The morning wind howls in your ears, and the chill, unseasonable for this early in the year, bites at your skin. You stand atop a jagged outcropping of rock some fifteen miles from the Valley of the Vulturnus. Before you is a great bull, bound and tied with strong leather cords, it's dark eyes flickering back and forth frantically. Your mind flashes back to the last time you saw a bull bound in such a manner, during the Rite of Gradivus that won the legion its name. It seems like it has been a lifetime since then, and you hardly feel as if you are the same man you were then. It has only been five months, but you would swear on all the gods that you have marched through Samnium for lifetimes. You have seen men die, felt the crunch of bone beneath your sword, known the slick feel of blood under your feet. There are days as if you feel when your life ended in that temple, and you were reborn under the red auspices of Mars.
Ah, I honestly regret that we never could put more emphasis on the worship of Mars. But alas, other things always got in the way. Besides, those auguries are cool as hell even without that.
Mars. The god of War. Mars, bloody-handed and storm-eyed. Mars, who the legionnares say marches with you to end Gemino once and for all. Mars, the soldier-god to whom you and your officers have gathered here on this hill to appease, to beg for victory, to catch a glimpse of what is to come. In war, it always comes back to him, it seems. The Samnites call him Mamercus, the Greeks Ares, but every man who holds a sword knows him as their patron.
Gaul, Samnite, Roman, Greek, all are people with different languages and they know him by a different name. But they know him, because war is as unseparable from man as Earth is from the sun.
And war is what Rome is. As seen here in Augustus' character sheet:
What does Rome know of peace? She is a thing of war.
As Poronius, the augur you brought with the cohorts, prepares the bull for sacrifice, you offer your own quiet prayer to Mars. He has shaped you, changed you, molded you these last months. And he has guided you here, to the eve of battle. You ask him to guide you one more time, to lead you to victory over Gemino and his rebels. Even as your prayer drifts to the heavens, even as Poronius draws his blade across the bull's throat, the howling of wolves splits the morning air, a ferocious baying that rings in the hills. The augur's eyes widen, and he falls to the ground in prostration.
The prophetic meaning of the moment is not lost on you or your officers: the wolf is Mars' sacred animal, and the patron beast of Rome herself. Mars has not just sent a sign, he has sent the sign. And to the superstitious soldiers of the legions, to the soldiers of the Sixth Legion Gradvius, named after Mars himself, that can only mean one thing: Mars is with you. As one, you and your officers fall to your knees with respect. Still, the wolves howl, their voices sounding like trumpets in the air.
Then, something you cannot name drives you to rise from your feet. Almost without thinking, you draw your spear, and, stepping forward, dip it's point in the growing pool of the bull's blood. There is silence for a moment, and then, almost as one, Tercerus and Pompolussa rise and follow your lead. One by one, the officers of the Sixth rise to dip the points of their spears in the blood of the sacrificed bull. A few minutes after the last centurion dips his spear, the howling of wolves begins to subside, and in moments, it is gone.
The stunned augur rises shakily to his feet, but he says nothing. There is nothing he needs to say, for the omen is readily apparent.
The god of war rides with his Sixth Legion.
So GODDAMN COOL.
(Mars is totally jealous that the voters didn't choose his gift and shows us now what a mistake it was.)
The Augury (Poronius): 1d20 + 2 (Accomplished Prophecy) = 22
Needed: 10
Legendary Success
You got a natural 20. Again.
....I need a drink.
I drink to that!
Before the augury, you spent several days gathering up all your troops, recruiting your forces, and deploying your auxiliaries and allies. You attempted to levy the nobles for their mercenaries and personal guards in order to defend Bovianum and it's outskirts while you were gone, but despite Himatus' fervent advocacy for you and your cause, the selfishness of the Samnite nobles proved too strong. What if Gemino came for them, they said, while the Romans were off on a wild goose chase? What if the legions abandoned them altogether to go fight their war? No, they insisted, they needed their forces.
What if the legions abandoned you? Are you for real? We've been chasing that man since we came, you really think we just pack and leave when we don't catch him now and let all our effort go in vain?
You were forced to instead deploy the semi-trained auxiliaries from Aquilonia to protect the homelands of the Pentri alone, an unfavorable thing. However, your mood was considerably improved when Himatus nonetheless contributed the entirety of his household guard to serve as a scouting force. It was even further improved when the Gaulish messenger you sent at full speed to Sertorius returned nary forty-eight hours later with a cohort at his back -- the fighting Seventh, but at it's head, no mere centurion. Indeed, who else arrived to your aid but Lucius Proculus Mercator. Though Sertorius could not spare the deadly first cohort or even one of it's centuries, the primus pilus apparently appealed to the Legate to be allowed to lead the reinforcements personally. When you questioned him on this, the centurion merely greeted you with a wild grin and told you that he and Gemino have a long-standing debt which must be settled.
Mercator is here, ready to smash some fools.
And I'm starting to like Himatus, I hope for some cool interactions with him in the future.
Gripping description of the battle.
...
But you feel it pounding in your heart, that same red fire kindled in the Temple of Mars all those months ago, the same fulfillment that fills your heart when you duel in the forum, the same certainty that you were born for this, that this is in your blood, in your flesh. You are a Roman, and Mars himself thunders in your veins. This...this is what you were made for. The song of battle. The rhythm of the blade. The smell of smoke and death on the wind. This --the legion's line, the shine of spears in sun, the sound of steel on flesh -- this is Rome.
...
Thrilling description of the battle.
Oh boy, I hope we start paying respect to both Minerva and Mars who are clearly our patron gods. And maybe Apollon, too, considering we tend to roll that goddamn high on important speeches.
"So. You win, boy." His voice is tired, very tired, and for the first time you are truly cognizant of the fact that your great enemy is a man perhaps a decade or two younger than Tercerus, if that.
"I win."
"I am but a single man. The Samnites will always rise up to violent purpose against Rome." His voice is strained, as if he's trying to convince himself.
You chuckle, at that. "Your people have bent knee to Rome, Samnite. They see wisdom in ending this farce of war."
"He who chooses slavery is still a slave. And that is what you bring, Roman, make no mistake: slavery. You will choke my people for their gold and their food, and when you are done you will still take their lands from them, and the Samnites will be no more."
He pauses, and for a long moment, he looks almost regretful. "Would that you'd been born a Samnite. We might have stood a chance."
You don't know where the words you speak next come from, but as you speak them, you know you mean them.
"Would that you'd been born a Roman."
Gemino chuckles, at that.
"Bend the knee. Submit to Rome, and I will show you her mercy." Mercy, until he can be judged in Rome, of course. Sertorius would well appreciate the leader of the western rebellion in chains.
The old Samnite just sighs heavily and raises his sword high, sliding into a battle stance.
"Damn the Sibyls." The old rebel's words are almost a whisper, and you frown as you try to puzzle their meaning. Then, before you can even think to react, Gemino pivots his blade and shoves it through his stomach.
The man who has been your greatest enemy these last months falls to his knees, his grey eyes still fixed on yours.
"I die a free man and a Samnite. Choke on your mercy, Roman." With that, his proud features go slack. His eyes, still, empty, and wide, gaze into yours for a long moment before you turn away. They stay with you for a long time.
So passes Gemino of the Pentri.
We did what Sulla could not. And in the end, I'm not even angry with him. Pass on, Gemino of the Pentri, we could only triumph through numbers.
Our first great enemy beaten on the battlefield.
With his death, his forces are broken once and for all. What is left of his shattered army goes to ground, the peasants returning to their farms and homes, while the few living rebels scatter, likely to devolve into banditry or petty brigandry without Gemino's guiding hand. The dead will take days to count, and the injured weeks to heal. Pompolussa was heavily wounded in Gemino's rout, and Tercerus and Mercator both have a few more scars for their respective collections.
Makes me think we want to go to Bovianum first, and also to indulge us with a small victory parade through a jubilant city. The man who starved the people is dead.
Holy shit, some of those rolls...
912 Military XP Gained!
(3895/10000) to Rank 14
1230 Combat XP Gained!
(1230/10000) to Rank 11
1000 Command XP Gained!
(5,323/6000) to Rank 6
It's rank 7 for command. We are already on rank 6. (Theoretically we are close enough to buy the rank up, but since it won't provide us with a better modifier it's unnecessary.)
[] Turn and march immediately for Nola, in order to reinforce Sertorius and the Hirpini in the siege.
[] Turn to pacify the western towns that supported Gemino, and ensure that the entire region is solidly under Roman control.
[] March for the Valley of the Vulturnus to finish what you started and destroy the rebel presence in in western Samnium.
[] Return to Bovianum to better tend to the injured, and ensure that the supply lines stay secured.
Captured Enemies
You have captured roughly 150 survivors of the Samnite army, either those who surrendered or were captured while fleeing. What do you wish to do with them?
[] Sell them into slavery, both increasing your own personal coffers and gaining more money for the legion.
[] Free them, and order them to return to their homes and farms. With Gemino gone, they are no longer a threat.
[] Kill them all.
--[] Crucify them along nearby roads as examples.
--[] Have them executed by your men here and now.
[] Write-In
Ok, pacifying the towns would be nice, but since we'll move to Nola soon we would either need to station men here to protect them from the predation of the Vulturnus rebels, or leave them to their fate afterwards. We can save them once we are in the clear in the south. Or we tell the Pentri to do it, but who knows how that turns out.
Marching into the valley with our wounded? To fight a rather unimportant battle in the grand scheme of things? Pass, Tercerian will get his when we are done with Meddix.
Bovianum I favour. Don't want to lose Pompolussa.
Also, not in favour of killing, it's not like we didn't already make a statement of how we bring law to these lands. Either we let them go or sell them into slavery.
Unless someone has a better idea.
(Also we want to be at Nola before our augury runs out.)