Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
Orichalcum
First Post
Second Session: Saturnalia Second Post: Knocking up the Governor's Wife
The next day, a little the worse for wear, we arrived at the house of Cornelia’s Uncle Drusus and Auntie Petronilla in Londinium, where Meloch and I have stayed before. Drusus is a military quaestor, in charge of much of the financial and administrative paperwork for Britannia’s three legions. He’s also an amateur scholar, who likes adding all sorts of esoteric scrolls to his library. Wena and Marcus, who also turns out to be a part-time philosopher, are very happy about this.
Cornelia spends her time gossiping with Auntie Petronilla and finding out a little more about the mysterious Tribune Minucius, who we believed helped betray the Ninth to the Druids and is presumed to have died with them. Petronilla says that Minucius came from an ambitious but very poor family and has a widowed mother back in Rome who was desolate at the loss of her only child.
Petronilla also told us about the exciting events of Saturnalia: that afternoon, we were due to meet Governor Cimbrus and his wife, Hadriana, the great-granddaughter of the former Emperor Hadrian. The next day, there would be a great chariot race, one of the highlights of Saturnalia, and the day after plays would be performed all day in the new theater. Tomorrow night was also the time for new initiations into upper levels of the cult of Mithras the Bullslayer, the Roman soldier-god which had a devoted, all-male mystery cult. Metellus and Llyr decided that they wanted to be fully initiated; Marcus was entirely happy with his low-level rank in the cult.
As we were walking around Londinium, Heilyn looked increasingly pale and startled at the sheer number of people and buildings; he’s lived his whole life in and around Eburacum. Once or twice, he stopped dead and pointed at a man or two in the crowd, murmuring in horror, “do you see that? He’s covered in blood!” We could see no blood on the people in question, but eventually Cornelia figured out that Heilyn might be seeing the spiritual residue of murderers who hadn’t atoned to the gods and been purified from their crimes. During Saturnalia, no crimes are prosecuted or punished, so it tends to be a time of much chaos as well as celebration. I always like this because it means I can steal fruit from the market-sellers without any fear of Meloch getting into trouble.
We finally arrived at the rather squalid governor’s palace – largely wood and concrete with a thin marble veneer, built directly on the Thames River. We were shown in by a group of smartly dressed Praetorian Guards, quite a lot of them as they were here to protect the Emperor’s heir. Cimbrus himself was a fairly thin young man with shoulder-length blond hair; his wife, Hadriana, who was several years older than he was and in her late twenties, had elaborately dressed brown hair piled on top of her head and robes in shades of red and pink, which highlighted the enormous ruby necklace worn around her throat.
The humans bowed and saluted as appropriate; well, Heilyn sort of stumbled, but what can you expect from such a rustic? Governor Cimbrus greeted us all and thanked us for our endeavors. He seemed to be very enthusiastic and well-meaning, but not especially on the bright side; this is the problem with many Emperor’s sons. Hadriana, much more poised, asked us to tell the entire story, at which point Metellus flinched. He began telling a version with much of the magic – certainly all of our magic – left out, making the entire affair seem like a rather prosaic raid.
Marcus, however, emphasized the power of the Druids, but spoke gleefully about exploding the granary, which he hoped would cripple their attempts to raise an army for the spring as they’d be too busy dealing with starvation. Cornelia winced at this. Right about then, Meloch, who’d been sending vague feelings of sickness and unease over our mental link, nearly vomited on the marble tiling right in front of the Emperor. I asked what was wrong and he just said that as soon as he came in, he’d begun feeling ill. We slipped to the back, where we were less conspicuous, and he tried to get a hold of his stomach.
Cimbrus told us that, after receiving our reports about the Druids’ planned war, he had decided to take an aggressive approach and go to meet them on their own turf. He was marshaling all the three Legions and preparing to march north of Hadrian’s Wall in the spring to eliminate the Druidic threat once and for all. Marcus and Llyr were elated; most of the rest of us were a little uneasy about Cimbrus’ certainty of victory and firm belief that all the other native tribes of Britannia were firmly behind us.
He also said that he had been ordered by his father to send the Eagle to Rome itself, as only the Senate could decide on a matter as serious as re-forming a lost Legion, particularly since there were already 24 Legions, the normal maximum number. Two of his Praetorian Guards would be taking the last ship out of Londinium before the winter storms closed the Channel, in two days’ time at sunset, with the Eagle, and they would carry it through Gaul safely to Rome.
We returned to Drusus and Petronilla’s house, and the Legionaries and Heilyn discussed the problem of Minucius. Meanwhile, about an hour later, Cornelia received a handwritten invitation requesting that she, her “servant” Wena, and her pygmy slave attend the Illustrious Hadriana in her private quarters that evening. I accompanied, of course, and we dutifully trooped back off to the Governor’s Palace, a little confused as to why she hadn’t just spoken to us there.
As it turned out, Hadriana had what might be described as a woman’s problem. She and Cimbrus had been married for ten years, since he turned fourteen. (She was nineteen at the time, unusually old for first marriage, but had been politically risky due to her descent from the Divine Hadrian.) However...they haven’t had any children yet. Indeed, she hasn’t ever gotten pregnant, and this is increasingly a major issue. It is at this point that Meloch nearly vomits again, which, needless to say, doesn’t go over well with Hadriana. Finally, Cornelia notices that something’s wrong with the pygmy, and asks. She and Wena theorize that perhaps Meloch is being affected by something causing Hadriana’s lack of pregnancy, given his people’s strong association with proper fertility. [GM Note: Pygmies cause fertility rates to jump by 20% of them within a 300-foot range.]
Meloch focuses on the center of his discomfort and unease and finally targets the huge ruby dangling from Hadriana’s neck. Cornelia asks her about it and she tells them that it was a wedding present from the Emperor himself. This causes some befuddlement, but finally Wena asks her to take it off and whether she can hold it for a second. Reluctantly, Hadriana does, and Wena holds the ruby and concentrates on using her mind to learn more about its past history. She gets the following reading:
It was handed to her by a Roman adult female, Lawful Neutral in alignment, leaning good. She was given the ruby by an older Roman LG male, who was given it by a young CN Roman man, who was given it by a LE middle-aged Brigantian man, who purchased it from an elderly CE Thessalian woman, who bought it from a middle-aged LN Armenian man, who bought it from a young CG Parthian man, and several more apparent traders until the middle-aged LH man who found it in a mine in India.
Obviously, we are most interested in the evil Brigantian, about whom Hadriana has no idea, and the evil Thessalian woman, who seems likely to have been a witch, as Thessalians are notorious for witchcraft.
Upon Wena and Cornelia’s urgent recommendation, Hadriana puts the ruby necklace into a small chest and has a maid take it to the treasury for safekeeping. Cornelia also attempts to delicately suggest that Meloch’s presence near Hadriana and Cimbrus’s bedroom might have...fruitful results. Hadriana seems a bit skeptical, but agrees to give Meloch a room for the night near her bedroom. As they return home, Meloch promises he will do everything he can to get the Governor’s wife pregnant.
The next day, a little the worse for wear, we arrived at the house of Cornelia’s Uncle Drusus and Auntie Petronilla in Londinium, where Meloch and I have stayed before. Drusus is a military quaestor, in charge of much of the financial and administrative paperwork for Britannia’s three legions. He’s also an amateur scholar, who likes adding all sorts of esoteric scrolls to his library. Wena and Marcus, who also turns out to be a part-time philosopher, are very happy about this.
Cornelia spends her time gossiping with Auntie Petronilla and finding out a little more about the mysterious Tribune Minucius, who we believed helped betray the Ninth to the Druids and is presumed to have died with them. Petronilla says that Minucius came from an ambitious but very poor family and has a widowed mother back in Rome who was desolate at the loss of her only child.
Petronilla also told us about the exciting events of Saturnalia: that afternoon, we were due to meet Governor Cimbrus and his wife, Hadriana, the great-granddaughter of the former Emperor Hadrian. The next day, there would be a great chariot race, one of the highlights of Saturnalia, and the day after plays would be performed all day in the new theater. Tomorrow night was also the time for new initiations into upper levels of the cult of Mithras the Bullslayer, the Roman soldier-god which had a devoted, all-male mystery cult. Metellus and Llyr decided that they wanted to be fully initiated; Marcus was entirely happy with his low-level rank in the cult.
As we were walking around Londinium, Heilyn looked increasingly pale and startled at the sheer number of people and buildings; he’s lived his whole life in and around Eburacum. Once or twice, he stopped dead and pointed at a man or two in the crowd, murmuring in horror, “do you see that? He’s covered in blood!” We could see no blood on the people in question, but eventually Cornelia figured out that Heilyn might be seeing the spiritual residue of murderers who hadn’t atoned to the gods and been purified from their crimes. During Saturnalia, no crimes are prosecuted or punished, so it tends to be a time of much chaos as well as celebration. I always like this because it means I can steal fruit from the market-sellers without any fear of Meloch getting into trouble.
We finally arrived at the rather squalid governor’s palace – largely wood and concrete with a thin marble veneer, built directly on the Thames River. We were shown in by a group of smartly dressed Praetorian Guards, quite a lot of them as they were here to protect the Emperor’s heir. Cimbrus himself was a fairly thin young man with shoulder-length blond hair; his wife, Hadriana, who was several years older than he was and in her late twenties, had elaborately dressed brown hair piled on top of her head and robes in shades of red and pink, which highlighted the enormous ruby necklace worn around her throat.
The humans bowed and saluted as appropriate; well, Heilyn sort of stumbled, but what can you expect from such a rustic? Governor Cimbrus greeted us all and thanked us for our endeavors. He seemed to be very enthusiastic and well-meaning, but not especially on the bright side; this is the problem with many Emperor’s sons. Hadriana, much more poised, asked us to tell the entire story, at which point Metellus flinched. He began telling a version with much of the magic – certainly all of our magic – left out, making the entire affair seem like a rather prosaic raid.
Marcus, however, emphasized the power of the Druids, but spoke gleefully about exploding the granary, which he hoped would cripple their attempts to raise an army for the spring as they’d be too busy dealing with starvation. Cornelia winced at this. Right about then, Meloch, who’d been sending vague feelings of sickness and unease over our mental link, nearly vomited on the marble tiling right in front of the Emperor. I asked what was wrong and he just said that as soon as he came in, he’d begun feeling ill. We slipped to the back, where we were less conspicuous, and he tried to get a hold of his stomach.
Cimbrus told us that, after receiving our reports about the Druids’ planned war, he had decided to take an aggressive approach and go to meet them on their own turf. He was marshaling all the three Legions and preparing to march north of Hadrian’s Wall in the spring to eliminate the Druidic threat once and for all. Marcus and Llyr were elated; most of the rest of us were a little uneasy about Cimbrus’ certainty of victory and firm belief that all the other native tribes of Britannia were firmly behind us.
He also said that he had been ordered by his father to send the Eagle to Rome itself, as only the Senate could decide on a matter as serious as re-forming a lost Legion, particularly since there were already 24 Legions, the normal maximum number. Two of his Praetorian Guards would be taking the last ship out of Londinium before the winter storms closed the Channel, in two days’ time at sunset, with the Eagle, and they would carry it through Gaul safely to Rome.
We returned to Drusus and Petronilla’s house, and the Legionaries and Heilyn discussed the problem of Minucius. Meanwhile, about an hour later, Cornelia received a handwritten invitation requesting that she, her “servant” Wena, and her pygmy slave attend the Illustrious Hadriana in her private quarters that evening. I accompanied, of course, and we dutifully trooped back off to the Governor’s Palace, a little confused as to why she hadn’t just spoken to us there.
As it turned out, Hadriana had what might be described as a woman’s problem. She and Cimbrus had been married for ten years, since he turned fourteen. (She was nineteen at the time, unusually old for first marriage, but had been politically risky due to her descent from the Divine Hadrian.) However...they haven’t had any children yet. Indeed, she hasn’t ever gotten pregnant, and this is increasingly a major issue. It is at this point that Meloch nearly vomits again, which, needless to say, doesn’t go over well with Hadriana. Finally, Cornelia notices that something’s wrong with the pygmy, and asks. She and Wena theorize that perhaps Meloch is being affected by something causing Hadriana’s lack of pregnancy, given his people’s strong association with proper fertility. [GM Note: Pygmies cause fertility rates to jump by 20% of them within a 300-foot range.]
Meloch focuses on the center of his discomfort and unease and finally targets the huge ruby dangling from Hadriana’s neck. Cornelia asks her about it and she tells them that it was a wedding present from the Emperor himself. This causes some befuddlement, but finally Wena asks her to take it off and whether she can hold it for a second. Reluctantly, Hadriana does, and Wena holds the ruby and concentrates on using her mind to learn more about its past history. She gets the following reading:
It was handed to her by a Roman adult female, Lawful Neutral in alignment, leaning good. She was given the ruby by an older Roman LG male, who was given it by a young CN Roman man, who was given it by a LE middle-aged Brigantian man, who purchased it from an elderly CE Thessalian woman, who bought it from a middle-aged LN Armenian man, who bought it from a young CG Parthian man, and several more apparent traders until the middle-aged LH man who found it in a mine in India.
Obviously, we are most interested in the evil Brigantian, about whom Hadriana has no idea, and the evil Thessalian woman, who seems likely to have been a witch, as Thessalians are notorious for witchcraft.
Upon Wena and Cornelia’s urgent recommendation, Hadriana puts the ruby necklace into a small chest and has a maid take it to the treasury for safekeeping. Cornelia also attempts to delicately suggest that Meloch’s presence near Hadriana and Cimbrus’s bedroom might have...fruitful results. Hadriana seems a bit skeptical, but agrees to give Meloch a room for the night near her bedroom. As they return home, Meloch promises he will do everything he can to get the Governor’s wife pregnant.
Orichalcum
First Post
re: Cornelia and Metellus
So, there are two issues. First of all, Metellus's family is much more high ranking than Cornelia's. Although his boss is her dad, currently, the match would definitely be a coup for her. Secondly, her father, due to his own past history, is very skeptical about pressured marriages, and would really like Cornelia's husband to love her. At the moment, Metellus's dominant opinion of Cornelia was one of fear and guilt. But, as you'll see, the relationship progressed. Not always forwards, mind you.
Krellic said:I'm vaguely surprised that Cornelia's father didn't immediately try and marry her off to Metellus, or at least hint at such a possibility!
So, there are two issues. First of all, Metellus's family is much more high ranking than Cornelia's. Although his boss is her dad, currently, the match would definitely be a coup for her. Secondly, her father, due to his own past history, is very skeptical about pressured marriages, and would really like Cornelia's husband to love her. At the moment, Metellus's dominant opinion of Cornelia was one of fear and guilt. But, as you'll see, the relationship progressed. Not always forwards, mind you.
Orichalcum
First Post
Second Session: Saturnalia Third Post: Chariot Racing
After dinner, Meloch returns to the Governor’s Palace, escorted by a Praetorian Guard through the increasingly rowdy and chaotic streets. He is given a small although lavish bedroom three doors down from Hadriana’s. Several hours after nightfall, he and I (I went first to make sure it was safe) crawl along the outside windowsill, leaping across the breaks between rooms, until we are next to Hadriana’s bedroom. We listen and ensure that there is in fact noise. Cato would be much better suited for this kind of prurient activity than I would. Meloch insists on our flattening ourselves against the wall for sometime until we finally return and go back to sleep.
The next morning, half of Londinium, including our group, head to the chariot race at the Circus of Londinium. Melech and I have been invited to perch in the Governor’s Box; I smirk at Cato, and Wena’s pearl, not that I think it understands me.
Llyr, meanwhile, has gone down to the stables to greet his cousin Kynton, also a Prince of the Brigantes, who ran off to Londinium to race chariots for the Greens, the team largely supported by Romanized tribespeople. Llyr’s mother had asked him to try and dissuade Kynton from doing something so dishonorable, but Llyr shrugs and wishes Kynton the best of luck. Of course, Kynton barely notices him, spending most of his time with the flock of young Londinium women who are alternately cooing over the horses and Kynton’s tight British breeches, at least until the Red team comes by with its matched team of 4 Iceni mares, said to be descended from Epona the horse goddess herself.
Heilyn is having a shock of his own, and the sheer crowds of people are only a minor factor. As the crowds gather in the circus, Heilyn sees coalescing and growing stronger an enormous spirit which stretches over the entire arena, with blue, green, red, and white waves pulsing across it. It is more powerful than any spirit Heilyn has seen before; luckily, it seems calm and joyous. Heilyn hunkers down on his wooden seat and tries not to be noticed.
The day begins with a parade, as the Praetorians and various other elite units march in finely polished armor around the track before saluting the Governor. They are followed by two Praetorians riding elephants, which kneel before the Governor’s box and then use their trunks to write “CIMBRUS” in the dust. Those of the crowd who are literate applaud wildly. From my vantage point, it appears that most of the audience doesn’t understand what’s going on. But the cheering begins again when a trio of dancing bears parade around the arena, followed by a cavalry procession and then a rather mangy pair of lions.
Finally, the four teams enter the arena, and are wildly cheered. [GM Note: The players played the roles of the four charioteers in this scene.] The first team out are the Blues, driven by Glaukos the Greek, former legionary and current champion of Londinium. The Blues get loud cheers from Marcus, Cornelia, Metellus, and other “true” Romans; the Governor’s Box also applauds loudest for this team. The second team is Kynton’s Greens, and not only Llyr but Heilyn, the other Brigantes and most of the Catavellauni, another reasonably assimilated tribe, cheer loudly. This particular cheer also has a distinctly higher note to it, and even Cornelia looks on appreciatively for a moment. The third team is the Whites, the subsidiary team of the Blues, driven by Gallus Agnorix, a relative newcomer. The Whites are cheered mainly by freedmen and merchants; Meloch and I decide to quietly bet on them.
The final team out is the Reds, driven by Thyra of the Iceni. This chariot is painted with Iceni battle symbols, and is the first team to get almost as many boos as cheers. Drusus explains that the Reds have become a symbol of those Britons who are not quite as happy with the Roman conquest as others. Apparently, Thyra’s mother was killed during the major Iceni revolt of thirty years ago, when Queen Boadicea murdered the Roman governor and half a Legion after she was beaten and her daughters raped by Roman tax collectors. The Iceni are a small fraction of their power before the revolt, but have apparently not let go all of their anger. Wena, who holds the position of vates, or lorekeeper, to the Iceni, is undaunted and cheers for Thyra, commenting that uneasiness about Roman conquest does not make one necessarily evil. Metellus goes and places a very large bet on the Blues, which Llyr, somewhat more impressively, matches with a bet on the Greens. Cornelia wagers some of her allowance on the Blues.
The four gilded dolphins at the starting post are turned downwards, and the race begins. Kynton gets an initial burst of speed and pulls ahead in the first lap, with the Blue Glaukos closely following. Thyra and Gallus Agnorix spend most of their time trying to sideswipe each other with their chariots or whip the other’s horses into a panic; Thyra even gets a few good blows on Glaukos’s horse, allowing Kynton to move further ahead. In the second lap, Glaukos begins gaining on Kynton, as his superior driving skill comes into play, and it looks like it might be a tight race. But in the third lap (out of seven), Gallus’s White chariot, driving neck-to-neck with Thyra’s Red team, appears to lose a wheel and collapses; Gallus is dragged for several hundred feet by his horses, since he has wrapped the reins around his waist in traditional fashion, until they come to a stop, and he lies motionless.
Thyra deftly angles her chariot out of harm’s way and tries to use the opportunity to pass Glaukos. But Glaukos is furious at the apparent fatal attack on his comrade, and begins focusing his energy on whipping Thyra herself and attempting to crash her chariot. Kynton, largely oblivious to the furor behind him, concentrates on racing as fast as possible and crosses the finish line far ahead of his competitors.
The crowd, which began murmuring loudly as soon as the White chariot fell, grows into a furious mob as the Blue charioteer and Red charioteer continue attacking each other with their whips even after the race is over. Dozens of supporters from either side storm the sands of the arena. Both Glaukos and Thyra are ripped to pieces in the tumult. The Iceni begin shouting traditional battle chants and accusing the Romans of cheating, while the Romans claim that Thyra struck the first blow.
Metellus and Marcus wade down into the arena and manage to momentarily quell the mob with quick words and some buffets to the head, while Llyr goes to make sure Kynton is safe. Meloch and I hide in the Governor’s box, reassured when we see Heilyn escorting Cornelia and Wena safely out of the circus. The Praetorians seem somewhat ineffective at stopping the chaos, although the Governor keeps shouting commands out of the box until some sharp-eyed guards inform him that it is time to leave, now. We are glad for their escort, although no one seems to be directly attacking the Governor. As everyone in our group flees the Circus, Heilyn looks upwards. The once joyful gigantic Spirit now has two fiery storm-colored eyes, that gaze angrily around the arena, and blood seems to be dripping down the stadium walls. Dark clouds are gathering quickly.
After dinner, Meloch returns to the Governor’s Palace, escorted by a Praetorian Guard through the increasingly rowdy and chaotic streets. He is given a small although lavish bedroom three doors down from Hadriana’s. Several hours after nightfall, he and I (I went first to make sure it was safe) crawl along the outside windowsill, leaping across the breaks between rooms, until we are next to Hadriana’s bedroom. We listen and ensure that there is in fact noise. Cato would be much better suited for this kind of prurient activity than I would. Meloch insists on our flattening ourselves against the wall for sometime until we finally return and go back to sleep.
The next morning, half of Londinium, including our group, head to the chariot race at the Circus of Londinium. Melech and I have been invited to perch in the Governor’s Box; I smirk at Cato, and Wena’s pearl, not that I think it understands me.
Llyr, meanwhile, has gone down to the stables to greet his cousin Kynton, also a Prince of the Brigantes, who ran off to Londinium to race chariots for the Greens, the team largely supported by Romanized tribespeople. Llyr’s mother had asked him to try and dissuade Kynton from doing something so dishonorable, but Llyr shrugs and wishes Kynton the best of luck. Of course, Kynton barely notices him, spending most of his time with the flock of young Londinium women who are alternately cooing over the horses and Kynton’s tight British breeches, at least until the Red team comes by with its matched team of 4 Iceni mares, said to be descended from Epona the horse goddess herself.
Heilyn is having a shock of his own, and the sheer crowds of people are only a minor factor. As the crowds gather in the circus, Heilyn sees coalescing and growing stronger an enormous spirit which stretches over the entire arena, with blue, green, red, and white waves pulsing across it. It is more powerful than any spirit Heilyn has seen before; luckily, it seems calm and joyous. Heilyn hunkers down on his wooden seat and tries not to be noticed.
The day begins with a parade, as the Praetorians and various other elite units march in finely polished armor around the track before saluting the Governor. They are followed by two Praetorians riding elephants, which kneel before the Governor’s box and then use their trunks to write “CIMBRUS” in the dust. Those of the crowd who are literate applaud wildly. From my vantage point, it appears that most of the audience doesn’t understand what’s going on. But the cheering begins again when a trio of dancing bears parade around the arena, followed by a cavalry procession and then a rather mangy pair of lions.
Finally, the four teams enter the arena, and are wildly cheered. [GM Note: The players played the roles of the four charioteers in this scene.] The first team out are the Blues, driven by Glaukos the Greek, former legionary and current champion of Londinium. The Blues get loud cheers from Marcus, Cornelia, Metellus, and other “true” Romans; the Governor’s Box also applauds loudest for this team. The second team is Kynton’s Greens, and not only Llyr but Heilyn, the other Brigantes and most of the Catavellauni, another reasonably assimilated tribe, cheer loudly. This particular cheer also has a distinctly higher note to it, and even Cornelia looks on appreciatively for a moment. The third team is the Whites, the subsidiary team of the Blues, driven by Gallus Agnorix, a relative newcomer. The Whites are cheered mainly by freedmen and merchants; Meloch and I decide to quietly bet on them.
The final team out is the Reds, driven by Thyra of the Iceni. This chariot is painted with Iceni battle symbols, and is the first team to get almost as many boos as cheers. Drusus explains that the Reds have become a symbol of those Britons who are not quite as happy with the Roman conquest as others. Apparently, Thyra’s mother was killed during the major Iceni revolt of thirty years ago, when Queen Boadicea murdered the Roman governor and half a Legion after she was beaten and her daughters raped by Roman tax collectors. The Iceni are a small fraction of their power before the revolt, but have apparently not let go all of their anger. Wena, who holds the position of vates, or lorekeeper, to the Iceni, is undaunted and cheers for Thyra, commenting that uneasiness about Roman conquest does not make one necessarily evil. Metellus goes and places a very large bet on the Blues, which Llyr, somewhat more impressively, matches with a bet on the Greens. Cornelia wagers some of her allowance on the Blues.
The four gilded dolphins at the starting post are turned downwards, and the race begins. Kynton gets an initial burst of speed and pulls ahead in the first lap, with the Blue Glaukos closely following. Thyra and Gallus Agnorix spend most of their time trying to sideswipe each other with their chariots or whip the other’s horses into a panic; Thyra even gets a few good blows on Glaukos’s horse, allowing Kynton to move further ahead. In the second lap, Glaukos begins gaining on Kynton, as his superior driving skill comes into play, and it looks like it might be a tight race. But in the third lap (out of seven), Gallus’s White chariot, driving neck-to-neck with Thyra’s Red team, appears to lose a wheel and collapses; Gallus is dragged for several hundred feet by his horses, since he has wrapped the reins around his waist in traditional fashion, until they come to a stop, and he lies motionless.
Thyra deftly angles her chariot out of harm’s way and tries to use the opportunity to pass Glaukos. But Glaukos is furious at the apparent fatal attack on his comrade, and begins focusing his energy on whipping Thyra herself and attempting to crash her chariot. Kynton, largely oblivious to the furor behind him, concentrates on racing as fast as possible and crosses the finish line far ahead of his competitors.
The crowd, which began murmuring loudly as soon as the White chariot fell, grows into a furious mob as the Blue charioteer and Red charioteer continue attacking each other with their whips even after the race is over. Dozens of supporters from either side storm the sands of the arena. Both Glaukos and Thyra are ripped to pieces in the tumult. The Iceni begin shouting traditional battle chants and accusing the Romans of cheating, while the Romans claim that Thyra struck the first blow.
Metellus and Marcus wade down into the arena and manage to momentarily quell the mob with quick words and some buffets to the head, while Llyr goes to make sure Kynton is safe. Meloch and I hide in the Governor’s box, reassured when we see Heilyn escorting Cornelia and Wena safely out of the circus. The Praetorians seem somewhat ineffective at stopping the chaos, although the Governor keeps shouting commands out of the box until some sharp-eyed guards inform him that it is time to leave, now. We are glad for their escort, although no one seems to be directly attacking the Governor. As everyone in our group flees the Circus, Heilyn looks upwards. The once joyful gigantic Spirit now has two fiery storm-colored eyes, that gaze angrily around the arena, and blood seems to be dripping down the stadium walls. Dark clouds are gathering quickly.
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themaxx
First Post
Player Introductions continued
I play Wena, the Iceni wise woman, vates, lorekeeper and philosopher. Although the wise guide of the tribe, Wena has broken some traditions by travelling across much of Europe and parts of Asia to learn more about natural philosophy. She has thus become talented in seeing all sorts of things, even without the aide of her eyes. Wena tends to be holistic in her perspective and is also ascetic philosopher, usually owning nothing more than she carries with her. Being in the company of Roman adventurers has resulted in her acquiring a few trinkets, but not much. She also currently uses a bone (rather than wood) quarter staff, fashioned graciously by Hielyn, that is the result of a long story to come later....
She does always have Samir, her pearl and the observant side of her personality, to help her. She also carries on a bit of her mentor with her, as she wears always the shroud passed on to her by her teacher, who went for days and sometimes weeks meditating without any other activity.
Wena is hoping to find a young one among the Iceni to train as a suitable Vates, but the Iceni have lost many of their number, and they are currently in limbo between the more violent anti-Roman tribes and the assimilated tribes. Wena is hoping to help keep them safe as a tribe, and yet still maintain some of the independence and culture that the Iceni possess.
I play Wena, the Iceni wise woman, vates, lorekeeper and philosopher. Although the wise guide of the tribe, Wena has broken some traditions by travelling across much of Europe and parts of Asia to learn more about natural philosophy. She has thus become talented in seeing all sorts of things, even without the aide of her eyes. Wena tends to be holistic in her perspective and is also ascetic philosopher, usually owning nothing more than she carries with her. Being in the company of Roman adventurers has resulted in her acquiring a few trinkets, but not much. She also currently uses a bone (rather than wood) quarter staff, fashioned graciously by Hielyn, that is the result of a long story to come later....
She does always have Samir, her pearl and the observant side of her personality, to help her. She also carries on a bit of her mentor with her, as she wears always the shroud passed on to her by her teacher, who went for days and sometimes weeks meditating without any other activity.
Wena is hoping to find a young one among the Iceni to train as a suitable Vates, but the Iceni have lost many of their number, and they are currently in limbo between the more violent anti-Roman tribes and the assimilated tribes. Wena is hoping to help keep them safe as a tribe, and yet still maintain some of the independence and culture that the Iceni possess.
Last edited:
Orichalcum
First Post
Second Session: Saturnalia Fourth Post: Spirit-talking
The eyes of the Spirit of the Games, which have been roaming restlessly across the angry mob, focus on Heilyn, who is the only person in the stadium looking up at it. Heilyn is overwhelmed by a voice which sounds like the thunder of a crowd cheering yet which speaks only to him: “SPIRIT-TALKER. YOU CAN SEE ME.”
“Indaid, great Spirit. Ah....you seem to be somewhat out of sorts.”
“THE GAMES HAVE BEEN VIOLATED.” the voice booms like the sound of hooves. “I HAVE BEEN WRONGED. THE GUILTY MUST BE PUNISHED.”
“Well, I think they already are. I belaive their heads are over that way...” Heilyn responds, a bit confused.
“MY RACERS WERE THE VICTIMS, NOT THE GUILTY. THE DEATH OF THE WHITE CHARIOTEER WAS NOT NATURAL. IT WAS AN OFFENSE AGAINST THE GAMES.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that...” Heilyn responds, still edging his way out of the arena.
“YOU WILL FIND THE GUILTY AND BRING THEM FOR ME TO PUNISH,” the Spirit of the Games announces to Heilyn, sounding resolved.
“Why me???” Heilyn panics.
“WHO ELSE BETTER?” At this crucial moment, Heilyn fails to come up with an answer.
“I WILL NOT REST EASY UNTIL THIS HAS BEEN AVENGED. WORK QUICKLY, SPIRIT-TALKER.”
And with that, large hailstones begin pelting the crowd, which rapidly disperses in terror. Heilyn’s comrades begin to notice that the hailstorm is somewhat oddly centered directly over the arena, although it is rapidly spread radially outward. We all leave, quickly, and regroup somewhat later at the house of Drusus and Petronilla.
Heilyn tells the rest of the humans about the Spirit of the Games’ request, and urgently requests their assistance. While Marcus initially balks at obeying a strange spirit whom only Heilyn can see, the extremely unusual weather conditions which continue to percolate throughout Londinium rapidly convince him. Rain is now pouring down, and lightning has already struck the walls of the legionary fortress. If the weather does not stop, the Thames will likely overflow its banks within a day. The group bundles up in their wool cloaks and trudge back to the now-deserted stadium to search for clues; I hide in the folds of Meloch’s tunic, terrified of hailstones larger than my head.
After an extensive search of the track by Llyr, Marcus, Meloch, and Wena, a small lead curse tablet is found shallowly buried in the now-muddy sand, just about at the point where the White chariot spontaneously disintegrated. Cornelia is able to read the Celtic magical runes, away from Metellus’s notice, and discover that the tablet specifically commands that, in the third lap, great doom fall upon Gallus Agnorix, the charioteer of the White team. Meloch announces to the group that the tablet bears the signs of reasonably powerful necromantic magic.
Wena uses her ability to divine the history of an object and gains the following useful information: An Iceni male child, Chaotic Neutral in alignment, with good tendencies, received the tablet as well as some money, and placed it in the sand. He got it from a Lawful Evil adult Roman male, who bought it from a female adult Chaotic Neutral (leaning evil) Catavellauni woman, who created it.
With this narrow a track of owners, the humans decide to pursue the path back directly. They go to the stables, and after a little enquiring locate Gwynthar, a young Iceni stableboy who reluctantly admits that he was paid money to place a tablet in the sand, which was supposed to help his heroine, Thyra of the Iceni. While Heilyn lectures the boy strongly about getting involved in evil spiritual duties, Cornelia defends him, arguing that he didn’t realize that his actions would result in the deaths of three charioteers, not to mention countless other people swept up in the mob.
Gwynthar is deeply traumatized that the tablet caused Thyra’s death, and promises to help them as much as possible. Unfortunately, all he knows about the person who gave them the curse tablet is that it was a tall, fair, Roman man with a sharp nose. However, Wena sets up a mindlink between herself, the boy, and Marcus, whose infallible memory has proved helpful to the group several times already. The mindlink is held for a moment before Marcus nods, his face breaking out into a slow, savage smile. “It’s Titus Minucius, the tribune who betrayed my Legion in the wilds of Caledonia. I’m certain of it. And he’s here in Londinium.”
The eyes of the Spirit of the Games, which have been roaming restlessly across the angry mob, focus on Heilyn, who is the only person in the stadium looking up at it. Heilyn is overwhelmed by a voice which sounds like the thunder of a crowd cheering yet which speaks only to him: “SPIRIT-TALKER. YOU CAN SEE ME.”
“Indaid, great Spirit. Ah....you seem to be somewhat out of sorts.”
“THE GAMES HAVE BEEN VIOLATED.” the voice booms like the sound of hooves. “I HAVE BEEN WRONGED. THE GUILTY MUST BE PUNISHED.”
“Well, I think they already are. I belaive their heads are over that way...” Heilyn responds, a bit confused.
“MY RACERS WERE THE VICTIMS, NOT THE GUILTY. THE DEATH OF THE WHITE CHARIOTEER WAS NOT NATURAL. IT WAS AN OFFENSE AGAINST THE GAMES.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that...” Heilyn responds, still edging his way out of the arena.
“YOU WILL FIND THE GUILTY AND BRING THEM FOR ME TO PUNISH,” the Spirit of the Games announces to Heilyn, sounding resolved.
“Why me???” Heilyn panics.
“WHO ELSE BETTER?” At this crucial moment, Heilyn fails to come up with an answer.
“I WILL NOT REST EASY UNTIL THIS HAS BEEN AVENGED. WORK QUICKLY, SPIRIT-TALKER.”
And with that, large hailstones begin pelting the crowd, which rapidly disperses in terror. Heilyn’s comrades begin to notice that the hailstorm is somewhat oddly centered directly over the arena, although it is rapidly spread radially outward. We all leave, quickly, and regroup somewhat later at the house of Drusus and Petronilla.
Heilyn tells the rest of the humans about the Spirit of the Games’ request, and urgently requests their assistance. While Marcus initially balks at obeying a strange spirit whom only Heilyn can see, the extremely unusual weather conditions which continue to percolate throughout Londinium rapidly convince him. Rain is now pouring down, and lightning has already struck the walls of the legionary fortress. If the weather does not stop, the Thames will likely overflow its banks within a day. The group bundles up in their wool cloaks and trudge back to the now-deserted stadium to search for clues; I hide in the folds of Meloch’s tunic, terrified of hailstones larger than my head.
After an extensive search of the track by Llyr, Marcus, Meloch, and Wena, a small lead curse tablet is found shallowly buried in the now-muddy sand, just about at the point where the White chariot spontaneously disintegrated. Cornelia is able to read the Celtic magical runes, away from Metellus’s notice, and discover that the tablet specifically commands that, in the third lap, great doom fall upon Gallus Agnorix, the charioteer of the White team. Meloch announces to the group that the tablet bears the signs of reasonably powerful necromantic magic.
Wena uses her ability to divine the history of an object and gains the following useful information: An Iceni male child, Chaotic Neutral in alignment, with good tendencies, received the tablet as well as some money, and placed it in the sand. He got it from a Lawful Evil adult Roman male, who bought it from a female adult Chaotic Neutral (leaning evil) Catavellauni woman, who created it.
With this narrow a track of owners, the humans decide to pursue the path back directly. They go to the stables, and after a little enquiring locate Gwynthar, a young Iceni stableboy who reluctantly admits that he was paid money to place a tablet in the sand, which was supposed to help his heroine, Thyra of the Iceni. While Heilyn lectures the boy strongly about getting involved in evil spiritual duties, Cornelia defends him, arguing that he didn’t realize that his actions would result in the deaths of three charioteers, not to mention countless other people swept up in the mob.
Gwynthar is deeply traumatized that the tablet caused Thyra’s death, and promises to help them as much as possible. Unfortunately, all he knows about the person who gave them the curse tablet is that it was a tall, fair, Roman man with a sharp nose. However, Wena sets up a mindlink between herself, the boy, and Marcus, whose infallible memory has proved helpful to the group several times already. The mindlink is held for a moment before Marcus nods, his face breaking out into a slow, savage smile. “It’s Titus Minucius, the tribune who betrayed my Legion in the wilds of Caledonia. I’m certain of it. And he’s here in Londinium.”
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