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<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5892306" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p>*** </p><p>“Welcome”, came the call as the company entered the camp.</p><p></p><p>Some of the tents had apparently been removed to make way for the long feast table. Reclining benches were laid out, and the table itself was piled high with fruit and cheese, and the air was warm with the aroma of roasting meat and baking bread. This might be a field camp, but these men had had years of experience and knew how to live in style when the opportunity arose.</p><p></p><p>Nedel, remembering the seal on the invitation, saluted Calvinus as General, reserving the greater salute for Markus, now Caesar. His actual coronation would take place in Rome, but that was a technicality.</p><p></p><p>The feast was served, and the Generals took equal positions, sharing the center of the table. All of the soldiers joined in, save those few on guard. The camp slaves brought bread to begin with, followed by grilled trout, then roast pig, and a rarity, “Roman Ices”, a concoction of fruit wines over snow from the mountains. </p><p></p><p>As they broke from the feast, Calvinus rose and called on Nedel to stand as well.</p><p></p><p>“My friends”, the General began. “This man, an outlander from the northern part of my protectorate, has displayed uncommon loyalty and courage, as have those who serve him. They risked their lives stopping an attempted assassination, and I want them to know that their efforts are appreciated.</p><p></p><p>“To Nedel, the brave nobleman, master of the Gypsy magics, I offer a fine battle staff, well balanced, and bearing my mark. May it serve you well.”</p><p></p><p>Reaching back towards a slave, he retrieved his next gift. “To the lady Appelenea of the north, I offer this, a sickle crafted of silver, as suits the lady’s order.”</p><p></p><p>And so it went. To Seeburn he gave a blade of iron, crafted in the style of his homeland, nearly as long as the man was tall. To Cassius he gave a longsword of exceptional balance, also of iron, that bore the symbol of Carthage, the warrior’s home city. To Marcus he gave flail, light in the hand but heavy when it struck.</p><p></p><p>There were other awards as well. General Markus gave a fine set of runners boots to Achelos, the champion of the run from Marathon, replacing the man’s military sandals. Soldiers who had served with distinction were recognized, as were other Olympic champions. Notable by their absence were Sylus, who had won the Archery competition, and Kergen who had won at the Discus. One was at another feast, while the other was dead. But goblets were raised to both the absent and the fallen, in the spirit of the Olympics.</p><p></p><p>Then, suddenly, something dark fell from the evening sky, crashing in a heap of blood and feathers, so large and heavy that it broke the table with one wing.</p><p></p><p>“That’s an Owl of Athena”, gasped Appelenea, recognizing the giant birds used by the temple.</p><p></p><p>A rider staggered from the fallen bird and fell against the remains of the feast. </p><p></p><p>“The Vandals are coming.”, she managed to gasp before oblivion claimed her.</p><p> ***</p><p>The camp erupted into activity. Soldiers left the remains of their meals, seized weapons and moved towards the perimeter, ready for battle.</p><p></p><p>The Jovian priest went to the fallen rider and shared with her the last of his father's blessings. He saw her wounds close, and her breathing eased, but it took a few moments for her eyes to open.</p><p></p><p>The two Generals' eyes met for a long moment, each reading the others intent. Markus spoke first.</p><p></p><p>"General Calvinus, I entrust to you the defense of Athens. Summon your Legion. I'll take command of the city guard, and make sure the walls are manned. If we move quickly, we may have them."</p><p></p><p>Appelenea had likewise summoned her healing talents, though her attention was directed at the wounded bird.</p><p></p><p>"His wounds are deep.", she observed as she worked. "The muscle is torn, not cut. This was done by claws."</p><p></p><p>"Yes", agreed the rider, struggling to sit up. "Please help him. I don't know what I'll do if he dies."</p><p></p><p>"Don't worry.", the Druid said reassuringly. "He might not be ready to fly today, but he'll be fine."</p><p></p><p>Calvinus, upon seeing that the rider was awake, moved towards her, all but shoving the healer aside in his haste.</p><p></p><p>"How close?", he demanded. "How many?"</p><p></p><p>"A full day's march, less if they press.", she said. "Their camp was north of Marathon, but now they move. From the night sky I counted hundreds of fires. Ten men to a fire, I'd estimate their force at almost five thousand."</p><p></p><p>"Clear the table, here!", the General ordered, then called to the guards at the command tent. Moments later the large tactical map was brought out and spread on the table.</p><p></p><p>In the background, slaves were striking the camp, and messengers ran with the speed of the wind to warn the city. Everyone would have to move inside the city walls, or they'd simply be killed when the enemy arrived. The city was like an overfull cup as it was, and was about to get worse.</p><p></p><p>The companions, having no specific duties, gathered around the great map. They had seen this in Calvinus chambers days before, but now the true meaning was more clear. It had looked as if he were planning to attack the city. Now they could see that he had been considering the movements of an attacking force, and how best to defend it.</p><p></p><p>"They approach from this direction", the Athenian acolyte explained. "They'll probably be slowed by the river, and may even camp there. Armies don't move as fast as single men, and they'll want to secure water before their final advance."</p><p></p><p>"Very good.", agreed Calvinus, as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Your temple truly does teach wisdom in battle."</p><p></p><p>"From what I could see, they were spreading as they moved, to insert themselves between the city and your troops. I was trying to see what strength they were sending south when the vultures attacked."</p><p></p><p>"I have a short flight of war eagles with my command, and a fire-drake, so we should be able to match them in the air.", Calvinus assured the rider. "The question will be timing. How soon will you and your mount be ready to carry the word to my command?"</p><p></p><p>"Owls are good night fliers, but we are scouts and messengers, not warriors.", the acolyte explained, adding the proverb, "There is no cover in the sky."</p><p></p><p>She continued, "To send anything by air is to lose it, for their vultures patrol by day and harpies by night. Your orders will have to travel by land, by runner or rider. Even if the Heliograph could reach your camp, there is no sunlight, even at noon."</p><p></p><p>"We'll carry your orders.", Nedel offered, though some of his allies looked at him oddly.</p><p></p><p>"Good man.", commended the General. "I'll send some of my own runners as well, each on a different road. At least one must get through!"</p><p>***</p><p>"I can make it fastest by myself.", Seeburn insisted. "Nothing personal, but you folks will just slow me down." He was looking at the slightly built Sorcerer and the willow-thin Druid in particular, but his statement covered them all.</p><p></p><p>"And the first Orc patrol you meet will be your last.", Marcus pointed out. "We do this together, or we don't do it at all."</p><p></p><p>The entire camp was on the march, heading into town with soldiers in front clearing the way. The word had spread, and the camping field had become a seething mob, pressing itself into a river of people struggling in the night, and all the gates were clogged. City guard stood on benches or tables to be seen above the crowd, striving in vain to keep order.</p><p></p><p>The two Generals were releasing men from their command to aid the city guard at key points, which helped, but even the two commands together had only so many soldiers they could spare.</p><p></p><p>In the middle of the madness the command group encountered a force of archers heading in the opposite direction, preparing to take positions on the walls.</p><p></p><p>"Sylus!", Nedel called, seeing his companion. "Join us, please."</p><p></p><p>The Half-Elf looked torn, his gaze darting from the troop of temple guards he had taken up with to his friends. Then he made his decision, and matched step with the Romans.</p><p></p><p>"What's going on?", he asked. "I would have thought the Imperial Guard would have been heading for the walls. The Vandals are due any minute!"</p><p></p><p>"No, they're still a day away.", Seeburn explained. The message had become rumor, and fear had added to it in the retelling. "We're assembling some teams of runners to try and get a message through to the Legion, seven leagues away."</p><p></p><p>"Well, count me in.", Sylus responded, looking around at the sea of bodies about them. "This city was crazy enough without this. It's time to get outside."</p><p></p><p>He spied a familiar form being bounced around by the crowd, and reached out a hand to pull the Half-Satyr into the relative safety of the Roman troop, before he was trampled by the mob. "Hey, Penn', we're getting out of here. Want to come?"</p><p></p><p>"Sure!', replied the Bard as he struggled to keep his balance. "Do I care where we're going?"</p><p></p><p>"Probably, and as soon as I know, I'll tell you.", laughed the Ranger.</p><p>***</p><p>The night was full dark when they set out. Most of the Roman runners would wait until daylight, but more than half of the companions could see in the darkness, and so they had elected to risk night travel.</p><p></p><p>They had been given directions, and a map, and General Markus had given the Cleric a vial of magical healing, in case it was needed.</p><p></p><p>"We'll follow the road for as long as we can", said Sylus, examining the map. "That way the Humans can keep the pace without breaking a leg."</p><p></p><p>"I know a song to aid the traveler.", offered the Bard. "It lightens the load and quickens the pace. But if I use what magic I have for that, I won't be able to aid you in battle. I don't know which is better."</p><p></p><p>"If we end up in any real fight, we're lost anyway.", Appelenea commented. "And the faster we get there, the better."</p><p></p><p>So the Bard struck up a lively tune, a nice rythmic piece paced almost for a quick dance, and the group found themselves trotting down the road almost effortlessly.</p><p></p><p>He managed to maintain that tune, and that pace, for almost an hour before his voice failed, and they found their pace slackening, but they pressed on into the night. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet.</p><p>***</p><p>"Hold!', gasped Nedel, clutching at his ribs. "I have a stitch in my side. I need to rest."</p><p></p><p>Everyone was feeling the strain of the long run. There were no stars visible, of course, but most estimated that they were still an hour short of midnight. Appelenea and Penn' were also showing signs of exhaustion, yet the need was pressing, so the party moved on at a walk.</p><p></p><p>After walking for an hour they picked up the pace again, resorting to the Roman march, running for 60 paces then walking the same amount. In this fashion they were able to continue for another two hours before exhaustion forced them to stop.</p><p></p><p>"We'll rest for a few hours and let our blisters cool.", Cassius suggested. "Set watches!"</p><p>***</p><p>Oddly it was Nedel, a Human, who spotted the trouble in the night. He heard a rustling sound, and something that might have been voices. He bend down and placed his hands on the ground, feeling his way in the darkness until he encountered a sleeping form, and nudged it awake.</p><p></p><p>"Voices off that way", he said, pointing in a direction he couldn't see at foes he could not make out, in the hopes that whoever he had awoken would fare better in the dark. Away from the city, and without even starlight, the Humans might as well have been wearing blindfolds.</p><p></p><p>Seeburn rolled to his feet, quiely drawing his new blade, the oiled leather of the scabbard making no noise at all. He quickly alerted the rest of the companions.</p><p></p><p>Then there was movement in the brush, and a silver gray form leaped into the clearing they had chosen as a camp, a small dark person on its back.</p><p></p><p>"I call upon the power of Fire!", Nedel shouted in a loud voice. <em>"Terpsis Illuminatus!"</em>. His hand flared with power, which poured forth in a stream of light, taking on the form of a fiery man. "Kill them All!", commanded the Sorcerer, and the figure sprang forward.</p><p></p><p>As the light from the burning man filled the clearing, a second wolf came bounding through the brush, it's rider urging it to attack.</p><p></p><p>But the wolf balked at sinking his teeth into living flame, which also seemed impervious to the rider's short spear.</p><p></p><p>"<em>Titan's Stature</em>", cried Marcus, directing the blessing of the gods towards the highland warrior. Seeburn's form swelled with power, and he covered the distance between himself and the first wolf rider with three long strides. His blade bit deep, and the beast gave a yipping cry of shock.</p><p></p><p>But there were more Goblins pouring into the glade, not as quickly as their mounted companions, but their intent just as murderous. They were met with arrows from Sylus bow, and blood flowed freely.</p><p></p><p>And then it was chaos as iron and bronze crashed together, and both man and beast cried out in pain.</p><p></p><p>But the clash of arms cried aloud the name of Rome, and the Goblins found themselves taking the worst of it. Seeburn sported a ragged wound on his calf, but the wold who had delivered it was lying on its side, whimpering in pain, its partner dead a few yards away. </p><p></p><p>"Attack! Show no mercy!", screamed the Goblin leader in his rage, then turned on his heel and sprang away, seeking his own safety at the expense of his companions.</p><p></p><p>But his flight was short lived as Cassius' great blade found its mark, severing the small creature nearly in twain. His two remaining cohorts, knowing well the ways of their leader, had also turned to flee, and were quickly cut down.</p><p></p><p>And then it was over. The companions stood, looking at the carnage around them, their breath coming in great heaving gasps. The only sound was the thunder of their own heartbeats in their ears, and the whimpering of the crippled wolf.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5892306, member: 6669384"] *** “Welcome”, came the call as the company entered the camp. Some of the tents had apparently been removed to make way for the long feast table. Reclining benches were laid out, and the table itself was piled high with fruit and cheese, and the air was warm with the aroma of roasting meat and baking bread. This might be a field camp, but these men had had years of experience and knew how to live in style when the opportunity arose. Nedel, remembering the seal on the invitation, saluted Calvinus as General, reserving the greater salute for Markus, now Caesar. His actual coronation would take place in Rome, but that was a technicality. The feast was served, and the Generals took equal positions, sharing the center of the table. All of the soldiers joined in, save those few on guard. The camp slaves brought bread to begin with, followed by grilled trout, then roast pig, and a rarity, “Roman Ices”, a concoction of fruit wines over snow from the mountains. As they broke from the feast, Calvinus rose and called on Nedel to stand as well. “My friends”, the General began. “This man, an outlander from the northern part of my protectorate, has displayed uncommon loyalty and courage, as have those who serve him. They risked their lives stopping an attempted assassination, and I want them to know that their efforts are appreciated. “To Nedel, the brave nobleman, master of the Gypsy magics, I offer a fine battle staff, well balanced, and bearing my mark. May it serve you well.” Reaching back towards a slave, he retrieved his next gift. “To the lady Appelenea of the north, I offer this, a sickle crafted of silver, as suits the lady’s order.” And so it went. To Seeburn he gave a blade of iron, crafted in the style of his homeland, nearly as long as the man was tall. To Cassius he gave a longsword of exceptional balance, also of iron, that bore the symbol of Carthage, the warrior’s home city. To Marcus he gave flail, light in the hand but heavy when it struck. There were other awards as well. General Markus gave a fine set of runners boots to Achelos, the champion of the run from Marathon, replacing the man’s military sandals. Soldiers who had served with distinction were recognized, as were other Olympic champions. Notable by their absence were Sylus, who had won the Archery competition, and Kergen who had won at the Discus. One was at another feast, while the other was dead. But goblets were raised to both the absent and the fallen, in the spirit of the Olympics. Then, suddenly, something dark fell from the evening sky, crashing in a heap of blood and feathers, so large and heavy that it broke the table with one wing. “That’s an Owl of Athena”, gasped Appelenea, recognizing the giant birds used by the temple. A rider staggered from the fallen bird and fell against the remains of the feast. “The Vandals are coming.”, she managed to gasp before oblivion claimed her. *** The camp erupted into activity. Soldiers left the remains of their meals, seized weapons and moved towards the perimeter, ready for battle. The Jovian priest went to the fallen rider and shared with her the last of his father's blessings. He saw her wounds close, and her breathing eased, but it took a few moments for her eyes to open. The two Generals' eyes met for a long moment, each reading the others intent. Markus spoke first. "General Calvinus, I entrust to you the defense of Athens. Summon your Legion. I'll take command of the city guard, and make sure the walls are manned. If we move quickly, we may have them." Appelenea had likewise summoned her healing talents, though her attention was directed at the wounded bird. "His wounds are deep.", she observed as she worked. "The muscle is torn, not cut. This was done by claws." "Yes", agreed the rider, struggling to sit up. "Please help him. I don't know what I'll do if he dies." "Don't worry.", the Druid said reassuringly. "He might not be ready to fly today, but he'll be fine." Calvinus, upon seeing that the rider was awake, moved towards her, all but shoving the healer aside in his haste. "How close?", he demanded. "How many?" "A full day's march, less if they press.", she said. "Their camp was north of Marathon, but now they move. From the night sky I counted hundreds of fires. Ten men to a fire, I'd estimate their force at almost five thousand." "Clear the table, here!", the General ordered, then called to the guards at the command tent. Moments later the large tactical map was brought out and spread on the table. In the background, slaves were striking the camp, and messengers ran with the speed of the wind to warn the city. Everyone would have to move inside the city walls, or they'd simply be killed when the enemy arrived. The city was like an overfull cup as it was, and was about to get worse. The companions, having no specific duties, gathered around the great map. They had seen this in Calvinus chambers days before, but now the true meaning was more clear. It had looked as if he were planning to attack the city. Now they could see that he had been considering the movements of an attacking force, and how best to defend it. "They approach from this direction", the Athenian acolyte explained. "They'll probably be slowed by the river, and may even camp there. Armies don't move as fast as single men, and they'll want to secure water before their final advance." "Very good.", agreed Calvinus, as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Your temple truly does teach wisdom in battle." "From what I could see, they were spreading as they moved, to insert themselves between the city and your troops. I was trying to see what strength they were sending south when the vultures attacked." "I have a short flight of war eagles with my command, and a fire-drake, so we should be able to match them in the air.", Calvinus assured the rider. "The question will be timing. How soon will you and your mount be ready to carry the word to my command?" "Owls are good night fliers, but we are scouts and messengers, not warriors.", the acolyte explained, adding the proverb, "There is no cover in the sky." She continued, "To send anything by air is to lose it, for their vultures patrol by day and harpies by night. Your orders will have to travel by land, by runner or rider. Even if the Heliograph could reach your camp, there is no sunlight, even at noon." "We'll carry your orders.", Nedel offered, though some of his allies looked at him oddly. "Good man.", commended the General. "I'll send some of my own runners as well, each on a different road. At least one must get through!" *** "I can make it fastest by myself.", Seeburn insisted. "Nothing personal, but you folks will just slow me down." He was looking at the slightly built Sorcerer and the willow-thin Druid in particular, but his statement covered them all. "And the first Orc patrol you meet will be your last.", Marcus pointed out. "We do this together, or we don't do it at all." The entire camp was on the march, heading into town with soldiers in front clearing the way. The word had spread, and the camping field had become a seething mob, pressing itself into a river of people struggling in the night, and all the gates were clogged. City guard stood on benches or tables to be seen above the crowd, striving in vain to keep order. The two Generals were releasing men from their command to aid the city guard at key points, which helped, but even the two commands together had only so many soldiers they could spare. In the middle of the madness the command group encountered a force of archers heading in the opposite direction, preparing to take positions on the walls. "Sylus!", Nedel called, seeing his companion. "Join us, please." The Half-Elf looked torn, his gaze darting from the troop of temple guards he had taken up with to his friends. Then he made his decision, and matched step with the Romans. "What's going on?", he asked. "I would have thought the Imperial Guard would have been heading for the walls. The Vandals are due any minute!" "No, they're still a day away.", Seeburn explained. The message had become rumor, and fear had added to it in the retelling. "We're assembling some teams of runners to try and get a message through to the Legion, seven leagues away." "Well, count me in.", Sylus responded, looking around at the sea of bodies about them. "This city was crazy enough without this. It's time to get outside." He spied a familiar form being bounced around by the crowd, and reached out a hand to pull the Half-Satyr into the relative safety of the Roman troop, before he was trampled by the mob. "Hey, Penn', we're getting out of here. Want to come?" "Sure!', replied the Bard as he struggled to keep his balance. "Do I care where we're going?" "Probably, and as soon as I know, I'll tell you.", laughed the Ranger. *** The night was full dark when they set out. Most of the Roman runners would wait until daylight, but more than half of the companions could see in the darkness, and so they had elected to risk night travel. They had been given directions, and a map, and General Markus had given the Cleric a vial of magical healing, in case it was needed. "We'll follow the road for as long as we can", said Sylus, examining the map. "That way the Humans can keep the pace without breaking a leg." "I know a song to aid the traveler.", offered the Bard. "It lightens the load and quickens the pace. But if I use what magic I have for that, I won't be able to aid you in battle. I don't know which is better." "If we end up in any real fight, we're lost anyway.", Appelenea commented. "And the faster we get there, the better." So the Bard struck up a lively tune, a nice rythmic piece paced almost for a quick dance, and the group found themselves trotting down the road almost effortlessly. He managed to maintain that tune, and that pace, for almost an hour before his voice failed, and they found their pace slackening, but they pressed on into the night. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet. *** "Hold!', gasped Nedel, clutching at his ribs. "I have a stitch in my side. I need to rest." Everyone was feeling the strain of the long run. There were no stars visible, of course, but most estimated that they were still an hour short of midnight. Appelenea and Penn' were also showing signs of exhaustion, yet the need was pressing, so the party moved on at a walk. After walking for an hour they picked up the pace again, resorting to the Roman march, running for 60 paces then walking the same amount. In this fashion they were able to continue for another two hours before exhaustion forced them to stop. "We'll rest for a few hours and let our blisters cool.", Cassius suggested. "Set watches!" *** Oddly it was Nedel, a Human, who spotted the trouble in the night. He heard a rustling sound, and something that might have been voices. He bend down and placed his hands on the ground, feeling his way in the darkness until he encountered a sleeping form, and nudged it awake. "Voices off that way", he said, pointing in a direction he couldn't see at foes he could not make out, in the hopes that whoever he had awoken would fare better in the dark. Away from the city, and without even starlight, the Humans might as well have been wearing blindfolds. Seeburn rolled to his feet, quiely drawing his new blade, the oiled leather of the scabbard making no noise at all. He quickly alerted the rest of the companions. Then there was movement in the brush, and a silver gray form leaped into the clearing they had chosen as a camp, a small dark person on its back. "I call upon the power of Fire!", Nedel shouted in a loud voice. [I]"Terpsis Illuminatus!"[/I]. His hand flared with power, which poured forth in a stream of light, taking on the form of a fiery man. "Kill them All!", commanded the Sorcerer, and the figure sprang forward. As the light from the burning man filled the clearing, a second wolf came bounding through the brush, it's rider urging it to attack. But the wolf balked at sinking his teeth into living flame, which also seemed impervious to the rider's short spear. "[I]Titan's Stature[/I]", cried Marcus, directing the blessing of the gods towards the highland warrior. Seeburn's form swelled with power, and he covered the distance between himself and the first wolf rider with three long strides. His blade bit deep, and the beast gave a yipping cry of shock. But there were more Goblins pouring into the glade, not as quickly as their mounted companions, but their intent just as murderous. They were met with arrows from Sylus bow, and blood flowed freely. And then it was chaos as iron and bronze crashed together, and both man and beast cried out in pain. But the clash of arms cried aloud the name of Rome, and the Goblins found themselves taking the worst of it. Seeburn sported a ragged wound on his calf, but the wold who had delivered it was lying on its side, whimpering in pain, its partner dead a few yards away. "Attack! Show no mercy!", screamed the Goblin leader in his rage, then turned on his heel and sprang away, seeking his own safety at the expense of his companions. But his flight was short lived as Cassius' great blade found its mark, severing the small creature nearly in twain. His two remaining cohorts, knowing well the ways of their leader, had also turned to flee, and were quickly cut down. And then it was over. The companions stood, looking at the carnage around them, their breath coming in great heaving gasps. The only sound was the thunder of their own heartbeats in their ears, and the whimpering of the crippled wolf. [/QUOTE]
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