edit: unfortunately, imageshack sucks, i no longer have the images.
The year is 553 AUC and it would be quite the inaccuracy to call The Roman Empire a humble group of mere Italians. From the persistent stone walls of the city of Rome, its borders now stretched north to south from the tranquil Mediterranean coasts of southern Italia to the most brutal reaches of northern Britannia; east to west from the doors of the Black Sea in Thracia to the end of the world (western Hispania). It was extremely apparent that timidity and idleness had not taken residence in the higher seats of power governing Rome. Granted, its leaders had their differences-- as is the case in any flowering empire --, but the ambitions of the more influential families had always led them to believe all the world should take notes from this great ascent, this ever intensifying sculpture of an Empire that will someday make even the late Alexander’s conquest look like child’s play.
Shortly after pacifying the quarreling Greeks-- a nigh impossible task mostly due to several chaotic events, including the fact that the city of Sparta had to be retaken twice -- and establishing a firm hold of the terra firma south of the Danube, the settling conquerors were the subject of constant raids from many groups, most notably a cooperative effort of Illyrian-Thracian tribes and of course the odd contingent of Macedonian rebels protesting the Roman encroachment. Two different legions had been sent on campaign earlier that same year: the XXII Primigenia, led by Marcellus Junius, a budding yet brilliant tactician from one of the most prominent of the Roman families; the XII Fvlminata, extremely experienced veterans which have toured through Britannia and Hispania, recently assigned to the eastern frontier under the command of Lentulus Livius, the most decorated of Legates operating in Macedonia and Illyrium.
The Last Macedonian Stronghold
The 12th was specifically assigned to mop up what was left of Macedonian sovereignty, a region which was originally Thracian, now only recently annexed into their control. The main target? The colossal city of Seutopolis, previously a hub for many Thracian peoples and in the past a major northern trading partner of the Macedonians, now the only organized Macedonian bulwark left. The lack of artillery support netted a shortage in onagers in the area, and as a result Lentulus was forced to abandon his plan of quickly taking the walls, instead engaging in a battle of attrition. The siege was now underway…
Farther north, in the inferior part of the Moesia region, the 22nd was making much headway in extending Rome’s borders. Military tacticians back in Rome were expecting two different outcomes from the fall of this region: firstly, it would deny any southeastern expansion of the deadly Getae tribes, which at the moment posed the greatest threat in and around the Danube. This occupation would then lead to the consequential opening of a new front should there ever erupt a Roman-Getae war, thereby effectively creating new tactical opportunities. The major target in this region would be the city of Odessus, which the Proconsul in command erroneously expected to be protected by mere wooden walls. Not Marcellus, he had made the mistake of underestimating the enemy before, and he was determined not to needlessly lose more men, especially not because of some “half expectations” made by some pompous hog back in a comfortable palace, he thought.
An ominously cold wind swept down from the eastern mountains, perhaps only to be combated by the warmth of the marching blood in the men’s veins. After they had reached the climax of a grassy hill, Marcellus knew they would catch the sight of Odessus. As his horse rose over the slope, so did his brows rise. Standing yonder beyond the hill and upon a clearing was the Dacian tribe’s army, ready and defiant. They knew the Romans were coming.
The Dacians had decided to take the fight to Romans and they had clearly caught them off their guard, for most of the legionnaires were still in traveling columns. As the centurion asked for orders, Marcellus quickly looked around his surroundings and assessed the situation. It was no more than a few moments before a general retreat was ordered and the army descended back down the hill. He had decided to sacrifice the terrain advantage to allow for an organized formation farther down on the base of the hill. The young general knew the fierce Dacians would have taken chase after seeing them fall back, but just to arrest any doubt, he ordered one of the archers to fire a flaming arrow over the hill.
Soon enough and just as he had predicted, the Dacian tribe appeared over the horizon just as the Romans were forming up. The enemy seemed much swifter in their movements, the legionnaires barely managing a formation throughout all the rush while the auxilia in the back stumbled around, trying to deploy in a somewhat coherent fashion.
As the distance between the two shortened, the Dacians slowed down to a louder, more synchronized march. This makeshift stare-off happened to be the tensest and most nerve-racking part of any battle, the calm before the storm.
The difference in training, experience, and hardiness soon became clear; most of the auxilia line looked as if they had seen a ghost, while the legionnaires in front of them stood tall and calm. However, it seemed nobody was as harmonious as the detachment of cavalry alongside Marcellus; any true Roman would have recognized them: snow white vertical plumes and sinister black capes, the Praetorians.
Although their presence seemed to alleviate the throbbing worries of mostly the shaky auxilia, their mere participation in this battle did much for general morale. Marcellus himself was feeling a minimal amount of luck due to the fact that only a few select generals received Praetorian support in the form of a cavalry force.
The threatening marching sounds echoed throughout the valley for a good minute or two. During this time, Marcellus’s eyes had been scanning the ground that separated both forces. As soon as he felt the breeze cease to caress his face, he looked to his right and gave a nod to the archer centurion. Almost immediately, a new resonance was introduced to the battle orchestra: the sharp whistles of hundreds of arrows ripping through the air.
Marcellus had never been truly threatened by the speed at which the Dacians had advanced with. He knew it was mostly due to the fact that they wore a small amount of armor. Now it was their turn to feel threatened, as continuous barrages of arrows plunged into their first wave of infantry.
As they came closer, the tempo and volume of the battle increased. The cacophony and the mere sight of a multitude of javelins and pila soaring through the air had a psychological effect tenfold the amount of the Dacian’s march (which had now dissipated to nothing more than a weak clatter). This was only superseded by the combination of the physical wreckage and consequential screams caused afterwards. Half of the Dacian’s first wave was effectively decimated in under ten seconds.
As the rest of the first wave hesitantly charged towards the Roman line, there were a few who, although not having been injured, stopped completely or dropped to their knees at the sudden realization of what had just happened. Finally the lines had met, with the Romans initiating a well timed counter-charge at the last moment, being able to completely knock over many of the enemy spearmen with the sheer force of their shields.
Marcellus noticed their intent was to break through the center, but had then paused after the initial barrage of pila due to fear of being enveloped by the idle yet ready Roman flanks. After relaying orders to all the flank centurions to perform a general advance on his signal, he took advantage of the confusion that seemed to consume the rest of the Dacian army and led his entire cavalry force forward.
At this point, whatever was left of the first wave had turned around and started scampering back to the main army. The legionnaires chased them for a short distance and promptly returned to the formation.
Marcellus, along with the Praetorians, descended upon the Dacian cavalry guarding their wing. This unnerved the nearby Dii warriors which had been peppering the Roman lines with javelins.
The Dacian phalanx had finally been committed to the fight. Fighting the deadly Macedonian version had given the legionnaires an incomparable amount of confidence; as a result they were more than ardent to cast themselves into this weaker looking one.
The rest of the Dacian cavalry, keeping true to their intent of breaking through the center, crept up behind their phalanx and charged into the Roman line.
Even with the added pressure from the phalanx, the line held. As the remainder of the enemy cavalry retreated to attempt to help their allies, they met the Praetorians.
During the melee, Marcellus ordered the cornicen to signal the advance. A loud horn roared above the dissonance of the battle. It was then that both Roman flanks erupted into a sprint towards the center, quite a terrifying sight to the enemy.
The phalanx, along with the rest of the Dacian army, was almost entirely engulfed by the white Roman shields and started to whittle away.
Effectively ending what little resistance was left, the Praetorians leaped into the Dii warriors once and for all; their sheer mass crushing many of them instantly.
Marcellus simply exhaled as he watched the survivors fleeing back to Odessus. That day, the baneful colored sky seemed to almost emulate the body-littered ground.
As the Romans entered Odessus, literally unhindered except by sneers and glances, it was evident that the survivors of the battle had merged into the general populace. The usual protocol was established in setting up new governance and the revitalization of infrastructure. Any form of organized rebellion would be (hopefully) subdued by preemptive counter spying. A new front had been created, but the battle for the Danube had only just begun.
[RS AAR] The Danubian Watchword
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Originally Posted by Jingle_Bombs
Keep it up.
