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Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
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<blockquote data-quote="Orichalcum" data-source="post: 1107339" data-attributes="member: 3722"><p><strong>Fourth Session: Legacies and Freedom Seventh Post: My Little Pony</strong></p><p></p><p>Much like the grove of Sulis, the area to the right of Lugh’s glowing light also contains an open, grassy space surrounded by trees. Sadly, the fragrant and unusual flowers wither and crumple under our cursed feet as we approach. Even here, surrounded by such great power, Aeduana’s dying vengeance prevails.</p><p></p><p></p><p>A similar, enormously wide tree, stretching to the sky, stands in the middle of the grove. This, however, is not what captures our attention. An elegant brown mare, perfect in every aspect from mane to hoof, is tied to the tree by a long rein and halter. Wena, looking closely, realizes that the rein grows into the tree itself, having long ago been shoved between two intertwining branches. She also realizes that the rein is made from what is probably human skin. Upon this announcement, basically everyone shudders.</p><p></p><p> On the tree, in the same Celtic runes, Cornelia and Wena read: “Master her, and you will prove forever your bravery and strength.” The horse, upon seeing them, rears up into the air, whinnying, and begins straining wildly at her rein, teeth bared and clearly ready to attack them if they come within range.</p><p></p><p> “Well, I’m guessing this is Epona, goddess of war and horses?” Metellus hazards.</p><p></p><p> “Yes...my patron goddess,” Wena confirms, with awe, kneeling briefly. “I really don’t like the idea of <em>mastering</em> her.”</p><p></p><p> “Of course not, that’s doing what a Druid would do. We aren’t Druids. We shouldn’t master her, we should free her!” Llyr exclaims.</p><p></p><p> “That sounds easier than it looks,” Meloch comments, glancing nervously at the horse’s flailing hooves. </p><p></p><p> “Um...Epona, we’re here to help you, and try and take that rein off. Please don’t attack us – we’re here on your behalf...” Metellus says, attempting a calm tone, but with a note of nervous hesitation in his voice, as he slowly begins to approach the horse. Her eyes roll, and she seems not to respond, perhaps driven to madness by her imprisonment.</p><p></p><p> “Let’s try going around from opposite sides,” Marcus suggests. Metellus approaches from the front, trying to grab the halter and pull it off, while Marcus approaches from the left of the horse and Llyr the right. </p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Meloch incants a spell and briefly grows giant eagle wings, which he uses to try and fly onto the back of the horse. He briefly grabs the mane, but she whips her neck around while dancing wildly, causing him to fall and roll under her hooves. Meloch is badly trampled. Meanwhile, she bites brutally at Metellus, approaching from the front, and Marcus goes to defend Metellus with his shield. Llyr, finally, tries the same trick that Meloch did, and manages to hold on. While Metellus grabs the halter from the front, Llyr unties it from the back, grimacing at the human sinews lacing the thing together, and together they pull the wretched device off, just as Llyr, his balance faltering, rolls off the horse to one side.</p><p></p><p>The horse immediately stops her frantic wheeling and for the first time, raises her eyes and looks directly at each of the humans in turn. She shimmers, seeming almost golden in the light, and a resonant alto voice speaks in each of our heads, even mine: <span style="color: sienna"> “You have my blessings and my gratitude, mortals. Neither animals nor goddesses are meant to be chained by humans, though we may gladly pull the same yoke with you. In the same way, you Romans should not enslave my Iceni, or the other Celts, rather than forming a greater herd, even with a new chief mare and stallion.”</span></p><p><span style="color: sienna"></span></p><p></p><p>Marcus impulsively steps forward and speaks, bowing respectfully to the horse: “Domina – dea – we hear and understand. May I ask – we Romans have no goddess or god of horses, and you would be a brave champion for cavalry units in the Legions, whether made of Celts or Romans or both. May we spread your worship among them?”</p><p></p><p>The alto, with a hint of amusement, answers, <span style="color: sienna"> “That would be most pleasing. After such a long time of imprisonment, and the loss of so many of the Iceni, I have been much weakened.” </span></p><p></p><p>“I am of the Iceni,” Wena offers, “and I will spread tales of your return to freedom and power among them.”</p><p></p><p> <span style="color: sienna"> “I thank you all. Now, I depart, for there is much work to be done, in Britannia and across the seas. For war is coming sooner than you might think, my children. Take good care of the gift I bestow, for I will watch her fate closely.”</span></p><p><span style="color: sienna"></span></p><p></p><p></p><p>And with that, the horse shimmers again, and gives sudden birth to a small brown foal, clean, but shaky on her tiny legs, with a white, eight-pointed star between her eyes. The mare licks the foal once and then gallops off into the grove, her hoofbeats quickly fading.</p><p></p><p>“She gave us a horse?” Meloch queries.</p><p></p><p> I think to Meloch, “Oh, wonderful, yet another “special” animal for everyone else too coo over while ignoring me. I’m much more useful than a baby horse. Though I did like the bit about not chaining animals but working with them. You should remember that.” Meloch sends a mental snort back my way.</p><p></p><p>“That’s not a horse. That’s a divine child of Epona!” Wena and Heilyn both retort, in complete agreement for once.</p><p></p><p>Llyr, ignoring all of this, has managed to pull an apple out of some deep pocket in his sack (being uncursed) and walked slowly forward, holding out his hand to be sniffed, with the apple in it. The foal hesitates for an instant between Metellus, who is also making small whinnying noises, and Llyr, but finally, hunger wins and she totters forward to Llyr, devouring the apple in two quick bites and then nuzzling Llyr’s hand with besotted devotion.</p><p></p><p> Llyr, noticing Metellus’s attempts at befriending the horse, tries to step back. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize...of course she should be your horse. I mean, you’re the officer and all.”</p><p></p><p> Metellus, sighing gently, responds, “Llyr...she’s clearly taken to you. Either that or she’s trying to lick your hand to death. She’s your horse. Just make sure you take good care of her.”</p><p></p><p> Marcus, thinking fast, asserts, “And just think of the breeding stock we can get from her for Metellus’s stables!”</p><p></p><p> Llyr, turning back to the foal, misses this completely, as he gently pets her and combs out her wet mane. So far, she seems perfectly normal, although extremely well-formed, despite the unusual circumstances of her birth. “Good little horsie...I think I’ll call you ‘Talat.’”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Orichalcum, post: 1107339, member: 3722"] [b]Fourth Session: Legacies and Freedom Seventh Post: My Little Pony[/b] Much like the grove of Sulis, the area to the right of Lugh’s glowing light also contains an open, grassy space surrounded by trees. Sadly, the fragrant and unusual flowers wither and crumple under our cursed feet as we approach. Even here, surrounded by such great power, Aeduana’s dying vengeance prevails. A similar, enormously wide tree, stretching to the sky, stands in the middle of the grove. This, however, is not what captures our attention. An elegant brown mare, perfect in every aspect from mane to hoof, is tied to the tree by a long rein and halter. Wena, looking closely, realizes that the rein grows into the tree itself, having long ago been shoved between two intertwining branches. She also realizes that the rein is made from what is probably human skin. Upon this announcement, basically everyone shudders. On the tree, in the same Celtic runes, Cornelia and Wena read: “Master her, and you will prove forever your bravery and strength.” The horse, upon seeing them, rears up into the air, whinnying, and begins straining wildly at her rein, teeth bared and clearly ready to attack them if they come within range. “Well, I’m guessing this is Epona, goddess of war and horses?” Metellus hazards. “Yes...my patron goddess,” Wena confirms, with awe, kneeling briefly. “I really don’t like the idea of [i]mastering[/i] her.” “Of course not, that’s doing what a Druid would do. We aren’t Druids. We shouldn’t master her, we should free her!” Llyr exclaims. “That sounds easier than it looks,” Meloch comments, glancing nervously at the horse’s flailing hooves. “Um...Epona, we’re here to help you, and try and take that rein off. Please don’t attack us – we’re here on your behalf...” Metellus says, attempting a calm tone, but with a note of nervous hesitation in his voice, as he slowly begins to approach the horse. Her eyes roll, and she seems not to respond, perhaps driven to madness by her imprisonment. “Let’s try going around from opposite sides,” Marcus suggests. Metellus approaches from the front, trying to grab the halter and pull it off, while Marcus approaches from the left of the horse and Llyr the right. Meanwhile, Meloch incants a spell and briefly grows giant eagle wings, which he uses to try and fly onto the back of the horse. He briefly grabs the mane, but she whips her neck around while dancing wildly, causing him to fall and roll under her hooves. Meloch is badly trampled. Meanwhile, she bites brutally at Metellus, approaching from the front, and Marcus goes to defend Metellus with his shield. Llyr, finally, tries the same trick that Meloch did, and manages to hold on. While Metellus grabs the halter from the front, Llyr unties it from the back, grimacing at the human sinews lacing the thing together, and together they pull the wretched device off, just as Llyr, his balance faltering, rolls off the horse to one side. The horse immediately stops her frantic wheeling and for the first time, raises her eyes and looks directly at each of the humans in turn. She shimmers, seeming almost golden in the light, and a resonant alto voice speaks in each of our heads, even mine: [color=sienna] “You have my blessings and my gratitude, mortals. Neither animals nor goddesses are meant to be chained by humans, though we may gladly pull the same yoke with you. In the same way, you Romans should not enslave my Iceni, or the other Celts, rather than forming a greater herd, even with a new chief mare and stallion.” [/color] Marcus impulsively steps forward and speaks, bowing respectfully to the horse: “Domina – dea – we hear and understand. May I ask – we Romans have no goddess or god of horses, and you would be a brave champion for cavalry units in the Legions, whether made of Celts or Romans or both. May we spread your worship among them?” The alto, with a hint of amusement, answers, [color=sienna] “That would be most pleasing. After such a long time of imprisonment, and the loss of so many of the Iceni, I have been much weakened.” [/color] “I am of the Iceni,” Wena offers, “and I will spread tales of your return to freedom and power among them.” [color=sienna] “I thank you all. Now, I depart, for there is much work to be done, in Britannia and across the seas. For war is coming sooner than you might think, my children. Take good care of the gift I bestow, for I will watch her fate closely.” [/color] And with that, the horse shimmers again, and gives sudden birth to a small brown foal, clean, but shaky on her tiny legs, with a white, eight-pointed star between her eyes. The mare licks the foal once and then gallops off into the grove, her hoofbeats quickly fading. “She gave us a horse?” Meloch queries. I think to Meloch, “Oh, wonderful, yet another “special” animal for everyone else too coo over while ignoring me. I’m much more useful than a baby horse. Though I did like the bit about not chaining animals but working with them. You should remember that.” Meloch sends a mental snort back my way. “That’s not a horse. That’s a divine child of Epona!” Wena and Heilyn both retort, in complete agreement for once. Llyr, ignoring all of this, has managed to pull an apple out of some deep pocket in his sack (being uncursed) and walked slowly forward, holding out his hand to be sniffed, with the apple in it. The foal hesitates for an instant between Metellus, who is also making small whinnying noises, and Llyr, but finally, hunger wins and she totters forward to Llyr, devouring the apple in two quick bites and then nuzzling Llyr’s hand with besotted devotion. Llyr, noticing Metellus’s attempts at befriending the horse, tries to step back. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize...of course she should be your horse. I mean, you’re the officer and all.” Metellus, sighing gently, responds, “Llyr...she’s clearly taken to you. Either that or she’s trying to lick your hand to death. She’s your horse. Just make sure you take good care of her.” Marcus, thinking fast, asserts, “And just think of the breeding stock we can get from her for Metellus’s stables!” Llyr, turning back to the foal, misses this completely, as he gently pets her and combs out her wet mane. So far, she seems perfectly normal, although extremely well-formed, despite the unusual circumstances of her birth. “Good little horsie...I think I’ll call you ‘Talat.’” [/QUOTE]
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