[RS 2.1a Roman (Auxiliary) AAR] Legacy Of The Father [COMPLETE]

[McScottish]

Do you have a clone who writes updates when you are otherwise occupied? love it though!

Not sure how you mean, my good Boustrophedon. Needless to say, I indeed do not, each update is a McScottish original and there is no cloning involved anywhere in the process.

[McScottish]

Independence From The Motherland – Winter 635 A.U.C to Winter 636

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It is a terrible thing, reader, that some things remain with you in memory no matter how much you would try to forget them. What I write about immediately next is one such event which I would rather forget, but which I cannot allow myself to.

The winter of 635 was upon us, a force of 'native' troops from across the Roman Empire assembled under my command and set to march from a point some miles north of Eburodunum, originally under the command of Geminus but, in the end, placed instead in the hands of a young plebeian tribunus named Gnaeus P. Faustulus.

Faustulus was only twenty-two years of age, older than me during my first 'command' but still younger than me now, and much less experienced in warfare. Nonetheless, he was passionate about his chosen path and stoic in his outlook on life and death. He drilled his men hard through the remaining winter months and roused them with striking speeches and a toss of his golden mane.

This was the young man who volunteered himself to be thrown to the lions, and who would cause me sleepless nights even up to the present day.

With nearly eighteen-thousand men, the greater part of the Bastarnae, Numidians, Aeduean Gauls and Insubrian veterans included, he marched that winter straight into the maw of the beast and never returned to tell the tale. That was left to Wulfger, one of the only survivors, who had carved a bloody path back out of the city when all hope was lost.

“They outnumbered us,” he spat at me on the day he returned, half-crazed and gibbering until we had a chance to calm him down, “near sixty-thousand of them, screaming and crazed Germans from every tribe that seeks to withstand you. Only the garrison of the city, stone-walled in the Roman style and with signs of previous Roman life, managed to hold us off originally, and in numbers there we were evenly matched at least. Once we had forced our way into the city, men falling all the time, we pushed them back toward their central forum and massacred them along with their chieftain.”

Here he paused, taking a long draught of beer and slinging the drinking-vessel against a wall with a loud smash of hard-baked clay.

“More of them, having been given the call, poured out of the mountains and forests around the city, charging through one or more of the large gates being opened from the inside by Romano-Germans of the cities citizenry. We had too few numbers to meet them there, so we held them off in the town forum for as long as we could. I watched as the young tribune engaged in single combat with a towering warchief, but the young boy never stood a chance. His headless trunk soon toppled from its horse, a group of Insubre, seeing this, surged about the enemies flanks and pierced this bastard a million times over.”

Taking a seat next to me, his face in his hands, his voice came in a low tone and his eyes filled with tears.

“Not a man ran, not because they could not, but because they would not. They stood, all, and died facing their enemy. So many Bastarnae women now without husbands, fathers and brothers, and all the rest slaughtered like cattle. That was how the battle ended, Germans still swarming about the region when I made my escape.”

In the aftermath of this breakdown, I bade my teacher leave Germania and return to his homeland near the Danuvius. Once there he was requested to gather more of his tribesmen and bring them back, a journey of many miles, hopefully the travel and seeing his homeland once more would sooth him.

So I hoped, anyway.

**********

Winter turned to spring, spring to summer and summer back to winter once more, the landscape of Germania changing in a hundred different ways in the span of just one year of life.

I watched as my children grew, playing with them and even marrying my wife amongst the crisp autumn leaves of orange and brown, in the customary Germanic manner, as our children were also to be raised, acting the husband and the father for as long as I could without having to act also as a king.

Time runs out, however, and before long I was back to organising taxes and the levying of German warriors into more regularised cohorts of men, Chattium even becoming more enamoured with Roman architecture, Roman language and Roman produce, but never completely absorbing itself into the Roman way of life. Men and women still dressed as Germans, hunted, feasted and made love as their ancestors had always done and worshipped those same Gods which led my crusade against the last remaining rebels.

Towards this endeavour, after the massacre at Eburodunum and the sure celebration of the Germani, who believed they had won a great victory against an outnumbered foe, I began the formation of yet another army to take the city once and for all. Due to other Germans hearing of the defeat, and the seditious impression it was having upon the more recently subdued tribes, Geminus was ordered to remain in Hultaz Marcomannoz and to put down any discontent there with fire and sword.

Fate, and the Gods, appeared to have an entirely different route for my life and it was to be flipped upon its head by one visitation in the late hours of a chill winters night and the arrival of the first servant of Imperial Roma I had seen for years.

**********

Unable to sleep, even beside the warmth of my beloved Alina, I rose in a cold sweat from my bed and slung my grandfathers Gallic cloak about my person.

Quietly I left our chamber and padded barefoot down the Roman-influenced corridor of my Romano-German villa on the outskirts of Chattium, peeking into the room in which my two children lay, silent and asleep and guarded by a great shaggy hound of Hibernian origin. It had been taken from that almost imaginary island in the far western ocean, given to a chief of the Cimbri as a gift, and then given from him unto myself as a sign of fealty and allegiance. I had named it Zilasresas, or grey-king in my native tongue, almost as tall as a man when rearing up and with a head and jaws larger than my own.

Safe in the knowledge that they were safe and sleeping well, I crept out of the bedroom area and into the main dining hall. A little hungry, the cold of the German winter not noticed much when one has underfloor heating, I made my way to the cellar and the provisions kept there.

I like to think that I felt the cloying and spectral presence of more more than one person as soon as I entered the cellar, though in honesty I think I was too tried and unwary to really know, one thing I can recall is that my hairs stood on end and the skin crawled down my spine. A feeling descended upon me once I was fully in the room, a room without a light and almost completely in darkness, a feeling of being watched by silent observers and judged by your every movement.

When the voice finally did come, I am proud to say that I reacted calmly and with an even head, quite unsurprised when the oiled torch was lit by a flint and spark and light enveloped the room.

“Borbrentas Marcus Laenas, the personal centurion of Augustus and, if the rumours are to be believed, king of all the Germani tribes east of the Rhenus.”

The sudden light had forced me to shield my eyes with my hand, focusing as best I could I realised there were at least three figures, a fourth moving to block my exit from the subterranean storage room. All four were dressed in the armour of Roman soldiers, and I admit that I believed authority to have finally caught up with me. By the Gods, I was never so glad to be wrong.

“Who are you?!” I demanded of the speaker, “what do you want?”

Once the man, who I assumed to be the officer of the group, had taken a step forward, I immediately set about trying to figure him out.

Of average height, in the later years of middle-age, without the patrician look about him but did have the blank features of the Roman masses, looked to have deep wrinkles on his face but especially about his eyes to signal that he was used to genuine smiling and laughter, his body not in a condition of extreme fitness but not lacking in muscle either.

His uniform could be none other than that of a Praetorian Prefect, his ornately decorated muscled cuirass, plumed attic-style helmet and ribbon tied about his waist showing as much, the three men with him dressed in the segmented and overlapping armour that had become a cult amongst newer members of the Imperial army. Older and wiser members of the military remained with the lorica hamata and its more trusted iron links.

“I am Praefectus Praetorio Aurelius Fronto lunius Pera, co-commander of the praetorian guard and personal advisor to Publius Caesar.”

With a flick of his wrist, two burly and hard looking men moved away from the shadows of the wall and into the light of the torch held by the prefect, each one carried a bodiless head by a long and tangled knot of hair and placed them almost tenderly down before me. I was forced to bend at the waist to get a better look at them, both Germanian and most likely of some importance if I was being shown them.

“Inguiomerus of the Semnones,” he stated simply, pointing at the first head, “and Marobodus of the Marcomanni.”

His eyes seemed to light up as he looked to me, I could feel my face as blank as a piece of stone, but something about the torchlight and the fact that this was taking place in my own cellar seemed to lend him a daemonic appearance.

“My master wishes me to tell you something and then offer you something...” he paused for a moment, awaiting my reply apparently, “I am listening,” was my response in as brave a voice as I could muster when surrounded by four men and with two heads before you.

“Firstly, we know everything. We know that you wished to become king of an independent Germanian state, that you wanted to use the last Maximus as a puppet ruler in the empire, and that the Gods are on your side in all of this.”

At first I thought about denying everything, but then a feeling of acceptance found its way into my heart and I just shrugged, and gave a small nod of affirmation after. If they had come to kill me then why the heads? Why the conversation? Why were they not indoors killing my entire family right now?

“I see,” he said in response to my silent confirmation of his completely true accusations, “then it may interest you to know how we found out, yes?” I nodded again and a smile crossed his face, “it was simple really. As soon as your Greek messenger boy had left Roma for other climes, Maximus travelled to Dacia and told Caesar everything. In return he was promised rewards beyond his reckoning and sent back to Roma Invicta.”

My mouth twisted into a grimace and I let out a snort of derision for Maximus and for his rewards, I should have known from the very beginning not to trust him. I did wonder, and even feared, after my good friend Polymestor.

“Publius is a forgiving and even benevolent Caesar, and wishes me to offer you these terms; He wishes for you to continue as you now are, autonomous and free of Roman intervention, free to rule as the king of the Germani tribes and with the support but not interference of his great empire. In return you are to provide a portion of your taxes, only a small fraction, and fighting men from amongst your subjects to serve as auxilia in the Roman army.”

A smile crept onto his face once more, these were the simplest terms that the empire delivered to her enemies or client kings, but they seemed reasonable to me.

“Toward that particular end, Caesar would also grant you weapons and armour of Roman make, the authority to grant citizenship on any tribes within your lands borders you may choose, and to raise your own auxiliary cohorts and alae from them to act as your own military force.”

There was surely a catch, there was always a catch...

“One last thing he asks in return, a simple thing. That when he is gone from this world, by age or battle, your or your offspring protect that of his own loins from Maximus. Titus is too old to claim the throne from a younger, more virile, man and so it will surely be Maximus who will attempt it once Publius Caesar is gone. He bids you remain as you are, that if or when the time comes you have the strength to oppose Maximus.”

There were other, unspoken, terms of course, such as allowing Roman armies to march through my lands and the like, but overall it did seem that Publius had made quite a fair, if not generous, offer to me.

“Tell me, Aurelius Pera,” I said in a deliberately slow tone, “whom am I looking at here?”

The prefect laughed, giving one of the heads a short kick, “why, these are the last two chieftains of Germania who could gather any reasonable might against you. I was also ordered to take the fifteenth legion into the former land of the Boii and exterminate your problem Germans, once and for all. We shall, of course, return Eburodunum to you and pull our forces back beyond the river, and there are also a number of Germano-Boii slaves waiting for you there.”

Here he again ceased, clearly waiting for his answer now that he had been forced to explain himself.

“I accept the proposal, of my rather cunning prodigy, now, if you please, leave my home...I will keep the heads.”

**********

Publius Caesar , the young and potent man that his father had not been for some time, was as good as his word. He allowed Germania more-or-less complete independence from the Roman Empire, under the guidance of myself and my armies there, of course, all internal matters dealt with swiftly and in a manner that stifled all rebuke from rebellious tribes. Villages were burnt to the ground, slaves taken and resources shared out amongst the victors, life changing very little from before I had arrived in that province all that time in the past.

Once permission was given, soon after my visitors in the gloaming returned to Dacia, I set about enfranchising those tribes of Germani that had been most loyal and resisted the least. They were given all the advantages of Roman comfort and wealth, without losing their patrimonial ways, these things not pressed upon them but offered with open arms if they chose to accept them.

In the deep winters snow the Rugii, Cimbri, Batavii, Anglii, Mattiaci, Tencteri, Ubii, Usipetes, Sicambri, Langobardi, Teutones, Nuithones, Lemovii, Gothones, Varini, Aviones and countless other lesser tribes were hereby ordered to send a quota of their young men or experienced warriors to the nearest 'tribal centres' or municipia of the second order.

Here they would be armed and armoured according to the Roman manner, trained in our ways by soldiers bought over the border, or who had fled over the border as deserters seeking refuge, and turned into the disciplined and sharp killing edge of my reformed military. Of course, a few would be required to head across the border and serve in Roman lands, the Batavii highly sought after it seemed, with recruits coming from such far away tribes even as the Suiones, who inhabit the lands north-east of the Cimbric peninsula.

Not all were happy about this, then again few ever were, but these were the terms of service that they were forced to follow in order to remain relatively free men, in a western world controlled by a ruling Imperial family, and increasingly by only one member of that.

In the winter of 636, since the founding of the city of Roma, the centre of the world, my wife was pregnant once more, I had the entirety of Germania and its resources at my whim and with only a few minor tribes still resisting me. The people lived and loved much as they had always done, an iron fist being slowly formed by my hand in the shape of my military might, the only question left was a simple one that was also as old as the mountains themselves.

What to do next?



- B. M. Laenas

[Knonfoda]

It appears you have been made an offer you could not refuse?

Mate, I can't believe I was a full seven updates behind! It did make for a very interesting late morning/early afternoon though! I loved the 'In time they will call me master' quote... gotta love Palpatine. I also find the crazed intransigence our protagonist possesses in regards to his 'divine destiny' to rule over Germania quite fascinating.

Did you face scripted reinforcements in Eburodunum? I don't know how RS works, but in EB, it was one of the hardest battles I had to fight. I literally had to use four legions (four stacks) against the enemy's six, and I lost nearly three legions after a hard fought battle. I brought elephants, artillery, horse archers, auxilia, the lot. It was an epic battle, one that I regret not taking any screenshots of.

And you are correct, what for Borbrentas now? Can you go east maybe? Into the Baltic maybe, or into the steppes? I also find your knowledge of the tribes and their territories quite fascinating, how have you amassed such knowledge?

Oh, and + rep off course! (After I've spread it around!)

[McScottish]

It appears you have been made an offer you could not refuse?

Mate, I can't believe I was a full seven updates behind! It did make for a very interesting late morning/early afternoon though! I loved the 'In time they will call me master' quote... gotta love Palpatine. I also find the crazed intransigence our protagonist possesses in regards to his 'divine destiny' to rule over Germania quite fascinating.

Did you face scripted reinforcements in Eburodunum? I don't know how RS works, but in EB, it was one of the hardest battles I had to fight. I literally had to use four legions (four stacks) against the enemy's six, and I lost nearly three legions after a hard fought battle. I brought elephants, artillery, horse archers, auxilia, the lot. It was an epic battle, one that I regret not taking any screenshots of.

And you are correct, what for Borbrentas now? Can you go east maybe? Into the Baltic maybe, or into the steppes? I also find your knowledge of the tribes and their territories quite fascinating, how have you amassed such knowledge?

Oh, and + rep off course! (After I've spread it around!)

Seven...seven! That is very nearly the same as heresy, in the eyes of the Gods. But you read them, so I shall forgive you...this time.


Now, to answer your questions:


Nope, they weren't scripted at all. It just so happened that as I pushed eastward into Germania, Eburonum (Eburodunum) being one of the only German cities left (given to them by the Romans previously...), more and more stacks of Germans gathered outside it and near it. These included three of the last surviving family members and most of the remaining German troops.

I only had to use one legion, the fifteenth, plus auxiliary horse and foot, because my "forlorn hope" had killed nearly three times their number during their assault, left only a few Germans left, and they were no match for my legionnaires and Praetorian cavalry.

As to your other suggestions/question; going east would seem to be the only thing for it, every part of western Europe being under the control of Roma. Every part except...the isle of Albion, known to the Romans as Britannia. True, there in the east lay the steppes of grass and the Sarmatian nomads, the forests of the proto-Slavs and, to the south-east, the last surviving Scythians and autonomous Greek city-states outside of Roman control.

All things are possible, and I would like to know what people think, where would they like to see war coming to next? Britain, Armenia, the Seleucid Empire, the Sarmatian Steppes, Parthia (though I'd need to go through the Seleucids first to get at them), the choice is up to you, my avid readers and fans.

Now, the final question, how have I amassed such knowledge?

Because, dear Knonfoda, I did a degree in Ancient History, I was interested in classical civilisations before I knew anything about the modern world really, I watched The 300 Spartans (not 300!) when I was about seven-eight and this only fuelled my love of the ancient world to greater heights.

As I have gotten older my passion has grown, university causing me to find sites containing classical texts (Tacitus, Livy, Herodotus, Polybius, Thucydides, et cetera) and what little money I have going toward historical fiction of all sorts (Simon Scarrow, Ben Kane, Christian Cameron, Bernard Cornwall etc) as well as non-fiction books (Osprey, Adrian Goldsworthy, T.P.Wiseman and many more).

Lastly, for that question, I have a terabyte external hard-drive nearly completely full of historical material, from the Osprey Warrior series to books on the Byzantine Empire, the various Roman Emperors and many, many more.

Pure and simple avid dedication to ancient history and classics is how I have gained all my knowledge, what little use it has been to me in my life so far (not much), it will always inspire such feelings in me.

If you've any other questions, or anyone else does, on anything that I may be able to answer, then please feel free to PM me.

[Knonfoda]

Seven...seven! That is very nearly the same as heresy, in the eyes of the Gods. But you read them, so I shall forgive you...this time.


Now, to answer your questions:


Nope, they weren't scripted at all. It just so happened that as I pushed eastward into Germania, Eburonum (Eburodunum) being one of the only German cities left (given to them by the Romans previously...), more and more stacks of Germans gathered outside it and near it. These included three of the last surviving family members and most of the remaining German troops.

I only had to use one legion, the fifteenth, plus auxiliary horse and foot, because my "forlorn hope" had killed nearly three times their number during their assault, left only a few Germans left, and they were no match for my legionnaires and Praetorian cavalry.

As to your other suggestions/question; going east would seem to be the only thing for it, every part of western Europe being under the control of Roma. Every part except...the isle of Albion, known to the Romans as Britannia. True, there in the east lay the steppes of grass and the Sarmatian nomads, the forests of the proto-Slavs and, to the south-east, the last surviving Scythians and autonomous Greek city-states outside of Roman control.

All things are possible, and I would like to know what people think, where would they like to see war coming to next? Britain, Armenia, the Seleucid Empire, the Sarmatian Steppes, Parthia (though I'd need to go through the Seleucids first to get at them), the choice is up to you, my avid readers and fans.

Now, the final question, how have I amassed such knowledge?

Because, dear Knonfoda, I did a degree in Ancient History, I was interested in classical civilisations before I knew anything about the modern world really, I watched The 300 Spartans (not 300!) when I was about seven-eight and this only fuelled my love of the ancient world to greater heights.

As I have gotten older my passion has grown, university causing me to find sites containing classical texts (Tacitus, Livy, Herodotus, Polybius, Thucydides, et cetera) and what little money I have going toward historical fiction of all sorts (Simon Scarrow, Ben Kane, Christian Cameron, Bernard Cornwall etc) as well as non-fiction books (Osprey, Adrian Goldsworthy, T.P.Wiseman and many more).

Lastly, for that question, I have a terabyte external hard-drive nearly completely full of historical material, from the Osprey Warrior series to books on the Byzantine Empire, the various Roman Emperors and many, many more.

Pure and simple avid dedication to ancient history and classics is how I have gained all my knowledge, what little use it has been to me in my life so far (not much), it will always inspire such feelings in me.

If you've any other questions, or anyone else does, on anything that I may be able to answer, then please feel free to PM me.

Nice, I wouldn't mind taking a peek at that hard drive of yours! I just have loads of Osprey articles, and not much more, which is a shame. Sadly, my jstor account ended a few months ago too...

I also keep forgetting you did a degree in all this, it shouldn't surprise me. I'm seriously considering doing a PHD or masters degree in something similar, I shall have to see though.

As for the ending, I felt it was a bit abrupt. I half expected Rome to come knocking on your door sooner or later, and that at some point you would either be expelled as a tyrant rex, or made to face them, but I am left wondering, were you slain in that last charge? Or are you simply moving on to greener pastures? I know you have another AAR set up, I've not had a chance to read it, but I would very much like to know what actually happened to poor not so old Borbrentas - what was he, 42-45?

Still, a very very fascinating tale,and I've really enjoyed following it this far. I really really hope though, that in the next installment, you face the Romans! They've had it coming for so many generations now!

+ rep

[Ybbon]

I think you may need to break you habit and show us a map or something like that so we can know where to direct your war Sounds like an iron fist inside a kid glove that offer, sounds nice but...

Excellent as ever my friend.

[McScottish]

I think you may need to break you habit and show us a map or something like that so we can know where to direct your war

Just for you Ybbon (and anyone else), because you are always so polite.


Behold, the might of Rome!






Now, some characters of import...

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

And the Imperial hereditary line, thus far...

There you go, now tell me, where would you go next?

[McScottish]

Growth, Expansion, and Foreign Relations - Winter 636 A.U.C to Summer 645 A.U.C

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

And so, no matter what difficulties the rather suspicious offer would bring in the future, if any at all, now was a time to consolidate everything I had earned and all that had been gained with the blood of outsiders serving not the Roman Empire but me. I had been their leader, their figurehead and they owed their allegiance to me and to no outside power.

Such is what I told Publius Caesar, and such is what I told them also.

For the time being peace reigned supreme, although all such words are in the eyes of the beholder, for bandits still roamed about the darkened forests, and revenge killings by those loyal to me against those who were not were not uncommon. Germani rebels, dispossessed men whose lands I had taken and who had had their tribesmen sold into slavery to both other tribes and the empire. Not only this, but with auxilia cohorts being formed, and knowing that they may be sent away from home, some of my people were a little more than anxious at the prospect, some even mutinous.

It was at this time that I decided to show myself to my people, for until my divine mission had been given me they had been separate tribes and warring clans, fighting over land and cattle, the Romans idea of 'Germani' being little more than a convenient term used by the Latins to discern such a varied people from the Gauls or the Dacians or any other barbarian peoples. If you were to ask a German who he was or where he was from then he would answer 'Chatti' or 'Batavii' and surely would have never heard of the Germani that we so readily apply to them all.

Now I took to my horse, escorted by those I trusted most, guarded by an entire cohort of Chatti auxiliaries, the Chatti swearing to a man and child that they would remain loyal to me and never abandon me. Truly, these were the greatest tribal people I had ever encountered. Noble yet cunning, peaceful but powerful when stirred to war, and ready to lift heavy burdens upon themselves for their perceived ruler.

All this I could never repay, their loyalty and trust could not be compensated with mere trinkets and architecture, but these things were the best that I could offer. These things, material things, and my own efforts and emotions poured into giving them a better life, the one that they needed.

I travelled through landscapes that I had never really viewed in a proper manner before, the soil and earth changing as I rode through the massive expanse of land that made up Germania, marshland covering areas of the plains and the coastal regions, rivers spreading from within the bosom of the newly formed Germania and out into the sea to our north and east into the unknown regions and the steppes. Gently undulating plains and small, steep-sided hills and hollows, heaths and marshes, broad river valleys and sweeping plains of the utmost fertility, all this was present and more.

For all this, only a small number of things appeared within Germania that would be of any use to the world beyond my recently defined borders, reaching from the western banks of the Rhenus to the mountains and heavily forested areas in the east, and these were cattle, crops, golden rock from the northern coast, iron, which is the only abundant material to be found except for wood, with the last trade good coming in the form of the immense human population which thrived in these conditions.

Finally gathered as one, various municipia becoming erected in tribal lands on important trading spots and capitals, it was far easier to see just how large the accumulated resource of people were. This information, very little known of Germania in the external Roman Empire, I wisely kept to myself, lest it should incite jealousy or even provoke war. Nonetheless, traders and merchants looking for Germans as bodyguards, slaves, gladiators or Roman representatives seeking soldiers for far-flung frontiers were always welcome, no small number of malcontent's dealt with in this way, never to be seen again in their homeland.

Many things struck me as I travelled, things that I would have completely ignored if I had been killing these people instead of ruling over them through a vast network of clients and wealth, whether in the western lands of Germania, to tribes such as the Cherusci, Frisii, Ubii, Reudigni or into eastern Germania and the territories of the Vandali, Rugii, or even the greatly distanced Aestii.

One such thing, something I doubt others would have looked for, was how closely these semi-savage people were linked to those Gauls and Boii of the Celtic nations. When I visited shrines to Germanic Gods, or rivers and springs held sacred, I never ceased to be amazed by the amount of weapons, armour and trinkets that had been gathered about them in small or large piles. Glittering golden torcs of exquisite design and beauty, the long slashing swords of the Celtic warriors, their oblong shields and brass war-trumpets and, of course, a great heap of heads separated from their bodies, some days old and some decades and no more than skulls now.

It too was bought to my attention, once Eburodunum was handed back to me as rightfully my own, the fifteenth legion returning to Carnuntum, that this settlement had been occupied both my Romans in the past and before them was in the centre of Boii lands. Here, I think, were the great concentrations of trophies and artefacts taken from the Celts, and here there too seemed to be the largest amount of intermingling between the two peoples.

**********

Anyway, enough of ethnography, I shall reveal of the actual situation within the borders of my realm.

Hailed as rex by the Romans, and commanding the largest and most widespread comitatus ever known in Germania, made up of hundreds of predominant warriors and figureheads, the Germani were still a fractured, brutal and warmongering people.

I, like other non-Romans who had served alongside the legions, knew what made a good army and could eventually be used to create a stable power-base and society around it. Discipline, loyalty and laws, these were the things which most of the German peoples lacked, but I would give them these things and in doing so would change the entire social fabric of my domain. The Gods willed it.

As noted before, I had already began organising an army around the Roman model, using Roman arms, armour and instructors, but issuing orders in native tongues and making sure that no tribal noble leading their levy of warriors became too powerful. Germans society is self-destructive by nature, when someone spies a weakness or an opportunity, there is commonly bloodshed on both sides and deaths too.

Using this force, bringing in further Roman influences, I intended to subvert Germanic customs and traditions without forcing upon them that which I had sworn not to. They would remain free, free of Roma, free of unwanted and unnecessary temples and amphitheatres, and free to live as they wished. On the other hand, they would be taxed in resources and coinage issued with my head set on it, be subject to a set of laws which I and my closest councillors decided, and using the comitatus as a basis, their warriors at least would swear obedience to me and only me.

Though I may seem almost despotic, dear reader, my only aim was to improve their way of life, preserve my own and that of my family securely against any rivals, and to create a united Germania that was not constantly in a state of flux and close to tearing itself into pieces.

Toward this end I set no tribal boundaries, if peoples wished to move from one place to another, or to attack their neighbours, then they could do so. My eyes and ears made sure that no single tribe became too powerful, but it was not my intention to thrust myself between the Germans and their ancestral conflicts. The dramatic process of feuding, religious worship of whomsoever, and inter-tribal conflict were all permitted to continue unabated and without my intervention.

My final master-stroke, however, was to build a municipium in every tribal land and use it as a centre for government of those people. It would act like the oppida of the Gaul, a focal point for a people without focus, a central capital and market to promote trade and growth and, if needs be, as a final fall-back position for a faltering tribe.

**********

Many links were created with the Roman Empire during the next few years, from those men I bought to train my armies, to traders and emissaries, even to Roman settlers who founded coloniae in certain border regions of Germania. Others travelled further inland, provincials and citizens both, becoming, like myself, more native than Roman, living amongst the tribes and adopting what to most seemed like a much nobler way of life.

Even so, Roman involvement was limited both by order of Publius Caesar, who had more-or-less taken the mantle of Augustus already, in spirit and influence at least, but also by my own orders that foreigners were only welcome by invitation or with prior warning.

Of course, this could not last, and after nearly a decade of peace, it was time to make use of my recent rise to power in the name of the Roman Empire.

That, reader, is a tale for another page I think.



- B. M. Laenas

[McScottish]

Book Of Exodus, Part I – Summer 645 A.U.C

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

A lot can happen in a decade, or near enough a decade anyway, nine years to be precise, and I am living proof of this.

For nine years I had ruled over a people not my own, as one of them, as their king, and watched my two children grow strong in the manner of the German race. From wrestling on the floor of my feasting hall, to stealing food from the cellar. We, my family and I, lived a life of relative ease and happiness but, like all good things, it did not last.

I shall now go through events that should be well known to you, reader, and some that may not be so familiar. Details will be thin, but I am sure that you shall not fail to grasp the gravitas of what I am going to write here.

In the year six-hundred and thirty-eight Ab Urbe Condita, Titus was given a son and heir by the Gods, a son and heir that would inherit all that his father had never been able to. Only three years later, seventy-nine years of age, Publius Augustus lay dying in his bed babbling about this and that as one who truly had lost their mind. He was able however to claim his only son as his successor and heir to the Roman Empire, and so it was set as such.

This, like other things, was not to last.

No one is quite sure how, but when Publius Caesar left Dacia, and returned to Italia in the year six-hundred and forty-two, he was separated from his German and Praetorian bodyguard and set upon by a large band of brigands. Fifty-two horsemen he had with him, each a hand-picked guardsman, each dying alongside their ruler instead of fleeing the fight against the well-armed and well-trained 'brigands'.

It was known that Publius Caesar has announced Maximus as his heir, part of a political manoeuvre to get the people of the empire on to his side. The last heir of the Maximus line as Caesar, well, it was an excellent strategy until it failed. The people and senate both, probably seeing Publius for the heartless vacuum of shade he had become, despised and hated their new Augustus and what better time to strike would Maximus get?

Did Maximus kill his rival, nobody knows for certain, but I like to think that I was more aware of such things than your average person.

Six-hundred and forty-three was the year that I was visited not my Pera, but by a man who claimed to be his replacement, one Sextus C. Scipio I seem to remember. A hard-faced man with quite dead eyes, no sign of humour anywhere on his face or in the most serious way he held himself.

He came one summers evening, as I was playing with my children in the courtyard of our Romano-German villa, accompanied by a number of peregrini guardsmen. My own guards became suddenly wary, moving to intercept the delegation at the gates, Sextus simply stopping and gesturing for me to come within hearing distance of him. It appeared that he meant no trouble, but there I was most mistaken.

Once it was he and I alone, both our soldiers having moved away to watch from a distance, we stood beneath the high arch that lead into my courtyard and he began.

“Borbrentas Rex, king of the Germani and ruler of all Germania, my own Augustus has bid me come and make you an offer. It is a simple one, one which I am certain you will accept.”

He smiled then, but it held nothing except the cold of the afterlife. I told him to continue, already resting my hand on the hilt of the sica at my hip, my eyes never leaving his own even to blink.

“The offer is this; gather your warriors, as many as you can muster before two years have passed then, with these warriors, Marcus Augustus requests that you head north-east. Firstly, to defeat and pacify the remaining free Dacians, such as the Carpi, troublemakers all. Secondly, to reclaim settlements in the north-eastern territories taken and occupied by the Sarmatians. Augustus intends to make this an initial strike, eventually, once they have been gathered, he shall attack from Dacia and into the Sarmatian steppes.”

This did not currently seem like an offer I could refuse, my lips turning upwards into a slight smirk.

“And why would I do this? Though it seems easy enough.”

“Laenas, if you do not do this, then Augustus shall gather the might of the Roman Empire and wipe both you and your followers from the face of the earth. Your people shall be sold into slavery, you wife as a whore and your children too. Is that what you want to happen to them?”

Nine years of peace, now this?! Why had the Gods suddenly forsaken me...I already knew what would happen, what I would find when I returned, if I returned.

“You would take my lands and people from under my nose, while my back was turned fighting the horse-masters, you would plunge a pugio into my back.”

Though the blank face gave nothing away, I could see into his eyes and I knew my words were true.

“Do it, or do not, Laenas. Either way, you shall be a subject of the empire again. No-one remains a king forever.”

At that moment I wished more than ever that grandfather still lived, but he had died only three years past in his sleep. Alina had found him, pale and freezing to touch, wrapped in his thick furs and with a peaceful expression on his face. We had burned his body and, if I ever could, I swore I would scatter his ashes over Dacian soil.

Another thing I knew for certain, if the Roman Empire did try to take my land it would be a bloody and pointless affair for both sides. Yes, Maximus would eventually win, the Roman military never stopping until their aims were realised, but it would cost my people dearly...and I could not put them through that. If I abdicated, taking as many soldiers as I could, and went into the east, then at least it would just be the government replaced and the people exposed to Roman civilisation, there would be no mass slaughter and perhaps even a better mode of life?

I had been forsaken, the Gods had given and now they took away, my aspirations and ambitions now complete and they no longer needed me or my services. I never forsook them though, not for a moment, and would worship them till the day I died.

**********

It took the entire two years to gather as many soldiers, both native and Roman-trained, as I could in preparation for the campaign. Not only soldiers though, but women, children and entire sections of tribes as well. They would not leave their sons, husbands or brothers, but chose to go with us into unexplored oblivion on the grass seas of the east.

In the hot summer of the year six-hundred and forty-five, with Geminus, now sixty years old himself, Wulfger, Gislin, the German brothers, my family and a section of an entire people at my back, and others, I raised an arm from the back of my steed and waved it forward toward the east and like a sea of shimmering scale armour and painted shields we began to move.

Tribes did not matter now, differences did not matter now, all that mattered was that we do as Maximus had told us to do and pray to the Gods above and below that he would be lenient.

“Let them hear me,” I thought to myself, “for they have never turned a deaf ear before.”



- B. M. Laenas

[Boustrophedon]

An update...and then an hour later ANOTHER update! I don't think I know alot of writers who are that dedicated ^^ good job and some rep

[McScottish]

Book Of Exodus, Part II – Summer 645 A.U.C to Summer 648 A.UC

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

“Father,” my son asked, nearly a man now, as he chewed on the thigh-bone of a deer caught in the thick forest that surrounded we happy few, we band of brothers, from Germania to the north-eastern reaches, “why are we here?”

Although my wife understood why we had to leave, my children never had. Neither were bitter, but Answin asked the same question over and over again and would continue to do so, unless I put a stop to it.

“My son,” I replied as a pressed one of his cold hands into mine, my grandfathers Gallic cloak looking huge on his thin frame, “let me tell you something that you must swear to remember, and that is this. Never trust the Romans. Their minds are wholly unlike those of free folk, such as ourselves. Intricate schemes, politics and plots are all planned by them and they will turn on allies just as soon as use ones own people against you.”

A sigh escaped my lips, drawing hot breath and steaming the air, my rough finger running over my sons smooth skin, “we are here to do just that, at the behest of the newest Augustus of the Roman Empire. We are here to finish those last free men of your grandfathers people, to strike the free Dacians from the earth, once and for all.”

“I swear I shall remember, father. I swear by all the Gods and on my own life, as my own children and theirs shall swear, till the end of our line.”

He was a bright and intelligent boy, growing tall and strong through psychical tasks and exercise, having both the look of myself and his mother about him. I foresaw at that moment great things for him, his future surely bright and pure in the eyes of the Gods.

**********

To be honest, my reader, I am unsure what to tell you, but I shall try to express what I believe is the end of an age. It is something that, beginning with my grandfather, has come full circle, though many actors played their parts and many peoples suffered and lakes of blood were spilt on every side.

The year is six-hundred and forty-eight since the founding of Roma by its semi-divine founder, Romulus.

My people and myself, thousands of us, left in a ragged column from a doomed Germania which would be changed if we ever chose to return. Councils replaced by senators, buildings of clay and wattle by those of stone and brick, and every tribal leader replaced by a governor or military representative of Rome. Not only this, but Roman military presence would increase one-hundredfold and those Germani that had once called me their leader would become little better than slaves to the empire.

In those eight years since leaving, since travelling leagues and leagues through dense forest and over marshy ground, facing wild beasts and troublesome locals, we finally found a place where we could found a new home far away from the tyranny and manipulation of the empire and its Augustus. A relatively unexplored region where the slithering tendrils of Maximus had not yet reached. The only problem was that is was already occupied, and to resettle ourselves here we would need to kill or extract an entire people.

This we were willing to do, for our own survival.

**********

Arriving in the wild forests to the east of known Germania, a vast range of trees and inhabitants native to the forests. They proved to be most unwelcoming of outsiders and, to our own honour, we kept clear of them and refused to engage them in battle.

This was in the year six-hundred and forty-five, our army and their hundreds of followers tramping along woodland paths and eating whatever could be taken from the earth all around our formation.

The former lands of the Neuri, a relatively unknown tribe or gathering of tribes, was where the remaining Dacians of any military knowledge had fled to after the Roman invasion of their homeland, and we wasted no time in attempting to locate their newest capital. This we did, finding a large settlement of timber and walled on every side by trees, a 'killing ground' having been produced about it and, that very winter, we wasted no time in surrounding the stronghold and beginning construction of a battering ram.

To the south, in Roman lands, it was reported that Maximus marched to destroy the last of the Scythians and to retake the coastal cities of the Pontus Euxinus from their Bosporan Greek overlords. I knew, as soon as I was told, that their would be no promised help from the mighty Augustus, he wanted us dead and soon all in the encampment knew it too.

Our first contact with our enemy came the following summer, a certain Lucius Hortalus, in charge of over two-thousand Roman-trained tribesmen, engaging Edonus the Dacian on the northern border of Neuri territory and giving him a sound death along with all his men.

Meanwhile, keeping my ear to the ground, it was said the Scythian king Radamofoyrtos had been slain and that the Scythians as a people were done for, now leaderless and without direction. It seemed that Legio I Germanica had taken the brunt of Grecian fury, defeating two Greek armies but suffering a loss of many cohorts to the sarissa and spears carried by their enemies.

Later that summer I was involved in a battle myself, letting Geminus take charge, joining my men in their front lines and gripping my falx to my chest as our army was divided equally in two, the Dacians having placed themselves atop a rather steep hill on the other side of the field, and in no mood to move from their perch it seemed.

What followed was, quite simply, a massacre of over three thousand enemy warriors, our two sides marching patiently under fire until we had the enemy between us. Then, with little to no prompting from officers, we closed the gap and quashed them utterly.

It was here, my falx covered in blood and my torso spattered by all manner of bodily liquid and dirt, that I realised we were following the same path as the Romans. Those men that followed me were as disciplined as any auxiliaries in service, but they were mine and would follow me to their deaths if I ordered them to. Like the Romans, we were pacifying a people who refused to yield, with force of arms and strength of will and endurance.

This disturbed me, greatly.

The winter that followed was most bitter, those inside the Neurian capital probably feasting whilst we starved, hoping to break us. Though men sickened and died, others even deserting in the middle of the darkest night, most remained where they were and refused to budge from their appointed areas.

Maximus, on the other hand, went from achievement to ever greater things, his generals proclaiming him as lupiter incarnate and forcing the senate, a body of law-makers that had become little more than puppets by now, to deify him while he yet remained amongst the living.

Not only this, but he was also marching on the heartlands of the Bosporan Kingdom, leaving burning cities such as Odessos in his wake. Lucius Caesar, son of Titus, promised help from across the Pontus Euxinus, gathering legions, I heard, to sail and attack from the southern coasts. The entire amphibious attack was, of course, to be led by none other than the Caesar in person.

In the summer of the year six-hundred and forty-seven, my own age being forty-two years in this world, Lucius Caesar began his seizure of all the poleis of the Bosporan Kingdom one after another. Each one was besieged by his legions, walls pounded into dust and rubble, and their citizens put to the sword. Once winter set in, as cold and bitter as ever, each territory was annexed and the death of his father Titus seeming to have no real impact upon the man himself.

**********

It was the year six-hundred and forty-eight that would become known, amongst my own people, as the year of the resettlement. The year that we found and founded a new home in somewhere that may not have been completely foreign, but was certainly far enough from the Germanian plains and close enough to the steppes of the horse-nomads.

In this year the last Dacian king, Pyreneus, named after a famous Greek general, finally opened the gate of his capital and came to seek battle with us.

Arraying ourselves in a square formation, myself and the sixty-one year old African waiting with our horsemen and a reserve century in the centre of the formation, we waited for these Dacians to hurl themselves upon us. This they did, without much delay, his grandson finally doing what Thiacus had never had the nerve nor the reason to do. I will not lie, it felt as if I were killing my own kin, even dressed in the attire of a Legatus of the Roman Empire, as I was then.

They threw their bodies, oddly well-fed for those we believed would be starving, against the Roman-made shields of my soldiers, hasta penetrating furs and simple mail, gladii skewering those that got past the iron spear points, shields flung upward to smash adversaries in the face and break bone. Amongst them rode horsemen of the Carpi and other Dacian tribes that had, until now, been free from Roman subjugation.

We fought like this, like daemons, for well over half a day, our square holding firm against all attacks, a thunderstorm, that cut through to our skin like a dagger in our bodies, heralding the Gods favour toward us and the nearing end of the conflict and our search for a new homeland.

Geminus, the blood lust overtaking him, charged from the square, his retinue of horsemen beside him, straight into the ranks of the enemy. I rode beside him then, my spatha lashing out to my left and my right, cleaving heads in twain and lopping limbs from torsos, Pyreneus becoming visible in the melee directing the actions of his troops. Though I saw him, my friend was quicker, the aged yet still potent warrior making a path through the Dacians and attacking their leader head on.

Pyreneus had not expected this, his curved sword flicking up to defend himself, Geminus turning his spatha at an angle that separated hand from arm and left the Greek-named barbarian defenceless against the second strike, this blow shattered his collarbone and penetrated into an artery, blood spurting forth and Pyreneus flopping from his horses back, much to the dismay of all those who witnessed it.

At a signal from the horn, the square shifted into a dense mass of Germanic tribesmen, Dacians falling back through the gates of their settlement, slowly at first and only as individuals, groups following and then the entire enemy army routing with my own forces snapping at their heels in the manner of hungry beasts.

Not one to let go of such a chance as this, I rallied every man I could around me and directed my horse straight into the backs of the fleeing barbarians, scattering like a flock of startled birds who were taking flight, this would be the final push into the centre of their village, where their shrines lay, and once they were crushed the entire place would be ransacked an-

[McScottish]

Recent and current events advisory memo,

1/4/2012

Dear Prof A. Laenas, academic and respected colleague,

It is with much regret and not a little sadness that I must inform you of a most unfortunate circumstance regarding your recent find in the Baltic regions. Although, as you shall see from the attachments and scans, we were able to decipher and translate most of the tome, the last few pages, or indeed the many last pages, either appear to be missing or are in too bad a condition to made head-nor-tail of.

I believe you first came to us due to curiosity in your ancestry and genealogy, already having recovered at least two finds in two separate digs, from what I recall.

We here at traceyourgenes.co.uk (an affiliate of the International Genealogical and Historical Research Foundation)have done our very utmost to help in whatever way we can, and would like to continue to do so, every find you have made being both of great interest to us and also of rather fine historical value. That they are also linked to the past genetic line of your family is simply incredible to imagine, and I suppose quite the same for yourself to comprehend.

Currently we are working on the third article which you most recently unearthed, a vastly interesting item and, if a piece of your familial lines history, as you believe, could prove invaluable in that respect as well.

As you well know, we shall do our utmost to help and any information discovered shall be yours to know as soon as we do.

Yours sincerely,

E. Arthur, Administrator and head of traceyourgenes.co.uk

[Yeepeep]

Maaan you write faster than I can read! I'm still bogged down in in those dark Germanic forests with the damn Chatti but hopefully Borbrentas is a bigger man than I am! +rep

[Ybbon]

Well that was a load of information to take in, and then it just ends! The phrase is "leave them on the edge of their seats", not "drag them in their sofa to the edge of the precipice and then kick the whole lot off"

Shame you couldn't ally with the Free Dacians and then turn the tables on the Romans - now that would be a history!

[McScottish]

Who knows, Borbrentas and his family may return... For now though I'm shifting the entire thing ahead a few generations, same clan, different time period and 'nation'. Hopefully you'll like the newer AAR as much as (I hope) you enjoyed this one.

[Yeepeep]

So I'm sitting here in front of the computer, staring at the screen in stunned silence, watching in disbelief at Borbrentas just like he does at the shaft of the pilum protruding from his chest! It could not be just a happy coincidence that he finds himself in the very same place the aspiring story I'm trying to put together leads my Germanic friend to. Nor that we both used the very same picture as a preamble And people say there is no such thing as Providence...ah, the fools

Seriously though, I feel quite embarrassed now to be using very similar setting as yours and am considering abandoning the poor Sesithacus on the whims of the Gods and focusing on Hannnibal mostly. Please tell me your new AAR isn't about Carthage?!

[McScottish]

So I'm sitting here in front of the computer, staring at the screen in stunned silence, watching in disbelief at Borbrentas just like he does at the shaft of the pilum protruding from his chest! It could not be just a happy coincidence that he finds himself in the very same place the aspiring story I'm trying to put together leads my Germanic friend to. Nor that we both used the very same picture as a preamble And people say there is no such thing as Providence...ah, the fools

Seriously though, I feel quite embarrassed now to be using very similar setting as yours and am considering abandoning the poor Sesithacus on the whims of the Gods and focusing on Hannnibal mostly. Please tell me your new AAR isn't about Carthage?!

The Gods are watching us both, it seems. No, my new AAR is far removed from Carthage and this era both, and I can honestly say that you may as well carry on as you started out. It would be a shame to just abandon Sesithacus because of one post, though whatever you choose to do is fine with me, I find your writing most excellent and would be happy with both or either of them.

[Diomede]

Well, I finally catch up with this. Jeez, your writing is prolific.

[Yeepeep]

Done and done! I hate to repeat myself but you leave me no choice, McScottish, so...A-W-E-S-O-M-E work! Looking forward to the next Laenas establishment. Well-deserved rep coming your way once it's properly spread out