• We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Outstanding update, Mett.

Act of war, not savage, not barbaric, just plain old bloody war. But, as we have seen, a war thrust upon our hero, thus it's a "no holds barred" type of war.

I have to agree with stnylan, the ramifications of Remus' raid and his use of fire will make the Goths a tad bit miffed with Remus and the Gallics and I agree that they won't let this go without some form of retribution.

However, game wise, I also agree with Fulcrumvale, this might just bring the bad guys to the peace talks, with them on their knees. Good chance Remus might get some breathing room... for a little while at least.
 
Recently I have been ripping old cedar shakes off my house and while doing so I noticed a few hornets landing and crawling into a small crack. So I walk over and bang on the spot a couple of times because... well to see what would happen and suddenly all hell breaks loose! :eek: As the hornets by the score boiled out of that crack I ran as fast as my spindly legs could go for the safety of my house. At this time I would recommend the same to Remus. ;)

Joe
 
Last edited:
Storey said:
Recently I have been ripping old cedar shakes off my house and while doing so I noticed a few hornets landing and crawling into a small crack. So I walk over and bang on the spot a couple of times because... well to see what would happen and suddenly all hell breaks loose! :eek: As the hornets by the score boiled out of that crack I ran as fast as my spindly legs could go for the safety of my house. At this time I would recommend the same to Remus. ;)

Joe

LOL ... :rolleyes: :rofl: hope you managed to get away in good order...? Lets hope Remus can do the same ...
 
Originally Posted by Storey
Recently I have been ripping old cedar shakes off my house and while doing so I noticed a few hornets landing and crawling into a small crack. So I walk over and bang on the spot a couple of times because... well to see what would happen and suddenly all hell breaks loose! As the hornets by the score boiled out of that crack I ran as fast as my spindly legs could go for the safety of my house. ;)

At this time I would recommend the same to Remus.

Joe

Ah, Joe, what a amusing way of explaining the situation Remus is about to find himself in. Also reminds of what we all get to look forward to as we reach the position of our elders (well, not my elders 'cause I'm not really that far behind you, which in of itself is quite scary!).

Oh, and as boehm asked, did you make it away safely? :)
 
Bohem, Draco, Fortunately the door was only twenty feet away so I was only stung once before scrambling into my house. Two of the buggers managed to follow me inside but with much flailing of arms and mashing of teeth I was able to over power the little suckers and made them scream for mercy. Yep I squashed them real good. I felt a little guilty about it afterward. I mean I did bang on their hiding place with a hammer after all. That moment of compassion passed and I bought a can of Hornet spray and gassed the little suckers. The survivors moved to a tree in the garden and started building a new nest. Remind me to tell you sometime about the midnight raid I executed to remove a nest the size of a beach ball and the unfortunate result of discovering the shortcomings of my evil plan. In other words why it’s not a good idea to run around in the dark in a garden with a lot of knee high rocks. :eek:

Joe
 
Update?

Please?
 
Greetings all, I wanted to pass on my apologies for not having posted recently. This training class at work goes into the night and it's been extended two weeks thus far. It's hard sitting in my cube, dreams of Selenus and Sicily in my head, with no fruition. :)
 
Funny, I almost bumped this to the top earlier this morning. Good to know it's still mulling around in your head. Let's hope life allows time enough to get it on the page. We are all looking forward to it. :)
 
I'm sure the wait will be worth it. The anticipation of the next update will make the reading (and I am sure, for you, the writing) all that much sweeter.
 
Mett has, quite kindly, given me license to write a little subplot for you, just to keep you ticking over before the real stuff comes back. :) You'll have to go easy on me, I'm not used to this creative writing business.
 
Last edited:
eagles4qn6.jpg

Puffing his cheeks loudly, Avitus pushed his cloak back across his shoulders and breathed the night air. Clear, but a little too warm for his tastes. He liked the night air to have a little chill to it, to take away the pain of the day’s heat. He was a big man - not fat by any means, quite slim in fact, but roughly built, rugged, taught, and physically inclined - and sweat came easily to him. After thirty-two summers in Rome - give or take a few months in the country when he had escorted his master out to various Latifundia on business, and several years in the army prior to desertion - he had still to appreciate the Roman weather. He felt a cooler climate would have suited him, up north, perhaps. He’d never become acclimatized to the heat.

He slid down an alleyway, carefully minding where he stepped, lest his feet find a loose stone or something worse. He hated having to do this. The whole concept appalled him. Going out to such a district at night was not so bad, but attempting to find this person, a person who Avitus neither knew nor cared for, most certainly was. And to talk to them. On his master’s insistence. His master was not a cruel man, by inclination, but Avitus dreaded these kinds of jobs, no matter how often they were entrusted to him. He was not a diplomat; he was not even particularly good at speaking. He was a man of action, not words; of simplicity, not embellishments, and he knew it down to his very sinews.

His master had been typically taciturn; Avitus was, after all the servant, not the master, and his master’s dealings were never open to him. But he knew from talking to others a little about the man he was to track down; a young man, of an old merchant family. Dignified, but not of the first rank. Apparently the family had gone to Constantinople for some time, likely to feed off the trade from the East in that great city which had already effectively displaced Rome’s commercial prowess now for some time. They had become prosperous, rich, even. Why they had returned here had been quite a mystery to him. Who would forsake Constantinople for Rome, under present circumstances? Under any circumstances, really. The family was hardly even Roman, more Greek than true Roman, or so he’d heard. He hated foreigners with a passion, which was hardly surprising after the devastation visited on Italia over the past century, but in his case almost went beyond the irrational. Lives were all too cheap and short, and someone had to bear the burden of the lowest rung of the ladder. Avitus was quite content for it not to be him - not quite, anyway. And he would do anything he could to uphold that.

Avitus.jpg

Avitus

Avitus’ thoughts soon turned away from such matters, as he was absent-mindedly approaching his destination, and he drew himself back to reality. Enough with musing and speculation. He had a job to do. And he was close now. He could hear the noise, and the squalor of the district bore out his inclinations. He had been given very vague directions, but he knew this area fairly well, and needed little more than a general pointer. The walls of the buildings had chunks missing out of their plaster, as if some great beast had savaged them. Flies flew about in the surprisingly hot night, feeding off the sticky and putrid gutter, as the moon shone low and pale in the sky. But again, Avitus’ thoughts turned inward, and he couldn’t help wondering – what on earth was this man doing in such a district? This minor poet - a self-professed, bad one, or so he’d heard - alone, here? Why indeed, had he not merely been sent to the man’s home in the morning?

dark.jpg

He rounded a corner, and saw the place he had been looking for. His destination. A light shone out of the entrance into the otherwise dark and deserted street, and sounds of revelry could be heard from within. Outside, a man lay in the gutter, perhaps dead, knocked unconscious, or simply drunk to the point of incapacity. Avitus neither knew nor cared. He knew from experience that entangling oneself in those kinds of matters always brought trouble down on your head. Best to leave the fellow alone. It was his own fault anyway, however he’d arrived at such a state.

As he made his way through the portal, a massive wave of heat hit him, an affect only heightened by the intense din that emanated from within. Even here, with the breeze blowing into the entrance way, it was barely tolerable and as he climbed down the steps into the taberna proper it reached fever pitch, until the heat and noise almost overwhelmed him - by the time he had reached the bottom he was sweating profusely under his tunic, and he gave private thanks that he had only taken his light cloak with him on such a clement night.

The scene before him was a picture of pure cess. Huge, ox-like men - doubtless newly-conscripted auxiliass, Avitus reasoned - sat, or, as was becoming increasingly likely, lay, much like the man outside – only these men stirred occasionally - around the long room, drinking themselves into the ground, carousing with each other and, in many a case, eagerly fondled one of the taberna’s many whores who sat astride them. Bowls and cups lay across the floor, which had already seen vomit in many cases. Space would have been limited under the best of circumstances and the whole room was already massively crowded. At the back of the room, a pig was being spit-roasted by the taberna staff, and with limited access to the air the whole scene was overhung by a black, smoky miasma, which reduced visibility and, if anything, enhanced the sense of debauch. Avitus’ eyes began to sting almost immediately. The accumulated impact of the heat of bodies, the fire, and the smoke was powerful indeed.

As Avitus was taking this in, a short, balding man struck his shoulder heavily with his as he drunkenly waddled to the exit. The man made a flapping motion with his hands as he turned, as if by way of an apology, clearly too drunk to summon the power of speech.

“irrumator!”, Avitus whispered under his breath.

Avitus flexed his shoulder and pressed on into the low murk of the taberna, almost feeling his way through, eventually finding what he was looking for, set back from the main of the room, and he immediately stumbled towards it with new-found resolve, hitting a bowl or two with his foot. Eventually, he came face to face - or as close to that as it was possible to come in such an acrid environment - with the brothel keeper, sat behind a small bench near the entrance to the brothel proper. She was a plumpish, aged lady of clearly above-average means - business must be good, Avitus thought.

“Tell me, crone, is there a man named Tarquinius in there? Young, above average height, good features, more than a few solidi to spare?”

She stared back at him with a look of utter contempt.

“Who wants to know?”

Sighing, inwardly, Avitus drew a small pouch which he had been provided with from his tunic, and placed a few assorted coins on the bench in front of him with a forceful slap.

The woman looked at this offering for a moment with a grimace, then back at Avitus.

Avitus quickly placed much of the rest of the contents of the pouch on the bench. He cursed under his breath. The heat had drained his power to resist, no matter how much he’d wanted to pocket the remaining money himself. He just wanted to get out of here, or even to sit down. His head was beginning to ache.

The woman swiftly drew the coins off the bench with her hand, clearly well experienced at such an action. “He’s behind you, third table.”

Avitus’ face hardened and he drew himself forward, angered at the humiliation of having money drawn out of him for the pleasure of being directed only a few feet. “Just be thankful that I don‘t want to cause trouble, or blood would run, woman!”

“There’s no pleasing some people”, the woman said, with a wry smile. “Can I not interest you in partaking of our…” she said, with a completely different, sweeter voice, but she was cut off in midstream.

“No”, Avitus said, and drew himself about quickly. Now, he could see, alright. Without the direction he would never have seen it, but now it was clear that the man he had been sent out to was there, sat on a small stool at a table set back from the main of the room. Avitus momentarily paused, assessing the situation. It was important to know what to expect before one committed oneself. Thankfully, the man called Tarquinius seemed to be not as drunk as he had feared. Whilst clearly not entirely cogent - Avitus noticed that he rocked uneasily from side to side, swaying almost rhythmically to some internal song - he was not so drunk that he would not be insensible. Good. This wouldn’t be as hard as he’d thought. The man’s demeanor and appearance suggested education and easy wealth, as he’d come to expect, with a green tunic made of rich cloth, stained with dark-patches where drink had clearly spilled. His light, slightly overly long hair sat messily on his head, with slender and almost feminine features.

Oh, he was attractive all right. Pretty, rather than handsome, you might say. Quite outstanding features, really. He could see that, even though he didn’t go in for those kinds of perverse Greek practices. Nobody he knew did, or at least, would ever admit to it. That was the sort of nonsense that the aristocracy got up to, behind closed doors. The thought prompted him on – was the master really interested in that kind of thing? At his age? Surely not. He’d always been strictly conventional in such matters – very actively conventional, you might say. Or had he? Avitus liked to think he knew much of his master’s personal habits, but this was something else. Was age having this kind of effect on him? He remembered what his father had always told him about older, rich men. He grabbed a beaker of wine and quickly ingested the contents.

Straining forward, he pulled up a stool and sat close to the man. Fancy introductions would be pointless in such an atmosphere. He grabbed the man’s shoulder, with a touch of a squeeze, and pulled himself forward to whisper in the man’s ear. He was dreading this.

“You’re Tarquinius Alexander? Son of Stephanus? Aye?”

The man’s head drunkenly rolled backwards and to the side, so that his eyes were staring into Avitus’ eyes, and said, with more than a touch of defensiveness:

“No. Not tonight. Tonight I experience under guise of anonymity. Now go away.”

He slumped forward quickly so that his head rested on the table. Avitus didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t really considered the possibility of an outright refusal to even talk with him. His hand lingered on the man’s shoulder still. He was quite panicked by this point. He decided to be direct. He strained forward once more.

“Now listen. I’ve been sent here by Senator Arcadius Tiberanius, a figure of some standing, I’m sure you’re aware, to inform you that you are to meet with him at his home tomorrow night. Now, I don’t care whether you’re off on some artistic bollocks or what, and I don’t know his intentions either, before you ask. But I am gaining your explicit consent that you’ll meet with him, privately, or my backside will sting. And I can’t vouch for you, either. I’m not in the best of moods, tonight, you see.”

Fayum-35.jpg

Tarquinius Alexander

Tarquinius swung away from Avitus, a little dramatically - the drink, no doubt - and took on an expression of strained and dramatic puzzlement.

“The Senator wishes to see me? Surely he wants to speak to papa, I can’t see why he would possibly be interested in some kind of private dialogue with little me."

The man once again theatrically raised his eyebrows. Avitus released his grip, for once.

Avitus was thinking on his feet. Which was not a practice he was accustomed to. Not because he was slow per se, but simply because there was no demand for it in his line of work.

“He say’s he’s very interested in your, er, work. He was speaking of discussing it with you, some other cultural matters too, I daresay. You’re probably aware that the Senator is quite a cultured man, and all that. Good company is hard to come by. Or so he says. Wouldn‘t know myself. Couldn‘t give a toss, either. Like I say, I‘m not privy to what he thinks.”

Avitus was thankful that the man seemed to respond to this minor fabrication, and, perhaps, even the directness of the delivery. He perceived that he was unaccustomed to such talk. Maybe even - was it possible? - Exhilarated by it.

“Of course ..... of course! I remember now about hearing of Senator Arcadius, a learned man indeed, beyond repute, something of an authority, or so papa told me. But of course, I rarely get invited to the best parties nowadays, it’s all such a bore. All completely tedious. Any sane man prefers the company in the taberna to the endless drivel that gets spoken in the 'best' houses today.”

“And the company of the Brothel, eh?”

Avitus immediately wished he hadn’t said that.

“As a matter of fact - the man was theatrically defensive again - I have no business in whatever goes on behind there. Shoddy merchandise, they might say. Or perhaps, in my case, the wrong kind of stock - these low tabernas are very plain, you understand, but that is why we love them! And besides, I don’t have to pay for that sort of thing, or even use slaves, as I know most of my class does, whatever they profess publicly. I can get it for free, any time I want, on demand.

“So can I.”

Avitus gave a little smile.

The man found this ludicrously funny for some reason, and burst out laughing.

“Yes, of course, I’m sure you’re quite the midnight hunter when it comes to the ladies.”

“Oh, that’s true. But you haven’t said whether you’ll meet with the Senator. I need an answer.”

“I would be glad to meet with him. Tell him that. Tell him I would be glad. (He struck the table with his fist at this point, Avitus noticed) Delighted. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell him. Tomorrow, after dark. Don’t keep him waiting. He wouldn‘t like that.”

“I’ll bear it in mind.”

Avitus drew himself up, and emptied another round of wine, quickly. He noticed the man was staring at him, quite intently, and seriously. He glimpsed into the man’s blue eyes for a second or two, before drawing himself away. He swung himself back to face the man, remembering something.

“Oh, and unless you want to end up like the bloke I saw in the gutter outside on my way in, I wouldn’t get too familiar with these kinds of places if I was you. Just a tip.”

Tarquinius smiled broadly, and lurched forward, his chest on the table, his hand partly outsretched, his face lolling forward.

“But look what wonderful company they attract!”

He did, Avitus decided, have a point, as he gave a weak smile, bowed a little, and turned away, back towards where he had come in.
 
Last edited:
Nicely written, VJ! I'm completely intrigued now. What-is-going-on-now? Ah, Rome, you have just got to love the constant intrigue! :D
 
Nice writing Vincent, really nice. This seems like it should be an interesting sub-plot, I look forward to see what the senator wishes to speak to this guy about and what happens next.
 
Very nice indeed. The internal musings on the way to the tabernae especially, the way Avitus' mind work. Slow, but deep, and definitely not stupid. The is also some lovely understated comedy in the tavern itself.

I am very curious as to what is going on, and cannot wait to see what happens.
 
Vincent Julien said:
You'll have to go easy on me, I'm not used to this creative writing business.

you did very nicely ...cant wait to hear more ...either from you or from mettermrck. :)