Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)

[Orichalcum]

Welcome to the Alea Iacta Story Hour! Author’s Note: Alea Iacta (Latin for “Thrown Die,” from Caesar’s saying “The die is cast”) is an episodic D&D game set in a mythic Roman Empire. While the history, cultures, geography, and inhabitants are largely equivalent to the early 2nd century CE world of the Roman Empire, all the magics and gods believed in by the Romans and their barbarian allies and enemies are true and impact the lives of the characters in various ways. Within the Roman sphere of influence, arcane magic is acknowledged but disapproved of; a modern equivalent would be low-level use of minor illegal substances in one’s youth.

Divine magic is available largely to the wealthy and those of devout faith. Among the tribal peoples such as the Celts and North Africans, who have accepted less of the Roman culture, both arcane and divine magic are ubiquitous, powerful forces that shape everyday life.
In practical logistical matters, the game meets for a weekend of about 12 hours of gaming, about once every three months, and is currently about to have its twelfth session. Also, certain aspects of the first session are indebted to Rosemary Sutcliff’s book Three Legions. All other characters and dialogue are the sole creations of their players and myself, the GM.

[Orichalcum]

My name is Shast. I want to write, or at least dictate, the great North African Roman novel. But with all the traveling and dangerous missions lately, time and papyrus have been somewhat lacking. So I thought I’d keep myself in practice by noting down a few stories about what my partner and I have been doing lately.

Prosaic stuff, really – what the agora wants is more stories about nubile maidens being kidnapped by pirates and sold into the harem of the Parthian King of Kings – but my mother always told me that monkeys should write what they know.

Let’s start with me. I’m about 10 inches tall, short golden hair, bright brown eyes, winning smile, and let me tell you, my tail can curl around just about anything. I met my partner, Meloch the Pygmy, about 10 years ago, in a brothel on the island of Cyprus. We’d both been purchased to entertain the customers while they waited for whatever it was they came to the brothel for. Meloch juggled, I scampered around the place and balanced winecups on my tail.

Degrading, yes, I know, but the food was good. Meloch has much more of a problem with the whole concept of food-for-service than I do. The way I see it, the client and I are both getting what we want out of the deal. Anyways, Meloch and I realized something about each other – he wasn’t a normal pygmy (North African tribe, short side for humans, understandably terrified of the giant cranes who invade them every year) and I was quite a bit brighter than the average monkey. After the first few times when the juggling balls stayed up in the air when they had absolutely no reason to do so, I realized he was a sorcerer. Then he grabbed me and hid away in the cellar for a couple of days, and at the end of that, we could talk mind-to-mind.


This is often useful. Hopefully, it’ll save me from the goat’s fate. See, Meloch also always keeps this goat, named Kaspar, which he rides around on and treats as his trusted comrade. Only, the big secret is, there’s no one Kaspar. Soon as Meloch is traveling somewhere where a goat isn’t convenient, or even sometimes when he’s just hungry, he kills his helpful friend and eats him. We’re currently on Kaspar the Eleventh. So I figure this mental bond is my insurance. Meloch starts looking at me like he’s hungry, I give him a headache bigger than his you-know-what. Oh yeah, that’s the other reason Meloch keeps getting jobs, besides the juggling. Apparently, pygmies are both great at mating and they help other humans have more babies somehow. I don’t really understand this.

[Orichalcum]

So anyways, Meloch and I spend a couple of peaceful years being sold around the Empire before winding up as this thirteen-year-old girl’s birthday present from her mom at the absolute ends of the earth in Northern Britannia, in the Roman fort of Eburacum. Now, I have nothing against Cornelia, that’s the young one – she gives me lots of extra treats and scratches my head without using her hands, a trick she learned from Meloch. Her mother, Licinia Luculla, on the other hand, the Roman noblewoman who sent us to Britannia, maybe out of guilt for having abandoned her mate and child several years back, she’s terrifying. But more on that later.

So, it’s been about three years, and the only thing keeping me from freezing my tail off in Britannia are the horrific little plaid wool jackets and booties that Cornelia’s nurse, Nanna Alma, knits for me. One day, Cornelia’s father, G. Cornelius Crispus, who’s a big military man, Legate, or 2nd in charge, of the Sixth Legion, Valeria Victrix, of Rome, invites some guests over for dinner and a meeting. Meloch and I are there doing our juggle-and-scamper routine.

The one who seems most like the alpha is the youngest and most befuddled, one Quintus Caecilius Metellus, a Tribune of the Legion from a very noble family. (Later we find out that he’s second cousin once removed to the Emperor.) Then there’s a big, older fellow, retired Centurion Marcus Alexandros, who you’d expect to be in charge if these were monkeys, but the humans have more complex ways of establishing their dominance. Last is a young Briton in his late 20s, decked out in the uniform of a Roman auxiliary engineer, Marcus Tacitus Llyr, known as Spearmaker to his family. (He’s apparently also a Prince of the local Brigantes tribe, but this is somehow less important than the Roman ranks.)

After a pleasant supper (imported figs! I love figs), the Legate informs the three Legionaries that he is relieving the first two of active duty and calling the third back to duty, for a special mission. Seven years ago, the legion stationed in Eburacum was not the VIth Victrix, but the Ninth Hispana. The governor at the time, down in Londinium, heard reports that the northern tribes were attacking the garrisoned forts of Bremenium and Tremontium, north of Hadrian's Wall, and sent the Ninth north of the wall to regarrison the forts and deal with the problem. Not one man of the Ninth ever returned.

More importantly, neither did the Eagle, the standard of the Legion.
Without an Eagle, the Ninth could not be reformed, and its remaining members, wounded or on other duties at the time of the northern expedition, were folded into other Legions. One of these was Alexandros. He seems pretty upset at having lost his whole Legion, which seems rather like a 6000-large tribe of monkeys.

The Legate has summoned them because merchants and traveling
doctors have informed him both that the northern tribes seem to be massing for war again, and that the Eagle has been seen, somewhere, north of the furthermost Wall. At this point he pulls out an elaborate and accurate map. The relevant highlights of the map are as follows: the province Caledonia, which was never conquered
permanently by the Romans, Valentia, to the south of Caledonia, which was once a Roman province, but was largely abandoned 26 years ago, the Antonine Wall, a rough wall of turf which once marked the boundary of Valentia from Caledonia , Hadrian's
Wall, which separates Valentia from the established Roman province, Trimontium and Bremenium, the two eastern forts along the old Roman roads that the Ninth was going
to garrison.

The Eagle is supposedly somewhere in southeastern Caledonia. The mission is to go north, find out what happened to the Ninth, why it happened, and, if at all possible, retrieve or destroy the Eagle. I get all this explained to me later by Meloch, especially about this Eagle, which turns out not to be exactly a real eagle, but a statue of an Eagle, carried as a banner in war, which made Alexandros and all his fellow Legionaries really eager to fight and good at it. Apparently, Alexandros can’t re-form his tribe without the Eagle, and on the other side, if the Caledonii have it, they can use it against the Romans as a powerful magical artifact.

This all sounds like it will make a nice exciting story for my memoirs when the three Legionaries get back, or a brief tragic elegy about the young Metellus’s senseless death. Then the truly awful thing happens. The Legionaries decide they want to disguise themselves before trooping up into tribal lands and ask if they can borrow Meloch to aid them in their disguise as magical trinket sellers.


And that sweet girl Cornelia says yes! And then Meloch tells me over the mental link, as I screech, that I have to come too, despite the fact that it will be even colder in Caledonia and I won’t be able to take a nice hot bath every day. Maybe Meloch’s right in the disadvantages of this whole slavery thing.

About this time, a local blacksmith and spirit-worker, a large dark-haired man named Heilyn, arrives. The Legate, afraid for the Legionaries' success if they have only swords against the Druids' evil powers, tries to enlist the
blacksmith by offering him a. an exclusive metalworking contract for the
Ninth if it's reformed and b. no more commissions from the VIth Legion ever if he refuses. He accepts, reluctantly. The Legate also mentions that the group should keep an eye out for a traveling vates or philosopher-sage, Wena of the Iceni, whom the Legate sent north to gather information.

The next day, Cornelia runs away from her father and the warm baths, for no good reason, and uses the stuff she’s been picking up from Meloch to cast a spell on Tribune Metellus to persuade him into taking her along, on the argument that she may have useful knowledge about the Celts and can speak to their women. The Tribune initially accepts, but later can't believe he was so stupid and resolves to protect her at all costs or throw himself on his sword due to the dishonor. By then, it's too late to send her back.

This means that Cato, Cornelia’s owl, with whom she has a mental contact, has to come along too. Furthermore, since Cornelia doesn’t want the incredibly naive Metellus to know she can do magic, Cato has to ride on Meloch’s other shoulder and pretend to be his other partner. This is nearly the last straw. I burrow into the saddlebags and proceed to ignore Meloch and everyone else.

Oh, and did I mention that the smith Heilyn brought along an enormous wolfhound and two small yippy dogs with the combined intelligence of a desert rat? Of course, everyone pays them more attention, because they can “get food.” I could get food if we were living in a sensible climate with fruit on the trees, but no. We have to be riding a doomed goat through Caledonia.

[Orichalcum]

On the first day of traveling beyond Hadrian’s Wall, leaving the Roman- controlled lands and all hope of warmth forever, life seems fairly peaceful as we ride along the road, built by the Romans back before they abandoned this province in search of the finer comforts of life.

Suddenly, a tribesman, brandishing a spear, runs across the road in front of them, panting. He is followed shortly by an enormous, long-nosed bear, running at a startling speed. The Tribune, Metellus, rides forth to bravely face it, and is mauled nearly to death for his courage. Then the smith, Heilyn, runs forward and yells something at the bear. Peeking out of my saddlebag, I think he’s addled, until the bear looks confused and just stands there, blinking.

Perhaps Heilyn can talk to the spirits and animals – he’s certainly never bothered with me though. So I decide to make his life miserable until he acknowledges how superior I am to all the other nonhumans. It appears this may take a while.

While the engineer, Llyr, loads his one-man ballista, the others ride
forward. Some miss; Cornelia, on Llyr's instructions, fires the ballista and grievously wounds the bear. With a final stroke, the Tribune chops the bear's head off. This is the beginning of a long pattern. Metellus doesn’t seem all that good at actually fighting, but somehow he always performs the actual kill. This probably relates to those complex human hierarchies.

The hunter whom they have saved falls at their feet in gratitude and introduces himself as Guern. After all catch their breath, he suggests they make camp and share the fresh bear meat. (I decline the bear meat – too smoky.)

During the companionable meal, the Legionaries begin to notice several odd things about Guern - he speaks Celtic with a slight accent, his beard shows the markings of a long-worn chin strap, and he bears a faded brand of Mithras, the bull-god of many soldiers, on his forehead. They ask probing questions which he evades. When he tries to sneak away during the night, he trips into one of Llyr's carefully laid rope traps, and the group springs upon him. I go back to sleep, figuring I can hear the details from Meloch later.

[Orichalcum]

Guern’s Story (I think this might be publishable all by itself, but Meloch says that the Romans don’t like stories of cowardice and desertion. Of course, I see Guern’s actions as simple common sense. These Romans are all crazy.)

Upon interrogation, Guern confesses that he was in fact once a Centurion of the Third Cohort of the Ninth. He says that the Ninth made it as far as Voluntiae, a fort on the Antonine Wall, without direct attack. Along the route, however, they were beset by strange mists and eerie sounds, by animals that attacked out of nowhere, and morale fell dramatically. By the time they reached Voluntiae, everyone was terrified.

Two tribunes he remembered, Lysias and Minucius, did nothing to help. Lysias was convinced that the Legion was doomed; Minucius kept trying to convince everyone that it was the Prefect's fault. And admittedly, the
Prefect was only slightly less imbecilic than he was well-born.

At Voluntiae, the Legion made camp, and set up watch. But in the
middle of the night the tribes, hundreds of them, came storming through a breach in the walls, massacring most of the soldiers inside. Marcus Flavius Aquila, the primus pilus centurion, took the Eagle and led a retreat back towards Trimontium. Guern was wounded in the leg, and fell by the wayside, to be rescued by the women of a local village and slowly, painfully healed.

Fearing execution as a deserter, he never returned. He knows nothing of the Eagle, save that, if anyone would have it, the Ouenikones, the tribe near Voluntiae, would, and that their holy place is called Ituna.

Guern then asks what has happened in Roman Britain, in the last seven years, and what the fate of the impulsive governor who ordered one under -strength Legion north was. No-one seems to be able to remember.
Indeed, neither they nor Guern can even remember the name of the governor in question, surprising particularly given Alexandros' eidetic memory.

After pondering this, Metellus and Cornelia remember a rarely used
sentence, that of "damnatio memoriae,", proclaimed by the Emperor for those who have offended grievously against the Empire. Those who suffer "damnatio memoriae" have their names erased from official inscriptions. Any statues of them have their heads cut off and replaced. Their sons' and daughters' names are changed. And, most frighteningly, the very existence of them is wiped out from everyone's memory, with some sort of magic performed directly by the Emperor himself. Neither Metellus nor Cornelia can remember damnatio being pronounced on anyone within their lifetimes, but then again, they wouldn't. The group wonders at this news, although Alexandros decides it is a fitting punishment for such rash behavior.

[Cerebral Paladin]

Just thought I'd begin the player introductions. I play Marcus Alexandros, the retired Centurion from the IXth. Marcus Alexandros's family is part of the ethnically Greek population of Alexandria (in Egypt). After spending his 20 years in the Legions, Marcus settled down to run his farm in northern Brittania. As a retired legionary, he received a plot of land from the government (essentially as a pension). Because he was a centurion, his plot is fairly large.

[Ladybird]

And I'll join CP in introducing myself as a player (and in congratulating Ori for this very cool story hour!)

I play Cornelia Crispa. Unbeknownst to everyone except Meloch, Shast, Cato (and probably her mother), 16-year-old Cornelia is a sorcerer. But her mother lives all the way in Rome, and the other three aren't talking, so she's pretty sure that her secret is safe for now. She also really does know a lot about Celtic lore and language, thanks to the stories told to her by her old nurse, Nanna Alma.

None of this is appropriate behavior for a proper Roman maiden, of course - in fact, most women Cornelia's age are already married. Nor is defying her father's will to go on a dangerous expedition beyond the Wall, or casting a spell on a tribune to do it. But a girl can pick up some unconventional ideas, living out here on the edge of the Empire...

[Orichalcum]

With this information, the Romans forcibly draft poor Guern as their local guide, and travel onward, soon reaching Trimontium, the deserted legionary fortress. Along the way, they meet Wena, the female wandering philosopher whom the Legate had asked them to watch out for. She informs them that the Ouenikones are rumored to be having a major religious festival soon. I like Wena – she doesn’t charge brazenly into danger the way the rest do. I’m worried that this group of people are a bad influence on Meloch, encouraging him in reckless acts of daring.

By day, Trimontium seems bereft of either information or interest, just another Roman fort laid out in a square grid with a central dais and marching field, like the one back in Eburacum, or Cyprus, or anywhere, really. At night, it's a different story. As the last rays of light fall, the first watch sees ghostly spirits patrolling back and forth through the barracks. The Ninth is back - at least part of it.

To Heilyn, the spirits are perfectly
clear; to the rest they are vague and indistinct. Alexandros tries to speak to one, only to have it pass right through him, leaving him weak and dizzy. Cornelia, who may be impetuous but is fairly clever, has the idea to make proper Roman funeral offerings of wine and wheat to the spirits. They become clearer to her, and she can speak to them, briefly. Together with Heilyn's help they discover that the primus pilus centurion reached here, but with the tribes close behind, and that he gave the Eagle to "the Second."

Llyr notices, meanwhile, that a ring of 12 pairs of Legionaries are pacing around the central dais of the fortress, forbidding passage. When Heilyn examines them, he realizes with Alexandros' help that they are all from
the First Century, under Aquila's command. Wena and Llyr track the path of souls out beyond the south gate of the fortress, about half an hour, to where it peeters off, in faded bloodstains against a huge rock.

Meanwhile, Heilyn finds some tribal spirits and speaks to them. They say little, save that they were under the command of Aeduana, the Chief Druid of the Ouenikones, and that they died here fighting the Red Helmets. The Romans proceed to mock the Chief Druid’s name, which doesn’t seem very intelligent to me when discussing a potentialy deadly enemy. Cultural imperialists.

The next morning, the ghosts disappear, and Llyr begins investigating the dais. Putting his knowledge of Mithras together with his
engineering expertise, he figures out that the two cylindrical holes in the dais can be used to hold javelins, which can be turned. As Mithras is
the god of the sun, he turns them according to the movement of the sun,
and the dais opens, revealing a small tomb with the body of the primus pilus centurion inside. While they leave his personal decorations, Alexandros takes the small eagle brooch Aquila wore, deciding to wait to put it on until a more appropriate time.

[Hobo]

Good story hour! We could use a few more non-traditional settings around here, IMO. And, although I'm not a Latin expert, I'm pretty sure the phrase actually means "the die has been cast" (specifically "cast the die is" if you translate it literally) rather than "let the die be cast." And of course, although the quote is famously attributed to Caesar himself, he was, in fact, quoting his favorite poet Menander at the time. Not that it really matters.

[Krellic]

Seconded - what he said.

Ancient Rome has been plundered for use in many campaign world, nice to see that it works perfectly fine by itself.

I'm glad to see that the most intelligent member of the party is keeping the journal, 'these Romans are crazy' - or so goes the rumour...

[Darklone]

9th legion... I recall some books about that ... that story sounds very familiar. Nicely done.

[Orichalcum]

Thanks for all the comments! Yes, Alea iacta est is originally from a Greek play by Menander; I gave the standard English translation/paraphrase rather than the literal version. Still, my players' versions have been even more amusing, ranging from Alea Lacta - Milky Dice(Die), to Alea Tacta (The Die that has been Felt Up, loosely.) As mentioned before, this first session drew substantial inspiration from Rosemary Sutcliff, although rapidly started branching, and no other sessions are indebted to anything besides actual Roman history. "Damnatio memoriae" was a real phenomenon, minus the magic spell aspect.

[Orichalcum]

The next morning, we travel northwards to Voluntiae, the fort where the Legion was attacked. Here, Llyr realizes that the fortifications were
weakened at a crucial point from inside. He is aided by Wena, who determines the past history of several scattered weapons by studying them with her mind [GM Note: philosophers in Alea Iacta are psionicists of various sorts]. Furthermore, there is no way that this weakness would have been visible from the outside. The group begins to suspect the Tribune Minucius and darker plots behind the downfall of the Legion. I think about pointing out that a monkey would have been ideal to deliver communications between any traitorous Legionaries and the tribesmen outside, but decide that no one will listen to me anyway.

As they are riding east along a hunting trail towards Ituna (the roads having stopped at the wall), the party is surprised to see a young tribeswoman, carrying a spear, dart across their path and back into the dense trees, apparently oblivious to them. Their confusion increases when she is followed by a young spearman, also running at a full speed, and then by another spearman, and another young spearwoman, until 25 youths and maidens have crossed the path. The party decides to halt their ponies and wait until all have crossed. Wena then sets off running after them, running fairly quickly for a woman who is clearly no warrior. She is unable to catch up, but does follow their trail, eventually ascertaining that they seem to be running in a giant circle.

The rest of the party continues along the main path, while Cornelia ponders the mystical significance in Celtic lore of the number 25. After thinking about it, she is unable to come up with any relevance for 25, although she remembers that 24 is an important and central ritual number. Alexandros relates this to the 24 legions, and now 1 extra Eagle, and becomes terrified. He suggests that they ambush some of the stragglers and preemptively stop whatever ritual this might be. The others eventually veto this suggestion.

About half an hour later, the running tribesmen cross the party's
path again (the party is slow-moving due to their mule train.) Again, they
are traveling from north to south, which leads the party to conclude that
they are running in some sort of giant spiral. Wena follows them, about a
minute later, and runs blithely past the party, to much confusion. This time, Meloch takes after her on Kaspar, along with me. At last, we can escape this crazy bunch of Romans and have fun playing in the forest, I think. But no, we have to chase some Caledonii who clearly have better things to do than pay attention to us. Kaspar manages to catch up to the
last of the runners, but Meloch is resolutely ignored by the focused
tribeswoman. Later we find out that the others were somewhat confused but decided to keep walking to Ituna without us.

Eventually, the Legionaries, Heilyn, and Cornelia reach the village, where an older woman, Cadwyrna, greets Cornelia, assuming that she is the leader, as the Ouenikones tribe are somewhat matriarchal. She welcomes them to the village and to the upcoming Festival of the New Spears, at which the young women and men of the Ouenikones will achieve adulthood and become full warriors of their tribes. The festival is a time of general hospitality and much trading, and many people seem interested in the party's trinkets. Cornelia immediately sells 5 shiny but harmless trinkets for a live suckling piglet, and other bargains seem in the offering.

Meanwhile, the villagers and their many guests prepare for an upcoming procession at dusk to the holy place, north of the village. At this point, Heilyn and Alexandros sneak briefly off into the forest, to find a place where there are slightly less active tree spirits, and
Alexandros puts on the Eagle brooch. When he does so, he can feel a slight
pull, northwards. Heilyn is somewhat unnerved by the sheer quantity of
nature spirits in the region, and also notes that the crops around the
village are abnormally tall and healthy.

Meanwhile, Wena, Meloch, Kaspar, and I keep following the trail of the runners, growing more and more exhausted. Rather than continuing in
one giant spiral, they are surprised to discover that it loops into a smaller spiral, in an area that Wena estimates is to the south of Ituna, and a similar small spiral to the east of Ituna, before swinging back into the great circle and heading to the north of Ituna, where it spirals again, for a total of three linked spirals.

Finally, they emerge out of the forest to see a tall green hill, almost unnaturally round at the bottom and sharply slanted towards the top, with no vegetation except grass growing around it. A wide spiral path is cut into the hill, circling upwards, and Wena and Melech can see the runners circling around this until they turn around the eastern corner of the hill, about 2/3ds of the way up, and disappear. Upon investigation, there seems to be some sort of dark cave opening on that side of the hill.

Wena and Meloch can see a torchlit procession slowly coming from the south towards them, but Meloch orders me to go and investigate anyway, despite my fervent protests that I don’t like caves, that the runners really didn’t seem in the mood to be interrupted, and that we should clearly go find our allies with big swords rather than doing anything this silly. Furthermore, he tells me to take this glowing crystal thing that Wena has along with me. Apparently, Wena thinks she has a talking rock. Maybe she isn’t so intelligent, although the crystal rather unnerves me. Finally, I climb up after Meloch promises me treats, and see three huge stones of some kind, in front of the opening to a dark tunneled cave. I refuse completely to go inside; it’s pitch black, and there’s chanting inside, and furthermore, I can smell something that reminds me of Heilyn’s bratty wolfhound, but much, much bigger. So I sit there and keep myself safe and hidden.

Meloch scrambles up the hill himself to investigate, despite my common sense arguments, and is nearly discovered peering into the cave. He is unable to see anything in the darkness of the cave, although he does hear chanting. He and Wena and I join the rest of the group as they file in the slow, torchlit procession up and around the hill, eventually seating themselves in a round carved-out area in front of the cave. The cave is marked by three huge stones, one, about six feet tall and three feet wide, which stands about a foot in front of the opening, and two horizontal stones of the same dimensions to the left and right of the vertical stone. All three stones seem to have some runes carved into them, but it is impossible to read them in the dim light. As the
procession ends, all the torches are thrown together into a giant bonfire,
in front of the vertical stone, and the drumming begins.

[Orichalcum]

Darting out of the cave and into the firelight comes a man wearing
an elaborate wolf mask. I gibber in terror until Meloch persuades me that it isn’t a real wolf. His body is painted, and a wolf-tail swings behind him. He is followed by three maidens and a youth, each clutching a spear, each of whose faces has been elaborately painted to resemble a wolf. One section of the assembled crowd cheers and howls. The five dance around the fire, and finally the wolf-masked man bounds directly through the flames. For an instant, he seems almost to be a wolf within the fire, although the effect quickly fades as the group moves to one side.

They are followed by a woman wearing the mask of a mountain lion, with four young warriors painted similarly. They too, dance, prowling the night and batting at the sparks of the fire, until she leaps over the fire and seems to be a lioness for an instant. They are followed by a owl-masked woman, with four New Spears at her side, a bull-masked man with giant horns which almost grow out of his scalp, and a fox-masked woman, whose eyes gleam brightly behind her mask and whose followers sport fox tails.

Then, a woman whose mask is made entirely out of eagle-feathers leaps over the vertical standing stone itself and glides over the fire. In her arms, she carries a battered but recognizable Roman Eagle. Its wings are gone, and its face and body is covered with runes in blue woad paint, but Alexandros knows in his heart and in the warm brooch he wears that it is his long-lost standard. As the Eagle-woman hovers and dances, they can see that the wings of the Eagle are attached to her cloak.

Cornelia, meanwhile, and the others have counted the new warriors
- twenty-four. She and Meloch search anxiously for the face of the last and slowest runner, but cannot find her. At this moment, a final figure, with a mask that seems both animalian and fantastical, with eagle and owl feathers, the whiskers of a lion, the nose of a fox, the ears of a wolf,
and the horns of a bull, steps on top of the standing stone itself. The crowd quiets, murmuring, "Aeduana." Aeduana proclaims that the Oeunikones have 24 brave new warriors to welcome to the tribe, and that tonight is a time of celebration and rejoicing. For tomorrow, she adds, will begin the preparations for a spring war against the foul Romans who have besmirched their lands. At this, the Legionaries huddle underneath their cloaks.

The gathering breaks out into celebration, eating, and dancing.
Cornelia and Meloch follow one couple, who do not seem to be rejoicing, as they walk slowly down the hill. Although they try to find out what
grieves them, they are answered only with stoic remarks that the couple, unlike the others on the hillside, has no brave warrior to honor this night. Cornelia sends Cato the owl fluttering after the grieving parents as they return home for a night of prayer. I take the opportunity to enjoy myself back at the celebration, without that annoyingly serious owl for once.

Meloch and I entertain the crowd with our elaborate juggling tricks and dancing sparks, somewhat to the disgruntlement of the six masked figures, whose dancing is rendered less prominent. Not my fault if they can’t swing by their tails. The others roam through the crowd, listening to conversations. They hear several mentions of the minor Chieftain Edric, of the Fox Clan. Eventually, Cornelia manages to speak to Edric, who is drumming up support for the forthcoming war effort against the Romans. He speaks boastfully of having been first in the charge against the Roman fortifications, seven years ago. Through talking to other, increasingly drunk Oeunikones, the party finds out also that Edric only joined the Ouenikones seven years ago, shortly before the attack. Heilyn, after listening to him for a while, concludes from his accent that he was originally of the Brigantes tribe, the assimilated tribe whose lands lie near Eburacum. Wena finds out that the tribes consider the Eagle to be a stolen Roman god, sacred to all the clans of the Ouenikones, not just the Eagle clan.

The celebration gradually begins to die down, and finally, Aeduana
announces that it is time for it to end. She reminds the assembled that, at dawn, she will meet the twenty-four New Spears in front of the Great Hall, in the village itself, and will lead them north, that they may have further training among the Great Spirits of the northern lands. Heilyn ponders what this may mean, and reflects that these are certainly spirits he would rather not meet himself. The six clan Druids will also meet their clans at dawn at the Great Hall, so that they may escort them back to their own lands in safety.

[Orichalcum]

The party retires for the night, rest marred only by Llyr's careful planting of naphtha vials in and around the straw of the Great Hall, and later, the village granary. Apparently, the humans have formed a plan to blow up the village as a distraction; this seems a little excessive but what can you expect?

At dawn, they turn out to observe the departure of the Druids and their peoples. They note that the Eagle Druid is not carrying the Eagle with her, and that the Druids travel unmasked by day. None of them are recognizable as Minucius, however, whom Marcus met while they served in the same Legion, and would know again due to his incredible memory.

Once everyone has left, the party travels off a brief distance into the woods and hides their mules. Upon Metellus the Tribune's insistence, Cornelia remains behind with the mules and the protection of Wena. I ask to stay behind as well, but Meloch says I might be useful, and refuses. Wena sets up a mental link with Marcus and Cornelia. They prepare to magically ignite the granary upon a signal from the others. Meanwhile, the rest of us creep up the far side of the hill.

They examine the standing stones, and through the mental link
Cornelia is able to decipher that the far right rune says, "Darkness." The other two remain mysterious, however. Meloch also notices a triangular stone, set above the cave opening, with a thin vertical slit in it, which appears to be letting out light. He suggests that I clamber up to investigate it, completely ignoring my earlier comments about the terrifying darkness and the canine smell.

I approach the stone slit of light and look through it, covering it with my body until I am suddenly thrown back by some magic force against the standing stone and nearly break every bone in my body. Only Meloch is sympathetic; I’m not sure any of the others even noticed my yelps; they were too busy worrying about the sudden piercing howls coming from within the cave. Indeed, Meloch and Metellus were so scared by them that they froze and nearly ran down the hill in a panic, until Meloch concentrated on his pygmy ability to ward out the evil eye, and the fear I sensed from him lessened. I huddled in his cloak. I had told them this was a bad idea.

Meanwhile, the others move in, determined to quell the barking. A huge shadowy dog leaps out at them from the darkness, savaging Marcus, and then retreats out of the light, continuing to bark. It cannot approach those near Meloch. Marcus wades bravely into the darkness, while Llyr sets up the ballista, and eventually, with the aid of Metellus after he conquers his fear, they hack the enormous hound to bits.

Within the cave, all is dark, and torches are immediately extinguished by some unnatural force. Yet one narrow band of sunlight streams down the passageway from the vertical slit above the entrance. The party recalls that it is the fall equinox, and thus that the light may be falling in a particular pattern. They proceed about thirty feet down the narrow passageway, until it opens into a large round room, lit only by the single ray of light. There are three dimly perceived objects in the room. Directly in front of the entrance, a 3-feet diameter circle of hollow white jade lies on the earthen floor. A stone axe has its head resting inside the circle, and its handle resting outside. It has no stains. In the middle of the room, a stone chalice, perhaps even a natural stalagmite carefully carved, rests about three feet off the ground. A dark, thick liquid, most likely blood, gleams in the half-shadows. At the far end of the room, a small stone niche is carved. And there rests the Eagle. It is late morning, and the ray of light is currently halfway between the white jade circle and the chalice.

After much time spent attempting to figure out the ritual significance of these objects, Metellus eventually proposes that they are arranged to be triggered in some fashion, at sunrise, noon, and sunset. [GM Note: Please don’t think too carefully about the astronomical issues here.] What the
party doesn't know is whether the triggers will be good or bad for them.
Eventually, Meloch suggests that, since he still has his protection from
evil, he and Metellus remain inside and attempt to forcibly trigger the
protections and take the Eagle, while the others retreat outside. By this time, the light has hit the chalice and is gleaming off the surface of the dark blood inside. I go back outside the cave and wait; I am not participating in this foolishness, and I think Meloch’s crazy for even considering it.

Metellus throws his cloak over the chalice. The cloak explodes in a sudden
fire of light and disintegrates, but does not harm them. He tosses a rock at the jade circle, and suddenly two shadowy forms coalesce out of the darkness. They begin to move towards Meloch and Metellus, but are repelled
by an invisible barrier. Meloch warns Metellus that this will not last for long. Metellus tosses another rock at the Eagle, and another shadow form
appears. Finally, in desperation, he grabs the Eagle, and the pygmy and
the Tribune retreat as five shadowy forms follow them down the passageway.

A brief but nasty battle ensues around the standing stones. While
the shadows seem unable to directly hurt the party, they leave Metellus
weak and dizzy. Their power is lessened in the light, however, and eventually the group breaks through the magical forces binding the creatures and they vanish. The party runs down the hill, just as Cornelia and Wena ignite the granary, which explodes in Greek fire, raining sparks down on all the thatched roofs of the village. Stopping to slit the throats of the mules, lest the animals talk to the Druids, the party gallops east and south. I look at the mules and wince, deciding that keeping my mouth quiet from now on is definitely the best policy among these ruthless animal killers.

[Orichalcum]

After a debate as to whether stealth or speed is best, we decide to take the Roman road and hope for aid at Trimontium. Just as we reach the gates of Trimontium, only a few seconds before sundown, a pack of wolves led by an enormous wolf with glowing green eyes attack them. Metellus and Heilyn fight a rearguard action, with Metellus slicing the enormous leader in twain. Meanwhile, Heilyn's small setter savages the throats of two of the smaller wolves, much to Heilyn's pride. (I resolve to be even more wary of the setter; if it can take down something that much larger than it, what could it do to me???)

Meanwhile, Marcus and Cornelia and Wena race back to the dais, where Cornelia prepares the funeral offerings to the dead, and Marcus unveils the Eagle. Just as the last of the Wolves die, the last ray of sun sinks below the horizon, and the ghosts appear, surrounding the dais. Marcus, aided by the funeral offerings, speaks to them and rebinds them to their Eagle. He
orders them to guard the camp this night, and be prepared to march in the
morning. The largest wolf upon death turns into a Druid wearing a wolf mask, which the humans promptly loot, although they do not put it on.

The party gets an uneasy sleep, surrounded by the spirits of the lost Ninth. At dawn, the ghosts vanish to everyone's sight but Heilyn's, who complains of their loud trumpet noises. As the party rides onward, Heilyn can see that the ghosts of the Ninth march behind them, having no trouble maintaining their speed. About midday, a group of warriors, led by another Druid, come charging down the road towards the party, through the spirits who are powerless by day. Given the distance, however, the party has the chance to get off several devastating shots with the ballista and javelins before the warriors attack, and the Druid is almost dead by the time she reaches them. She does cause spikes to grow out of the road around the horses' hooves, however, which injures several of them. It is a quick and dirty fight, and once again Metellus swings mightily, and the small dog does much damage. The humans take a fox mask from this Druid, just as they found a wolfen mask on the other Druid. I have a theory about the relationship of animal mask and abilities of the Druid, but no one wants to listen to me.

That night, the party continues, at a walk, with the ghosts of the Ninth guarding their rear. While they hear the deep hoots of an enormous owl, nothing attacks them. I panic, however, and decide that I am going to spend the rest of my life in a warm bath if we ever make it home.

We are not so lucky the next morning, only a few hours away from
the Wall, when from the sky eagles begin swarming down, pecking at them
and then darting upwards again out of our reach. They are led by a Giant Eagle, who nearly pecks out Marcus's eyes on her first swoop down.

However, the humans have prepared well, anticipating this fight. Heilyn can bless arrows against a specific target, and has enchanted one ballista bolt to be particularly effective against “the Eagle Druid.” On her second swoop, Llyr impales her with the one-man- ballista on a critical hit, and the eagle drops from the sky, turning halfway down into the crumpled corpse of a woman wearing an eagle mask, with the wings of the Ninth’s Eagle strapped to her back.

The humans add the damaged mask to its collection of wolf and fox masks, and rides on, reaching Hadrian's Wall safely later that afternoon. As they pass through the hurriedly opened gates of the Wall, holding the Eagle up high, Heilyn sees the ghosts of the Ninth slowly fade from his spirit vision, finally able to release their charge and find some sort of peace.
[End First Session]

[Manzanita]

This is very interesting. I'm a Roman history buff myself, & am currently DMing a campaign set in a DnD version of the Mediterranian circa 20 BC (Called Crossed Paths on the Gaming Action messageboard.). I'd love to see a Rogue's Gallery, as well as the house rules you use. I like what you've done with the Roman Eagle.

[Krellic]

Fairly classic Roman style adventure and a nice intro for the players.

Personally however I'm with the monkey...

[Orichalcum]

The next three months passed without incident. Well, Metellus did volunteer to accept an honorable discharge or throw himself on his sword if the Legate demanded it for having run off with his daughter into farthest Caledonia. But the Legate said that he didn’t blame Metellus for having fallen victim to Cornelia’s extraordinary powers of persuasion and mentioned that Cornelia’s mother, before the divorce eight years ago, used to convince him into doing all sorts of crazy things. He did ask Metellus to keep a careful and protective eye on Cornelia in the future, and Metellus reluctantly agreed, clearly wishing he’d never have to see the impudent maiden again.

The Eagle was sent to the Governor in Londinium, a young man in his early 20’s named Lucius Mamercus Aemilianus Cimbrus, (known as Cimbrus) who is not only the governor but the Emperor’s only son and presumed heir. We didn’t hear anything else about it or about what would happen to the Ninth until early December, when the humans, even Cornelia and Meloch, received formal invitations from Cimbrus to go to Londinium during the Saturnalia festival and be honored for their rescue of the Eagle. I was overjoyed; during Saturnalia not only are slaves treated like masters and vice versa, but there’s immense amounts of free food for everyone. Besides, Londinium is usually warmer than Eburacum.

We traveled southwards and stopped at a reasonably respectable, economical inn for the night. While the rest of us were eating our dinner (I was allowed to finish Cornelia’s beer, since she prefers wine), Marcus was flirting heavily with a young dark-haired local woman, who also seemed quite interested in him. I hadn’t finished the bowl of beer before they disappeared upstairs together. The humans pretended not to notice that mating was about to happen.

Then Cornelia got a startled look on her face, and leaned down to whisper to Meloch, who was sitting on the floor in his usual place. Meloch grabbed me by the tail and ran upstairs, telling me that Cato, Cornelia’s uppity and paranoid owl, had been looking through the window of the woman’s room and seen Marcus, with a glazed look on his face, and a different woman than the one he’d gone upstairs with. I tried to point out that Cato’s obsession with spying on human mating rituals was really none of our concern, unless Marcus wanted to get someone pregnant quickly with Meloch’s help, but Meloch listened quietly against the door and heard some strange chanting. This distressed him, so he shoved open the door and we saw a horrifying old hag, white skin drawn against her bones and dark, straggly hair, straddling Marcus, who lay there motionless, with his eyes open, wearing only a small loincloth. She had a long, curved knife raised, and it was about to enter Marcus’s abdomen, when she saw us.

Meloch screamed. I screeched. Cato beat his wings loudly. The woman turned one long, pointed finger towards Meloch and hissed a few words, and a darkish green light came shooting out at Meloch, weakening him in every muscle and joint. But my partner is nothing if not foolhardy and came charging into the room shooting one of his magic missiles at her. I wanted to apologize for interrupting and flee in terror, but by that point the rest of our comrades had come charging up the staircase and were trying to shove themselves into the narrow doorway as fast as possible. The witch managed to hurt Meloch and several more of us. Meanwhile, Cornelia was shooting her own magic missiles over Metellus’s shoulder as fast as possible. Amazingly, Metellus completely failed to notice any of her shots. Good, brave man, the Tribune, but not very observant, particularly around Cornelia. Eventually, Metellus sliced the witch’s head off, and after that Marcus seemed to recover from his paralysis. Then, of course, Cornelia started blushing at seeing him so near-nude, and Meloch and I had to take her off to our and Wena’s room. Cornelia asked the innkeeper about it later, and he shrugged, telling her that the inn got one liver-eating witch about every month, and sensible travelers didn’t take careless risks. Perhaps it’s lucky there are almost no others of my species in this cold, foggy island.

[KidCthulhu]

Now that's a blase inkeeper. "Oh yeah, we get a liver eating witch about once a month. Firewood delivery - check. Ale consignment - check. Liver eating witch - check."

Glad to see you've joined us, Ori. I've been wanting to hear more stories about this campaign.