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Thread: The comming of a great man

  1. #1

    Default The comming of a great man

    He watched as the column marched past him in a tact fast pace, trying to keep his mount still so he could present him self in a commanding presence before his men, holding the image of his father before his eyes. He failed miserably though as muffled laughter slowly reached his ears together with strenuous hushes from the commanders. Tertius let out a sigh and slumped back on his horse, giving up on the charade. At the age of twenty-one and almost untried in battle Tertius did not command great respect within his army. They did what he ordered but mainly because they would be fed to the lion other ways. Or worse still fall under the wrath of his mighty father, a fate none sought after willingly.

    His orders where to lead two thousand men deep in to Gaul territory and make as much noise as possible, hopefully drawing forces away from the main front and his father. The general renowned throughout the Roman Empire as the Vanquisher and Conqueror, had met steep opposition as he had moved north, through recently conquered Spain, and in to Gaul controlled Narbonensis. The brilliant Gaul general Wotecroix, the man who had vanquished the Germans, had all but stopped the invasion by sending huge numbers of men at the advancing Roman Legions. Tertius job was to lead some of those men elsewhere and thereby reducing the pressure and lead to the rightful fall of Narbo Martius.

    For three months he had led his under strength Legion, terrorizing the Gaul countryside. Over thirty villages had been sacked and burnt to the ground but the Gaulís had not as of yet mustered a force big enough to meet them on the field. His forces had grown contemplated and his officers were expressing their worries. The deeper they penetrated the harder it would be to fight them selves out if necessary. He nudged his horse in the side urging it forward, they would reach the village soon and he would have to oversee the operation. Hopefully his men would get as much respect for him as they had for his father, in time. For now he would settle for this, after all it was his first command and there were not many who commanded a Legion at the age of twenty-one.

    Tertius slowly rode through the remains of the once proud Gallic village. Screams were herd throughout the surrounding woods as his cavalry and a few centuries of hastatii hunted down the remaining villagers. As he reached the outset of the village the disturbing sight of over fifty crosses trailing the road greeted him, a road of death where the male population were crucified. Punished for their crime of opposing Romeís valiant offer of joining civilization. If this didnít bring forth the Gaulís nothing would. He surveyed the area and the wanton destruction inflicted by his troops from the high point of his horse. Everywhere bodies laid scattered, some in heaps as they had been fighting to the end in small groups others in spread pattern as the cavalry had ridden them down. His eyes drew to the ever-present black cloud, circling the village, gathering the souls of the fallen and bringing them to the afterlife. As he studied the ravenís flight over the sky, ever collecting, he heard one of his officers wondering what they would do with the up rounded prisoners. He broke the trance of watching the graceful ravens and looked at the man. The pain and fear radiated out through his eyes as he gave the order. ďKill them, kill them allĒ and just as he nudged his horse forward ďOh and Marcus, burn it downĒ. As the village shrunk behind him he wondered if the ravens would deem him worthy and collect his soul on the final night.

    The black smoke painted the clear blue sky telling the tale of foreboding times to come. Even the flames, although they were a full three hours march from the village, reflected as an orange crescent at their rear. Giving anyone looking in that direction a sensation of danger and a strong feeling to keep away. The black cloud trailed them above; making everyone uneasy, as it should be days to they saw them again. Tertius shifted uneasily in his saddle as he watched the ravenís circle above. Giving him a sense that they were laughing at him, knowing something he didnít. Perhaps they were full after three months of feasting, he reasoned. But deep inside him the nagging feeling of danger still tugged at his heart, whispering words of cowardice to his ear. He shrugged them off; after all if he botched this assignment he wouldnít be able to go home anyway. His father would feed him to the lions and deliver his head on a silver plate to the Senate if that was the case, literally. He took a deep breath, pushing the ominous thoughts from his head. He figured another three days and the Gaulís would have mustered a force too meet him. Then finally this would be over and he would be able to come home to a victory parade and get a senatorial position. This thought made him feel easier at heart and he smiled as he marched on towards the next village. After all they were only stupid birds anyhow.

    Tertius felt the blood rushing through his body, hearing it pounding in his ears. Everywhere screams were heard as his officers barked out their orders. The legion was forming a battle formation on a small hilltop as his scouts had brought words of a Gaul army a few clicks north. They would arrive in an hour or so; consequently the men were positioned now thus giving them time to get some rest until the Gaulís arrived. Water was collected at a nearby stream and spies were positioned to follow the Gaulís march and give words on their situation. Finally the battle was about to commence, the fall of the Gaulís were at hand. Pride filled Tertius as he thought that Narbo Martius probably already had fallen due to the relocated army soon to be amassing before him. When this petty squabble was defeated the Gaul Empire would soon crumble at the might of Rome. He could already se victory arches and parties held in his honour. Maybe even a provincial game in his name would be held; the thought filled him with arrogance. He felt he could crush Wotecroix himself; soon he would amass a name rivalling his father. Maybe he could end up taking over the entire Julii clan. He wished the Gaulís would get here faster so his elevation to power could commence.

    Slowly the barbarian horde trickled thru the forest clearing and positioned them selves in a long battle line. First one man, then ten and now thousands, ever more barbarians left the protective surroundings of their forest and found their place in the line. But still over a thousand more were hiding, lurking around, trying to find a weak spot in the Roman defences. A futile task, the Roman defences were well prepared in advance with sharpened poles protecting the flanks. Now and then a muffled sound or a single shriek could be heard as spies and skirmishers found one another as they were jockeying for positions. Now and then a group of barbarian braves made a made dash towards the Roman lines, howling their war cries. But they stopped just out of reach making obscene gestures, trying to incite the Hastaii to advance out of their protected perimeters. To no avail though, the Roman lines stood firm. This charade continued again and again until Tertius became tired of the howling maniacs and let loos two salvos of arrows at them. The result, over thirty Gaulís laid dotted down the hillside with arrows protruding through their backs.

    After the arrow incident everything calmed down. The small battles in the woods stopped and the courage of the mad dashing Gaul warriors had diminished. It all became a standstill were the two opponents watched each other, the barbarians noticeable more anxious than the Romans. Watching this Tertius confidents continued to increase and he boldly started to look for the Gaulís standard. Thinking he wanted to finish of the Gaul general him self. At his vantage point he scouted the field, but without result. The General standard was nowhere to be seen. A contemptuous sneer crossed Tertius face as he considered the cowardice of the Gaul general. A general who didnít even have the courage to face him on the battlefield certainly would be no match to his soldiers. Again the image of a victory arch flashes before his eyes, bringing forth a smug smile. Then the black cloud dispersed, leaving the Romans with an ominous feeling. Shortly after the war horns echoes thru the forest, bringing word of the coming of their leader. Again Tertius tenses up, soon the battle would commence. Then the Gaul command standard finally reviled itself.

    The sharp intake of air by two thousand Romans could be heard over the soon to be battlefield. Out from the woods he came, a man, neigh a Commander with a presence of great demeanour. It was none other than the great general Wotecroix himself. The demon born general witch had ended the German threat and stopped the Roman invasion. And with him he brought four thousand warriors, men eager to avenge the atrocities committed by Tertiusí Legion. A great roar rose from the barbarian horde, and amidst this terrifying sound the booming voice of Wotecroix could be heard. Tertius locked eyes with the hellish general and saw the burning hatred boiling behind. He saw the great war-hammer be lifted, announcing the attack. And the roar rose to a crescendo before the Gaulís hurled them selfís forward, eager to be the first one to the enemy. As the orders for readying the pilums sounded through the Roman lines the horde were seen storming towards their lines, and at the very front the terrifying image of an enraged general on his horse. And the Legion, as the sparrows, turned as one and started running. Tertius looked at Marcus with a resigned stare and they both new their failure. None of them would be able to return to Roman lands ever again and as one charged the coming storm. If they were to die at least they would die by the sword in honour then by the wrath of his father. Tertius set course for the impressive general and as he readied himself for a mighty blow on his foe he was struck down by a well placed swing from Wotecroixís mighty hammer. The battle he had waited for had ended before it ever had a chance of starting, and the Legion was forever lost and would never again be recorded in the annals of mighty Rome. So ended the first western push in to the lands of Gaul.

  2. #2
    Not affiliated with Red Dwarf. Member Ianofsmeg16's Avatar
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    Default Re: The comming of a great man

    Sweet man....I am cheering for the Gauls...
    Good Story aswell, although you may want to think about putting more dialogue in there and spacing out the speach you already have...e.g
    "hi" said Ian of Smeg.

    "whats up" said a random guy

    "Nothing much, i figured out why never to talk to strangers" Ian replied

    "Why" Said the Stranger "i'm not a bad guy" He said as he brandished a knife

    see, much more interesting, are you going to write more?
    When I was a child
    I caught a fleeting glimpse
    Out of the corner of my eye.
    I turned to look but it was gone
    I cannot put my finger on it now
    The child is grown,
    The dream is gone.
    I have become comfortably numb...

    Proud Supporter of the Gahzette

  3. #3

    Default Re: The comming of a great man

    Thanks for the comment. As for putting in more dialogue, Iím severely lacking in that area. My conversations just end up corny and bad. I therefore try to keep it to a minimum. This story I wrote to get out some frustration over how easy armies rout after 1.2. So I wonít write more on this one. Iím doing a Brutii campaign story and I will post the first chapter in the throne room now (I think this is were campaign stories are meant to be, if not I'll post it here later).

    Cheers
    Nev

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