Iron Age of HAS: Revixit

"In the earliest known history, this region was known as the Hassian Peninsula and in the era between 437 BCE and 63 BCE was home to one of the most unusual civilizations in world history. First founded by Greeks and Illyrians as a pirate settlement, the civilization that grew out out of the ancient city of Has would come to dominate northern Europe economically, militarily and culturally. Amongst the ruins is evidence that traders from as far off as Sarmatia and Aethiopia visited this far frontier of civilization. The Hassians also provided the only (and probably rather biased) history of the region during this Era."

-South West England Tourist Pamphlet on the Has archaeological site

-21st of April, 72 BC-

From his spot atop a tree in his forrest Cameron could see the hated city. Cameron was a celt, a man of wood and stone. Those in the city were aliens, be they from Greece, Africa, Latium, or even other celtic lands, they were men of iron. Just as the woods and rocks have always been here, he will forever be here. Just as iron rusts and bends, their walls will collapse and they will all one day feel his -

His thought was interrupted when a bird pecked him. “Bird! Do you not see that I, a celt, am one with nature? Why do you attack me?” The bird pecked him again, and again, and soon was joined by others. This was odd, they had never done this before, it was as if they didn’t want him in the tree. “I’m going! I’m going!” He said as he climbed down to the underbrush below.

It was midday, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a relaxing breeze blew over the city from the harbour. Yet for Agon, today was a bad day. “Is something the matter sir?” Asked his assistant. “It’s a beautiful day.” He added in an attempt to cheer Agon up.

Tall, fast and strong, Agon turned on his heels and grabbed his assistant by the shoulders. “I am an important person.” he began. “So you can believe me when I say that I have better things to do than stand at the end of a pier waiting to greet a foreigner who is coming here to tell us how to defend ourselves, and that a nice day is no consolation!”

His assistance started to stammer out a “Yes sir!” when the blast of a horn signalled the arrival of the expected company. Agon watched as the large chains that acted as the port’s gates were pulled up and away from the incoming Quinquereme, allowing it entrance. He watched as the brilliant red ship navigated the waters of the harbour and made it’s way to the pier he stood upon.

Agon gave the order for his assembled men to stand at attention as the ship docked. “Ahoy!” Someone from onboard called. A man in the dress of a Roman general walked over to the rail and looked down at Agon and the assembled men on the pier. “So you’re the scrubs that I’m here to train?!”

“So you’re the military genius who hails from a nation that can’t even put down a slave revolt.” Agon shot back, word of Rome’s humiliating defeats at the hands of the rebel slave known as Spartacus had reached even here.

“Oh I doubt your people could do any better!” The man said as he went down the boarding ramp followed by his personal guard and a dozen people carrying supplies. “Now are you going to show us to where we will be staying or are you just here to try my patience?”

“Very well. Follow me.” Agon said. As the two men walked down the pier Agon extended his hand, “The name is Agon, commander of the city garrison.”

“Kelly Romano, general and patrician.” the foreigner replied and shook Agon’s hand. “I’ve fought many celts in Iberia. If I’m not mistaken these tribes here are celtic as well.” Kelly explained as they walked into the busy streets of the city.

“I don’t know what the celts of Iberia are like, I know some have been hired as mercenaries for the field armies, but I myself have never met one let alone fought one.” Agon replied as they walked through one of the many market places of the city, and he made a mental note of one vendor who was selling fruit at an exceptionally low price. “I can tell you Britannia isn’t Iberia, that Britons aren’t Iberians, and that they certainly aren’t accepting of our presence.”

“Well that’s your problem, I’m just here to help you be better suited to deal with it.” Kelly replied as they reached the end of the market and were unable to advance as a long line of people passed by with somber music played from bronze horns. “Now what is this, some sort of parade?”

“Close” Agon replied. “Funeral procession, council member from some small fishing village.” The somber crowd passed and they were able to continue. After a few minutes of walking they arrived in front of an of an Old storage building. “Here we are! Make yourselves at home.” Agon said and started to walk off.

“Here?!” Kelly asked in surprise. “I’m a man of dignity!”

“Yes. Oh and word of advice, remember your cuirass if you go outside the city, there’s a wild Briton on the loose in the woods.”

Kelly grabbed Agon by the arm. “This simply won’t do.”

For a man named Damianos, concentration was hard enough to come by, and as he lived in the most exciting city in the known world, concentration was virtually impossible. Unfortunately, as an inventor he needed to concentrate. Unfortunately for the city, being under house arrest was his only means of ensuring concentration. So, with a wicker basket of fresh produce in his hands, he walked out onto the central square to commit his monthly act of disturbing the peace. At the center of the square there was a statue of an Illyrian raiding ship, as always he would climb on top of it and shout remarks that were inflammatory yet not treasonous. “Damianos! I implore you to not do this now!” A guard who was patrolling the square called.

Damianos didn’t heed the guard’s request, and after a minute of climbing was atop the statue. Without caring to look out upon who was in the square at the time he began, “The belief in supernatural deities is foolish!” His ears were immediately met with more intense jeering than usual for such a remark. He looked down and saw what appeared to be a public funeral.

Ardghal was upset, just once he’d like to have something without someone tainting it. He became an admiral, and then the moment his dad died he found himself accused of being unqualified. Now at his father’s funeral some ass was screaming heresy during the sermon.

“Shit! Sorry I was unaware of this funeral! My bad! I shall now go place myself under house arrest!” the mad man atop the statue yelled as he climbed down and was escorted away by a guard.

The sermon started again, and Ardghal tried his best to pay attention, yet he was unable to take his attention of the priestess. A small part of him wondered if being aroused at this time was disrespectful to his father. A much bigger part of him was focused on her black hair and blue eyes.

For High Priestess Michaela Capra this would have been the ideal funeral had the madman not interrupted it. The man who had died, Alexander Murchadh had been a man of honour, integrity, and gravitas, clearly he was a favourite of the gods. A fact that would make a nice speech, “This man represented a marginalized settlement and brought it to prominence. He successfully stood against attempts to allocate power to only the higher stratas of society. He was the head of the household that now boasts an admiral. If the gods smile upon him in death as they did in life, then we need not worry about his eternal fate.” She looked over the crowd and her eyes met the son’s, “Very recently there have been accusations made about Alexander’s political actions. Which only proves that even snakes know how easy it is to blame the dead.”

Ardghal knew that last part was for him, it was nice to know that someone in this large city full of conspirators and swindlers was sympathetic towards him. As she was midway through the closing of the ceremony she suddenly stopped and turned towards the east, he followed her gaze and noticed that what must have been every bird in the city had taken off and flown towards the heavens. “That’s ominous…” He mumbled under his breath. Suddenly a tremor pulsated through the ground and sent everyone in attendance tumbling to the ground.

It continued for 3 minutes, across the city poorly built buildings collapsed, cobble stone roads that had been flat for centuries buckled, and wooden piers broke free from the mud of the harbour bottom.

“Between 72 BCE and 65 BCE an event known as the “Occurrence of the First Century BCE” took place. It was a world wide interruption in history. Most places have no records of what happened during the Occurrence, only records of rebuilding afterwards, leading some historians to call it the “Little Dark Age”. The Hassians however, did keep records of what supposedly happened during this time, and their accounts tell a wild story of everything from increased rainfall, to battle against enemies matching the description of the Han Imperial Army. Archaeology shows that the city of Has was besieged at least once in this period, geographical evidence shows that the weather and seismic patterns were highly irregular, and 6 mass graves full of a long extinct breed of pony (believed to be related to the shetland) have been found and radiocarbon dated to the period. Exactly what caused the Occurrence is still a matter of speculation.”

-Echos From the Past: World History to the 16th Century, page 111