Transalpini transgressi
flumen in insidiis
Battle Stage
Main Battle
The Gallic men were surrounded, in the pitch black, of a bitter stormy night, their enemies outnumbered them 2 to 1, and were better equipped, better organised and better prepared. But they weren’t as determined as the Gauls. They did not have the same bitter feeling towards their enemies as the Gallic men did, and they certainly did not share the same fanaticism which gave a man of Gaul the strength to fight on after all had given up.
The Roman groups had quickly taken advantage of the Gallic camp, using the narrow alleyways between tents, as funnels, to channel the Gauls into the centre, soon every gallic man was crammed into the centre of the campsite, waiting for the Romans to attack. The Romans, quickly encircled the centre of the camp. A thick battle line of men. Waiting for the order to attack, the Gauls sneering and growling at them from their position.
No matter how brave the Gauls are, these men were still scared, they were miles away, from home and family, driven to war by their Roman masters, they would now be driven to their deaths, thousands of miles away from all they had ever known. The moral was down, and this would count against them in the coming fight. The commander, seeing his men falter, took up a battle cry, in Gallic, one that set a fire in the men’s hearts, gave them hope “Honour in Death, Honour in battle” He shouted, the Gallic men fell silent, as they heard this new voice. “Honour in Death, Honour in battle” The commander roared again, saying his words to a simple beat. “Honour in death, honour in battle” He shouted again, this time his men started stamping their feet to his words “Honour in death, honour in battle” This time he was joined by other voices, he encouraged his men to start shouting. “Honour in death, honour in battle.” Again as the cries rang out, more and more joined, The chant became faster more gruesome. The Romans, started to get scared, none understood what was being said, but the enemy had become fanatical in their chants. That was when the Gallic commander shouted again, this time in Roman, adding another part to his cry. “Honour in death, Honour in battle, the Romans fear the Gauls.” As he shouted this, his entire army roared with uncontrolled rage at their enemy. Huge men, draped in the skins of fallen enemies, destroying the enemy morale before the battle was joined.
The Roman General seeing this, knew something must be done quick, his men would not last long, in the face of such barbarians, they needed to see their foe as being just as human as they were. He spoke to his men. “Pilums at the Ready.” As one six thousand Legionaries, raised their deadly spears. “Fire” The air became hot with thousands of metal spears thrown at once. The burst through the air in a vicious rain. Before falling upon the Gauls.
The Gallic army simply crumpled, spears impaled men through chests, arms, legs any body part unprotected would be subject to a horrible fate. Those left standing, a decimated force, looked shocked at the violence. Their battle cry died on their lips, as their brothers died by their feet. The Gallic commander, seeing his men falter, took matters into his own hands. He shouted “Brothers with me” Before drawing his huge Iron sword, and charging the enemy alone, he drove through the space between the forces, a lone warrior, his men looked shocked as their leader, ventured out alone, into the enemy line. The Gallic commander, cut through the roman shields and armour with his sword, splitting heads and bones. Breaking into the Roman midst. Blood and gore covered him head to toe and he revelled in it, dead soldiers piled high at his feet, and as he was slowly, but surely swamped by the Romans, he smiled, grinning, as they thrust their swords, into his unprotected body, yet he kept fighting, his fanaticism had pushed him over the edge of Sanity, and now where others would have died he kept fighting, until finally the Romans took him down.
The Remaining Gallic soldiers seeing this, their commander die for them, became shamed, by their lack of bravery, and their cowardice, and as one charged the already weakened ranks, slamming the full force of their bodies into the Romans line, the snarled and cursed the Roman scum, many became so enraged, they forgot about their weapons, and started gnawing at the enemy, using their teeth and nails as much as their swords and axes. They had gone berserk, a bloodlust had settled over them, coupled with no sense of safety, they ripped at the Romans. Yet this could not last, the entire Legion closed around them, and soon amongst piles of dead Romans, lay defeated Gauls, covered in wounds. After an hour of fighting. The final gaul fell. Still screaming and clawing as he entered the afterlife.
Severus surveyed the seen, he had heard of going berserk, but now he had seen it, he realised just how potent it could be. Yet he had won the day. The revolt was finally crushed, and transalpine Gaul was once again Roman.
Casualties Altogether