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| Fratres Romanus IV | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 22 2014, 02:06 PM (78 Views) | |
| Dius Fidius | Sep 22 2014, 02:06 PM Post #1 |
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-- Chersonesos Iunius 72 BC, The Lupine Inn -- The fireplace crackled spitting flames up into the hearth so that it would be released up and into the heavens. The flames licking up the hearths walls echoing the heat back into the room allowing all who sat before it to warm the very cockles of their soul. The glowing embers turning white hot as the heat built up allowing the fire to progress and continue to spew out its warmth, the orange flames danced and writhed to a rhythm that was intoxicating to those that stared into the flames entrancing them in its inviting warmth and writhing movement. Vulso sat and stared hard into the flames allowing his mind to be enveloped by the hypnotizing spectacle, his breathing was steady as his thoughts shot back through some forty years, the never ending cycle of blood and exercise was now beginning to take its toll his mind reeled at the countless men that lay strewn before his sword arm, both warriors and innocents alike. How many had he felled just so that he may continue his existence and what a fine existence it was, traveling from tragedy to another was not what he would construe as a fine existence, was this the man he was a bloodthirsty individual only good for knife work. Vulso sighed and shook his head a deep frown crossed his brow, the dark wrinkled lines that sat upon his forehead casting deep shadows as though reflecting his past. A cup adorned his right hand it was a simple goblet that held a brown liquid similar to the Celtic beer that they brewed in the dark Germanic forests, how many had he drunk Vulso thought, six? Maybe seven? Still not enough. “Another…” Came a voice from behind him, a young man bearing a small amphorae walked towards him. Clearly aware that the man before him had had too much already of the unwatered beer that many in Chersonesos’ rougher districts drank in copious amounts to allow them to forget their troubles. He stood awaiting his customer’s answer. “What do you think?” Vulso said offering up his cup to be filled, he stared bleary eyed at the boy. “How old are you boy?” He said staring at the boy who shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of the man. “Thirteen sir…” The boys voice changed tone and pitch, clearly showing the signs of his advancement through puberty, the small line across his top lip trembled as Vulso continued to stare. “Thirteen…a young man with his life ahead of him eh? Oh what it would be like to be your age again.” Vulso chuckled, “Go on boy, run back to your father and take this.” Vulso fished out a coin from his pocket and flicked it in the boy’s direction; the coin caught the light of the fire that still solemnly cracked away. The boy’s hand shot up to catch it his eyes widening as he finally worked out that it looked as though it was genuine silver. “Th…Thank you sir!” The boy said grinning. “That’s for you, and only you, spend it well,” Vulso said smiling, “Now go on piss off before your master gets the wrong idea.” The boy rushed off to the back of the tavern, leaving Vulso to his own thoughts, which swiftly turned to his most recent arrival in Chersonesos with Tertius and the re uniting himself with Mettius. Of all the people of his past it was Mettius that had been the one to resurface, the scarred veteran had troubled his mind from the very outset of their first meeting. Mettius was no simple soldier; he was a man that excelled at the utterly grotesque manner in which he departed his victims from their existence. Their blood had been on Vulso’s hands too often than he could remember whether such actions were sanctioned or not, the pleasure Mettius derived from causing pain and anguish culminated in an evening of bloody rape and murder in Antioch some twelve years prior. A flash of memory appeared before him and he remembered with total detachment, holding down the arms of a young girl whilst Mettius exacted his punishment, the anguished screams of a girl no older than the boy, the girls father roaring his defiance from behind him, with his wife lying at his feet, the girls scream haunted his memory and his part in the act sickened him to his very soul. All Vulso had to do was stand up and exact his own retribution on Mettius, but the act never came for fear of retribution upon his own blood, so there he stood partaking in the very act of rape, his disgusted heart sank to its very depths, his hands closed tightly around his cup, his fingers burning white with anger, his face turning white as hatred poured through his body, his arms tingled as he felt the alcohol loosen its control for that split second. “You!” Came a loud voice behind him. “What’s the meaning of this?” A man said holding up the silver coin. “What you wanted some young cock…” A mans face was swathed with anger. Vulso went to open his mouth but before he could the door burst open, with Mettius stepping in swiftly through the doorway, his eyes quickly scanned the room taking in the form of Vulso. “Vulso! This old fool Demetriatos isn’t causing you any trouble I hope, I would hate for him to have an accident.” Demetriatos turned to look at Mettius his face creased with fear as he scurried away towards the rear of his tavern, ushering the boy before him to escape any potential retribution from Mettius. Vulso stared up at Mettius his eyes bleary but his mind was still alert to his surroundings, Vulso failed to remove his gaze from Mettius but could sense he ever increasing presence, behind Mettius strode in several large burly looking men, there heavy set beards covering most of their faces, with frowns set permanently in place to dissuade any attempt of aggression. “Barkeep!” Mettius roared. The large tavern owner tentatively walked out from behind the bar, the anxiety clearly written across his face, his son was less timid and stood upright showing signs of defiance in his stance. Both man and boys necks glowed red with nerves a sign to Vulso that both were ready to spring into a sprint at a moments notice. Mettius relaxed his stance allowing his own protection to do the same, the five guards took seats near door to the tavern and Vulso’s gut could sense trouble, with his only escape route now guarded by five mean looking men, Vulso felt trapped making the hairs on the back of his neck. Vulso sniffed derisively before speaking. “What’s this Mettius, surely you have got passed the need to threaten every man woman and child to get your own way. Your like and old wolf, constantly needing to prove his dominance over the younger pups, but you no the problem with old wolves, sometimes they bite off more than they can chew.” “You always were an insolent bastard Vulso,” Mettius said chuckling, “Funny too, I assume that was a joke?” Mettius said raising an eyebrow. “Of course it was a joke you old dog.” Vulso said laughing, Vulso could feel the tension leave his body as the guards behind Mettius began to relax. “Good I am glad, because I have killed men for less,” Mettius said grinning maniacally. “Oh I know, I was there remember…” Vulso said staring into Mettius’ eyes and right there was the man he had left twelve years ago. The same over reaching ever-dangerous man that made his very sphincter clench. “I remember, that was good business, that man got what he deserved and that bitch was screaming long before the end, although I secretly think she enjoyed it, those were the days, where life was easy. But there is fun to be had here, in fact me and the boys are here for a spot of cleaning.” Vulso’s eyes widened, Mettius only used the term cleaning when he was about to complete a task that was particularly distasteful. “What with these two,” Vulso said whispering looking at the man behind the counter. “Surely not, they are only simple folk.” “Simple they may be, but they have been doing some very underhanded business,” Mettius said in reply. “Isn’t that right Demetriatos? A little birdie told me you have been consorting with some very strange folk of late, late night visits, late night meetings. Surely you’re not dabbling in politics.” Mettius said mockingly. Demetriatos’ face went white, for the past year he had been allowing a small select group of people meet in his tavern after closing, they were never known to him, he knew no names they were always hooded and masked, but he was paid well for allowing them to meet. “Sometimes I allow customers to come in late.” He said nervously. “Oh so a lock in eh?” Mettius said questioningly. “That’s about right, I only allow my very best customers in.” Demetriatos said spluttering his last words. The five guards were looking directly at the man now, fingers twitching over their daggers as their eyes looked between him and the boy. “Oh leave it out Mettius!” Vulso said trying eagerly to diffuse the situation, he looked at Mettius whose eyes shone; the fire in his belly was ignited. Vulso continued to stare in the hope to find what he was searching for; he searched and searched his heart racing as his mind took in what was happening. Mettius slowly rose from his seat looking directly at Demetriatos but speaking to Vulso. “No, its too late for that now,” He said quietly, “He should have thought about that when he decided to take money and didn’t know or even question where it came from.” He stalked towards Demetriatos who recoiled in the presence the menace and intent clear in Mettius’ features. Demetriatos looked to Vulso who stared back in the anxiety clear on his features. “Mettius leave the man be, just take his money and be done with it. Killing him this way gains you nothing…” Vulso said pleadingly. “This serves nothing…Vulso you should know better…its acts like these that keep men in line, it makes them think twice about doing something they shouldn’t because they will know what will happen to them should they do it. No. Demetriatos here will suffer as will his boy and his wife right in front of him and then when I am satisfied he has watched enough I will end his life, with his blood on the floor at my feet…” Mettius paused “…and what would you have me do, Fear is currency, without fear you have only respect and once you lose respect that’s it, so I think I would rather rely on fear, now enough talk…BOYS!” The five men who had until now sat silently rose to their feet, the air in the tavern suddenly became charged, as suddenly the five burly men rose with their blood up, in well practiced movements three men rushed Demetriatos whilst the other two rushed out the back of the tavern. Moments later indignant screams were heard, Demetriatos roared his defiance but was controlled by two men, the boy struggled against his captor looking pleadingly at Vulso who stood dumb struck by what was happening all around him. He couldn’t believe how a quiet evening had suddenly degenerated into a bloody frenzy, his mind told him to run and not look back, but the flashes of his past that shot to the fore of his mind enraged his heart, he fists bunched tightly his knuckles turned white as he clenched them. The two men who had been sent for the wife arrived with the woman struggling in their arms, “She’s feisty.” One of them said grinning. “Excellent,” Mettius said chuckling “Just the way I like’em” The luring glare from Mettius towards the woman said all it needed to as she kicked and screamed. “Oh fucking shut her up will you.” The order brought swift and sharp blows to the woman. “Right, I think we should do the boy first…you!” He said to the man holding the boy, “I know you like boys! Take him.” The man grinned wolfishly. “No!” Roared Vulso, all heads turned towards him, silence hung in the air, Mettius spun on Vulso anger creased across his face. Vulso didn’t hesitate and rushed forward, his speed knocking aside Mettius as he rushed towards the boy, he drew a sword from his scabbard causing a loud rasping sound to emanate. “Don’t be a fool Vulso! You go down this path me and the boys will have to deal with you and I will only tell you once.” Mettius said back indignantly. “Fool! Me! I think not…tell your man to let the boy go before I put six inches of iron in his gut.” Vulso said in defiance, as Vulso spoke the words Mettius’ gaze grew ever darker before he spoke. “Very well kill him too.” Mettius ordered. -- Quarters of Manius Galerius Rufianus -- Tertius had just recounted his tale of tragedy and woe, speaking in ecumenical sentences he told of his fall from grace taking care not to reveal too much about himself and the group that had followed him. He deliberately left out the fact that Primus and Secundus were with him, the fact that they could be used as leverage against him was all to clear to him and he hoped that the man that sat before him did not have the necessary resources to find out and use them against him. Tertius edged his weary frame in the seat, age was finally catching up with him, no longer was he the sprightly man that threatened to tear Roma apart, now he was a man of experience but one better suited to fighting the long fight rather than the quick sprint. The aches and pains of age were now becoming prevalent but Tertius was loathe to admit it, Tertius brought his attention back to the man before him for the most part Rufianus had conducted himself well, not seeking to belittle the man but underneath the words was the menace of his link to Mettius and dangerous men were always linked to dangerous men. “That’s quite a story, one worthy of the legends.” Rufianus said smiling before he took a sip of wine. “How a man of your talents was ignored for so long I do not know, but I don’t sense much ruthlessness in you, oh your good in a fight and you have a talent for only telling people what you want them to hear but are you a man who could find his place here.” Rufianus steeped his fingers, “…and that’s the ultimate question, I believe you are a risk, but a risk to whom is the real question.” Rufianus and Tertius stared across the table at each other; the silence was palpable as both men sought to gauge the other. “Yes that’s the real question, the look in your eyes is the look of a man who has lost the long driven lessons of civility, that edge of life that allows you some self control. It would take one spark and you could set your world in flames, you’re a danger to yourself and those around you.” Rufianus shook his head, “No I can’t use you…” Tertius shook his head. “Can’t or won’t? All I want to do is start again, I don’t want anything to do with your politics.” Tertius replied testily. “So you say…but how can I know that Roman aristocrats are breast fed on politics they live for it, why should you be any different?” Rufianus said raising an eyebrow. “Why would a Roman end up here unless he has a plan?” “What plan? All I have done is turn up at your gates having had the misfortune of meeting your man Mettius on the way,” Tertius shook his head, “If he hadn’t sent a message you wouldn’t even know I was here and we wouldn’t be having this meeting and you called me a fool.” “Careful now, you’re one wrong word away from a quick death along with those two blonde boys you brought with you…” Rufianus paused, “Very well I will give your case more careful consideration, but trust me when I tell you that if I decide you are a risk, then that is what you are and risks are dealt with…HARSHLY.” Rufianus glared across the table and at that moment Tertius saw the deadly intent in his eyes; un fazed by the glare Tertius sniffed his derision before he stood. “You will not leave this city until I am clear on your position, is that understood.” “Fair enough, I have no intention on leaving.” Tertius said defiantly. “Very well, go back to your group of wolves, before I change my mind.” Tertius nodded his farewell and turned round to reach the door, Rufianus sat motionless his index fingers pressed against his lips deep in thought he failed to notice that the man that brought Tertius in had left the room with him. “Those were not wise words, my friend Rufianus is not known for his leniency.” The man said smiling. Before Tertius spoke Fulco piped up. “We going now, eh chief I am fucking dieing for a drink.” Tertius chuckled at the question. “Yes Fulco we are going now, and the drink will be well deserved after our long travels.” Tertius said in reply. “I shall take you to your men, I had someone watch them, so we wont find it hard to find them. Plus your men don’t strike me as the type to stay hidden for long.” Fulco and Falco grinned at the comment, turning to each other and grinning. “Oh you got that right, but you wont find anyone like us,” Tertius chuckled. “True!” Said Tertius, “You wont find any group of individuals that are as selective as we are!” Tertius said grinning. “All you have to do is follow the bellowing laughter of Bruccius and you will always find one of us very near by.” The group walked down a wide concourse the buildings on either side were large and many held monumental images of the kings of old, followed by even larger statues of the gods that the Tauricans obviously revered, Iuppiter stood resplendent, Mars was adorned with an iron cuirass and covered with a red tunic. The statues continued to carry on for a vast distance until a white skinned statue overhead, Tertius stopped dead in his tracks his eyes wide open as he stared at the Statue, the great Xiphos and scourge threatening all and sundry. His mind revealed the fire of old his heart racing as he felt the racing wind through his hair, even though there was no wind, his body was buffeted as he stared up at the statue. He looked around him no one seemed any the wiser, when a dark shadow crossed his vision, striking the walls to his left and rushing off down the side alleys that adorned the streets. “Nemesis…” Tertius whispered “Tertius!” Falco called as finally they noticed that Tertius had fall behind. “Tertius! What’s wrong?” “What…nothing!” Tertius said quickly, Falco was unconvinced. “You sure?” He said questioningly. “Yes,” Tertius said striding to catch up with his friends, his mind deep in contemplation as he struggled to understand what the momentary vision of the flighted being meant to him. The last time he had the vision his son, Titus had died shortly after. Titus, he thought, gods he hadn’t thought about his son for weeks, the very thing that gave him the driving energy to survive he had forgotten to remember. How could he forget his son, the thought caused a surge of anger to course through his veins as his breath became fast and fluid. -- Lupine Inn -- One of the men holding the woman grinned as the other man pinioned her to a table groping her as she screamed her defiance at him, the screaming just made the man use more of his strength as he seemingly enjoyed the struggle, the man pulled a large hooked blade from his pocket and waved it at Vulso mockingly who merely smirked well used to bar scoundrels who always fancied their chances with men of unknown ability. Vulso glanced behind him as the bar owner stood motionless fear gripping his spine, his wife screamed her defiance while the boy was held in place by one strong armed man. Vulso pulled his blade from his scabbard the loud rasping noise making all jump slightly, the wolfs head that adorned the pommel of the sword seemingly glowing as if knowing that its bearer was about to embark on something noble. “That’s a nice blade,” said the man in heavily accented Greek. “But in a bar brawl its not worth much, my dagger will make short work of you then I will get to work on the woman, I bet she gets real wet at the sight of blood.” He said finishing with a dark chuckle. Vulso spoke no words simply staring with silent intent at his erstwhile foe. “Enough! Kill him! Before I kill you!” Mettius roared from behind him, the man visibly jumped at Mettius’ words giving Vulso the split second to spring into his attack, he rushed forwards sending tables and chairs flying and he brought his blade down on his foe in an overhand cut designed to slash across his chest, but the man was too wily leaping back he fell over backwards as his calves collided with a stricken chair. Vulso sprang forward, raising his sword to deliver the thrust to the mans abdomen, the man began to rise from his position, seeing Vulso’s murderous intent in his gaze he instinctively raised his hand to deflect the blow, with a deft flick of his wrists, wrists that had long been attuned to wielding heavy equipment and having been put through murderous training, adjusted his grip and position and brought a cut down on the mans hand cutting it off at the writs joint. The man roared in pain as he fell backwards clutching the now empty space that was his hand. Vulso turned on Mettius, who merely raised an eyebrow and growled, “You’re a dead man Vulso,” Mettius turned to the two men that had now unsheathed their own blades, he strode over to the boy ordering the man to join his fellows, Mettius slammed a fist into the boys back, causing him to scream in pain. Demetriatos roared his anger at the treatment of his son, Mettius slammed his fist into the face of the boy, who squirmed as Mettius brought down his fist, his attempt at missing the punch feeble, a sickening crunch announced a broken nose, Demetriatos stepped towards Mettius, who raised his blade at him. “Uh, uh” he said wagging his finger at him, “One more step and your boy won’t be breathing, ands your wife will be receiving some very unwelcome attention, or more than she is receiving.” Mettius grinned, “Infact, take her upstairs and make her scream loud enough for us to here.” The man holding the woman grinned wolfishly, the woman screamed her defiance aware of what was happening. But the man was too strong; dragging her by the hair he slowly made his way to the stairs. “By the gods Mettius! You would have his wife raped and boy murdered in front of him. I hope that it’s my blade that pierces your gut.” Vulso said angrily, Mettius sniffed his derision as a tear and fresh scream pierced the night. “I doubt it,” Mettius said merely nodding at Vulso causing the three men to now advanced on him, Vulso’s eyes darted left and right, the piercing screams and agonized groaning setting loose and anger within him that he hadn’t felt in many years. His heart pumped as adrenaline soared through his veins; his right hand gripped his blade tightly as his mind sought out his first target. So intent as he was at figuring out his first target he failed to notice Demetriatos sweep in with a chair, striking the back of the man that stood directly in the middle of all three. This was Vulso’s chance, seeing that the man on the left was distracted he struck swiftly punching his blade forward at the open neck of the man before him, blood spurted from his wound as he fell back gargling in pain as his life flowed from his body, he fell away at the feet of Mettius, Vulso roared triumphantly, when the screams of pain and anguish came from upstairs, Vulso looked towards Demetriatos who looked in total internal agony wracked from protecting his wife and his son. But it was too late, Mettius had drawn his blade across the boys neck and a large pool of blood lie at his feet, Mettius was spattered with blood, Demetriatos’ chest heaved with anger and rushed off up the stairs to save his wife, the thudding was greeted by a loud shouting. Vulso turned his attention to the other man who was now beginning to cower from the man in front of him. His desire to run totally apparent, loud shouts and thudding of feet could be heard outside, roars of commands could be heard, Mettius’ head lifted up, listening intently to what was going on outside, Vulso also was intrigued. With a sudden lurch Vulso fell forward slightly gasping as a blade pierced his back, blood pouring from his wound as the man who he had seemingly incapacitated previously. His breathing took a rasping tone as the blade had worked his way towards a lung. Mettius stared at the scene before him, the tavern was coated in blood, chairs were strewn across the floor but the warmth of the fire still burned. Vulso looked at the fire, smiling as he stood gently swaying, he glanced round at Mettius who merely muttered ‘fool’ as he fled the scene, followed by two of his remaining accomplices. For a moment there was silence except for the crackling of the fire, the logs spitting and transferring its warmth to the now quiet scene that the tavern presented. Vulso swayed gently using his last remaining strength to lean on a chair that hadn’t been toppled his skin had turned pale and the dark wrinkled lines that adorned his forehead were sweaty as his body struggle to survive. A man burst into the room followed by men in black capes, his long strawberry blonde hair rising and falling as he strode into the room. “What the…” He said quietly staring round the room, his eyes taking in the blood-spattered carnage of the tavern. As he took in its surroundings he noticed Vulso sitting silently staring into the fire, seeing first the knife that protruded from his back then the three bodies of Colchian cavalrymen laying strewn across the floor. “Sir! The boys dead…blade to the throat.” He nodded, and turned his attention back to the man before you fire. “You!” Vulso failed to reply after a moment he strode towards him. “I said you!” Vulso turned his head to look at the man, the pale features letting the man know that life would no longer be his. Vulso squinted as his eyes had to adjust from staring too long into the fire and the effort of holding on to life. “I know you, you’re the young fellow from the gate…Tribunus Scorillo, yes that’s its. You’re a bit too late I am afraid.” Vulso said smirking. “What happened?” Scorillo asked frowning, hoping he wasn’t about to hear the answer of which he feared. Vulso sniffed at the question. “Mettius, that’s what happened. But what gets me is that he was acting on intelligence.” Vulso shook his head, his mind now beyond the point on rational thought. “What intelligence?” Scorillo asked. “Apparently some secret gatherings.” Vulso said shrugging his shoulders, Scorillo’s features turned to a worried frown, and Vulso stared up at him seeing the worried frown and sniffed his derision. “So it was true, typical man of politics and intrigue your no better than Mettius, your just as responsible as he is,” Vulso said angrily. “But why should I care, I will be dead soon, the knife in my back hit something important, I can feel my life draining.” Scorillo stared at Vulso not daring to speak. “Your silence answers all the questions I could ever ask young man.” Tertius arrived outside an inn, his legs ached after the long traveling and the lack of rest, the streets were growing dark and his eyes were tired, Fulco and Falco were now beginning to tire their never ending energy faltering as they approached the tavern. A roar of laughter erupted through the door, a loud bellow could be heard, and Tertius, Fulco and Falco all turned to each other and grinned “Bruccius!” They all said chuckling. They entered through the door a blast of wind entering in behind them causing indignant stares to travel across the room. “Here! Put a wood in the hole!” Came a cry across the room. Tertius, Fulco and Falco all entered the door filling the frame, the scarred features of the men that stood before them silenced any protest. “Boss!” came the cry from the far corner, where Crito had risen from his seat ejecting a rather buxom lady from his lap. “Over here boss, we saved you a seat.” Crito cast stares over the table and pointed to a gap that Tertius could barely fit into. Tertius strode over with stares following him, “So Crito as I see as ever you have a lady on your lap.” “Of course, I go through life with only one ambition to have a titty in one hand and a drink in the other and so far Chersonesos fulfils all of those desires and this beer is a fine substitute.” Crito said grinning. “Crito, I think you shall find that every city in the known world is able to cater to your needs.” Tertius said grinning, Tertius cast a glance over the table taking note of all the faces. His face frowning when he noticed was not present. “Where are Vulso and the boys?” Tertius asked. “The boys are up stairs and Vulso went off for a quiet drink, we thought he came here, but when we got here he never showed, so we have stayed here he still hasn’t showed.” Symeon said. Tertius slowly and gingerly walked round the group telling Fulco and Falco to get some more drinks from the bar, their blonde hair and good looks getting the attention of some of the working girls who frequented many a bar. “So boss, what’s the news?” All of them sat round the table with eager ears. “I met with Rufianus, he is a clever man but doesn’t give much away, but I get the feeling he is quite dangerous especially if he is linked to that Mettius fellow.” Everyone nodded their agreement to the statement their eyes fixed on Tertius. “He has some notion that we will be useful to him, much to my protest he seems to believe that we are a risk, whether he believes we are a risk to him or the king is beyond me.” Tertius said raising his eyebrows. “A risk? We just got here we haven’t had time to actually do a thing let alone cause trouble.” Symeon said angrily. “I know Symeon, but it seems that where ever we go our blend of skills and intelligence seem to be in need.” Tertius said smiling, causing some of the others to smile in return, Fulco and Falco returned to the table followed by a pair of women, Tertius looked round and fell silent, the first wore her hair in long golden locks, her eyes bore a fiery temperament and shone brightly as the lanterns that filled the room along with the fire reflected off of them she could not be more than five feet tall and wore a simple dress. Her skin was pale like most of the inhabitants of Chersonesos showing her origin. She smiled gently at Tertius who smiled back, “What have we here boys?” Tertius said smiling at the girls, who smiled back. “This is Alphia,” Fulco said pointing at the same girl whom Tertius had first recognized “and this is…” Said Falco seemingly forgetting her name, causing a fiery red head to slap him on the arm. “I…” She said, “…Am Andrasta.” Tertius smiled back at her. “That one has a temper,” he said chuckling, “She will eat you alive Falco.” The group burst out in laughter, causing Falco to blush slightly. “You’re all bastards you know that.” Alphia chose a seat next to Tertius, much to is surprise, and he took in her scent and smiled to himself, pouring himself a drink. He turned to Alphia and Andrasta. “So… how many summers are you?” Tertius asked. “That’s a posh way of asking how old I am.” She said giggling. “Ah, I think it’s a nicer way of asking.” Tertius said grinning. “Well if you put it that way, I am of twenty summers…” Alphia said giggling “…and Andrasta is either sixteen or seventeen.” “Ah young girls,” Tertius said appreciatively, a fire burned inside him, a simple carnal desire to let go and enjoy the youth that sat next to him, but when he looked at Alphia he saw Tertia, her anger revisited him on that fateful night when he returned to Roma after the fateful events in Hispania that saw his son Titus die those events that now saw him in Taurica at the mercy of more dangerous men. He felt a hand gently caress his leg only stopped when the door of the tavern swung open, stepping through the doors was Tribunus Scorillo, his strawberry blonde locks flowing in with the breeze, two men in black capes stood at his back. His eyes squinted as he took in the revelers he gaze stopped as he reached Tertius. “You! Tertius, we need to talk,” Tertius scowled but before replying Scorillo spoke again. “Your friend Vulso is hurt you must follow me.” All eight men shot to their feet grabbing their weapons, determined expressions written upon their faces. Scorillo looked at the group seeing the docile company turn into a effective unit in seconds, a useful group of men to have around you he thought, Tertius bid their farewell to Alphia and Andrasta, Tertius was the first to the door. “Bruccius stay with the boys…Lead the way.” He said to Scorillo muttering a silent prayer to Fortuna. Written by GM Dius Fidius |
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2:16 PM Jul 11