254 B.C Roman Legionary Camp just outside Tarsus
Roman General Silvius Servus: (just ending his pre-battle speech with gusto) .. remember, you men are the best of the best, and we Romans shall conquer .. THE WORLD!
*triumphant shouts and clashing of shields*
Akha: *walks up and bows low* Sire .. if I may interrupt your grand speech for a second. I bring you a ceasefire treaty from great Pharaoh.
SS: *turns to face Akha* What's this? Aha, so the cur wants to surrender does he! *with great bravado* Well you can tell him from me that he can stick his treaty where the sun doesn't shine. Nobody gets away from the invincible Silvius Servus that easily. Do they men?
*rowdy cheers*
Akha: Actually your honour. Pharaoh would like you to know that his army of crack troops outnumbers yours twenty to one, and funnily enough has you completely surrounded. He would also like you to know that your strategic position is untenable. If you haven't already noticed, *gestures around* you have set up camp in a featureless valley, with absolutely no means of egress. You have few rations for a prolonged siege, and by the god awful stench, no sanitation either. Oh yes, before I forget, if you look at that long dark line that stretches from one end of this valley to the other. That consists of no less than a thousand archers, who impatiently await the order to let fly upon this fort in .. erm ..*looks up at sun* .. about five minutes. However, to save un-needed bloodshed, great Pharaoh offers you the option to drop your weapons, withdraw your paultry forces from this region, and take your sorry behinds back to Rome on the first ship that passes.
SS: *face red with anger* H .. ho .. how dare the blackguard transgress against the glorious might of Rome. *bombastically* I the noble Silvius Servus who won the battle of lower Galatia .. who captured and sacked the city of Ancyra .. beloved of both the people and the Senate, l .. l .. leave the field of glory .. NEVER. The taking of Tarsus willl be my shining hour. *eyes close into daydream* Then I shall return to Rome in glory, be covered in gold and given a seat in the senate where I belong! . *with renewed vigour* Listen not to this 'son of a desert jackal' men. Just this morning I made offerings to the gods, and my seers have read the entrails of a sacred chicken. They all tell me the ides (portents) are well in our favour. Tell Pharaoh to prepare himself for an almighty thrashing! Isn't that right men?
*a few doubtful yays*
Akha: Sire, *smugly* from what I hear, the battle of Galatia was fought between your Roman legions and a witless band of pox ridden peasants, average age fifty nine, whos arsenal consisted of nothing more than a sharpened stick and a small bag of rocks. As for Ancyra, I wouldn't call three mottle and daub huts with adjacent cow field .. a city. In fact, your honour, isn't it true that your last command was slaughtered to man by a band of lightly armed rebels, whilst you quit the field and fled for the hills as soon as you noticed it wasn't going .. erm .. quite as you planned.
*subtle sound of pilums dropping to the ground*
SS: *nonplussed* Lies, damn lies. I should cut out your tongue minion and hear no more of your devious prattle. I the illustrious Silvius Servus with my crack legionaries will prevail. See for yourself, you cannot weaken the resolve of these proud brave Romans, every one a hero, isn't that right men .... men *turns to see large cloud of dust heading towards the coast*
Akha: One final thing your honour. We intercepted a rider carrying this rather interesting message addressed to you from the head of the senate .. if I may. *takes out scroll*
It reads, and I quote .. Silvius you great big lumbering oaf. If 'you' don't get your finger out of your bloody backside and actually conquer something more fitting to the might of the 'Roman Empire' than a small backwoods hamlet with adjacent cow field. I swear to Jupiter, I will have you tied up and dragged back to Rome by your bleeding ears ... blah blah blah .. Circus Maximus .. blah blah blah .. flayed to the bone .. blah blah .. arms and legs pulled off by horse drawn chariots.
.. shall I continue.
SS: *shaken and lost for words*
Akha: You better hurry up or you might miss the boat, your honour.