Winter 2013 Scriptorium Writing Competition - Themed Category Tiebreaker

[StealthFox]

We have a three-way tie here in the themed category for both 2nd and 3rd place! The entry with the highest votes will be awarded 2nd place, and the entry with the next highest votes will be awarded third place.

Please vote for your favorite entry. All rules still apply. Voting will close Wednesday, March 27th.

Happy voting and good luck to all!

A Call for War - Entry #8

A Call for War I awoke to the smell of ash. A cold breeze brushed across my face,filling my senses with the smell of burnt flesh. My vision blurred as my eyes began to adjust to the glaring light. My head throbbed, my body ached... I couldn't focus my mind. What happened... Where am I? Alfwin? Fridumar? Only silence answered me as I slipped back into unconsciousness. A cough racked my lungs and jolted me awake. I sat up a bit too quickly and nearly fell back over from dizziness. I shook it off and forced myself to stand. Once my vision cleared... I wished I had been blinded. All that was left of my village was gone. My childhood was left in ruins, torched along with my friends and family. It all came back now... Soldiers. They came from nowhere, like a mist from the sea. They marched in to my village, speaking in a harsh tongue that I could not understand. The elder came to greet them; he was given as word to the gut. From there, my memory fades.... As soon as I awoke, I made haste to the east. Our tribe had not been under the Suebi's protection and the Romans took advantage of that. Our land was scorched, our women and children enslaved and our men – including my father – all slain. How I managed to survive, I am unsure. I knew my lands were no longer safe. The Suebi to the east were an alliance of the most powerful tribes in Germania, and I knew that they would be able to satisfy my hunger for revenge. I ran quickly through the dense underbrush of the Hercynian forest, as I knew the Romans wouldn't be far. If I were to be discovered it would mean the torture and inevitable death of me. I continued to flee until night fell. I could run no longer, and I set about searching for a form of shelter. I came upon a mighty oak tree whose roots had risen through the topsoil. It shown through the dark night like a beacon. I felt a powerful presence drawing me closer. I moved cautiously towards it,like a stag watching for danger. Beneath its mighty trunk, its roots had separated and moved the earth, forming a hollow large enough to fit several people. I crawled in and immediately felt the mighty oak's protection. I laid down amongst the soft sod and slipped into a deep slumber. I awoke to the sound of voices. A harsh tongue echoed back and forth through the trees – the very same tongue I had heard in my village.I crawled silently to the opening of the roots and peered out. Not more than fifty paces ahead of me was the Roman army. They must be moving against the Suebi...I must warn them. Before I could move a small contingent of soldiers began to walk towards me. My breath froze in my chest. They stopped a few paces from my hiding place and began conversing. They spoke quietly amongst each other, and I recognized their language. They were members of the Batavi, whom we had traded with many times. Why would the Batavi be among the Romans...? I shrank back into the hollow. I must warn the Suebi. I must. I then noticed something heavy around my neck. I clutched at my chest and felt a small wooden hammer - a Donar's hammer. This...the power I felt... Could this be Donar's Oak? My mind raced with questions, however I had little time. I slipped out from under the roots and snuck away into the misty morning. Every twig snap, every rustling branch jolted my senses and sent adrenaline running through me. I was ready to run into the Batavi scouts at every turn. I knew that I must travel quickly and quietly and reach the Suebi before they do, or my chances of survival – and the entire alliance – would die. As I rushed through the primeval forest, I couldn't help but feel very alive. I had grown up under these beautiful trees; running, hunting and playing with my father and brothers. I was as much of a son of the forest as I was my own parents. I felt my body changing as I bounded over the green ferns,over fallen trees and mossy ground. I ran as the wolf, leaping and flying through the misty woodland and rocky streams. As the forest grew less dense, I heard voices and laughter echoing through the trees. I crouched, and crawled up a nearby ridge. I peered over and there were the Batavi warriors. "Bite your tongue, you dog," one warrior complained, "She was not a wench!" The others laughed and clapped him on the back merrily.The soldier in the front of the group turned around and glared at them. "Be silent you fools. Do not forget where we are," he growled quietly. He was clearly the leader of the pack; he was much taller than the others, and very well built. Scars lined his jaw and cut into his cheek. He was experienced to say the least. I can't get past them...I didn't know what my next move would be. My inner voice told me to turn and run, but to be a coward was to go against the gods. I noticed slow movements through the trees. Unknown to the Batavi, they were being stalked. Dark figures moved silently through the mists. At first I believed them to be wolves or forest spirits – however,three materialized from the mist barely thirty feet from me. They were warriors, painted completely black and wielding wicked framea and swords. They creeped closer and closer to their unknowing victims, waiting for the right moment to pounce. My heart seemed to slow down in anticipation, when a naked sword pressed lightly against my neck. "Getup," a voice whispered in my ear, "or I'll slit your throat right here." I recognized the thick Batavian language and slowly rose to my feet. "Hey, we have a spy over here!" He called out to his comrades. The black figures had disappeared, and I wondered if I had gone crazy. He shoved me over to his companions with his sword to my back and laughed wickedly. "Found this jogethe watching us. I don't know what he was doing but I say we have some fun with him..." He laughed again. His laugh was cut short, however, when a framea pierced through his throat. He gurgled and fell to the ground. Before I knew what I was doing I grabbed his sword from his dead hand. Time slowed down and I moved as if I did not have control over my body. My left hand thrust into one warrior's jaw and my sword drove through his abdomen. As quickly as it went in, I pulled it out again only to slash across one of his companion's throat. The black stalkers were back, and descended upon the Batavi. Within minutes every single member of the scouting party lay dead. The warriors circled me with spears raised. They stood, silently watching me – daring me to make a move. "Lower your weapons," a deep voice commanded.They did as ordered, and moved aside as a tall man strode into the middle of them. His fierce blue eyes looked into mine and demanded my attention. "What is your name, boy?" His voice filled my head; it reminded the crush of a waterfall. "Gaufrid... My name is Gaufrid, of the Usipii."I felt as if his eyes were burning into my soul. "You've entered the lands of the Ermundeurjoz.You are clearly not one of them," he pointed at the Batavian bodies, "so what are you doing here?" My voice choked as if something blocked my throat."I... have come to join the Suebi." The man chuckled. "You think you have what it takes? Why do you wish to join our alliance?" His face grew serious as he saw the look of grief that tore across my face. "The Romans burnt my village to the ground... My entire tribe is dead. I want revenge." "You have a natural killing talent. That, you have shown me. However, you need training. You need an education. You need a family. Welcome to the Suebi, Gaufrid. You have bathed in the blood of your enemies. However, Gaufrid is not a very warrior name... From now on,we shall call you Ansuharjaz.It means "warrior of the gods" in our language. This I see from your necklace..." His eyes looked approvingly at the pendant on my neck. "Come now, little Ansu. We shall take you to the halls of the Samanonz." With that, we began our journey north. During our travels I learned much from the warriors. They were of the Harjaz tribe, brought from the east to protect the border. Their leader was named Heruwulfaz, which meant "Sword wolf" in their language. They taught me how to move silently through the trees like an animal – as they called it, "wolf walking". Hunting and ambushing were part of their daily lives, and I learned more and more each day. We traveled over mountain and through forest for several days, with the Harjaz spirits growing brighter and brighter. We reached a hill crest and there in front of us lay the Suebian burg of Luppfurdum. Some of my new friends gave a mighty whoop and leaped for joy. As we ran down the hill a horseman approached us. "Heruwulfaz, you old fool, good to see you!"The rider exclaimed as he leaped off his horse. "Harkilaz! You dog, come here," Heruwulfaz replied as he gripped his friend in a tight embrace, "How have you been?" Harkilaz smiled grimly. "I'd be much better if not for that bit of news you sent us. The King wants to see you. Bring your small friend as well." My heart leapt into my throat. King Marobod... This can't be good. As we traveled into the city I was in shock at how large it was. I had seen several hill forts in my time with my father, but none of this scale. As we walked through the packed earthen streets I looked around at the large houses and buildings that looked as if they were carved from a forest itself. The whole place felt... alive. However, I noticed something strange. There were next to no merchants throughout the town – no marketplace, few civilians, only a blacksmith here and there. That's when I realized that this was a completely military fort. Not long after I realized that, we came into view of the large wooden palace in the center of the city. We entered the great halls, and walked across the full chambers. Every warrior in the hall watched us with wary eyes. As we approached the middle of the halls, the warriors parted way to let us through. In the center sat a beast of a man. When he caught sight of us, he stood up and clapped his hands. He beckoned for us to follow him, and retired into his personal chambers. We followed suit. "Heruwulfaz... Thank you for warning me. You have saved our lives – all of us are still alive because of you. But we are not out of this yet. Tell me everything you saw." And so, for a half hour Herulwulfaz explained his story. He told of how the Romans almost stumbled upon them and how they escaped. He told about how they watched the Romans, and followed them along. Then they told the story of how they found me and my induction into their warband. The king then heaved a great sigh. "So... You wish to be one of us. Heruwulfaz vouches for you; you have been blooded. So, you will not go through the many rites of passage that most warriors do. We do not have the time. I give you this spear and shield, to aid you in what is to come. You will need it. Now, it is time for us to plan our attack..." With that, he called for several of his commanders to come in the room. They sat down and looked at him worriedly. His brow furrowed as he spoke. "They have superior numbers and training... We will not defeat them in an open battle. Therefore, we must hit them before they realize it. We must take that advantage and use it against them. First, we must send one of our women-folk screaming into their camp, crying for help. If she can lead them towards us, or send them in our direction, they will not bother being fully prepared. From there, Aragisalaz will take a division of our cavalry and skirmish with them. Don't make contact, just pepper them with framea and arrows. Be wary of any Batavi cavalry they might have. Their heavy horses will be of little use in the dense forest compared to your much lighter, more agile horses, but ensure they do not catch you unaware. Lead them along the Bode river – we will stop them at the end of the gorge. We will be there to stop them before they can get back into formation. We will have archers positioned on each side of the cliffs, so while they are trapped in such a tight formation, we will let loose upon them. Heruwulfaz, you will take your Harjaz, some dugunthiz and some of my finest bear-shirts. Follow behind the Romans, and when they are trapped – attack. They will not know what to do. Ansuharjaz, you will follow Harkilaz and his men. They are fine warriors and will make sure you gain your first true kill. Perhaps we will have a place for you in my warband one day. When the battle is done, Heruwulfaz will be your shield-brother. Now," he clapped his hands and stood up, "Is the time for rest. We must be prepared. Tomorrow, we attack." I went to my new bed and laid down. This is the first time that I've slept in a bed in many days... I made myself comfortable and grabbed my spear and shield. I admired their craftsmanship thoroughly; as the son of a blacksmith, I ought to know good iron when I see it. Although this wasn't the best, it was still good enough. The spearhead was jagged and sharp – more than deadly enough to kill. Its shaft was neither short nor long, but wonderfully balanced. The grip made it clear that this was not a simple stabbing weapon, that it could be used in many other ways. Heruwulfaz approached me and nodded towards a nearby bed. "Mind if I stay next to you, little Ansu?" I smiled at the new nickname, and shook my head. He smiled back."That's a wonderful spear, is it not? We Suebi know how to make a good weapon. Have you ever used a spear before?" I nodded. "My father allowed me to test his weapons when I was young." Heruwulfaz let out a chuckle. "Testing weapons is not using them in battle or training to do so, my little brother. Allow me to show you." He stood up quickly with a spark in his eye and grabbed his own spear. "The spear... Do not think of it as a piece of wood. It is simply an extension of your arm – the blade is your hand, the wood is your arm. You may swing , or stab, or slash. Spin around to keep from being surrounded by your enemy. But most of all," he looked me dead in the eyes and stopped, "Remember that the weapon is a part of you. It is only as strong as the resolve of the one using it." He laughed again, and laid down to sleep. I pondered a bit, but realized it was time for me to rest as well. I laid my head down and immediately drifted off in thoughts of tomorrow. However, I was jolted awake by a quiet thud, and a soft voice cursing in the dark. Nearly silent footprints walked very near by to me, and I knew that there was nothing good about that sound. I stood up and grabbed my spear. I didn't bother with my sword or shield. It was time to test Herwulfaz's training. I bent down, almost to all fours, and creeped along the wooden floor. If I made noise, I was unaware – I was too focused. I followed the footsteps until it reached the doorway to the king's bedroom. I could make out a hooded figure now, and the glint of steel as a sword was unsheathed. The figure slipped inside the bedroom, and I followed suit. As I crawled in the door, I saw the figure raise its sword above its head, and prepare to slay the sleeping king. I let loose a fierce cry and charged the figure. It startled and turned to face me... Only to have my spear thrust through its chest and sprout from its back. The king, awoken by my cry, immediately lit a torch."Ansuharjaz... What's going on?" He said sleepily. I nodded and dropped the limp body to the ground. "He's dead my king... You are safe." Marobod reached forward and lifted the cloak off of the figure and shook his head. "One of my most trusted thanes...I knew this would happen someday. Perhaps there is place for you in my warband after all, Ansu. Will you join it?" I laughed and retorted, "Wouldn't I be a fool if I said no?" And with that, I slept by the king's side. Marobod kept true to his word. By the first light of day we had traveled several miles through forest to reach where he had spoke of. Where the Harz mountains met the hills, we lay in wait. King Marobod sent forth the bait, and we waited for what seemed an eternity. Then we heard it. A woman's voice screaming, and harsh shouts echoed through the mountains. Aragisalaz gave a whoop, then rode forward with his cavalry along the river. Still we waited – however, now time seemed to be moving too fast. I was starting to sweat; my shield arm weakened, my legs threatened to crumble. Marobod looked at me with his cold blue eyes and smiled – the first time Ihad seen him do so. It made his eyes much more welcoming to see the wrinkles of kindness along his brow. He moved closer to me, clasped a massive hand on my shoulder and whispered words that I will never forget; "What the gods have brought forth in you... Let no man ever destroy." With that, my grip on my spear tightened. I felt all the hair stand on my body as I readied myself for the war cry. I could feel myself starting to slip away, and I knew that I had found the warrior's bloodlust. "Be ready men. They will be coming soon,"Marobod said quietly. We could hear the shouts of men getting closer,as well as the thunder of a thousand feet marching. Suddenly, Aragisalaz's horsemen burst from the river canyon, riding for their lives. No more than a few moments later, the Roman army appeared. Marobod stood up and shouted, "Loose your spears, men!" The Romans appeared stricken with confusion as hundreds of spears flew into their unready formations. A dull growl began resounding in Marobod's chest; it soon became contagious as it grew into a massive roar coming from each of the Suebian warriors. I found my mouth open and air escaping from my lungs in a force that I had never felt before. Marobod lifted his sword, and daringly charged his enemy. His entire army followed suit. The battle flashed before my eyes. It had gone exactly as Marobod had planned, to the disbelief of every one of his thanes and commanders. Every Roman who stood and fought died with a sword or spear thrust through them; every man who attempted to flee into the Bode river was drowned in his heavy armor. Before I knew it, they were all gone. None were left to flee, and few had laid down their weapons. Their commander attempted to break through our lines to escape death – but after his legionaries were slaughtered he was ripped apart by the hoards of Suebi warriors who surrounded him. In our frenzy we hung his body parts from a lone oak tree as a sacrifice to Donar, and left his head on a pole underneath it. My energy drained away like water and my vision began to fade. I collapsed in a heap of sweat and blood.

The Long War - Entry #9

The Long War The Long War (This is Historical Fiction) (The story is told from both sides) There we were, standing alongside a man who crossed over the alps with an army that numbered in the thousands. A man who they said could move mountains with his will. A man they said never knew defeat. A man named Hannibal. (At the Carthaginian camp near Ticinus) “I know the Commander is competent” said a disgruntled Mercenary solider. “But why did we need to bring these stinking Gauls with us!” he said then spat in the fire. “If we die tomorrow, which is more than likely, I hope they all come with us” And with that he left. As I thought over what he said while sitting there, a firm hand patted me on the back. The face of the man looked bitterly scarred and with a forehead deep with memories. “Yep I know that look, self pitying and last minute prayers to the gods… my name is Philosir.” “I am Yaroah” “Listen boy, I have been with Hannibal Barca his brothers and their father in many battles, and one thing is certain…they know what they are doing." The look in his eyes were serious, that of a man who has seen death’s door and decided not to open it. I still was not too sure about it all as I had never seen battle before; my unit was either too late to the fight or in the reserves. I told him as much and he decided to show me some of his tricks to keep alive for the next day of battle. He said if I lived long enough he would keep training me. (In the Roman camp) “It is true…I have done things I am not proud of…but I do it for Rome. I am a legionaire and I live and die for Rome. I remember the days when I first started fighting for this bloody army. Day in, day out, exercise and drills is all we ever seemed to do. When battle came, we killed the enemy, took loot, sent it to Rome and back to work again. I am sick of it. I am sick of killing and destroying for some fool of a Senator’s ego” “Haha… Amatus you never change!” My friend Seius seems to almost enjoy it. Friends are valued in the Army. They seem to die too quickly though. “Lighten up! Tomorrow we kill some Barbarians then go to a nearby Roman city as heroes! Doesn’t that sound like it is worth a few thousand illiterate pig’s blood to you?” “Perhaps,” I was done arguing. Besides it was my shift as sentry. I wonder if this Hannibal is any different from the other Commanders. “It is so cold” I said out loud. Philosir looked at me with a grin, “good, then you will not die of heat in the battle” “Is this going to be as bad as they say it will be?” “No…worse” The Romans are moving their columns forward across the river at an eased pace. They seem to think that we will break just as any other foe to their Nation would. “They will be proved wrong,” I thought to myself. “FORWAAAAARD!” shouted the Centurions up and down the line. I have seen this move a thousand times and I will probably see it a thousand times more. Once again, into the large lump of enemy Barbarians and then begins the slaughter. Or so I thought. CRAAASH! The loud deafening clang of steel in my ears once more. Now on to our bloody business. I do not know why, but I always look forward to that noise…I guess that is why I am a soldier. (side Carthage)Man after man falls down in front of me. I see that I am going to get my first taste of combat! The roman wall seems unstoppable, it keeps coming no matter how many fall. I took my sword and gathered all the bravery I could and thrust my sword into the face of an enemy soldier who was coming with the wall of steel and flesh! When I saw he did not get up something woke up in me and I was not sure what happened after, but the next thing I knew I was falling backwards past several fallen comrades. I looked up and there a Roman soldier was ready to thrust his gladius into me. Is this it? Just Then, Philosir appeared and rammed his shield into the approaching Roman soldier who fell backwards and disappeared into the crowd of soldiers. Looking at Philosir, I said, “Things are not going too well are they!?” He looked at me and just when he was about to answer a large group comes charging from the far right side of our line! At its head is none other than General Mago Barca’s detachment! This must have been an ingenious plot set by Hannibal! The Romans realize just how unmatched they are and turn to run. It is almost too late, but they manage to escape with a salvageable force. General Scipio himself was at the brink of death on the field and would have been killed or worse if not for his son riding out to save him! It was unthinkable. We lost. The words seemed to be on the lips of all who were there…yet none said the awful words that would befoul ones lips if it escaped. Roman blood had failed… “CURSE THOSE SWINE!” That was something one rarely saw…Seius losing his temper “THE NEXT TIME WE MEET THEM WE WILL CUT OUT THEIR THROATS AND HANG IT OUT TO DRY IN THE LATIN SUN FOR ALL THE CHILDREN TO SING SONGS OF THOSE FOOLS WHO OPOSE US!” “Calm down” and he did. My words seemed to always take more effect no matter the number of them. “We will get them next time, how long can Hannibal last anyway. It would take a miracle for him to win against any larger a force.” “I hope our right Amatus. I PRAY you are right.” ...I wasn't. HANNIBAL! HANNIBAL! HANNIBAL! The joy that day was enormous. Hannibal personally congratulated us. Although we won…I felt as if I lost something… I lost who I was before. “I am a killer” No said Philosir. “You are a soldier.” “I think you were right when you were talking about these Barcas’ they do know what they are doing” “It seems to run in their blood” he said “You mean it seems to run with the Roman’s blood” I said with a grin. With a hearty laugh we went back to celebrating. It was there that I saw Hannibal staring out in the distance…as if looking right into the Romans eyes saying…I am coming. Looking at him I said, “I think this Hannibal is going to be greater than any of us think…” “I hope you are right boy” I was... Hannibal’s name was soon one to be feared…battle after battle he destroyed the Romans on their own home land. Hannibal managed to destroy the entire army of Gaius Flamininius Nepos, who died himself that day at the battle of Lake Trasimene. Although the Romans were unsuccessful on land, they were in the water at the naval battle of Ebro. The latter battle resulted in many Iberian tribes to rise up in an attempt to overthrow the Carthaginian Yoke. Hannibal seemed to be unable to be caught and when you found him, it was because he wanted you to. He seemed to always have answer to his problems, but growing discontent within the ruling parties of Carthage upset by his popularity attempted to hamper his progress. Despite these victories and triumphs for Carthage there was NOTHING …like Cannae. “Yaroah! Are you ready for the battle?” “I hope so, i will do my best for Carthage.” “I have heard the reports…the Romans come with 86,000 men” “Yes, but our 50,000 are favored by the gods. How else could we survive this long?” The Carthaginian troops took their position and awaited the command to attack. “It is clear to me,” said Consul Varro to Consul Paullus, “That this Hannibal is not as smart as we thought, or Scipio was just that stupid,” retorted Paullus. “He always was a brash one, perhaps it would have been better for him to just die at Ticinus.” “Anyway enough idle chat. “said Varro “We move forward with the standard triple layer frontal assault. Make sure to have the principes behind the hastati troop” “Very well, Varro I will have out allied cavalry to attack their barbarian cavalry.” Varro gave him a quizzical look “Do not underestimate the Numidians they live by the horse” Paullus left to give the orders leaving Varro to think to himself. “The game is over Hannibal” He said with a smile. The Romans were expecting the typical barbarian charge met with scutum shields and the gladius. What they received however, was a wedge shaped Carthaginian formation composed of individual blocks of troop. “So Yaroah!” Yelled Philosir smiling from the far right of his line. “Ready to see if these Romans have the same color blood as the others!” With a smile I replied “Just stay alive old man!” “HAHA I think I just might do that boy!” The lines Crashed with a now familiar sound to the Carthaginian side. However, things were not as planned for the Romans. Instead of a frontal attack and a cavalry assault, the Carthaginians continually spread their lines forcing the Romans into a concave shape and almost destroying the order of their carefully placed lines! The Carthaginians sent 2 detachments of infantry, one to each side of the Romans to assault the rear of the Roman lines! While at the same time, the Roman cavalry that was busy fighting the skilled Numidian cavalry was attacked in the rear by Gallic and Spanish horsemen belonging to Hannibal! Once the Roman Cavalry was destroyed, The Carthaginian horsemen led a charge right into the small opening behind the Romans completely entrapping them (a type of hammer and anvil maneuver). What took place next would be recorded as the greatest slaughter of Roman troops ever until the battle of Arausio. In total, only around 3,000 Romans survived the 2 hour ordeal. Consul Paullus himself fell with his soldiers. “I do not know to call this a victory or a massacre, but I am still proud to have fought and won alongside such brave soldiers.” Yaroah said with Pride to Philosir and his Comrades. Cheers were going up throughout the camp… Hannibal has done the impossible again. Despite this great victory for Carthage, more battles were to come and they would bring death and destruction to both sides... 12 Years Later… “12 years… 12 long years and we seem to barley be making progress” “Always the pessimist, eh Amatus? The tide has turned in this war! Can you not see?! We have beaten the Carthaginian navy and their army. All that is left for them is Hannibal and that blasted city Carthage! We even drove Hannibal out of our Homeland finally!” I looked at him and was going to tell him that was not what I meant by progress, but I could see he was a lost cause. This war would never end as long as one of our nations were alive. “Drove him? Nothing drove him out he left! He probably left to reinforce his home front against us. I hear that the reason he was not getting supplies so often was not because of us, but because of jealous politicians in his beloved city.” I scoffed at him. Seius was a soldier at heart, he could not see the bigger picture as me and I could not blame him. The army was all he ever knew. We are going to set sail straight to the Carthaginian heartland. We would land at Utica and gather as many mercenaries and defectors as we could. Then we would keep moving towards their capital until they faced us. Zama, this is where the Armies met to decide the fate of the war that would decide the fate of the known world. It is said that Scipio and Hannibal met before the battle. The respect between these men was evident in the writings of old historians who said for a long while the stood there and marveled at one another. “Amatus ,” said Seius, “let us give these old scholars something to write about” I turned to him and replied “I think we might actually win this. This Scipio seems more patient than his father. Ha! they still talk about how he had to save his father at ticnicus, it seems his father will never live it down.” “Speaking of living watch yourself out there Amatus” Seius said. “Likewise my friend” “Yaroah I do not like the look of the sky… it looks forboding” “Ha you always say that Philosir” “I am serious this time…be careful out there boy” said Philosir. “Stop worrying about the sky, it doesn’t know anymore than we do. Hannibal has brought us victory this far hasn’t he? Good luck old man” The Roman lines were still and waited for Hannibal to make the first move, which he did. Hannibal sent his elephants to assault the Roman lines and destroy their order and to make openings in their lines for his troops. The Romans responded by sending out their own skirmishers to disrupt the elephants. At the same time Scipio had ordered his cavalry to blow their horns loudly to shock the elephants into rampaging. It partially worked. Disordering the left wing of Hannibal’s troops completely, the rest of the elephants were set to charge forwards. Scipio simply ordered his men to open ways for the elephants to run through which worked to perfection and the Romans where able to deal with the Elephants in the rear of his army instead of in the middle of it. “Not bad, eh Amatus? Looks like Scipio saved us from a stomping” “I wouldn’t get my hopes up just yet they still have their cavalry,” I told him. Just as I finished speaking I saw our Cavalry meet the Carthaginians at all sides of the battle…we would hold. The Roman cavalry engaged the Carthaginians cavalry before they could attack the rear of the Romans as well. Hannibal still had another trick up his sleeve. His veterans’ who were at the back of the 3 layers Carthaginian line. He hoped to save them until the end game of the battle, but he lost that opportunity to save his best, when the relatively new first and second line of infantry began turn and run after meeting the Roman lines. The Carthaginian Cavalry retreated as well leaving only his veterans’ to stand and fight. The veterans’ fought the Romans to a standstill, until the Romans moved all their cavalry to slam into the rear or the Carthaginian troops! They would be slaughtered. “THIS DOES NOT LOOK GOOD PHILOSIR”I yelled to him just as I finished off another Roman attacker. The sky darkened a bit, we looked up to see hundreds of pila fall down upon us.I managed to survive the deadly barrage…Philosir has not so lucky.Time seemed to stop still, as i saw that he had taken a pila into his chest. He looked at me and said “Told you I saw something Hah ha *cough* *cough* haaaaaaaaa….” “Rest in peace old man. You earned it” I managed to escape what followed. Of the 51,000 Carthaginians in the battle, 20,000 died 20,000 captured.Of the 40,000 Romans…2500 killed. SCIPIO!SCIPIO!SCIPIO! “HA! I tell you I never saw a mans’ eyes bulge out like when I stabbed that dog in the chest before!” Laughter filled the camp as Seius told his rather revised account of his number of killings, but it is something all soldiers do so I just enjoyed in it as much as anyone else. “Seius I do not think they will be able to get back up from this one heh maybe you were right. Maybe this war is going to finally end.” It did, when Carthage sued for peace. The condition? Carthage dissolved its army and entered a state of bankruptcy (though ironically it was able to recover due to the lack of an army to pay for). The Carthaginians also would not be able to have a military fleet. It also would not be able to wage war without the permission of Rome. We were sailing back to Italy months later and away from this accursed country. The war was over for now. It felt as though this was just a break. Just as I was musing to myself Seius came up to me. “So Amatus the Carthaginians are finished *sigh* I waited so long to say those words. You think it will last?” I stood there staring at the fading land that is the African Desert I told him what I said before “It will never be over. Not until one of us is no longer on this earth. You can destroy an army, but to kill a people… a legacy. THAT is impossible”. All rights to this story is reserved to the Author.

Aquila Invicta - Entry #15

Aquila Invicta Aquila Invicta Castrum Invicta, 120 A.D. North of the Italian Peninsula His eyes opened, pupils dilating slightly to adjust to the misted light that swirled above his head. It was early morning, and it was cold, watching in odd delight as the hairs rose on his right hand. Slightly amused, Baetio rose up from the cramped position he slept in at the base of the stockade. With the golden pommelled gladius at his hilt, he grinned and frowned as he stretched his limbs in the shadow of the wooden tower gate. Baetio inhaled and held his breath. For a couple of moments his eyes drifted over the palisade, eyeing a low-lying valley nestled between the forested hills of the land north of the Italian peninsula. All he could see from the upper level of the stockade was the edge of a sea of dark green. Thick fog glided above his head and into the valley, blurring everything that was in the distance. Baetio frowned. He hated this constant fog. He turned on his heels and descended a flight of stairs to the middle level of the parapets, tapping his gladius against the coifs of the two watchmen sleeping beside the staircase. “Wake up.” One of the watchmen groaned. “They're here?” “Not yet, but they will be, especially with this fog,” replied Baetio. The half Carthaginian descended the last flight of stairs and stepped through the compound itself, wrapping the red Roman cape around his broad shoulders. It was too cold for him, born in the scorching months of Julius, but he got used to it somewhat by now. It's been two months they were stranded in this cramped space and there was still no sign of a relief army. It had been dark most of the times, surrounded by this haunted forest, and above all they were alone. They were still probably the finest warriors Rome had at that moment. But they were only ten, and they had only been ten. Baetio stepped on the soft earth with firmness as he paced towards the armoury, sliding past carts, wheelbarrows, swords, javelins, bits of armour and other supplies that they were too lazy to store in their designated places. The armoury, nothing more than a dining hall that housed their weapons, was warm and welcoming as he stepped inside. A delicious smell of soup wafted in the air, except that all four of his Roman brothers were sleeping soundly in their straw beds. He unceremoniously woke them up but omitted to wake the women who slept in the opposite corner. Baetio felt he did not want to disturb them. Stepping away from the armoury, Baetio circled the compound and screamed for their last companion, guided by the orange hue of dawn. He found Zyraxes, the Dacian, in a corner of the camp, resting beside his curved falx with his hands cupped in prayer to his forgotten God. Baetio knew better than to disturb him so he tapped his falx and walked away, leaving Zyraxes to his ardent prayers. Satisfied all of his companions were awake, he returned to the fortified walls and climbed to the top level of the stockade. “Cold, is in not, Baetio?” Baetio nodded, his black eyes gleaming in the mist. “Cold.” “They're coming, aren't they?” Baetio nodded. “Yes, they're coming. Wulfila's coming, and he's coming soon.” A low rumble echoed behind them as Julius, Baetio's second-in-command, climbed up the wooden stairs. Of middle height but built like an ox, he contrasted Baetio's tall and lean figure by making up in width what he lacked in height. He saluted Baetio with a quick nod of his head and tapped the helm of the watchman, Flavius. Julius flanked the guard and brought the velite shield to his girdle to protect his thorax as he leaned against the wooden wall. “Get your javelins ready, Julius.” “...and make sure you throw each one of them correctly. I heard that before, Baetio, but I hope this time they will have the courage to show up.” Baetio smiled. “They already did, just listen.” Julius turned to his commander, closing one eye in scepticism. “How are you so sure?” “Listen.” At first it was faint, but as the minutes went past it grew from an almost absent rumble to a cacophony of sounds, booms and yells that overlapped each other. It came from the fog, lost in the thickets of the dense forest that lurked for many miles in front of their compound gate. Baetio clutched his gladius tighter, mirrored unknowingly by Julius and Flavius who rose their small velite shields to their chests. A war horn echoed once through the fog, echoed twice and then thrice, raising more than a couple of hairs down their spine. They eyed the milky mist in agony, straining to see even the faintest outline of an enemy warrior. But they were not there, at least not in their line of sight. Julius scraped his shield against the stockade. “We're ten, they're more than one hundred.” Baetio nodded. “We all kill 10 each and we've done our duty. I hope you've learned your Greek mathematics, Julius.” “How about we count dead bodies instead of living barbarians?” Baetio chuckled. “That too, once we're done with Wulfila and his friends. Flavius, stay here and warn us. Julius, down with me, we have a plan to finish.” Leaving Flavius to the bitter cold of the sweeping wind, Baetio and Julius retreated to the warmth of the armoury for a final approach. Inside the armoury, in the midst of the dining table, the golden eagle of the legion stood proudly, engraved with the names of each and every one of them. They were ten, a little legion of elite Roman soldiers, tasked to stall the advance of Wulfila's own elite troops marching to hammer the defences north of Mediolanum. A barbarian captain from the Germanic forests, his attacks were coordinated with the help of his friends in Rome, seeing that they always coincided when Hadrian's legions were away. But they were never away. For two months they waited in silence at the border, hoping to hear Wulfila's war horn. Baetio glanced around him in the armoury. Julius stood upright behind him, sticking three javelins on his velite shield. Aemilianus and Kleon, the agile warriors of the group, propped themselves against the table with their swords sharpened and their eyes fixed on Baetio. On the other side of the table, Cornelius and Arsaces hauled their huge triarii shields on the table, throwing their massive spears in a loud clatter that echoed inside the dining hall. Meek, but knowing very well they were deadly, Baetio nodded to Livia and Arduinna who approached the silent group with deadly composite bows in hand. Flavius manned the gates... but Zyraxes was absent. “Zyraxes? Absent as usual?” moaned Arsaces, the huge Parthian cavalryman. Baetio nodded. “For the time being.” “Before you start, I'm ready,” countered Julius. Cornelius hailed Baetio with his spear. “About damn time, I was going to rot in this place. Finally I get to see Wulfila's ugly face again!” Arsaces and the rest laughed but Baetio and Arduinna kept their straight faces, hoping to get a glimpse of their real state of spirit. Baetio nodded to Arduinna moments later and unsheathed his gladius, slamming it down on the table. In the sudden silence, Baetio carved the outline of the walled compound and highlighted the gate with a quick flick of the blade over the square shape. “Wulfila's men are not particularly good with grapple hooks and they won't bother with them anyhow.” Julius held out a hand. “Battering ram?” Baetio nodded. “The battering ram Wulfila brought will aim directly for the gate. They will batter it down pretty easily, so no use trying to fortify it now. Our aim is to kill as many of Wulfila's men as possible.” Kleon held up his javelin. “If you're hungry for skewered barbarians, Kleon's Butcher Shop will be open in one hour!” The whole group chuckled, easing some of the tension that pressed over the table like a hammer. “Kleon, Aemilius, Julius, up on the left parapets and support Flavius. Livia, Arduinna, you come with me and we strike from the other side.” “And what's left for us? Our favourite task?” grinned Arsaces. “All yours, Arsaces. Boil as many as you want.” They stepped out of the armoury a moment later, coinciding with another loud concert echoing from Wulfila's war horn. The fog lifted slightly, offering a better view of the forest's edge, lined up with more than one hundred of Wulfila's savages. Even in the pale light of the sun, their sharp axes gleamed and Baetio thought he could almost see the viciousness in their eyes as he climbed the parapet. With their huge beards and odd clothing, some with even wolf pelts on their heads, they were used to strike fear in every opponent they met. Except that even if they were throwing taunts, all they got were sneering giggles from Kleon and Arduinna. But as Baetio expected, Wulfila's men wasted no time. Split into strategic groups, the main warband pushed the battering ram to the gate in a chorus of war horns and drums. The heavy siege weapon lumbered onwards to the gate, unmolested by any enemy fire. Once the battering ram came close enough, Baetio gave one last glance over the stockade and smiled. From the outside, the camp looked all but deserted. Moments later, the gates clattered with the dreadful clank of the ram smashing through the locks. Crouched behind the stockade to conceal himself, Baetio leapt forwards to the tower gate and pulled down the lever built in the wall. A trap door opened above the battering ram, revealing a small ballista aimed at the frontal side of the siege weapon. Baetio unsheathed his gladius and cut the holding rope, triggering the mechanism that fired off the huge ballista bolt into the battering ram. The bolt pierced the protective hides and smashed through the entire mechanism, shattering the whole log that swung backwards and forwards to ram the gate. Kleon winked. From the other side of the parapets, he lit up the tip of an arrow and leapt for the bolt rope. Doused in saltpetre, the rope lit up instantly in a ball of fire that bypassed the protective hides and ignited the dried wood inside the ram. In a matter of seconds the entire siege weapon was caught in an orange ball of fire, scattering the confused warriors that manned it. Taken aback, Wulfila's warriors were suddenly exposed to arrow fire. It was Arduinna who gave the signal. Her thin hands bent the composite bow and aimed for the closest warrior just beneath the palisade. She set her fingers free, the sleek arrow smashing right through the man's skull. On the other side of the gate Kleon and Aemilius wasted no time, aiming their javelins with deadly accuracy. Before Wulfila's warriors retaliated with their own archers, twenty of their kin were dead or mortally injured under the hail of projectiles. Baetio yelled, bringing his warriors down behind the protection of the palisade. “Retreat, the gate will burn!” Julius quickly saw that Baetio was right. Despite the stone foundation, the battering ram's flames spread to the wooden structure of the gate. Fires soon engulfed the battered gate and the edges of the towers. But while the gates would collapse quickly, Julius judged, the towers were built of damp wood, making their collapse a rather slower affair. Still, Wulfila's archers fired their flaming arrows, lighting up the two guard towers without much problem. The Romans formed up in a tight defensive position just outside the armoury, with Arsaces and Cornelius in the middle, Baetio behind them, Kleon and Aemelianus on the sides. Julius crouched in front of them, javelin ready in his hand, eager to kill as much as Livia and Arduinna who stood on the staircases with their bows ready. But as the gate slowly collapsed and Wulfila's warriors grew louder and louder, Julius frowned and turned to Arsaces. “Why are you tied to a rope?” Arsaces smiled devilishly. “I like to burn things, Julius.” The wood crackled and snapped, chopped and hacked to pieces by the barbaric axes that ripped it to splinters. They trickled inside the Castrum Invicta, one by one, almost berserk because of the death of their brothers in arms. Wulfila's warriors restored their small groups and charged through the gate, oblivious to the peril that lurked above their heads. Tugged by Arsaces and Cornelius, the two huge pots slowly listed forwards, spilling their boiling oil over Wulfila's men just as the barbarians broke off from the shattered gate. Decimated by the oil, the charging warband wavered in front of the Romans and were soon killed off, trapped between the upcoming wave and Baetio's sudden anger. Smashing left and right, stabbing overhand and underhand, Baetio parried and slashed with his golden gladius wherever he could find space. The half Carthaginian struck down a couple of younger warriors with ease, locking swords for precious seconds with one of the veterans until Livia fired off a shot in the man's neck. Sliding over the man's limp body, Baetio stabbed another one of Wulfila's men and immediately danced sideways to parry a high bow, sending the attacker reeling backwards. Far more agile, Baetio shoved low kicks and elbows, destabilising his opponent until his gladius sliced his jugular with a perfect cut. But as he danced with death for minutes, the tingle of despair did not escape him. Fearful, he gave off a glance to Arsaces who held his own. But Cornelius was wounded, the same going for Kleon who could not use his speed any longer. Parrying a right hand blow, Baetio reeled backwards as the sheer force of one of the attackers sent him tumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust. But as he stood up, he was slammed in the back and rammed the attacker head first, smashing his coif in the man's chest armour. The attacker's head flew off seconds later from a clean falx cut, drawing a quick smile as Zyraxes's lean frame slashed and cut everything around him. Leaving Zyraxes to his own, Baetio jumped back in the fight, sending off two of Arsaces's attackers before the massive Parthian speared one of the axemen bent on killing the Roman. Baetio returned the favour a moment later, dancing around Arsaces to outsmart a young skirmisher armed with a javelin. As they speared, stabbed, slashed and aimed, more and more of Wulfila's men lay limp around them. Pools of blood formed everywhere, drowning the soft ground of the compound to turn it into a red lake. They danced two more times together, cleverly avoiding low handed blows that would have sliced open their bellies. They retaliated just as fast, spearing and stabbing the last pockets of fierce resistance formed around the edge of the gate. Exhausted and propped against the destroyed gate, with his gladius in hand and spattered in blood, Baetio collapsed on the soft ground, the black mist swirling around him.

[Midknight Cat]

Why does it tell me "you may not vote on this poll"? These entries are nice, I'd like to vote

[StealthFox]

To vote in polls (as well as to use many other site features) you must be registered as a member for at least a week and have 25 posts. So, just a few more posts and you'll be able to vote!

[Midknight Cat]

Oh ok! Thanks

[Faenaris]

Good luck to all the participants!

[ElvenKind]

Voted. Good luck all!