As CJ forgot to announce the winner of ToTW 2, I shall do it for him.

The fuzz won with this epic story.

Quote Originally Posted by zznɟ ǝɥʇ View Post



Numidia. What foul mood filled Saturnus, to make him whither these lands so? The crisp and clear Mediterranean breezes of Africa and Carthage proper were long behind them--the army had progressed too far to the south and west. Instead, craggy rocks and rolling hills and mountains obstructed the bath. The air lost its clarity, and became choked with sand and dust and grime. It was mid-Quintillis, or at least it was likely to be such--most had forgotten what day it was in which month. Did it matter, even?

Battle was scarce here. The Numidians came as quickly as they went. And it was always on a rise. Always. The Romans made little use of scouts or spies, and every change in elevation was as good a place for an ambush as the next. After weeks of marching against a ghost army, the Republican army had finally found its prey. In all honesty, the discovery was just that--a discovery. A dust storm kicked up, and by the time it cleared, the Romans found themselves looking down upon the Numidian camp. The Numidians were just as surprised, it seems.

The battle began in a few hours. The Romans lost most of their advantage, but not enough of it to allow a Numidian victory. The Numidians were, of course, lightly armored and fast. They did not count upon the Romans being of the same speedy calibre.

A long march in extreme climes does strange things to a man. He either dies, or finds reserves of strength he did not know he posessed. Most die. And indeed, the Roman army that fought on that day was small. Yet the men who survived were strong and eager for battle.

It began with the usual exchange of missiles. Then the impatient centurions, eager for glory, urged troops forward. The useless legate bleated for his men to hold, to wait. But the men were through. They charged. The two armies met. War was strange that day. It seemed further away, as if the men were watching the battle from above. They were observers watching their brothers participate.

Soon the desert rose in protest. Sand and dust were flung about by the screaming wind, scraping flesh and shield alike. The sun's rays were distorted by the debris and it transformed into a dull, red ball. Apollo called for blood. They gave it to him, and to Mars, and to the desert.

Soon the Numidians were finished. They turned to flee back into the endless wastes of this land. How they could survive is anyone's guess, and another man's care. The Romans chased the Numidians for a short while, more for sport than for actually trying to catch them, and then gave up. Let the desert keep them. The Romans laughed to themselves. They were lost, low on supplies, and not likely to see home. But they had won a victory, pointless as it was. They would likely die out here, but they were happy--why?

A long march in extreme climes does strange things to a man, clearly....

Or perhaps just long marches?

Or perhaps just marches...




Or perhaps just war.