DELETED32084

Early humans

@Jasper19Thanks

Early humans

Name: Agy
Age: 17
Appearance:

Image

Starting location: Scandinavia
Extra: None

The Vampire princes

Solomon felt no pain or sorrow, in fact, he felt nothing at all. The great rumbling and crashing that had filled his ears in the final moments his heart pumped its last was gone. He was in perfect silence. He tried to move his hands but they would not follow his commands, nor would his feet and legs. It seemed odd to him that they would disobey him so. His body did not feel broken, yet he did not truly feel as though he was weighed down by such an earthly constraint any longer.

A brilliant white light suddenly burst upon him and Kane looked down to see his body lying twisted and broken beneath him. His head was at an impossible angle, his limbs so badly contorted that he knew there was no way he could have survived the castles collapse.

"So this is death." He said to no one in particular. He felt as though it should have meant more to him, but he felt no anger, not even sadness, at leaving the world of the living behind.

"No, my son, this is the beginning." The voice was oddly familiar. It had a soft lilt to it, almost sing song, and it was most certainly female. Solomon raised his gaze toward the light and saw a human form begin to take shape. He fell to his knees as it to revealed itself to be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

"Mother..." His voice was a rasp, an impossibly weak sound in his own ears, but the woman smiled. Her hair was as golden as the sun itself, her skin as flawless as newly carved marble, her eyes as bright and blue as the finest sapphires. For the first time in his life he felt a lump in his throat as he tried to reach out to her. She took a knee in front of him and smiled into his face, reaching down and drawing his hands up so that she might kiss them.

In an instant he felt something surge through him. Perhaps it was the gift of life but in his heart, Solomon Kane knew that he was dead. This was the end. His time on earth had come to a close and he would be lost to history. It was time to let go.

"No, Solomon. It is time to come home." She spoke without moving her lips, the words echoing throughout his mind as he stood with her. Her touch was gentle, almost a caress, the like of which he had never experienced before in all his life. He slowly became aware of a great pair of pearly white gates opening behind her and more figures appearing amid the light.

Solomon realized that he knew their names, recognized their faces. They were his siblings. The Chosen Children of God. He felt tears begin to coarse down his cheeks even as a choir of angels, unnoticed until this moment, began to sing, their high voices piercing his very soul and causing him to weep.

"Welcome brother." The figures spoke, gently urging him toward the great gate. For a moment he hesitated, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I am not worthy." He began to shake his head, the tears soaking his beard and vanishing as they struck the unseen floor at his feet. "Not worthy."

"You are Solomon Kane, the Vampire Slayer. The Left Hand of God." The voices all spoke in unison and in that moment all doubt fell away from him and, with his mothers hand clutched in his own, he stepped through the gate and into history.

POSTSCRIPT

And so ended the Saga of Solomon Kane: A Land Under Shadow. The rule of the Vampire Princes had been broken and men were free once again to rule their own affairs. Thousands had died, and thousands more would perish in the days of trouble and turmoil to come. A great pestilence would sweep the land, laying waste to the living, and sowing the seeds for the tales yet to come, for our story does not end here, dear friend, oh no.

Evil still abounds so we must look to new men and women to take up the sword and fight for the glory of god.

THE END

In The Shadow of Giants

September 48 BC - Mediterranean Sea

---

"No... Surely you are joking..." Seiger had sucked in his breath, staring at the ships Captain with wide blue eyes. The man shook his head and tapped the side of his head, then his heart.

"With Jupiter as my witness, I swear it. A sea with no edge. A sea so massive that you cannot cross it on ships!" The Captain, Marcos, was a big man, as broad in the belly as he was in the shoulders. His nose was red and shot through with veins, a sign he might enjoy a little to much win with his supper. He stood on the steering platform, casually leaning on one massively muscled arm, talking to a half dozen of the auxiliary who had gathered to hear his stories of time spent along the coast of Gaul and Iberia.

"By the gods..." Kedrick, crouching next to Seiger, muttered it loudly enough for everyone else to hear. To the men of the auxiliary, the Mediterranean was the largest body of water they had ever seen and the slight motions of the waves had made them sea sick on the journey from Italy to Greece. Marcos, ever glad of a willing audience, puffed out his chest with importance and nodded gravelly at the battle hardened men who leaned eagerly forward like children, hanging on his every word.

"That ain't the half of it," He gestured to the mast that towered above them, the huge beige sail bulging as it caught the northern wind. "The sea can get as tall as a mast, huge columns of water that can drown a ship in an instant."

"Come off it... You take us for fools?" Scoffed one of the Gauls.

"You've been there then? Seen it, have you?" Marcos challenged the man who quickly shook his head.

"No, it just sounds impossible!" The Gaul protested and was rewarded with more nods from his fellow soldiers, some of whom were looking at the captain as though he had suddenly sprouted second and third heads.

"True as I am standing here before you." The captain glanced around caught the eye of the steersman. "Ain't I right, Phillipe?" The steersman only nodded, shuddering as if the memory was to much for him to bear. The soldiers shook their heads in wonder. None of them had seen waves much more than a few feet, and even then, every one of them had been violently ill.

"I reckon I'll stick to soldiering then." Seiger said with confidence as he absorbed this story of the distant ocean. "What do you know about Egypt then?"

Marcos shrugged. "Only been there once or twice, and only to Alexandria, that's their capital. Looked like any other city I've ever seen, dirty, crowded, smells like shit. Sand everywhere once you get away from the coast a bit. There's a whacking great river to the East a bit and some say the tombs of giants are further inland but I've never seen them."

His tone suggested that if he hadn't seen them, they didn't exist. In truth, Marcos had never actually set foot in Egypt. He hated the darkies and their empire of sand. He'd met enough of them during his time in Tunisia and Carthage to know that no good came of mixing with their kind. "I hear they have hair all over their bodies and don't even wash if they can avoid it. Their women as ugly as camels." He finished dismissively.

"I don't bloody care what they look like, long as they know their way around my cock." Said one of the Germans, Adne, with a laugh. That brought chuckles from every man within ear shot. "Once Caesar has caught up to Pompeii I reckon we'll get a proper bit of rest and recreation."

More laughs that turned to silence as a lookout on the mast cried out that land was in sight. The soldiers nodded their thanks to Marcos and hurried to the ships side, staring toward the distant haze that they had mistaken for clouds, but was now revealing itself to be a solid land mass.

"Egypt. What did I tell you? Sand!" Marcos called from the stern as the small Roman fleet drew close enough that they could make out the endless dunes that marched down to the sea. Seiger had never seen so much sand in all his life. There were a few beaches in Iberia, Italy, and even in Germania along the shores of lakes, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was seeing. It was as though there was an entirely new ocean beyond the one they sailed upon.

"Have you ever see anything like it..." He breathed the words, still stunned by the dunes that stretched away to the west.

"At home, looking down on the forest from the mountains." Kedrick replied quietly and in an instant Seiger was back atop the high peak near their home, the endless green carpet of trees blanketing the mountain slopes and valleys until it vanished into the distance. This was just another great sea he had never imagined.

"Alexandria!" Marcos called out, pointing to the East where the rolling dunes suddenly gave way the squared shape of buildings and, amazingly, a massive tower that stood out from the coastline, soaring above the rest of the city. "The Pharos! One of the great wonders of the world!"

A wonder indeed, thought Seiger as he stared at it. He had not known that men could build such a structure, having never been to Rome. He felt like a child again, seeing the world for the first time, the sea of sand forgotten as he gaped open mouthed at the white washed stone and the smoke that billowed from the top.

"Is it on fire?" He asked no one in particular.

"No, my friend, they haul wood up to burn. It serves to guide ships in at night. To show them a safe harbour." Marcos had taken a liking to the young German, watching Seiger even as he stared the city. The man was heavily built with a neatly plaited beard and combed hair. He was less wild looking than his fellows and washed fastidiously, even if that meant diving into the sea. Like the rest of the soldiers he had been terrified of the ship and the deep water but his curiosity overcame that fear and, in time, he had come to impress the aging captain. Seiger had even run along the bank of oars, held steady by strong hands, racing a sailor on the other side. He had lost the race, but he hadn't fallen into the ocean either. Even the sailors had cheered when he made it. It was impossible not to like the man.

"Fascinating." Seiger turned back to watch the tower grow larger in the distance. Only when they came close enough to see people on the shoreline did he finally tear his gaze from the structure. Hundreds swarmed about the waters edge, some swimming, some sitting in the sand. They all seemed so strange and it took him a moment to realize what was out of place. There was not a white face among them!

"Soldiers!" A cry came from the mast and everyone on the ship instantly pulled on helmets, strapped swords to their waist, and picked up shield and spear. The twinkle of steel above the heads of man pacing at the base of the Pharos, and then along the ramparts that were beginning to appear, was a cold reminder of why they had come. Seiger gripped the wood of his spear tightly and sent a silent prayer to Thor for he had come to a foreign land and only the Gods knew what lay in store for him.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Betrayed: Part II

General Hycis - Keraam South Coast

---

General Hycis slumped in his saddle, his body jolting with every staggering step his mount took as they hurried southward. All around him, everything but their weapons abandoned, stumbled remnants of his once proud army. Their uniforms were dirty and torn, much of their armour was missing, and nearly all were wounded. A far cry from the mighty force that had landed a mere three weeks before on the coast of Noiba with banners flying and trumpets baying.

Hycis himself was wounded, half his face covered in a bloodied bandage that itched something fierce. An arrow had slashed down the left side, nearly taking his eye, and slicing off the bottom of his ear. A mage priest had done his best to staunch the bleeding by binding the wound and applying a healing spell, but he had refused any further help, insisting that the more gravelly wounded receive proper treatment. The bandage and charm had done much to staunch the bleeding but did nothing for the searing headache and itch that never seemed to diminish. Even now, he wanted to scratch it the itch, to pick at the forming scab, but restrained himself, it would do no good and the mage priest had warned him of possible infection.

The narrow track his army now retreated down was one of two, both little more than cart tracks that led toward the sea. He had seen the remains of several small villages and suspected that this part of Noiba had been largely abandoned during the previous war. Little more than foundations remained now, maybe a broken fountain to hint at a town square. Of the wood and paper houses so famous among the Iba, there was no sign. Only once did they come upon a stone structure, a small castle with one entire wall gaping whose gatehouse stood empty, the gateway and upper arrow slits making it look like some monstrous head half covered in green ivy.

He felt tears prick the corner of his eye as he thought about what had occurred. The Iban had stolen the march on him, arriving rested and ready when his elves were exhausted and bloodied. Only the determined and spirited rearguard action of the remaining elven cavalry had kept the Iba from completely rolling over the survivors. That rearguard was led by his eldest son. The two has clasped arms before the cavalry rode away, pledging to meet again at the main army. Both men knew it was a façade. They would be lucky if any of them returned home.

Camp followers mixed with the retreating soldiers. Blacksmiths, cooks, laundry folk, the families and his soldiers, all of them pushing south through the thick forest in hopes of reaching the sea, and so too the navy. Younglings were among the crowd, some crying, some to tired to cry, others simply lying down at the side of the roadway despite their parents pleas to continue. Those who did not move under their own power were left for the advancing Iba. Hycis was under no illusions. The Iba would not be taking prisoners.

A sudden cheer and the sound of steel echoed through the trees and the crowd surged forward, eager to escape the pursuing enemy. Screams, shouts, and cries for help seemed to come from everywhere as small parties of Iban troops slipped through the wood and ambushed the column at every opportunity. They largely left Hycis alone, his bodyguard was well armed and relatively fresh. The light troops who stalked them now chose to attack easier targets.

Hycis turned his head wearily to watch as an elven soldier, his hand severed at the wrist, struggled to tie off the stump with a belt. He made eye contact with his General and offered a solemn nod as he took the belt between his teeth to pull it tight. Hycis wanted to go to the soldier, offer him his aid, but knew it was pointless, there was nothing he could offer the soldier. The elf was going to die. He knew it, and the General knew it, it was only a matter of time.

“Samurai!” The cry came from close at hand and Hycis sat up in his saddle, dragging his blood crusted sword free as he wheeled to face the cry. A small group of the red armoured enemy crashed out of the wood on foot, their battle cry “Ibaaa!” ringing in his ears as they fell upon a unit of elven infantry.

The skirmish was short and vicious. The samurai retreated into the wood before Hycis and his bodyguard could mount a proper charge, leaving a scattering of dead elves with twice as many wounded. The enemy didn’t lose a man. It was a pattern that had repeated itself a hundred times in the past twenty four hours as the elves pushed south. They were permitted no sleep, no rest, not even the time to take a piss. If you stopped, you died. Archers stalked the column at every turn and anyone who halted made an inviting target.

“Father.” The gentle voice of his eldest surviving son. A canteen was being held out to him and he gratefully took it, swallowing down the lukewarm water without complaint. This at least they had plenty of. Seikatsu was a land of endless streams and small brooks that an elf could use to refill his canteen. A small mercy he supposed.

“Thank you.” Hycis passed the container back after splashing some on his face. An aide was dispatched to find more water further up the track. He too was exhausted but to stop was to die.

“Samurai!” The cry again and this time the enemy came to close. They burst from the trees to charge into a small knot of heavy infantry. A close quarters fight began in earnest and Hycis saw an opportunity for some small revenge.

His sword was still drawn and he raised the point even as he urged his tired mount forward. The beast tossed its head but managed to lumber into a quick trot. He felt his lips peel back from his teeth like some feral beast as he gave a formless scream and charged.

A samurai looked up just as Hycis’s mount caught him under the chin with one huge horn, tossing the human like a ragdoll into the wood. Another Iban rolled desperately away before lunging to his feet and straight into Hycis’s sword thrust. The blade smashed the faceplate of his helmet and split his upper lip all the way down his jaw bone. Hycis had a startling view of a pale face, black hair plastered to the forehead with sweat, eyes bulging wide even as the man opened his mouth to scream. He vanished beneath the hooves of the bodyguard before a sound could come out.

Hycis was through the skirmish in an instant and he pulled savagely on his reins, trying to turn his mount for another charge, but the fight was over. The small party of samurai had been slaughtered. A moment of joy in the falling darkness as his men cheered their small victory. It was something. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. For them, it was to late.

He was thirsty again and looked around for the elf sent to fetch him more water. It took him a moment to find the soldier and when he did, the small joy he felt left him. The elfs body lay half submerged in a nearby stream, a spear sticking up from his back like the mast of a ship. The generals canteen lay in the bloodied water nearby, slowly filling with the reddish liquid. He didn’t have the energy to even curse. He turned and rode away.

It did not take long for darkness to begin to close in. As the sun dropped below the horizon the air instantly began to cool. A small price to pay for the shadows that spread across the land. The Iba did not come in the darkness. No commander with any experience was going to send small units of men to wander around the forest in the dark.

The pursuit, however, did not end. All the Iba had to do was follow the trail of dead and dying elves that had simply given up. From time to time furious clashes would erupt between the elven rearguard and the Iban vanguard. It was savage close quarter fighting, illuminated by the occasional torch or spell that lit up the heaving black masses of men and elves. It was as though the bowels of hell disgorged the damned. Those who would survive that terrible flight through the woods would never cease to dream of it, waking in cold sweats during the deepest darkness.

Hycis saw little of it from his position near the head of the column. The elves had better night vision than their human enemies but a bright moon broke through the cloud to cover the landscape in a pale glow. Even so, the Iban attacks were cautious and only in great strength, as they probed forward. The darkness was no friend to anyone and more than a few soldiers were killed by their own side in the confusion.

For those elves able to move under their own power, the darkness was a blessing in disguise. They could see well enough to move with confidence along the narrow tracks and so a small distance eventually grew between the main body of the elves and that of the enemy. Those who could not walk any further were left behind. Hycis did not need to see what happened to know they would be killed when the Iban found them.

He wept in the darkness, his tears hidden from his soldiers and surviving sons by the veil of night. High General Neldor had entrusted Hycis with the best troops he could provide, and the best officers he had at hand. It had been a gamble and both elves knew it. The dice had come up against them. He ground his teeth even as he cuffed the tears from his cheeks. If he escaped, he would crush the Iba and leave none alive.

Perhaps it was that anger that sustained him through the cold of the night, wrapped only in his cloak and blood caked armour. What little food that remained was doled out among the bodyguard, Hycis insisting his soldiers eat before him. Their gratitude was pathetic to behold but he could not help but smile to himself. With such soldiers, he might have conquered the world.

The very first glimmer of pink on the horizon brought with it a new breeze tinged with the smell of salt. Hycis felt his heart surge. The sea! The exhausted refugees around him smelt it as well and their footsteps became more confident and they hurried forward. If they could make the coast, they might be able to march east to their ships. He did not think they were far. The coast in this region was one huge white sand expanse, it would not be hard to escape now.

The trees around him began to change now. They were getting shorter, more windswept, proof that the sea was not far away now. The dirt beneath his mounts hooves gradually turned from to sand and the moss of the forest to scrub grass. The cry of gulls and the thunder of waves upon the beach carried to him with the wind.

He paused, listening for any sound of pursuit. Silence, or the type of silence one could expect from thousands of shuffling feet. But there were no screams, no shouts, no clash of steel. Perhaps the Iban had turned back, or at least waited out the night. It had bought him some time. Perhaps enough to save this tiny remnant of his army.

“Make way for the General!” The shout preceded him as he rode through the throng toward the sea. The tired survivors parted willingly and he felt himself lighten with joy as the blue ocean at last replaced the endless forest.

White sand stretched out on either side of him as far as he could see and swarms of birds dove and darted above him. At first he thought that the beach was covered in small black rocks, some larger boulders beyond, and that puzzled him for he did not recall any such beach when they had sailed past here a few weeks before. Perhaps this was a deep bay he had not seen?

Then, with growing horror, he realized that the rocks on the beach were bodies and the black shapes out to sea were ships, great ships whose hulls jerked and shook beneath the waves that hammered them against the sand bars. A few broken masts rose from the water here and there, the ragged remains of sails flapping uselessly in the breeze. He recognized the shape of the hulls, the deep keels and long swept back sterns. He would never forget them.
He dropped from his mount, his thighs so chaffed her could barely walk, as he staggered down to the waters edge. A groan of despair escaped his lips. The dead who bobbed and jerked with the oncoming waves like grotesque marionettes were elves. Thousands of them, as far as he could see in every direction, the white sand covered in the lifeless shapes of the dead. It took him a moment to realize that some were humans, but they were few, so very few. He wanted to ask how. He wanted to scream, to kick his feet, to tear his hair.

An elf nearby was staring at the sky with a look of surprise on his face. A flatbow bolt stood had taken him under the chin, cutting his helmet strap in the process. The blue features were bloating already, soon he wouldn’t look much like an elf at all. Hycis, his hands in the sand, tears running down his face, finally looked up and out to see. Ships were rounding the headland, low ships driven by oars, and above them, snapping in the wind, were the red dragons of Akaiba. He had found the sea and it belonged to the enemy. He was trapped.

In The Shadow of Giants

September 48 BC - Lefkosia, Cyprus

---

Seiger balanced carefully on the gangway that had been set between trireme and stone quay. A heavy oaken barrel, filled with what smelt like ale, was balanced on one shoulder, the other arm straight out like a ships spare to provide some balance. The gangway was a replacement, little more than a plank, that had been fetched from the town after the main one had been accidentally dropped into harbour. It was still bobbing below next to the bodies of several dead rats and would remain there until the warship got underway.

He stepped quickly until he was in the middle of the plank, aware that his companions were watching him, more than a few hoping he might drop the wine. He paused and performed a small jig, hoots and shouts of encouragement coming as much from the auxiliaries and legionnaires on the as from the sailors above him on the high deck.

"Get a move on, you git." The Centurions growl finally cut short his foolery and he bounded up the plank to safely deposit his cargo on the deck where a sailor swept it up and vanished below decks. Seiger took a moment to look around at the harbour. The small white buildings with their tile patterned rooves still looked alien to him even after the better part of a year spent fighting in Iberia and Greece. He had to admit the whitewashed walls did wonders to keep the heat down. Even here, next to the water, it was impossible to completely escape the heat. It wouldn't be until the sun had dipped below the horizon that the cool wind would finally blow.

Beyond the harbour the hills rolled away into the islands interior. Life seemed so simply here. Till the earth, plant some vegetables, live your life in the sun, drink in the evenings and make love to your woman. It was a far cry from the blood and anger that had defined his life for so many years. Perhaps when his time was up, when he had served long enough to earn his slice of Roman dirt, he might come back here.

"Catch!" Seiger barely had time to brace himself before another barrel of ale slammed into him, sending him staggering back a pace, only just managing to manhandle the heavy container onto the deck. Kedrick grinned at him from where he had thrown the barrel, balancing on the centre of the plank. He now did his own impromptu version of a jig to the beat of several soldiers who banged wooden mallets on the side of the trireme.

"Bloody lucky you caught that." A sailor remarked as he took the second barrel from where it sat at Seigers feet. The German grunted an agreement, his arms tingled from where the heavy wood had hit him but he was impressed, it was no mean feat to throw such a barrel, let alone hit what you were aiming at.

Despite the antics of the Germans, the quay below as swarming with hundreds of soldiers and sailors as the fleet hurried to take on supplies. Caesar knew that his rival was only a few days ahead of him and bound for Egypt. The rumours in town were that Pompeii had sailed with only a few hundred men on a single ship. The harbour of Lefkosia, my comparison, was crammed with some two dozen big Roman warships whose crews owed their allegiance to Caesar. They carried just over a thousand auxiliaries and legionnaires with them. By Roman standards it was a small fleet, but to chase a defeated enemy, it was ideal.

"Make way! Make way!" The shout echoed down the quay in Latin, then in Gallic, and finally in German. The hive of activity opened to allow Caesar and his senior Centurions to move quickly down the stone, heads close together, hands gesturing as they walked. All saluted as they passed but none of the commanders noticed. The space they had created was swallowed up almost as quickly as it appeared. The shouting began again and a purpose seemed to reignite itself as Kedrick skipped onto the high deck.

"Looks like we might be on our way at last!" He grinned. Seiger returned the grin.

Styria: Years of Blood (Adult 18+)

Musselia

---

The Talinese camp had sprawled out across the hills that rolled and undulated about Musselia. The late summer grass, browned now beneath the heat and lack of rain, crunched beneath thousands of feet and a fine dust cloud seemed to hang over the camp everywhere a man looked.

Even the greatest of lords were not spared the inconvenience as Grand Duke Avidor found himself drawing small nothings on the top of a black leather chest. Someone else, possibly one of his footmen, had drawn a penis with testicles in the dust and he had chuckled quietly before wiping it away. An army with a sense of humour was an army that could win battles.

He has chosen his position carefully. The bulk of his army was a half hours march from the city near the river. This would ensure a steady supply of fresh water and hopefully everyone would remember to shit downstream. The city itself was vested with two sets of heavy siege works from which the sound of hammering and the curses of engineers alternated as several trebuchets began to take shape.

Cavalry crawled over the landscape beyond the walls, keeping messengers out as much as it did the garrison in. Several thousand civilians had tried to leave the city in the dawn but Avidor had ordered them to be driven back against the walls. It was better for the defenders to have to feed so many. The gates had not reopened however and the refugees, mostly women and children, now sheltered in the shadow of the wall. Soon they would begin to starve. But that was war.

He erased his own idle markings and stood. It was hot inside the tent, despite the time of year. The sun baked the earth much of the year here and only in the winter would the rains come. He still had time, and even then, Musselia could remain under siege for months for all he cared. His army had caught much of the fall harvest before it could be added to the cities granaries and his own soldiers ate well. The real trick would be avoiding disease that always seemed to appear where armies gathered.

A gust of wind rattled the canvas of the tent. It was his own small space, attached to the main command tent and separated from all that went on beyond by a heavy curtain. The entire structure took a dozen cattle to move and more than thirty men the better part of the morning to set up. The plain white canvas was dirty from the years campaigning - Avidor had never been one for wasting money on "gussying" things up. The tent, like his armour, was plain in appearance but of excellent quality. He had ordered the same man who had built his tent to outfit the army. It had cost a pretty coin but the gratitude of soldiers who could sleep dry at night even in the winter rains was worth far more than some silver.

He picked up his sword and slid it into the scabbard. A full length mirror stood near the curtain and he quickly checked his appearance to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything important. Satisfied, he swept the curtain aside and called for for his council.

In The Shadow of Giants

September 48 BC - Lefkosia, Cyprus

---

"Hurry up and wait..." Kedrick muttered the phrase for what must have been the tenth time, his voice partially muffled by the shield that he was using to shade himself from the hot midday sun.

There was an accompanying chorus of agreement that always greeted such a statement from the twenty or so other Germans and Gauls who were huddled in what little pools of shade they could find beneath olive trees or at the base of walls. Nearby, faces upturned to the heat were the Iberian and Romans legionnaires who made up the rest of the Century. All in all, some eighty soldiers were scattered about the olive grove in various positions of rest and self contemplation.

"Not you though, eh Seiger?" Kedrick continued. He could just make out the sandals of his friend from beneath the rim of the shield and knew that the huge blonde man was standing in the sun, likely staring around at the scenery.

"I'm bloody sweating, don't you worry." Came Seigers reply and his sandals shifted slightly, the butt of a spear knocking a small rock away with a tock. "But I have to admit, it's lovely not freezing my fruits off."

"Never have happened back home anyway, always some nice Gaulish girl willing to keep them warm with her...." Whatever else Kedrick was about to say was drowned out in a chorus of good natured hoots from the Gauls among them. Even the Iberians joined in, they tended to have more in common with their Celtic brethren than they did with the Germans and the rivalry never got old. It never failed to impress Seiger how the savage tribal rivalries that would have made bitter enemies back home now served a type of comic relief.

"Where do you suppose Old Julius is then?" One of the Romans growled when the shouts had quieted down. The olive grove that the Century occupied belonged to one of the islands more influential Roman families and it was rumoured they had given shelter to Pompeii in his flight. A dozen men had gone inside with Caesar while the rest remained outside to bake in the hot sun. Several thousand others bobbed at anchor among the ships whose masts could just be seen in the harbour below.

"Having a nice cool drink and shagging a slave while we die of thirst." Seiger replied. He was hot. His feet hurt, there was sand under his sandal straps, and even after months in these southern lands he was barely a darker shade of white then when he had arrived. More red than tan, if he was honest with himself. His scars did stand out something fierce however and he marvelled at how white and stark they suddenly seemed against his sun kissed flesh. In truth, they were far from thirsty. Julius Caesar took good care of his men, but it was in a soldiers nature to gripe.

"Heads up lads." Another German, almost as large as Seiger, was quickly climbing to his feet even as he jerked his head toward the villa. Two armoured Gauls had appeared on the step and one gave them a quick wave. The rest of the Century quickly scrambled to their feet and stood ready, weapons at hand. They had none of their usual travel gear, only armour and weapons, this was supposed to be a social visit. Several moments passed and then Caesar himself stepped out into the sun and his gaze swept across the waiting soldiers.

"Caesar!" As one the soldiers spoke his name and clashed their weapons against the front of their shields. He rewarded them with a smile and a nod of his head even as he gestured for a man to step out after him. The man could not have been more different than Caesars ramrod straightness and handsome features. He was older and his shoulders slumped like the branches of a tree beneath a heavy snow. The two spoke for a moment and every word seemed to cause the other to slump even further.

"Might get to burn something after all," Kedrick had moved up next to Seiger. The two were friends, equally tall and well muscled but where Seiger was blonde, Kedrick was a redhead. For the last six years they had served Caesar with a fanatic loyalty that been rewarded by four pounds of silver and and an appointment as part of his personal guard following the Battle of Pharsalus. "Been a while since we burned anything."

"No, I reckon not." Seiger said as Caesar turned away from his "host" and strode quickly to a waiting horse, swinging into the saddle with ease. He waved a hand toward the house, not bothering to see if the wilting man on the front step waved back or not. His horse moved into a walk as it headed toward the harbour.

"Move out!" Centurion Felix Cassia roared and the waiting soldiers quickly scrambled onto the roadway, forming a column of twos as they jogged after Caesar, their armour jingling with the movement. A small forest of spearpoints gleamed above their heads and despite the heat, they were all grinning. The hunt, it seemed, was not over.

In The Shadow of Giants

Name: Seiger

Born: 72 BC, Germania

Gender: Male

Occupation: Germanic Auxiliary in the I Germanica Legion

Appearance:



Seiger stands at 6'4 and weighs about 220lbs.

Background: Seiger is born of a Germanic tribe that closed tight upon the northern Roman border. His parents told him he was of the Teuton Tribe, a people that was largely destroyed by the Romans several hundred years before. He was recruited into Caesars Legions as an auxiliary to assist in the Roman war against Gaul and swiftly proved himself an able and skilled warrior. His Century recently took part in the Battle of Pharsalus and nows rides with Caesar as he seeks to overtake and capture his defeated rival, Pompeii.

Important Characters:
Kedrick (Germanic Auxillary - Seiger's friend) Intro
Centurion Felix Cassia (Seigers commander) Intro

Post Catalogue:
1. Caesar in Cyprus
2. Resupplying in Cyprus
3. First Sight of Egypt

Styria: Years of Blood (Adult 18+)

@Els, okay, after a proper read, I like it! Accepted, welcome to the RP.

@Trinais, I like it. Only note, sea trade is limited due to the Union controlling the seas around us and we kind of exits at their whim on the high seas. They're NPC and don't enter the picture much except when I think they're needed. With that in mind, accepted.

Please move your CS's to the characters tab.