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Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
- Thread starter Orichalcum
- Start date
Mortepierre
First Post
Poetic justice.. got to love it.
Well done Orichalcum!
Well done Orichalcum!
Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta IX: An Easy Descent Chp. 3: Annuin
Cornelia tries to smile in a friendly fashion to the child-spirits, while glaring out of the corner of her eye at Lucretius and...that other guy. "Lucretius, you never told me that you killed any of the girls! You were supposed to just knock them unconscious!"
Lucretius looks shamefaced and upset, but still resolute. "Look, can we not talk about this right now? We've got the Empire to save."
Cornelia sniffs loudly and begins to follow the child-spirits, who are drifting onwards through the grassy meadows of this part of the divine realm. She pointedly ignores Lucretius. The fighters draw their weapons, or at least, in this vision or dream, what they perceive to be their weapons, and we march on for some uncountable measure of time. Periodically, other spirits or demigods appear out of the air and gaze at us; the satyrs leer and make obscene gestures at Cornelia and Wena, as well as the little girls, and Metellus carefully restrains Llyr and Marcus from responding with force. We also see more bizarre animal-headed spirits who look hungrily at the girls but then shy away from our quite impressive escort force.
After some time, we find ourselves in a dark, leafy wood, and the gentle sunlit haze of our earlier trail has faded into a sharp, crisp moonlight, casting long shadows behind the oaks, rowans, and firs. The child-spirits seem to be hurrying us along faster. Llyr speaks up quietly, almost reverently for him, "This looks like a forest back at home. I think we must be getting close."
Just then, we hear a chorus of sharp, piercing yelps, sounding like a flock of wild geese. The noise is far off at first, but is clearly getting closer.
Metellus, trying to keep calm, asks those knowledgable in Celtic lore what the sound might be. Wena draws on our learning as a Vates and says, "I'm not sure, but it might be the Cwn Annwn, the ghost hounds of Arawn, lord of the underworld, well, our underworld at least. They hunt through the sky at night."
And indeed, the most far-sighted members of our group can begin to see faint, translucent dog shapes hurtling through the woods towards us; the only color in their bodies are their gleaming red ears and their shining silver eyes. The yelps are coming from all around us; they almost certainly have us surrounded.
Metellus, realizing that they will reach us in seconds, demands advice. "Do we fight or flee? What do they want from us?"
Heilyn, who has been racking his brain to remember his mother's stories and the tales of the spirits, gasps suddenly and shouts back, "No! They're here for the children, not for us. They want to take them away to the underworld, where they belong,"
Hoping desperately that Heilyn is right, everyone except Lucretius lowers their weapon, and the hounds descend upon us. Each beast, ignoring the living members of our group, grabs the nape of a child's neck between her teeth, like a disobedient puppy, and runs off into the woods carrying the spirit. A deep sigh of relief is breathed by all as the Hunt passes us by overhead. Within a few seconds, the woods are deserted and silent again, and the children have vanished forever.
"I never got the chance to try and apologize," Lucretius murmurs.
"Well, too late now," snaps Cornelia. "How do we find Lugh from here?"
"Well," Heilyn muses, "if this is the Celtic section of the divine realm, he should be fairly nearby. Concentrate on him, and let us all look for signs of light, and hope for the best."
After some time of meditation and prayer, Heilyn, Llyr, and Wena believe they see a glimmer of Lugh's holy light in a nearby grove, and we follow them. Sure enough, we soon hear a familiarly mellifluous tenor voice. "Good mortals, avert your eyes - even here you are in danger from my radiance."
Eyes mostly closed, we grope our way forward into the grove, holding each other's hands.
"Greetings. I know you, my faithful servants, and am honored that you have reached me here as well as on Mona, yet you have not the Cap of Twilight. I am still chained, and cannot aid you directly."
The bold Cornelia speaks for us all. "Divine Lord of Light, we have come to you because of our search for the Cap, well, and because of other, even greater dangers. The Sibyl of Cumae told us that we could not defeat the one who now holds the Cap of Twilight without knowing his true name. We have learned that he is a Brigantian, born perhaps some 35-50 years ago among your favored people, and thus we believe that you are one of the only beings who knows his Name."
"Roman child, I do know the Names of all the Brigantes, but there are many of them, and time passes differently for us. How might I identify this foul thief?"
Llyr offers a suggestion, "Well, my Lord, we were thinking that perhaps you might be able to trace him through your Cap. Also, he's touched all of our minds, so perhaps you could tell that way."
There is a moment of silence, before the divine voice speaks again, and the Celts all feel a wave of bright light pass under their eyelids, illuminating even the darkest corners of their souls for a fraction of a second. "He has gone beyond my reach, to a place not of the gods' creation, but I recognize his soul from its mark on yours. His mother Maura, granddaughter of a Princess of the Brigantes, gave him the name Calgacus Phelan at his birth - Calgacus for the famous chieftain of the Caledonii, and Phelan, or "little wolf," as his use-name."
"Thank you," we all pray, and Metellus adds, "This will let us both, with the will of the gods, save the Roman Empire and return to you your Cap."
As the bright light begins to fade, we hear Lugh's voice one last time. "Heilyn, son's son of my son, you alone will have the power through your blood to open the Gate to where this traitor now dwells. But beware, lest your light be lost forever in shadows, and stay true to yourselves."
We wake up to the faint dawn light creeping through the window slits and doorways of the Temple of Mars.
Cornelia tries to smile in a friendly fashion to the child-spirits, while glaring out of the corner of her eye at Lucretius and...that other guy. "Lucretius, you never told me that you killed any of the girls! You were supposed to just knock them unconscious!"
Lucretius looks shamefaced and upset, but still resolute. "Look, can we not talk about this right now? We've got the Empire to save."
Cornelia sniffs loudly and begins to follow the child-spirits, who are drifting onwards through the grassy meadows of this part of the divine realm. She pointedly ignores Lucretius. The fighters draw their weapons, or at least, in this vision or dream, what they perceive to be their weapons, and we march on for some uncountable measure of time. Periodically, other spirits or demigods appear out of the air and gaze at us; the satyrs leer and make obscene gestures at Cornelia and Wena, as well as the little girls, and Metellus carefully restrains Llyr and Marcus from responding with force. We also see more bizarre animal-headed spirits who look hungrily at the girls but then shy away from our quite impressive escort force.
After some time, we find ourselves in a dark, leafy wood, and the gentle sunlit haze of our earlier trail has faded into a sharp, crisp moonlight, casting long shadows behind the oaks, rowans, and firs. The child-spirits seem to be hurrying us along faster. Llyr speaks up quietly, almost reverently for him, "This looks like a forest back at home. I think we must be getting close."
Just then, we hear a chorus of sharp, piercing yelps, sounding like a flock of wild geese. The noise is far off at first, but is clearly getting closer.
Metellus, trying to keep calm, asks those knowledgable in Celtic lore what the sound might be. Wena draws on our learning as a Vates and says, "I'm not sure, but it might be the Cwn Annwn, the ghost hounds of Arawn, lord of the underworld, well, our underworld at least. They hunt through the sky at night."
And indeed, the most far-sighted members of our group can begin to see faint, translucent dog shapes hurtling through the woods towards us; the only color in their bodies are their gleaming red ears and their shining silver eyes. The yelps are coming from all around us; they almost certainly have us surrounded.
Metellus, realizing that they will reach us in seconds, demands advice. "Do we fight or flee? What do they want from us?"
Heilyn, who has been racking his brain to remember his mother's stories and the tales of the spirits, gasps suddenly and shouts back, "No! They're here for the children, not for us. They want to take them away to the underworld, where they belong,"
Hoping desperately that Heilyn is right, everyone except Lucretius lowers their weapon, and the hounds descend upon us. Each beast, ignoring the living members of our group, grabs the nape of a child's neck between her teeth, like a disobedient puppy, and runs off into the woods carrying the spirit. A deep sigh of relief is breathed by all as the Hunt passes us by overhead. Within a few seconds, the woods are deserted and silent again, and the children have vanished forever.
"I never got the chance to try and apologize," Lucretius murmurs.
"Well, too late now," snaps Cornelia. "How do we find Lugh from here?"
"Well," Heilyn muses, "if this is the Celtic section of the divine realm, he should be fairly nearby. Concentrate on him, and let us all look for signs of light, and hope for the best."
After some time of meditation and prayer, Heilyn, Llyr, and Wena believe they see a glimmer of Lugh's holy light in a nearby grove, and we follow them. Sure enough, we soon hear a familiarly mellifluous tenor voice. "Good mortals, avert your eyes - even here you are in danger from my radiance."
Eyes mostly closed, we grope our way forward into the grove, holding each other's hands.
"Greetings. I know you, my faithful servants, and am honored that you have reached me here as well as on Mona, yet you have not the Cap of Twilight. I am still chained, and cannot aid you directly."
The bold Cornelia speaks for us all. "Divine Lord of Light, we have come to you because of our search for the Cap, well, and because of other, even greater dangers. The Sibyl of Cumae told us that we could not defeat the one who now holds the Cap of Twilight without knowing his true name. We have learned that he is a Brigantian, born perhaps some 35-50 years ago among your favored people, and thus we believe that you are one of the only beings who knows his Name."
"Roman child, I do know the Names of all the Brigantes, but there are many of them, and time passes differently for us. How might I identify this foul thief?"
Llyr offers a suggestion, "Well, my Lord, we were thinking that perhaps you might be able to trace him through your Cap. Also, he's touched all of our minds, so perhaps you could tell that way."
There is a moment of silence, before the divine voice speaks again, and the Celts all feel a wave of bright light pass under their eyelids, illuminating even the darkest corners of their souls for a fraction of a second. "He has gone beyond my reach, to a place not of the gods' creation, but I recognize his soul from its mark on yours. His mother Maura, granddaughter of a Princess of the Brigantes, gave him the name Calgacus Phelan at his birth - Calgacus for the famous chieftain of the Caledonii, and Phelan, or "little wolf," as his use-name."
"Thank you," we all pray, and Metellus adds, "This will let us both, with the will of the gods, save the Roman Empire and return to you your Cap."
As the bright light begins to fade, we hear Lugh's voice one last time. "Heilyn, son's son of my son, you alone will have the power through your blood to open the Gate to where this traitor now dwells. But beware, lest your light be lost forever in shadows, and stay true to yourselves."
We wake up to the faint dawn light creeping through the window slits and doorways of the Temple of Mars.
Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta IX: An Easy Descent Chp. 5: Into the Gates
This chapter is for Mortepierre - thanks! And also as a get-well card for WisdomLikeSilence. Sorry for the delay, but I've been grading and reviewing papers for my Roman History class - and they actually pay me. Cool historical factoid of the day: when the Emperor Julian (the Apostate, as he was later known) tried to rebuild the Jewish Temple in 363 CE, construction was halted by the appearance of numerous, repeated fireballs from underneath the foundation of the building, as reported by a variety of reliable witnesses, including the historian and general Ammianus Marcellinus. The fireballs prevented building work until the death of Julian, when the project was abandoned and the Empire returned to Christianity.
Alea - cuz who needs to make this stuff up?
***
The Vestals bless us, we gather every conceivably useful bit of equipment except the goat and Talat (who won't really fit), and go off to inform the nobilissima Hadriana of our plans. She listens gravely to our story, and nods, finally saying, "Fare well, with the blessings of the gods. And remember the old Spartan words, good citizens."
Metellus gulps at the thought that this is so clearly an all-or-nothing mission, but reflects that, if the Empire is destroyed, he won't have much of a home to come back to anyway. We go down into the deserted hallway, deep in the palace, where only Heilyn can clearly see the two shining Gates. After much discussion, we have decided to go to the Gate of Truth first, both because the Gate of False Visions seems far more dangerous and because we hope to deal with at least some of the threats there.
Heilyn reaches for a doorhandle no one else can see, which to him is a shining brown antelope horn, and pulls it open. He proceeds to step through a blaze of shining light,and the rest of us quickly follow.
We find ourselves on the top of a grassy, green hill, easily recognizable as the Palatine. While the similar region in the divine realm had been bewilderingly crowded with a dozen imperial palaces, each the home of the emperor-god who constructed it, we can see only two buildings on this hill: a simple, perfectly round hut covered in gleaming golden straw and sturdy red bricks, presumably the Hut of Romulus, and a small but perfectly elegant marble columned house on the summit, which Metellus and Cornelia recognize from their lessons as the House of Augustus. A gentle light, from no visible source, shines down, and there is a sense of joy and contentment in a perfectly quiet, empty world.
We do not spend much time studying the architecture, however, before we notice the changes in each other. Metellus stands taller and prouder, his shoulders wider, and his characteristic furrowed brows and vague look of anxiety seem gone. Marcus' scars are gone from his muscled shoulders and legs, and he wears the long beard of a philosopher. Wena's tattoos seem to glow, and the wisdom is more visible in her eyes; her dress is utterly Iceni. Llyr, in contrast, remains dressed in legionary armor, but a golden torque has appeared around his neck, and he, too, looks fit and strong. Both his and Wena's left eyes glow slightly. My fur is thick and free, for once, of lice, and my tail seems remarkably long and agile. And Heilyn - well, for some reason Heilyn himself is glowing from the tips of his sandals to the handle of his giant hammer, and his hair has gone from red to a shining blond. His moustache is positively luxuriant.
But these are not the most surprising changes - indeed, they are what we might have expected. But when we turn to gaze at young Cornelia, we notice that, while still a lovely Roman woman, her skin has taken on a faintly blue tinge, and...there appear to be small, bat-like blue wings stretching out of her back. Also, her fingernails have grown into deadly claws.
And then, lastly, my gaze turns towards the stalwart Praetorian Decurion who has bravely chosen to accompany us, Lucretius. Lucretius is still dressed as a Praetorian, eyes glowing slightly grey and looking fit and deadly. The Praetorian also, however, now has quite visible breasts, and a figure that fills out the Praetorian leather skirt rather...differently.
As we are all staring, a silvery female wolf trots up the hill towards us. Though she does not speak, a growling voice echoes in all our minds. "Hail and well met, visitors. I see you have already learned that there are no secrets in the Place of Truth. Speak not, lest you change the truths in the world from which you came."
This chapter is for Mortepierre - thanks! And also as a get-well card for WisdomLikeSilence. Sorry for the delay, but I've been grading and reviewing papers for my Roman History class - and they actually pay me. Cool historical factoid of the day: when the Emperor Julian (the Apostate, as he was later known) tried to rebuild the Jewish Temple in 363 CE, construction was halted by the appearance of numerous, repeated fireballs from underneath the foundation of the building, as reported by a variety of reliable witnesses, including the historian and general Ammianus Marcellinus. The fireballs prevented building work until the death of Julian, when the project was abandoned and the Empire returned to Christianity.
Alea - cuz who needs to make this stuff up?
***
The Vestals bless us, we gather every conceivably useful bit of equipment except the goat and Talat (who won't really fit), and go off to inform the nobilissima Hadriana of our plans. She listens gravely to our story, and nods, finally saying, "Fare well, with the blessings of the gods. And remember the old Spartan words, good citizens."
Metellus gulps at the thought that this is so clearly an all-or-nothing mission, but reflects that, if the Empire is destroyed, he won't have much of a home to come back to anyway. We go down into the deserted hallway, deep in the palace, where only Heilyn can clearly see the two shining Gates. After much discussion, we have decided to go to the Gate of Truth first, both because the Gate of False Visions seems far more dangerous and because we hope to deal with at least some of the threats there.
Heilyn reaches for a doorhandle no one else can see, which to him is a shining brown antelope horn, and pulls it open. He proceeds to step through a blaze of shining light,and the rest of us quickly follow.
We find ourselves on the top of a grassy, green hill, easily recognizable as the Palatine. While the similar region in the divine realm had been bewilderingly crowded with a dozen imperial palaces, each the home of the emperor-god who constructed it, we can see only two buildings on this hill: a simple, perfectly round hut covered in gleaming golden straw and sturdy red bricks, presumably the Hut of Romulus, and a small but perfectly elegant marble columned house on the summit, which Metellus and Cornelia recognize from their lessons as the House of Augustus. A gentle light, from no visible source, shines down, and there is a sense of joy and contentment in a perfectly quiet, empty world.
We do not spend much time studying the architecture, however, before we notice the changes in each other. Metellus stands taller and prouder, his shoulders wider, and his characteristic furrowed brows and vague look of anxiety seem gone. Marcus' scars are gone from his muscled shoulders and legs, and he wears the long beard of a philosopher. Wena's tattoos seem to glow, and the wisdom is more visible in her eyes; her dress is utterly Iceni. Llyr, in contrast, remains dressed in legionary armor, but a golden torque has appeared around his neck, and he, too, looks fit and strong. Both his and Wena's left eyes glow slightly. My fur is thick and free, for once, of lice, and my tail seems remarkably long and agile. And Heilyn - well, for some reason Heilyn himself is glowing from the tips of his sandals to the handle of his giant hammer, and his hair has gone from red to a shining blond. His moustache is positively luxuriant.
But these are not the most surprising changes - indeed, they are what we might have expected. But when we turn to gaze at young Cornelia, we notice that, while still a lovely Roman woman, her skin has taken on a faintly blue tinge, and...there appear to be small, bat-like blue wings stretching out of her back. Also, her fingernails have grown into deadly claws.
And then, lastly, my gaze turns towards the stalwart Praetorian Decurion who has bravely chosen to accompany us, Lucretius. Lucretius is still dressed as a Praetorian, eyes glowing slightly grey and looking fit and deadly. The Praetorian also, however, now has quite visible breasts, and a figure that fills out the Praetorian leather skirt rather...differently.
As we are all staring, a silvery female wolf trots up the hill towards us. Though she does not speak, a growling voice echoes in all our minds. "Hail and well met, visitors. I see you have already learned that there are no secrets in the Place of Truth. Speak not, lest you change the truths in the world from which you came."
Mortepierre
First Post
Orichalcum said:
Uh? Oh, that. Don't mention it, it was well-deserved
Orichalcum said:
DOH! I hadn't suspected a thing. Now, I need to reread the whole SH with this in mind
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
One question, if I may? The 'Gates of Horn & Ivory'.. these are drawn from Virgil's work, aren't they? They ring a bell but I can't recall precisely which of his tales depicts them
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Orichalcum
First Post
Alea Iacta IX: An Easy Descent Chp. 6: The Eagle Comes Home
Thanks for all the kind words! I should have more time for regular updates now that the semester's over and my only project is polishing up my dissertation and preparing classes before we move to Chicago in September.
***
We all turn and stare at Lucretius, Cornelia's scales going unremarked upon in the greater shock. Before entering, we prepared ourselves for the likelihood of difficult communication by Wena establishing mindlinks between herself and Cornelia, Heilyn, Llyr, and Lucretius, while the rest of us had wax tablets and styluses.
Cornelia immediately asked Wena to ask Lucretius to explain what had happened. Lucretius told Wena to tell Cornelia that the Praetorian would explain later, and surely there were more urgent matters currently. Cornelia demanded an answer back through Wena, and this went back and forth for a few more iterations before the frustrated and irritated Wena pointed out that, after all, her Mindlinks had limited duration, and didn't they have an Empire to save and a Cap to rescue?
The Wolf, meanwhile, continued to gaze at us calmly, and mindspoke us all again after a few seconds. "What do you seek, children?"
There was a pause, as we considered what to answer, but Marcus was the first to write out on his tablet his most urgent desire. "Mother of the Romans, I seek the Eagle of the Ninth, that I may free it from its bondage."
The Wolf lowered her head. "It is quite near here, as we measure such things. We will go there, while your companions ponder what else they may seek."
We followed the Wolf as she padded further up the Palatine Hill and down the other side, into the area which in our shadow world contained the hundred rooms of the Imperial Palaces but here mostly grassy meadows and the gleaming Tiber River below us. Here and there, we could make out objects floating in the air or small buildings on the ground - the Temple of Vesta in the valley below; a single shield resting on the ground next to it, a golden laurel wreath on a pillar, but it seemed hard to focus on anything much in the distance, and the Wolf moved quickly.
Soon we came to a small, purple marble platform dominated by a bronze pole at the center, on which perched a small, shivering golden-feathered eaglet. Smoky black chains, whose mere shadows Heilyn and Wena had caught glimpses of in our world, wrapped the eaglet tightly around and bound it to its pole, leaving only its beak and eyes barely exposed to us. The chain ran off the edge of the platform and stretched out into the hazy distance of the meadows.
"This is my task," Marcus intoned solemnly. "Leave me to it." We all stood back several paces. I personally didn't see why I should help get another rival into our group, particularly another useless bird who would probably league with Cato against me and convince Meloch to try monkey for lunch.
Marcus lifted his sword high above his head, focusing intently by virtue of his philosophical training, and brought the weapon down on the chain at the point where it crossed the marble platform. There was no sound, and the legionary weapon bounced off the solid metal of the chain. He tried again, to no effect, and then borrowed Heilyn's hammer, but all failed to make even the slightest dent in the foul bonds.
The Wolf's tongue lolled out, as she seemed to grin at him. "It is not by metal that you will break this metal, Centurion," she mindspoke.
Cornelia grabbed a wax slate and wrote, "Remember what the prophecy said, um...whoever you are."
Marcus handed the hammer back to Heilyn, and gave his sword to Metellus to hold, and concentrated on his faith and devotion to the Ninth Legion, his eighteen years of service with her, through war and peace, blood and triumph. He strode up to the bronze pole, and grabbed the black chain, trying carefully not to further hurt the eaglet, and began trying to unwind its bonds with his hands. The cold, sharp metal ate away at his fingers, and his palms began bleeding profusely, staining the eaglet's feathers and the marble below. But he unraveled the chain, link by link, loop by loop, until at last, when the Centurion was barely able to stand, the last link around the eaglet's claws was undone, and the chain fell to the marble below.
The eaglet first cautiously and then triumphantly spread its wings, which seemed to grow as the blood of the Centurion touched them. Balancing on the top of the bronze standard pole, it leaned forward towards Marcus, briefly, and touched with its beak his primuspilus brooch, which glowed momentarily and turned from bronze into a bright gold. Then the bird launched itself off the pole and flew high into the heavens, circling upwards amidst the clouds until finally it disappeared from our sight.
Thanks for all the kind words! I should have more time for regular updates now that the semester's over and my only project is polishing up my dissertation and preparing classes before we move to Chicago in September.
***
We all turn and stare at Lucretius, Cornelia's scales going unremarked upon in the greater shock. Before entering, we prepared ourselves for the likelihood of difficult communication by Wena establishing mindlinks between herself and Cornelia, Heilyn, Llyr, and Lucretius, while the rest of us had wax tablets and styluses.
Cornelia immediately asked Wena to ask Lucretius to explain what had happened. Lucretius told Wena to tell Cornelia that the Praetorian would explain later, and surely there were more urgent matters currently. Cornelia demanded an answer back through Wena, and this went back and forth for a few more iterations before the frustrated and irritated Wena pointed out that, after all, her Mindlinks had limited duration, and didn't they have an Empire to save and a Cap to rescue?
The Wolf, meanwhile, continued to gaze at us calmly, and mindspoke us all again after a few seconds. "What do you seek, children?"
There was a pause, as we considered what to answer, but Marcus was the first to write out on his tablet his most urgent desire. "Mother of the Romans, I seek the Eagle of the Ninth, that I may free it from its bondage."
The Wolf lowered her head. "It is quite near here, as we measure such things. We will go there, while your companions ponder what else they may seek."
We followed the Wolf as she padded further up the Palatine Hill and down the other side, into the area which in our shadow world contained the hundred rooms of the Imperial Palaces but here mostly grassy meadows and the gleaming Tiber River below us. Here and there, we could make out objects floating in the air or small buildings on the ground - the Temple of Vesta in the valley below; a single shield resting on the ground next to it, a golden laurel wreath on a pillar, but it seemed hard to focus on anything much in the distance, and the Wolf moved quickly.
Soon we came to a small, purple marble platform dominated by a bronze pole at the center, on which perched a small, shivering golden-feathered eaglet. Smoky black chains, whose mere shadows Heilyn and Wena had caught glimpses of in our world, wrapped the eaglet tightly around and bound it to its pole, leaving only its beak and eyes barely exposed to us. The chain ran off the edge of the platform and stretched out into the hazy distance of the meadows.
"This is my task," Marcus intoned solemnly. "Leave me to it." We all stood back several paces. I personally didn't see why I should help get another rival into our group, particularly another useless bird who would probably league with Cato against me and convince Meloch to try monkey for lunch.
Marcus lifted his sword high above his head, focusing intently by virtue of his philosophical training, and brought the weapon down on the chain at the point where it crossed the marble platform. There was no sound, and the legionary weapon bounced off the solid metal of the chain. He tried again, to no effect, and then borrowed Heilyn's hammer, but all failed to make even the slightest dent in the foul bonds.
The Wolf's tongue lolled out, as she seemed to grin at him. "It is not by metal that you will break this metal, Centurion," she mindspoke.
Cornelia grabbed a wax slate and wrote, "Remember what the prophecy said, um...whoever you are."
Marcus handed the hammer back to Heilyn, and gave his sword to Metellus to hold, and concentrated on his faith and devotion to the Ninth Legion, his eighteen years of service with her, through war and peace, blood and triumph. He strode up to the bronze pole, and grabbed the black chain, trying carefully not to further hurt the eaglet, and began trying to unwind its bonds with his hands. The cold, sharp metal ate away at his fingers, and his palms began bleeding profusely, staining the eaglet's feathers and the marble below. But he unraveled the chain, link by link, loop by loop, until at last, when the Centurion was barely able to stand, the last link around the eaglet's claws was undone, and the chain fell to the marble below.
The eaglet first cautiously and then triumphantly spread its wings, which seemed to grow as the blood of the Centurion touched them. Balancing on the top of the bronze standard pole, it leaned forward towards Marcus, briefly, and touched with its beak his primuspilus brooch, which glowed momentarily and turned from bronze into a bright gold. Then the bird launched itself off the pole and flew high into the heavens, circling upwards amidst the clouds until finally it disappeared from our sight.
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Orichalcum
First Post
Fimmtiu said:Yay! A fresh supply of my drug of choice.
I had everyone in turn describe their version of their ideal self, and then in a few cases I added some details that they hadn't mentioned - scales, glowing, etc...
The world mechanics were mostly just playing-by-ear; Marcus had to make several rolls to see how many loops of chain he could untie in a round, and for each round he was in contact with the chain, he lost 12-18 hit points. You'll see the other mechanics more later.
She knew it was a risk. There were several earlier ways that her secret could have been discovered, actually. It was a very distinct possibility, for instance, in the fight around the Temple of the Vestals, which only virginal women could enter. Had any of the little girls actually made it inside the Temple and threatened the holy flame directly, I suspect Lucretius would have charged in after them.
This was always intended as the session when a variety of long-held character secrets would finally come to light, as it was the climax of the first major arc - Heilyn and Cornelia's ancestry, Lucretius' sex, etc...Look out for more exciting revelations in chapters to come, which feature horror, romance, sightseeing, mass combat, elephants, and an old nemesis!
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