:     Accomplished (10) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (0/10000) to Rank 11
    Oratory:     Accomplished (10) --(Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (1,113/10,000) XP to Rank 11
    Command:     Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (2307/6000) XP to Rank 7!
    Law:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (285/9000) XP left to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
    Philosophy:     Average (5) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (374/5,000) XP to Rank 6
    Administration:     Average (5) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (0/5000) to Rank 6
    Diplomacy:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (0/9000) to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
     
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    Spacegnom said:
    Below I'm pretty much just Min-Maxing. Let me just make clear that I don't think any of this should be the major reason to pick a voting option. Such choices should, in my opinion, mainly depend on the narrative. It's more something to keep in the back of our minds. Maybe let it influence the voting choice in cases where there are no strong narrative reasons to value one learning-action over another.

    I was looking over our stats and the dice-modifiers they give us. Overall, I found there are 5 stats which, mechanically speaking, we should consider boosting over the mid to long term.
    Three Stats/Skill are only one rank below giving us slightly better dice modifiers:
    Stewardship: Poor (4) -- (Levels 3-4) (-2 Modifier) -- (300/4000) to Rank 5! (No Modifier)
    Law:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (285/9000) XP left to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
    Diplomacy:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (0/9000) to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)

    There are also our two 'Macro'-military stats, both of which are two ranks below giving us increased modifers:
    Military: Accomplished (13) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (2583/10000) to Rank 14
    Command:     Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (2307/6000) XP to Rank 7!

    Military: Accomplished (13) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (2583/10000) to Rank 14
    Charisma:     Accomplished (11) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (700/10,000) XP to Rank 12
    Stewardship    : Poor (4) -- (Levels 3-4) (-2 Modifier) -- (300/4000) to Rank 5! (No Modifier)
    Intelligence:     Renowned (15) -- (Levels 15-17) (+4 Modifier) -- (0/15000) to Rank 16
    Education    : Accomplished (10) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (0/10000) to Rank 11
    Subterfuge    : Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (400/6000) to Rank 7!

    Combat:     Accomplished (10) -- (Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (0/10000) to Rank 11
    Oratory:     Accomplished (10) --(Levels 10-14) (+2 Modifier) -- (1,113/10,000) XP to Rank 11
    Command:     Average (6) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (2307/6000) XP to Rank 7!
    Law:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (285/9000) XP left to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
    Philosophy:     Average (5) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (374/5,000) XP to Rank 6
    Administration:     Average (5) -- (Levels 5-7) (No Modifier) -- (0/5000) to Rank 5
    Diplomacy:     Proficient (9) -- (Levels 8-9) (+1 Modifier) -- (0/9000) to Rank 10 (+2 Modifier)
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    Our duties as a tribune are liable to give our Law a workout, and managing relations in Samnium should do the same for Diplomacy. Military and Command are obviously gaining already. This leaves Stewardship, our worst stat, which we have no obvious way to raise, and I don't really want to experiment with it in the field, with so much at stake. The unfortunate thing about Stewardship actions is that failing them will cost us money in addition to the negative effects of failure on our goals and reputation. All the more reason to pray Scaevola lives long enough for us to finish this war.
     
    our duty as a tribune should also help our stewardship as we are also partially responsible for the pay and gear of the legion
     
    I doubt we can really push any stat, outside the 3 military ones, while on campaign. Look at few updates back, that trial gave us 0XP in Law. So, I don't expect any significant boosts in Diplomacy, Stewardship or Law this turn even though we will take actions related to those stats.
    We will probably have to wait until we return to Rome to gain sizeable boosts in non-militay stats & skills.
     
    Has our patron written anything? because a commentary from his differently politically aligned client could be a great companion piece.

    write it right, we could improve both our prestige.

    EDIT: I mean books, i know hes a lawmaker
     
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    [X] Plan Roman Duty
    -[X] Bovianum
    -[X] A Law Beyond The Sword
    -[X] Sic Semper
    -[X] Write Home
    --[X] Cicero
    --[X] Proserpina
     
    Arlos said:
    I kind of want us to write books detailing our thought on matter, when we got older, leave some stuff to the following Generations.
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    Which can easily be expressed in a journal format
    And then when we're older and nothing that important is happening, we could try to write a bunch of political theroy and philosophy books to make aeven bigger impact on roman culture
     
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