Contendite Vestra Sponte - A Romani AAR

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Liber I: Calabrian Shores

The morning dawned crisp outside Scipio's tent, sharpening the piping calls of summer birds, busy about their foraging. Inside the tent, the order of the siege was the morning's business, and forage of a different sort. Scipio considered one of many maps strewn about his tent, his balding head snapping swiftly as his eyes lit upon each place on the chart, Tarentum, Rome, Syracuse, Rhegium. Preparations now would ease the passing of winter for his men, were he to secure enough food and supplies. The morning light shining through the doorway was eclipsed and Scipio looked up.
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"Ah, Aulus, come in." The old retainer entered, leaning on his staff. Scipio motioned to a chair, and with a sigh the old man slowly lowered himself.
"It's cold for June," he said, "and these joints of mine would not be complaining so if we were in Arpi where we should be."
"Before you start with another lecture," Scipio replied, "let me remind you that we're only here because the Tarentines want us to be and..."
"Oh don't try to put one over on me Lucius; I've been around long enough to know the smell of... well, never mind. But don't think for a second I'll believe that we would be here if you did not see some benefit in it for yourself."
Scipio's brows shot up. "And for you as well old friend. And besides, if it will make the Tarentines happy, and we benefit from it, what's the difference?"
"The difference, my young and balding friend, is that not all of the Tarentines in fact want us here. And even if they did, what legal right do you have to come? You can't go around Italy demanding obedience on the basis of your father's name. You've never led men, and you've brought half a legion to a heavily defended Epirote stronghold. Not even Gnaeus, ass that he is..."
Scipio raised a hand, heavy with the iron ring of the patriciate. "Enough, Aulus. We've had this out before. Besides, my brother isn't here to defend himself from your sharp words." He smiled. The birds outside continued to twitter, cheerful in the play of a summer morning. "I know the legality is questionable, but consider this: Pyrrhus is gone. Without his aggression our alliance with the Carthaginians will not last, that much is certain. If the Tarentine aristocracy is not in control of the city by that time, what sort of a situation will we be in? Not just you and I either. We're here to get rid of the Epirotes and the democrats. If we're lucky we can figure out a way to do it before Pyrrhus comes back. Why the face?"
"Because you can't take the city with the men here," Aulus said, "you haven't nearly enough. A siege will harm the people you want to help, and what happens if the senate finds out about this absurd affair before your brilliant plan has come to fruition?"
"What indeed?" asked a new voice, eclipsing again the light of dawn.
Scipio turned to the doorway. "Ah, our untrustworthy yet trusted co-conspirator returns. What news from home Marcus?"
The new conversant entered, his gold equestrian ring but one of several adornments to shine in the morning sun for a moment before entering the shade of the tent. The wearer's face was flushed with exertion and his breath came in hoarse gasps. "Hah, news? You're finished. How's that for news?"
Scipio's brows drew together, "What do you mean? Mehercule! Settle down, you sound like a labored sow!"
Old Aulus grunted, "You expect any calmness would change that?"
"Piss off old man," Marcus spat. "You're in the kiln too. So am I for that matter. Normally I'd be secure in the fact that I know a good lawyer, but since that's Scipio here I don't know any that aren't also criminals."
"Out with it," snapped Scipio.
"Curius Dentatus Censor is on his way here now," said Marcus. "He left Rome shortly before I arrived there."
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Scipio blinked, "Then how are you here before him?"
"He was headed to Arpi to take command of the men there. I'm sure he was pleased to find that there were no men there!"
"Good gods!" breathed Aulus. "Where was he to lead them?"
"Here, actually," Marcus answered. "The Senate and People have given him a command against Milo. It seems he pushed for it. I guess he wants to finish the job he started at Beneventum."
Aulus looked at Scipio. "Do you think he bears the nota censoria?"
"No," Scipio replied. "Or at least I don't see how he could, unless Marcus here has been reticent. Is Praetextatus Censor with him? The nota are not official unless given by both censors."
"At Rome," said Marcus, shaking his head. "But do you think our toothy friend would be deterred by that? He might decide to skip the nota, prevent you from ever getting on the senate, and force it down the throat of whosoever raises a complaint. He did not get a command at his age by playing it namby-pamby with his opponents."
Aulus quailed. "What are we going to do? We're finished!"
"Not quite yet," said Scipio. "This may work out. I've put Dentatus' army in place within striking distance of the enemy, which is something he would have had to do anyways. Perhaps..." There was a sudden rush of feet and the sound of hooves on the turf outside the tent. Aulus' eyes widened and Marcus sighed.
"Sorry I couldn't have given you more notice, but it looks like the censor came in a hurry," he said. Scipio went pale. A great figure strode through the door to the back of the tent without slowing for a moment. Manius Curius Dentatus was tall, the weight of his sixty-five years bowing him not at all. His cuirass was unadorned, yet powerfully muscled, polished so that the bronze seemed to radiate its own light. His greaves likewise, but for the mud spotting them from the road. The lophos of his Apulo-Corinthian helm almost touched the ceiling of the tent, while his dark eyes glared out from under the rim, stone cold with slight regard.
"I would speak with this patrician," he said, his low voice filling the tent like the slow moving of earth, or perhaps Atlas himself spoke through him. He still faced the back of the tent, examining a map of southern Italy affixed to the wall. Marcus and Aulus left, the one helping the other to his feet.
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Scipio betrayed no outward emotion, keeping the stoic facade of his station, but few could stand in the presence of a censor without questioning themselves and their deeds. Dentatus removed his helm, holding it under his arm. He continued to examine the map in silence. Scipio's nerves frayed more and more with each passing second. If his voice was going to stay steady, he needed to use it just then. "Salve, Manius Curius Dentatus, and welcome to Tarentum. You should find the siege in order, and the construction of rams is complete. The Epirotes seem content to remain within the walls at the present time."
"Why are you here?" the Censor asked, ignoring Scipio's greeting.
"Ah, yes. When I heard of Pyrrhus' departure, and that the Carthaginians had effectively cut Tarentum off from the sea, it seemed necessary to liberate Tarentum from foreign occupation."
"To what end?"
"Security," Scipio replied. "The Carthaginians will surely see no reason to maintain our alliance if our common enemy is no longer a threat. With the Tarentines as allies..."
"Enough," interrupted Dentatus. "The Roman Senate and People have given me proconsular imperium. I will drive the Epirotes out of Tarentum. You will return to Rome."
Scipio's mouth went dry. He collected his thoughts for a moment while Dentatus remained motionless, staring at the map as if he were alone in the tent. "Perhaps as tribune I would better serve you. We have many who could be spared as messengers."
"You will not go as a messenger, nor for any purpose pertaining to this theater. Papirius shall sent reinforcements soon, along with tribunes." Dentatus turned. Gods, Scipio though, his eyes are granite. The cool breeze from outside now felt chill. The song of the summer birds grew agitated and shrill, disturbed by the presence of Dentatus' lictors outside the tent. He was transfixed by the censor’s lapidarian gaze. "Listen carefully, young Scipio. You are intelligent and well-spoken at need, but you are selfish and overproud. Scipio Barbatus, at peace beside the Appian Way, my brother in arms against the Samnites, would hold you an embarrassment. The commands, voted him by the Senate and People of Rome, you have usurped, using his name as an excuse to tread upon Roman law. Now you seek to shroud your transgression under a cloak of legitimacy. Your attempt to win the quaestorial election in absentia with the help of your equestrian friend has been pre-empted. Had you let everything alone, and gone to Rome from Arpi, everything would have unfolded according to your wishes. As it is, your impatient contrivances have served only to delay your advancement. As censor, it is not my place to punish you for this, but as proconsul I have the power to expell you from my province to where others may wish to call you to answer for your deeds."
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Scipio's throat seemed tight, and his knees were loosened. Although he knew it was unlikely that he would be seriously punished, his family holding much influence at Rome, he was nevertheless astounded by the force and gravity of Dentatus’ condemnation. He cast about his scattered thoughts for some response, but his mind seemed empty. Dentatus turned back to the map, removing his gaze. Scipio felt like he had been dropped from a great height. Dentatus spoke again, his deep voice resonating through the very ground, or so it seemed. “Your family is privileged, though in your impatience you do not see it. You need no cunning plan to enrich yourself or your legacy. Do but uphold Rome’s own laws and you shall reap all of the rewards she has to offer. Your nobility entitles you to the greater part of her glory. Circumvent her laws at your peril, for she is harsh with those who spurn her, as many shall see soon to their grief.”
A lictor entered the tent, fasces propped over his shoulder, muscles bulging against his toga. He ignored Scipio. “Manius Curtius, we have received word that the Greek mercenaries inside the city are withdrawing. It seems that they are not interested in helping the Epirotes any longer.”
Dentatus did not turn around, but peered closer at the map. “How many Greeks are making their withdrawal?”
“Several hundred,” the lictor responded. “There are only about two thousand fighting men still inside the city. They are mostly Epirotes, but the democrats have gathered a small cavalry force to aid them. Our forces here are too small to invest the city, so there is no way to guarantee that reinforcements will not be able to swell their numbers.”
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Scipio’s breath caught. Even for a conservative commander like Dentatus an assault should seem the most prudent course. Once they controlled the city the Romans would have the support of the local aristocracy. With their help they could then pacify the entire region. Live up to your name, old man. Take the bait, he thought to himself. If you move to assault the city before Papirius’ forces arrive, you’ll need me to lead the cavalry. The moments passed while Scipio scarcely breathed. Outside not a breeze stirred, the countryside was completely silent. Dentatus’ voice rasped like gravel sliding through the silence. “Lictor, convene my council. The men will form up to assault the north wall of the city. By tonight the Epirotes shall have lost their foothold on Italian shores.”
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The lictor bowed quickly and left. Scipio’s nerves tingled, Jupiter’s own lightning coursed through his veins. Dentatus stood like a stone colossus, immobile and daunting. “You will assemble the equites on the right flank. After the wall is breached, at the first opportunity, you will lead them into the city and assist the infantry as you see fit. Be at my tent in one hour. There I shall inform you and my council fully as to your duties.” Dentatus turned from the map and strode out of the tent. Scipio breathed deep, and heard the piping of birds meet the censor as he swept out into the cool morning air.
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I'm surprised no one else has commented yet.. :thinking:
Your writing is very good. It kept me interested throughout the whole chapter, something that many story-based AARs fail to do for me. Your style actually reminds me of Chirurgeon's with the non-game pics and trait-based roleplaying. I think many people may just be tired of Roman AARs, there certainly are a lot of them! However only Quintus's and thelord's have gone on for a considerable amount of time. If you keep up this standard of writing, I am sure more people will start to comment!
I eagerly await the next chapter! :2thumbsup:

Thanks for the kind words sir! My last AAR fizzled, partially because there's so many Romani ones, and partially because I wrote in a rather inaccessible style. The style's a little looser in this one, but since I'm such a hard-core Romanist I just can't play another faction! I may be able to get the next chapter late tomorrow if things go well. Thanks again for the compliments!

A Romani AAR starting in 272bc needs to be well written with some nice eye candy (I always like to see old maps) for people to bother reading them as there have been that many. Luckily this has both, looking forward to more.

Yes, it looks promising indeed. Looking forward to seeing some good old Roman kick-ass.

Thanks swordmaster! I'm a big fan of your Seleucid story. You've got a great eye for screenshots during the battles, they're really epic!

Damn, that's good. I love well-written novella AAR's.

WOW this is amazing !!! I really love ur writing style and that pic in the beginning is just BEAUTIFUL !!! I so wanna visit Italia now :P ... keep em coming buddy ... can't wait for the next chapter :)

Prince

Read this for the first time now, length of the post has detained me as yet...
Well, it's great! ~:thumb: As i won't get tired to tell, i appreciate AARs that feature a story, supported by pictures, instead of the other way round and i have to admit this is a good deal better than mine ~:mecry:

+ 1 follower

I just stumbled upon this. Great writing, divulse!
It reads like a true novel. I hope you'll continue!

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Liber II: Occasus Milonis

Scipio wished the cool of the morning had prevailed throughout the intervening hours. As the sun began to beat down with ever-increasing ardor upon the Calabrian coast a haze blew in from the west, carrying with it the ghostly outlines of several Carthaginian ships. The appearance of the Punic galleys caused a stir among the Roman soldiers gathered on the plain to the north of Tarentum; would they have also to fight these ancient masters of the sea, or would the treaty hold, signed seven years ago during the war against Pyrrhus? Uncertainty first spread, but as the ships made no motion towards the shore the Romans began to focus more and more on the immediate threat.
Dentatus and his personal guard, more than seventy heavily armed and experienced equites, took up their position behind the center of the line. Scipio, beginning to feel uncomfortably warm under his own Apulo-Corinthian helmet convened the rest of the Roman cavalry on the right flank. He sat his horse, immersed in his own thoughts, as Marcus ordered the line. You shall wait for the infantry on the right to breach the wall and secure an entrance, Dentatus had told him. Then lead your men in and take command of the troops there. Milo shall surely barricade the forum, so we will take control of the rest of the city before assaulting it. Try to re-establish communications after the first assault has calmed down, then we can coordinate an attack on the forum. There will be no looting or harassing the Tarentines, save those who ride against us in the cavalry, understood?
“It’s not so much the fighting as the waiting huh?” Marcus rode up, bronze cuirass elaborately decorated with silver filigree. “The men are ready.” He looked up at the sky, squinting against the haze which had caught fire in the summer sun. “Getting a little oppressive for this type of thing.”
Scipio looked at him with an amused smirk. “Maybe if your armor had less embellishment it wouldn’t be so heavy.”
“It’s the price one has to pay for financial success; besides, one of us has to look like he’s in charge. Speaking of which, why aren’t we being sent back to Rome in fetters?”
Scipio shrugged. “The old man did not say. He had ordered me away from his army, but when he heard that the Greek mercenaries were leaving he immediately gave me command of the cavalry. I guess the opportunity to finish his war against the Epirotes sooner rather than later was too much for him.”
Off to the left Dentatus was riding down the line, addressing the infantry, preparing them for the assault, reminding them of their duty, their ancestors, and their gods. “So Aulus won’t be riding with us?” Marcus asked.
Scipio smiled a little sadly. “He would if I allowed him to. It’s hard to believe he’s two years younger than the censor.” He followed Dentatus with his eyes, taken by the older man’s booming voice, stiff posture, and firm command of his steed. “Jupiter knows I’ve never seen such cold eyes. I thought I had been stranded on some Alpine peak in January.”
Marcus grunted. “Well, any excess resolve will be welcome. I doubt the Epirotes will just let us in. Be careful. I’ll be behind you with one hundred equites. Who knows, if you survive this you may even get some of that glory you were looking for.”
Scipio turned to look at the Carthaginian ships, ghosting along some distance from the shore. “Glory, Marcus? I’m not so sure. As I’ve said to you before, I have an uneasy feeling about what may happen now that Pyrrhus is gone. Others seem to have an interest in this Italian land of ours.”
“Well then,” Marcus responded, “your mind is on a more noble goal than mine. If we take Tarentum, I get rich. Richer, rather.” He winked. “Remember, you can’t save The City if you’re dead. The rams are moving. Try not to get us killed.” He cuffed Scipio on the shoulder and took his position at the head of those equites not in Scipio’s personal guard.
Scipio sighed. The wheels of the rams creaking in the distance, the measured tread of the infantry advancing to the walls, and the drumming of blood in his own ears clashed in dissonance with the natural song of Calabria; Diana would soon be drowned by Mars. The world slowed for a moment. The increasing heat and thickening haze drew a sopor across Scipio’s eyes. The nascent sounds of Mars diminished, indeed they sounded as they were a music played underground. Above, clear and bright, the sound of two birds at play danced across the field. He followed them, traced their fluttering plumage, vibrant against the suddenly monochrome backdrop of the beleaguered city. The happy playmates stopped in mid-air, just in front of his horse’s nose, suspended for a fleeting moment. His breath caught, the sound echoing. A human scream pierced the choking haze, jolting the birds to flight. Mars had come.
As the rams neared the walls of the city, javelins flew over the walls, falling among the Roman infantry, piercing scutum and cuirass. Dentatus signaled and the Roman leves sprinted towards the city wall. Arriving they heaved their own darts over the defenses and into the defending troops, many of who fell bloodied.

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Under an intermittent hail of javelin the rams continued their work, loosening the timbers of the wooden palisade. Their rhythmic beat was at odd counterpoint to the agitated reports of missiles finding turf, armor, and flesh. Finally the wooden structure gave way with a series of sharp protests revealing the enemy within.

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With a shout the Romans poured through the breaches and fell upon the defenders, Epirote infantry and mounted Tarentine democrats. Many fell in the ensuing press, but the attackers had the mastery, pushing the enemy back from the wall and into the interior of the city. Scipio led his knights through the rightmost breach and took command of the troops there, quickly securing the area and preparing to push further in towards the central square. The sounds of fighting elsewhere in the city ghosted through the ever-warming afternoon, shouts of victory and screams of pain competing, though the former were primarily sung in Latin.

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As the day aged Scipio led his men through the narrow streets of the city, using caution where needed, but always pushing the enemy back. When his infantry ancountered a wall of Epirote spears their progress was halted. Although the number of enemy hoplites was not great their flanks were protected by the buildings on either side of the street. The two forces of infantry met for a time, but although several were wounded on each side, nevertheless it soon became obvious that neither had the strength to rout the other; therefore, they withdrew a small distance and threw taunts and whatever missiles remained to them. Scipio rued the time wasted, but could not risk his men in a frontal assault.

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Meanwhile Marcus, who had been instructed to secure those parts of the city already passed by approached, bearing with him an unarmed Greek civilian wearing a low-girdled chiton. “The city behind us is as secure as we can make it, the Tarentines seem rather ambivalent about who ends up on top, as long as they are not harmed.”
“Good,” Scipio replied. “Who’s the Greek?”
“Molon eimi, ho tragoidos,” the Greek replied. The shouting of the infantry swelled for a moment.
“We’re a little busy right now for a play Marcus. Does your new friend have something useful for me?” Marcus nudged the Greek who gestured towards the infantry standoff.
“Nai, oida de ten periodon.”
Scipio looked at Marcus. “Can we trust him?”
“Well, I promised him steady employment at a very generous rate.”
“We need to dislodge these hoplites if we’re ever going to get to the forum, so let’s hear what he has to say. If this works, I’ll personally give him all the goats he can eat.”
Molon proceeded to describe a circuitous route through a series of narrow alleys between the Tarentine buildings. It issued forth around a corner, just out of sight from where the hoplites were drawn up, engaged in their shouting and posturing against the Roman infantry.
Leaving Marcus in charge Scipio led his guard and a few picked infantrymen through the labrynthine back-streets of Tarentum, meeting none of the enemy therein. The few outward-facing windows of the buildings were boarded up, and he saw no sign of the inhabitants, lying in their houses and awaiting a victor. Issuing forth from the alley onto a wider street, Scipio could hear the shouting of the hoplites from around the corner, just as Molon had described. It was difficult to bear the waiting as the rest of his men emerged from the narrow street, being forced to go one at a time. At length the line was made ready, and Scipio motioned the advance.

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As they rounded the corner the enemy hoplites came into view, all concerned only with the legionaries to their front, oblivious to all else that moved. Spears in hand the equites of Scipio’s guard urged their steeds on, quickly closing the distance. Several of the rearmost hoplites turned upon hearing the sound of horses hooves, but the speed of Scipio’s advance was great, and they were unable to organize any sort of line; indeed, many quickly tried to dodge the first onset of of horse, only to be swept off their feet and crushed to the ground. The Romans began swiftly to lay about with their hastae, thrusting them down into the faces of the Epirotes. The hoplites in front were almost immediately alerted of trouble to the rear, some being jostled by those behind, others hearing the screams of horse, rider, and slain countryman. Perceiving the faltering morale and wavering line of the enemy, Marcus ordered his infantry to charge straight into the opposing formation. With a shout the Romans surged forward. As the hoplites were in disarray and their spears were no longer trained in a coherent edge, the charging legionaries leaned into their scuta, bearing right into the bodies of the Epirotes and battering many of them to the ground. The hoplite formation broke, each individual seeking to escape along the route that seemed shortest to him, unconcerned for his neighbor.
The day gave way to dusk, and Scipio having tasted blood urged his men deeper into the city. There in the forum the last valor of Epirote aggression in Italy was spent. The sweltering air of a Calabrian summer was now noxious with dust, smoke, and the reek of bodies lately opened with Roman iron. As the sun moved ever closer to the horizon the blue sky was lit as with a sickly flame. Through the reek rode Scipio with his guard, running down the enemy and maneuvering with Milo and the Tarentine democrats.

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Finally, having secured the rest of the city, Dentatus arrived in the center. None of the Tarentines could withstand the sternness of his gaze, and soon all order was lost. With many men slain the Epirote occupation of Tarentum was ended, and when a cool evening breeze lifted the reek and carried it away no Epirote soldier or Carthaginian ship was in sight of the city.

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Hey everyone. Thanks for the positive feedback. Sorry about the long lay-off between updates, been really busy. :juggle2: Writing this is enjoyable so far, but I write rather slow. My standards aren't high, but if they're not met I don't post. Another apology is needed for my pictures, they are recycled images from my first, failed AAR. Something was wrong with my computer and the screenshots for this battle came out black, but it's all set now, and subsequent images will match the narrative a little better. I'm going on vacation for a week tomorrow, but I'm bringing my laptop with me and enough screenshots for at least one update, so if I have the time I'll write what I can. Comments and criticism welcome.

Very nice, I had feared this one was dead.

The second chapter was amazing !!! Nice pics u've got there ... nice photoshop skillz too ^_^

Plz continue writing :)

Prince

Very nicely done, sir. I enjoy your writing style and the pics are an excellent addition. Pray, do continue.

Great start. I like your use of pictures. I use landscape pics in my AAR to help give some reference to the reader of the Geography.

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Originally Posted by Chirurgeon

Great start. I like your use of pictures. I use landscape pics in my AAR to help give some reference to the reader of the Geography.

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I think this AAR is reminiscint of your efforts Chirurgeon, probably why I like it.

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Originally Posted by johnhughthom

I think this AAR is reminiscint of your efforts Chirurgeon, probably why I like it.

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Ditto.

the second chapter screenshots are.... beautiful! really really interesting AAR indeed:medievalcheers:

I hope you get to marians , since both quintus and the lord(well...at least it seems)'s AAR are dead now :(

nice storyline, the pre-battle banter reminds me of that from the banter before Philippi in HBO's Rome. fun to read.