SPQR

by Octavius

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Random, Dark, Human, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Adventure
Length: 11657

The Mighty Roman Empire's 20th Legion is now in Equestria. Hilarity ensues, War is waged, and as always, Roma Invicta!

Welcome legionary, to Imperio: Bellum Gerere Xenosphere ,
Operation: conquest of the alien world.

The 20th legion of Rome, the Victorious and Valiant.
They were the legion sworn to protect, defend, and if need be control the state of Britannia during the reign of the roman empire.
Their banner is of the boar, and their shield their loyalty to Rome and each other.
they are legionaries, Roman born soldiers and auxiliaries.
However, the fates have made them mere playthings now, taking them to the land of Equis
...
Equestria is in turmoil, as the equestrian tribes all bicker for dominance of each other, the hordes of invaders hope to seize the opportunity to dominate the land for their own ends.
a lone unicorn, whom has all but the greatest power of magic, will not let such a future happen.
So begins the Commentarii De Bello Equestrico
Edit/PS: this story will now include Images, elements and aspects of the total war franchise of games, Monty python, and other popular culture sources, and I readily maintain that I receive no monetary profit from using the work of others. Caveat Lector.

Published 2013-02-24 04:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-03 03:37:31 UTC

Prologue: Roman invasion

Opening Act: preparing for invasion

The year was almost 2000 years ago, The place is the roman province of Britannia, and the Germanic northern tribe, known as the Caledonians, is awaiting invasion by the Romans...
Or so it is believed.
In actuality, the Romans give no care to Scotland, and the tribes didn't really seem to mind them taking the lower island, and had no real reason for taking Britain at all..
...
well, except for one belligerent tribe that seems to be intent on "reclaiming the island", an idea which most Roman soldiers worth their salt would laugh at.
but, despite their mirth, this tribe has powerful allies, but they will not need to go to war.
no, what is actually planned by those northern warriors is something more terrible than simply taking Britannia.
…
Camp Deva Victrix, precursor to modern Chester England.
Legio XX Valeria Victrix, the victorious and valiant 20th legion, was stationed at the fort, ready to invade into the north, or defend the border to Caledonia (Scotland) depending on their orders and the events that inspire their orders.
However, as it seems, the only thing besieging the legion is an old enemy of all races, ethnic groups, and walks of life.
The simple and terrible and omnipresent fiend, that goes by the name of “Boredom”.
The shaking boredom, the anxiety, the calm before the storm that you want to both prolong to procrastinate the inevitable, but also want to end and spare you of the slow torture of waiting.
Here is where we start our story, but with a simple disgruntled soldier a midst a great many disgruntled soldiers.
Caspius, a legionnaire, had been sitting on a stone, sharpening his already prepared sword, as there was nothing else to do in the hell of waiting.
His friend, another legionary by the name of Trebonius walked up to him.
“Ave, Caspi.”
He had looked up from his gladius at his trusted companion, and smiled slightly.
“Ave, Treboni. What news have you?”
His friend removed his helmet.
“We are apparently receiving guests”
Finally, his curiosity being aroused, Caspius put down his thoroughly sharpened sword.
“Of the good manner or of the unpleasant?”

A small smile crept upon Trebonius’s face as he sat on the rock across from his friend.
“Of two kinds, the first being a Cohort Praetoria, and second are Equites and other auxiliaries, if that answers your question.”
A chuckle arose from both of them.
“Ah, it seems that command have a plan for us, if they give us such reinforcements. What news from our ‘valiant commander’? I cannot imagine him actually doing anything useful.”
A sound and sign of exasperation came from Trebonius at this display of disrespect.
“Di immortals, Caspius! You shouldn't speak ill of our centurion like that! What if someone overheard?!”

“Indeed, what if someone overheard? How would you justify yourself?”

Both of them jumped at the new voice, and looked to see that it was of a centurion.
However, not theirs, but one unknown to them.
Trebonius and Caspius jumped to attention, saluting the officer as dictated by military conduct.
“Salve, Centurion.” They said in unison
“Salve, hoplites.” Responded the centurion, returning the salute.
Trebonius chuckled at this.
“We are not Greek, sir.”
“I understand, but I consider it to be more familiar of a term. It is best for me to find some way to give my homesickness a small chance of survival.”
Caspius frowned at this.
“Are you from the auxiliaries?”
“No, I am of roman blood, just raised in Greece. I am of the newcomers, but not the auxiliaries.”
In his mind, Trebonius inquired upon the clues.
‘Not of the auxiliaries? We would know his face if he was in our legion… that means…’
This was a Praetor.
The men saluted again, and also bowed a bit.
The Praetor simply frowned at this display. “Please, your respect for me was evident, but I would prefer you answer my question, or rather this amended version: why shouldn't I tell your centurion your disrespect to him?”
Trebonius glanced at his friend with worry.
“Permission to speak frankly, centurion?” asked Caspius.
Trebonius flinched.
The Centurion waved his hand, gesturing for him to continue.
“Because that coward has the gall to insult me after I saved him and the legate.”
The centurion’s eyebrow drifted northward.
“And what do you mean by this?”
Caspius’s expression soured even more.
“Well, I had captured a spy who infiltrated the camp. He was going to certainly kill my commander and the Legate, both of whom were discussing some politics, as well as a sleeping guard stationed at his tent at the time. I struck the sad spy down with my own fists and suffered many injuries myself. However, the commander came outside to see what the trouble was. He saw the situation, drew his sword and killed the already beaten man. He took both the credit and prestige, claiming to have saved the entire cohort from a barbarian assassin that infiltrated the fort.”
The centurion raised an eyebrow, and Trebonius pinched the bridge of his nose, awaiting for Caspius to be beaten in punishment... again.
“Well, that was certainly an intricate and well detailed explanation, why should I believe you?”
A moment of silence and thought passed.
‘What evidence do I really have? The guard was sleeping, and only I and the centurion witnessed the event. The snake, he has more credibility with the officers. The man here is going to be in close contact with both the legate and the master of the camp. If he tells my commander or the legate what I have said, the very least I could be punished with is to be flogged… or killed.’
Caspius finally gave his answer.
“Because no one else will.”
The centurion was about to respond to this, but was interrupted.
“CALL TO ARMS! CALL TO ARMS! THE ENEMY HAS BEEN SIGHTED!”
Immediately those sitting idly had begun preparing for the attack, including the two legionnaires and a praetor.
“We shall talk about this later. I assume you will go with your cohort.”
“Aye sir.” They said in unison.
Little did they know, they would be too busy to refer back to this incident.

“WE CARE LITTLE THAT YOU DON’T HAVE FOOD, WE DON’T HAVE ANY OURSELVES!”
“MAYBE IF YOU EARTH PONIES DIDN'T EAT ALL OF IT LIKE THE FAT HORSES YOU ARE, WE WOULD HAVE MORE TO GO AROUND!”
“YOU TWO ARE JUST IMMATURE; WE WON’T STAND TO BE WITH SUCH BRUTES!”
The three ambassadors of the tribes were arguing again.
Not unusual, but thoroughly annoying.
More so, since the winter season had started.
Starswirl the bearded was an old wizard, and was generous enough to let them have this… “debate”… in his castle home.
‘Well, I have made plenty of mistakes in my time.' the wizard thought 'This is just another example of why i shouldn't be so generous.’
The rabble started to grow and progress, and as it did, his patience thinned.
‘Such creatures. How could I be the same species as them.’
Before long, the Pegasus ambassador, Commander Hurricane, had enough of the earth pony ambassador, Chancellor Puddinghead and decided that he could live without his pudding head.
Well, obviously, Puddinghead didn't agree, so it turned into a bit of a disagreement.
The unicorn ambassador, Princess Platinum, got involved only when a bit of dirt got on her clothing.
‘Why didn't they ask me to be the unicorn ambassador? I am surely more qualified than her.’
He shook his head as she flipped the table onto the other two magically.
‘That’s right; I didn't want to have a bias. Well, it doesn't help my desire to be a good sage if I have to deal with these blokes being uncivilized.’
His home started to become a bit more chaotic, with tapestry and furniture being used to strangle and bludgeon.
‘Hmm I should probably step in.’
He calmly used telekinesis to separate them forcefully.
The Pegasus seemed to be rather vexed.
“Let us go Starswirl, or I swear I’ll-”
The sage quickly silenced Hurricane with the “remove mouth” spell he made for fun (and from the prospect of dealing with someone with a dire case of pudding head). Thankfully, for all involved, the remaining two stayed quiet before either could say something profane or incredibly stupid and provoke the sage.
“Now that’s a proper way of convincing me of letting you go, threatening me when you have no power over the situation.”
He focused his powers to merely bind them.
“Now, I was so gracious as to let you come to neutral territory to fight and solve your problems. You were doing the first well enough, I was well entertained indeed. But then I got bored with your bickering and I feel these meetings of just fighting must grow stale, so I am issuing a change of pace.”
He set them down in their seats, making sure to repair his home as well.
“How about instead of just insulting each other, we try to resolve some of our base issues, like lack of food, the inclement weather, and the hordes of monsters about to attack?.”
The two remaining ambassadors able to speak seemed confused at this last bit.
Starswirl sighed, "Well, I would have thought you would have known, but this is obviously something I need to show you."
He used his magic and displayed the image of the gathering monsters on the edge of the desert, not far from the mountain range the castle, which they inhabited currently, resided on.
A chill crossed over them as a massive wolf, one that seemed to make the normal wolves seem like mere pups appeared. along with it were smaller, upright dogs, spears and swords held as weapons.
The picture changed to a Minotaur brandishing an ax covered in blood, it bellowed in rage.
Finally, a black dragon, and a shadowy figure, a indistinguishable form wrapped in a billowing black robe riding on its head were being followed by a large horde of these beasts, leading them out of the deserts, which the ponies have forever called the badlands, to the west.
... Into the domain of ponies.
“These fellows seem to think that we have food, are food, or whatever, and with the fall ending, they are going to run out of options. But, I assume we don’t want to be used as farm animals, slaves, or as meat, so we may want to prevent this.”
He let them go, their struggling having died when they were forced to see the danger in front of them (both figuratively and quite literally.)
"mhmmmmmmhm"
Starswirl looked for the source of the mumbling and saw the Pegasus try, and fail valiantly at developing a skill in ventriloquism.
"MHMMMHM!"
Hurricane seemed keen on having something to say, so Starswirl used his powers and reached into the waste bin he put the Pegasus's mouth in to give that particular item back.

though his mouth tasted of dust and rubbish, the commander spoke his mind.
“How would we stop these monsters, Starswirl?! We Pegasus don’t have the forces to hold these things back, and the other two tribes don’t have Horse-apples in the way of military!”
Before either the earth pony or unicorn could interject, Starswirl motioned for silence, whether or not he had to use magic was not the question at this point.
The question was: "what was his plan?"
What could save the Equus race?

“I think we should summon the great ones.”

In the clearing of the forest across the river, set up to be the site of the encampment, the War Chief snorted and stretched his ax-arm.
“How much longer until the spell is complete Donkur?”
The Druid looked up at him in distaste, and went back to drawing the correct runes on the "volunteers".
“Patient, lord, as the Romans have to get inside the fortress to be ready.”
The war chief could not stand the Druid, and the Druid could not stand him.
They both wanted to rule the horde.
The two wanted the other dead.
It was a beautiful business partnership.
“How much are we getting in return, Donkur? I hate to think that I am wasting my warriors for nothing less than compensation. A few of them nice swords and armor pieces would look good in my armory.”
The old man, finally done with the runes, replied
“From what the spirits and contacts have told me, we will take all of Britannia for our tribe.”
A smile slowly stretched on his cracked lips.
“And all the riches we can carry.”

In the command center of the fort.
A group of very powerful men sat in silence.
Powerful, in that they were the top military and political leaders in Brittan at the time.
The Centurions and other men of office had gathered to “discuss” the current situation.
The silence was new. Prior, the room was in argument.
"why aren't we doing anything" was thrown around a lot, as was "what are they doing?".

the question was finally asked, “How did they get past the wall?”
“We allowed them to.”
This was the statement and answer, the one that sent the cabin into shock.
Where did it come from?
It came from someone low, a former slave, a freedman, had said it.
however, this was the freedman of the emperor himself, and the entire room let him be seated before sitting back down themselves.
…
the same man had chosen to break the silence,
“We require for you to muster all 10000 men of the legion, the new auxiliaries and my praetors to gather in the gates or simply rest. Let the Barbarians do their work and they will leave.”
finally, the Legate and Master of the camp entered
Both sat down and glared at the freedman, while the legate leaned forward and rested his chin on his fist.
“My troops tell me that you order us to sit idly while the Caledonians reach our walls…”
The freedman nodded.
“Why yes, governor, I did.”
The master of the camp moved to interject, but the legate motioned for him to remain calm.
“Can you grant me the liberty of telling me why we shouldn't kill them?”
The Freedman simply clicked his fingers as his own praetor brought him a small black box and a note.
“These are your orders currently” he handed him the note.
“And these are your orders and instructions for when the Savages are done.” He said, and then gave the black box over as well.
The legate read all of it. Then again.
Then again.
They were short, but very informative instructions.
They were short, but also damned his entire legion.

Caspius and Trebonius stood behind the gate, awaiting the order to counter-attack.
Sadly, that order never came, and they just watched the Scots make these runes in the fields nearby.
Again, the damned waiting plagued them.
What most commanders in armed forces know is that these situations leaves vacuums in terms of knowledge for the troops, and nothing fills the speculation like rumors.
“I hear they are just letting the Caledonians do whatever they want because they were paid to.”
“Why are they just pouring liquid everywhere?”
“Why aren't we doing anything?”
“If this is just a prank by Modestus, I swear….”
Questions, speculations, accusations and other such falsehoods quickly fill a void of truth, and almost seamlessly.
But, what also fills it…
“hey, what are they doing?!”
"we need to do something!"
Better than all the above,
“WHY THE HELL ARE WE STILL HERE!?”
"WE NEED TO KILL THESE BASTARDS!"

"GET ME A BOW! I'LL SHOOT ONE RIGHT NOW!"
Is Fear.

“With all due respect, this set of orders is not appropriate for my men. I request to decline to follow them.”
The freedman smiled.
“Well, I say you have no choice in the matter.”
The legate slammed his hands on the table in exasperation.
“Please!" the legate bowed "My men aren't to be sacrificed like animals for your damn-“
“I would advise you to be both calm and civil. We don’t want you ending up as your predecessor, Agricola.”
Silence had again reached the building, albeit this time it was more pregnant of a pause.
The men subconsciously gathered towards the poles of authority, ready to fight for their respective leader if needed be.
“Agricola also disobeyed an order… he let the old British king live, or tried to. We advise you not to make the same mistake.”
A horn blew outside the walls, and in entered the centurion of the praetorian cohort.
“Sirs, we are receiving reports of the Caledonians retreating into the woods.”
The commanders were confused.
The legate was not.
And the freedman simply smiled.
“Well, it seems you have little choice anyway, both with me and inevitability of doing your duty. We will be off.”
The legate slumped into his seat as the freedman was preparing to leave, before being stopped by the master of the camp.
“And why would you be leaving?”
The smile disappeared.
“Only your legate is allowed to know.”
The smile appeared in the room again, on not the freedman’s face, but on the Camp Master’s.
“And only he is allowed to leave this camp while it is under siege, and that is only with the proper bodyguards.”
The freedman looked extremely fettered, and his own men looked on with worry
they would, if need be, protect their charge…
but what could be so bad about staying?

Starswirl looked at his notes again, and carved into the ground again, furthering the complicated series of runes left as instructions for the ritual.
The tribe leaders both feared and revered this unicorn, but what he compared to was a gnat in the face of the old ones.
"what does he think to accomplish" hissed the unicorn, "all we normally get is a sword or a painting"
"I got this helmet." replied the commander
"But that was small scale compared to this! he is going to-"
a large, booming voice that could only be from Starswirl's magic rang,

"I also hear he has functioning hearing."
the ponies had to shiver in fear from the sudden onset of what would become the royal canterlot voice.
"it is done, please stand back."
they backed up, sheepishly.
What they all feared was that star swirl would do the necessary evil.
He focused all of his magic, his horn growing an unnatural green.
"I will bring Gods here."

The legionnaires had not yet panicked, for there was no reason once the Caledonians retreated. But, as fate would have it, the Caledonians arrived again, this time marked in black runes of pitch.
Caspius had made the assumption that these Scots were doing something quite like the Israelites during and after Masada, a massive suicidal demonstration of their will, that they will never to never bow to Rome.
However, now that he saw these men, he feared that it was worse than that.
Trebonius as well knew, but had figured out what the runes were.
“Good gods, they are going to set it all on fire.”
Fire, fire was a problem for Romans throughout history.
Particularly because they built most of their structures with wood,
like forts.
…
Like the one they were in…
…
Fear once again had reason to come back.
"THE ENTIRE THING IS MADE OF PITCH!"
"WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF-"
they stopped their shouts. The torches were brought out, but they were not lit, which did not bring relief to the watching legionnaires, but confusion.
A chant was heard, it was ominous and unintelligible, and the torches glowed with green fire.
before the men could react, the land was in blaze, green fire spreading even onto the skin of the men in the fields, snaking towards the camp.
"how in-"
"its so brigh-"
“what is-“
These sentences were never finished, for the speakers had gone.

Starswirl’s eyes glowed brilliantly, as did the whole of the field.
The ambassadors looked on in horror, as a massive building, part by part, was slowly materializing in front of them.
It was wooden, made of material less sophisticated than castles, but appeared to be easily assembled.
They could see pieces of armor start to form, their weapons following, they thought this was all that would happen.
but lo, each set of armor arrived with the respective owner, passed out and laid down.
Starswirl was staggering each breath threatening his balance, and he was kept up only by his sheer will.
It was remarkable that after teleporting a whole fort and its inhabitants from across the planes of existence he was able to speak.
“it is done, I have saved-“
*thump*
… for as long as he could, until the wizard followed the lead of the newcomers and fell unconscious.

It is almost done,
The note had been read to the officers, and they had decided to do their duty.
All in the cabin heard the shouts of the men outside vanish slowly.
All centurions but one stood beside the Master of the Camp, ready to keep the pious man in with them if he tried to escape.
The last one had chosen to fall on his sword, after hearing the plan.
The general thought was “Might as well take the bastard down with the rest of us in his plan.”
The peculiar thought in this situation was “this isn't going to plan.”
Three guesses as to whom that last thought belonged to, first two don’t count.
The legate got up from his seat, carrying a fairly large bottle of his own private reserve, and walked over to the freedman, put his arm around him and started to read from the instructions again.
“Welcome, dear legate, as you are about to find out, you and your legion have chosen, or been chosen to participate in a glorious campaign that will make you all go down in the annals of history.
Welcome, to Imperio: Bellum Gerere Xenosphere,’”
Operation: Conquest of the alien world.
SPQR: Xenosphere.

Author's Note

Well, this is my first story, and the first time is always the most awkward and confusing, so I would not be surprised if it sucks.
Please tell me what I need to improve, and if any of you could help me proofread, you get a cookie and a gladius. (as many of both as i have to give at least.)
Perhaps you guys could give me ideas, suggestions, observations, or whatever as to what I can do with this idea.
I wrote this because of the reasons said in the long description:
there was no story about Rome, which is disgraceful,
and I really needed to get this out of my head.
please enjoy.
SPQR
-Octavian
PS. Disclaimer: The author holds no hatred to whatever ethnic, racial, or religious groups mentioned or otherwise discussed in this story, any any insults to these mentioned groups come from outdated stereotypes and deliberate values dissonance and in no part reflect the views of the author or his compatriots.

Interlude: Deal complete, where's my Island?

Please excuse my absence, I had to deal with... stuff... and the computer had been destroyed.
Now, please realize how hard it is to replace a computer and forgive me that this is all I can do to alleviate the long hiatus I am on for the time being.
This, nor the following "interludes" are in no way an important part of the story, but are merely extensions of the story that i feel are best explored.
but enjoy.
- Ave, Amici

Octavius

Gray wisps curled into the sky. the ground from which they originate full of a field of barren husks, blackened, devoid of life that was there but a moment ago.
the warlord realized he had been knocked back significantly from where he stood before the explosion, as he didn't recognize the angle he was looking at the scarred land...
although there was something different about his surroundings, something he couldn't sense immediately.
.....

"...wait a minute!"
it came to him slowly, to be sure.
"were is the river?.... was that mountain there before? How long was i out?!"
no one answered him at first.
"MPHPHRM!"
he looked around to see what had made that muffling sound, but could find none.
"Gert ORFF Me"
he looked down to the source of the noise.
"well, I hadn't known my backside could talk."
a bit of muffled (and fairly vulgar) speech came through.
"alright, i'll get off."
the druid had thanked the spirits that he was rescued from the chief's.... that he was relieved from his predicament.
"why" he gasped, greedily swallowing the fresh air, "did you find it necessary to sit on me?"
"HAH! as if i knew! i can hardly remember what we were doing!"
the druid turned on him in cold rage.
"...where are we?" the druid asked
"uh,"
the druid started to advance upon the chief, anger increasing with each step.
small wisps of smoke began to rise from him, originating his ears.
'was he able to do that before?' the cheif briefly thought.
the
"Where..."
step
"are"
step
"We?"

at this point, the druid was close enough to the chief that they could observe the individual pores on the other's face.
could being the operative word... the druid didn't know why, but the chief's face seemed off in color...

"(well strange times indeed! are both you human?)"

a sudden chill struck, and the presence of a third entity became clear to the two barbarians.
the moments of silence were multiplying as the two very dense individuals processed the situation at hand.

The newly arrived variable was apparently cloaked in a strange fabric, the colors changing at every opportunity, from violent yellows and reds to soothing greens and blues, or many combinations that should and could not happen naturally. the new arrival pulled back the hood, revealing what seemed to be made of spare parts of animals.
With the head of a horse, the eyes of a goat, the antler of a deer, the snout of a donkey, and the teeth of a human, but sadly with the canines of a... well, canine.

Since the two barbarians were stricken mute from awe (fear), this strange, strange thing continued speaking, much to the horror of the humans.

"(oh come come, need not surprise showing, Elders, Village i take you to! must go there you)"

the creature advanced upon them, arm outstretched, an eagle's talon for a hand adding to the worry of the chief and druid considerably as it approached striking distance.

"(come come! food and drink! must not waste time)"

the next thing the two Caledonians knew was they were grabbed by the creature, a light snapping sound; then light filled their existence.

...
end of first interlude

Author's Note

next chapter can be expected soon. i just learned i have free time.
and as always, point out any mistakes i made, and i will correct them.
Disclaimer: The author holds no hatred to whatever ethnic, racial, or religious groups mentioned or otherwise discussed in this story, any any insults to these mentioned groups come from outdated stereotypes and deliberate values dissonance and in no part reflect the views of the author or his compatriots.

Recollection

Chapter 1

Recollection

From the Diary of Appius Accius Varro, Legate of the 20th legion,
Anno cōnsulis: M. Aurelius Commodus et P. Martius Verus II. (179 CE.)

Gods guide me today, for it is our danger that is already evident and imminent. our forces are in disarray at the incursion of the damn Caledonians, the civilians that were inside the gates at the beginning of the siege are now nowhere to be found, neither is the master of the camp, the training correspondent, nor the dignitary sent by the emperor or the one i had at my disposal already. most disturbing is the disappearance of the spies I had readied to disrupt the enemy. however, most optimistically, the troops that have regained consciousness during the first few days (less than a few hundred), although they have yet to organize themselves into their assigned cohorts but instead chose to get right to work, asking me for orders directly while the centurions do their part in the actual reorganization and roll call or begin to wake themselves. it is surprising, and with a ration on words being conducted on my being, heartwarming. These soldiers wake to a perilous situation and do not panic and break, but immediately turn to myself to guide them, not as if they are helpless wretches who need a savior, but men with a passion to work and the necessary bravery to complete the next objective for the betterment of the legion, but merely need a direction to be pointed in. such discipline and morale will be justly rewarded in my own efforts to live up to their expectations of me. with this entry having been written, I am a little more optimistic and looking to the forward challenge with more light and trust in the abilities of my men and myself-
Oh good gods above, more of the men have woken up, and it seems they are less fortuitous than the others and have started panicking... i will do my best as the loving commander to beat them back into submission.
Thoughts of the day: Acquirit qui tuetur. (He who preserves something will have something).

The only thing in the existence of the black void for Starswirl The Bearded was a faint sound of scraping, coupled with muffled panting.
It was all star swirl could hear; for all he could do was hear with his energy depleted; his consciousness escaped him after the tremendous effort it took to rip apart the barriers between worlds like it was paper.
Thoughts passed through his head, so he knew he was not dead, and these thoughts would have either filled him with disgust or mirth if he were lucid.

something about chocolate rain and a house made out of cake.
"we need to get out of here!"

wait, that wasn't one of my thoughts. pondered Starswirl my thoughts don't sound like-

"Chancellor Puddinghead, would you kindly stuff it? we can't be seen or heard by... them... and if they do, they would smite us as the legends foretold."
A grunt was issued from what Starswirl guessed was dragging him, whom he further deduced was Hurricane, and soon felt the ground rise up to meet him in a warm embrace as the pegasus released him in order to speak..
"why then, are we still dragging this sleeping dead-weight?"
A moment of silence as Princess Platinum wrangled with this question internally, obviously having some doubt about these actions herself.
"...because... we need him" she concluded.
"That's right," added hurricane "the bastard teleported us to that place by the river, but all be damned if it isn't far from the stronghold. if we can't get him to wake-"

Light filled the world for a second, translated into several minutes in the senses of Starswirl, then closed.
thoughts and consciousness were slowly returning to him.

...

the old unicorn's eyes fluttered open, much to the surprise of the ambassadors.
"wha-? what hap-" Starswirl felt an incredible headache: painful, cold...
his hoof moved to his head, to attempt to rub his temples.
for a moment it felt as if he was a few pounds lighter, a lot... less smart....

"he's back!"

the Exclamation shocked Starswirl from his momentary delusion.

The unicorn ambassador was on him in an instant.

"you're alive! oh thank the sun you're alive!"

The earth pony chancellor muttered a small prayer of thanks.

the Pegasus commander, however, only walked away, saying something to the effect of "now i don't have to carry you."

despite these reactions, Starswirl's mind was still processing the entirety of the situation:
'...lets see whats normal here...

Platinum...the haughty, cleanliness-obsessed princess, hugging me? should not happen.

the chancellor being quiet and respectful? A very interesting (and welcome) oddity.

the commander irking me?.... ok, not so abnormal, but he cared a minute amount for me for a distinct amount of time, so it is indeed strange.

the gods in our world? It seems the laws of reality just took a leave of absence for me and will never forgive me.

What did i forget?
I feel as though something important was significant enough that i should remember it, it is gnawing at me from my core...
... did i leave the stove on?... I may have left the stove on.'

the wizard unicorn immediately reviewed these past events, and decided to teleport the dignitaries back to his castle on the side of the mountain, which afterwards brought his attention to an increasingly painful headache that he had not noticed moments before. possibly the result of magical exhaustion.

"well now, i take it the experiment was a success..." he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"this wasn't much of an experiment, i mean there wasn't any weird looking doohickies or colorful chemical-y things or a robot or a volcano that goes BWOOSH! with confetti or a mad scientist yelling ITS ALIIIIIVEEE!!! and zapping things with lightning and laughing evilly like this: BWAAAHAHAHAHA-"

"puddinghead..." interrupted star-swirl sharply, "do you want that opening in your face you call a mouth to go into the dustbin?"

Puddinghead wisely (and literally) zipped the mouth in question.

"... now you're right, it wasn't exactly an experiment. no control variables, no comparable results or a hypothesis, but such is only semantics at this point... the pressing question is this: what of the... the 'gods'"

"SOMEONE GIVE TO ME A REPORT ON OUR STATUS, LEST THE BEATINGS BEGIN... AGAIN!"

All around the fort, soldiers were hurrying to get supplies that were still left after the... incident... like water, food, valuables, weapons, all variety of things in the camp in order to get an inventory.

they had realized the gravity of their situation only recently, as the giant mountain range that was not nearby before had been a clue, among other things, that they were not in Deva anymore.

In the middle of it all stood the legate, barking orders, his tribunes were in the command tent, probably bickering over some assorted politics. The Legate had to be assertive and commanding for the troops to find comfort in him, for they know he knows what to do and will help them get out of this alive.

...

In truth, he himself was desperate for answers, but not so desperate that he showed weakness.
The centurion from the new Praetorian attachment had raced up to him
"sir" he started to report, "we have written of all our equipment-"
"give me this" he motioned for the centurion to read off the list "mainly report the situation in regards to necessary supplies." the legate interrupted.
the centurion looked at the wax tablet he used to take inventory.
"it seems that we have enough food and water in the supply stores still for at least a week, a question raised to how we lost the mountain of supplies we built up for the siege. i suggest we send scouts to see if there are nearby sources of wheat and to gather water from the nearby river. as well, we may want to check the woods for lumber and game, and the mountain for any ore deposits so our engineers can use them for repairs and building materials. The priests are taking the necessary steps to determine the truth of the event and will report as soon as this is done."
the legate pondered this before ordering a couple of nearby legionaries to gather some troops to accomplish these tasks.
the legate turned toward the centurion. "as well, i would like to send a few cavalry out to find signs of civilization or barbarians. the former in order to reconnect with the empire, the latter to raid or trade for supplies and/or slaves. in addition, send a few Contubernia (tent group of 8 fighters and two noncombatants, best translated as "squad") from the seventh cohort (new recruits, regarded lowly and used to dump silly assignments like food detail), have them be led by that new Decanus you recommended. (leader of ten, they led the contubernium) to assist them."

with a nod, the centurion went to gather together some troops to go scout.

the legate was not thankful to be alone with his thoughts now, as the recent events would have shocked and crippled lesser men. the being transported didn't phase him as much, it was the reality of the situation and he accepted it, and he was, as a soldier, used to being in desperate situations far from home.

what bothered him, was the strange sensation that he felt before awakening.

it was as if he was being called somewhere...something... Talking...

He shook the thoughts away. that was a ridiculous (and cliche) thing to feel
Whatever magic was used definitely had some effect on the men, somewhat different each time, some not feeling anything at all... but no malicious transformations were observed... yet... and the work occupied the attention of the soldiers.

speaking of soldiers, two of the men were approaching him, he forgot their names, but their faces were familiar enough to him. one of them was supposed to be recommended for promotion by the Praetorian... his name is "Cassius" or something to that similar effect....
The first to speak was the shorter one with brown hair, Caspius. "Sir! Legionaries Caspius and Trebonius, here to serve!"
Oh, that's his name... "Well then, what is it?"
the taller one, Trebonius, started to read off of the tablet
"The 7th cohort reports about 80-90 losses, one is the centurion who opted out initially, and an entire century was not found. the most disturbing of all these things was the centurion."

The legate had to consider for a moment why the most disturbing thing about this entire situation was a dead man. surely these men must be used to death on some level. "why is THAT the most disturbing thing? we just lost a century, one man dead does not take precedent of 80 men missing."
they looked at eachother, the shorter one beginning to speak. "its not that he died, its.... its how he..."
"how he...?" the unfinished question hung in the air, stressing the legate's patience was wearing thin.
thankfully the taller one with fairer hair finished the thought for caspius. "turned out., so to say"

Faraway south, in the badlands, there is a camp of dark forces that radiates around a hill, training and readying themselves for conquest.
on the central hill stands a black tower, where one might expect there to be an excess of spikes and chain, there is only cold, black stone that, yet simple, seems more malevolent for being so.
simple, yet terrible.
inside, there is a meeting, similar to the one in Starswirl's in that it is the rallying of the forces under the control of the immensely powerful host, but dissimilar in that the master of this tower has his forces more organized.

"Have we encountered any major resistance in the east so far?" he asks from his throne, made of the bones and weapons of his prior conquests.
he was wearing plate-mail armor, covered in a black robe of dragon-skin he claimed from the oldest and strongest in the land, his head covered by a hood. This hood combined with a helmet, shaped to look like the face of the gods, and both hid his identity well, for it was surprisingly necessary for the stability of his army that no one know his identity.

Among those he invited, only one was not cowering:
the Minotaur that served the dread lord as second in command, known as steel horns.

"None, but the horde has been sated with contending with itself, the arena is a very popular; in fact steel- I mean- I am a very prominent contender there. pardon the error in my speech" he said before bowing his head.

The dark master sighed with exasperation. "you don't have to reshape your oratory customs because I asked so once..."

the Minotaur looked up.

"The master's word is law, even if he says it quietly, for-"
"-for even if his word is quiet, the will in his actions will not be." he recited. "I know... I know..." He quietly added, trying to temper his minor annoyance with the stubborn yet endearing loyalty of his most trusted commander.

He grabbed the bridge of the "snout" of his mask with his forefinger and thumb, "Remind me, why do we allow for the arena fights again? It seems a waste of soldiers"

Steel Horns snorted. "It is Minotaur tradition, put in as part of the 'Hoof/claw' treaty. it serves as training, bonding, entertainment, and in this famine, a way to ration the food to benefit the strongest."

the dark lord sighed again. "So little compassion you have."
The dark lord required the general for his wise, if very cold and calculating, observational advice. it tempered the Romantic and idealistic views of the Dread lord quite well.
The Dark Master stood and began to walk down to the group gathered in his throne-room.
"If the hatred caused by assimilation doesn't end with this crusade, we will never be able to settle and build, infighting can only tear us apart."

It was a time like this that the Dread lord depended upon the council of his general.

After a moment of pondering the Minotaur had come up with an idea

"only if they continue to kill each-other."

A smile crept onto the face of the dread lord
"thank you steel horn, effective immediately, extend the ban on killing to the arena."

the Minotaur hesitated for a second.
"What will be the justification? they will not accept 'the preservation of life' as a reason, though it may be yours. they thirst for blood."

The reply came after a moment of thought. something royal and authoritarian... "it shall be decreed, 'He who fights to his death is more honorable for being unwilling to submit, even in the end, and any killer loses in the arena for being so weak he cannot overpower his opponent.' let it be only blood sport, not death games."

"wisdom, my lord." and so the Minotaur went to enact the law.

What the dread king could not say is that he got the idea from a sport out of one of the 55 magical texts, one that told of the ancient land of "Greece", its people had a certain sport, Pankration, which had only one rule of "no killing". this text told much of the culture, language, and most importantly to the lord, the history.

The Dread lord turned to the other news bearers, expecting a report from the camps of their species.
Next he turned to the ambassador to the wolves. "as requested, bones, belly-rubs, and inquires regarding who is indeed a good boy will become standard in the rewards of your people." with that the wolf panted happily, wagged his tail, bowed, then exited.

Finally was the dragon ambassador, a teenager with green and red scales, for a grown dragon would have been too large to enter. Said messenger was a very unpopular soul, unfortunate to be hated by most of the dragon leadership.

the Dread lord glared at him from behind the shadows of his hood.
"what's wrong now?"

"s-s-s-sir?"

"I know when they send you they expect whatever news you give me to be bad enough to anger me so that i slaughter the messenger, so what bad news do you bring me?"

"t-t-they challenge your rule" he answered, after an audible gulp.

A short laugh came from the dread lord, and what he said next came with such calm and jovial question with a genuinely pleasant tone.
"On what grounds?"

the unpopular emissary of the drakes took this as a threat, rather than just mirth, and the resulting words came faster than bullets "-they-don't-think-a-non-dragon-could-effectively-lead"

a moment of silence passed through the room, and the dragon thought of his mistakes in life that brought him here.

"take me to them".

"Trebonius, if you ever make such a sick joke like that again I will crucify you."
"no arguments sir."

The assorted men before the legate were cleaning up the bloody mess that once was a man.

"please tell me he is the only one who got... inverted..."
one of the men cleaning looked up from his work and answered.
"well, there have been no other bodily abnormalities, but men have reported visions and strange feelings."
The legate motioned for him to continue.

"well, at least a few can speak without making strange sounds, and they speak of things like talking animals, some of magic, and..."
another noncombatant aided in his attempt to explain

"one is seeing visions of the future, present and past and has gone quite mad as a result."
the first nodded in agreement. "he spoke of the god's abandonment. frequently" he dead panned.

The legate was slightly unnerved for a moment before shaking his head. it was not the time for fantastical ideas that have no relevance to the current situation, and there was nothing more mystical happening that could not be fixed through roman vim and vigor.

As he thought this, the revelation became clear that the puddle of... Centurion... was still alive to some extent, and began to move and moan from pain. A face formed in the muck, a skull seemed to press against this, and eventually (to the horror of everyone involved) broke through that fragile flap of skin and began screaming. Blood and fluids flowing from whatever orifice they could reach first. The gurgling scream that resulted even after made everyone who could hear it fear for their lives or empty their bowels in equal measure.

"KILL MEEEEE!"

It began sobbing, the tears of blood made the image a vile mockery of such a human emotion. The Legate decided he would oblige the puddle. After a few sword strikes, however, it seemed the poor soul was trapped as he was. As a form of respect, or from an otherwise merciful sentiment, the more solid and tangible remains were collected into a single, large, bucket and covered, muffling the screams and pleads to the gods that, most apparently demonstrated, must have abandoned them all.

"The information we actually have is no good to us... it doesn't tell us anything about where we are or whats going to happen. keep the madmen detained though, i will wish to review their ramblings later with a pontiff present."

More gurgling came from the bucket, and it began to overflow in blood, forcing some of the cleanup to move him somewhere that they didn't just clean.

"... it may also be wise to gather all the men who have not already been accounted for and to observe the intricate anomalies in all the men."

The head of the crew nodded, and the order was passed throughout the camp by the time-honored method of simple authoritative barking.

The legate gave the command tent another look-over before one of the orderlies slipped on what he could only hope wasn't the neglected leftovers of a large intestine, spilling the murky contents on the floor-

"Caspius, Trebonius, meet me outside, this isn't going to be a headquarters anymore, or at least for much longer.." he ordered shortly before turning and leaving the tent.

The two looked at each other, then to the mess, and without hesitation decided to follow.

Outside, the legate was looking over the camp at work.
"Caspius, due to the recent opening of position, you are now Decanus Primus in your century. Your first order is to go out with a few other conturbernia and search for food, civilization, or anything at all that could help us."
Caspius nodded silently, "...very odd for him", thought Trebonius.

There was a great cry for the legate from across the camp, and with a sigh, he went to sort out whatever crisis required his attention, bidding the two farewell.

Immediately, Trebonius turned to Caspius "whats with you? you would normally be celebrating for a promotion."
Caspius looked at Trebonius, then back to the tent with slight nausea showing on his now sickly green cheeks.

He puts a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"hey... I cannot blame you for feeling that way. you've not seen war before, have you?"

there was a moment of hesitation after that.
"I... have never seen something like... like that."

Trebonius looked back in the direction of the scene, thankfully unable to actually see it because of the obstructing tent flaps, but un-thankfully he had the image lingering in his mind.

"Caspius, I honestly do not think anyone has seen something that horrible." he then tried to put on his best smile and removed his hand with a pat. "but that will probably be the worse thing we see in this adventure, so the worst is behind us! We best head out!"

Today wasn't, well, the best of days for steel horn.

At all, really.

For you see, he was put in a position of great difficulty in terms of actually managing his army.
Minotaur are proud and stubborn, and they believe anyone who would ever rule effectively had to be:

1) A Minotaur
2) the strongest, biggest, meanest and most vicious warrior this side of Terra Malas.

Because of these two reasons, they have beef (heh) with the current warlord on account of him not being big or Minotaur-ish at all (as far as they know,

Steel horns had just, only just, lost the respect of what had been his war-band for surrendering to the master.
It didn't matter that the master had challenged and, frankly, beat Steel horns very badly in single combat (and though the wolves and other species would not admit it, in a rather humorous manner, earning him the new nickname "steer horns") for it had been established that the winner got to lead both the master's war-band and the Minotaur tribe.

Hence the current situation

The General had only exited the arena, covered in fresh bruises from the protests (that he was very quick to put down) that a wolf came up to him dressed in war attire.
"My lord, some scouts have returned from the north with sordid news!"

Steel hooves crossed his arms, nodding for him to continue.

"there are a great deal of them saying there have been massive lights and all sorts of magics coming from close to mountain, they suggest we send a party to go scout the way and investigate."

Steel hooves liked that about the wolves, they were a very loyal people and always asked permission, and every so often he tolerated being in the same room as them.

"good, because I will surely go with you."

the dog he was speaking to began to look at him as if confused, and the dog would be right to, as it was unusual for a great commander to be in charge of a mere scouting operation.

but... the glare of the commander and the look on his face showed he was not in the mood for such points to be made, so the wolf decided he was not confused after all and nodded, barking at a nearby pup to alert the "master" to this new development.

"we ride at dawn, bring the mounts."

Chestnut was a very happy little filly, she didn't mind the hard work in the farms and groves her family worked at, nor did she mind that the land was owned by the feudal lords currently oppressing their fellow ponies, for she didn't know what half of those words meant.
Instead, the orange filly kept herself happy with her toys made of sticks and reeds.
At times, this was not enough, as the others were too old to be playing. they needed to farm all the time to keep the community alive.
this made her lonely sometimes.

But, after the humongous magic storm there were new "guests", and Chestnut wasn't lonely anymore.

The guests were strange to look at, but they proved themselves very capable farmers and seemed to speak a very old version of the common language, so they began to be very welcome. They kinda looked like what would happen if you tried to shave a monkey, but didn't do it all the way.

At first they were afraid, but then they came around once they were offered food and water and a place to stay.
they seemed nice, they even taught the ponies some farming tricks like crop rotation!
They didn't have any magic, but they must have gotten by with being smart.
They also had a younger boy with them that didn't have anyone either.
Chestnut thought it was a girl first which made it mad, but once he and chestnut had begun to play they found that they were having so much fun.
they were out playing one day, the young boy riding on her back, pretending to be a soldier of some kind.
"Progress, Romani invicta! (forward invincible romans!)" he cheered, a slightly sharpened stick raised above his head in triumph.
"Aye, my good knight!" she laughed.
suddenly, however, the "noble steed" had tripped and both began tumbling in a comical whirlwind of action, ending with the "valiant knight" now under his mount.

this resulted in laughing from both of them, as they were relatively unharmed.

"you talk funny, what were you pretending to be?"
The boy gathered the gist of what she was saying and responded accordingly.
"Equites ego sum, Romani Valerissimus! (I am a Calvary man! the most brave of the Romans.)" he cheered.
this caused a giggle from the filly. "you're silly: you might be valorous, my knight, but you aren't a pony!"
"Epona? (the celtic goddess of horses and fertility and guide to souls in the afterlife.)"
"no, silly, pony," she stressed, making sure to point to herself to emphasize it.
"po...ny?"
"yeah! now you got it!" she exclaimed, more giggles following this. "at this rate, you'll be speaking right!"
The boy had no idea what was said, so he just nodded.
"Clemens!" a voice in the distance called.
it was his mother, she was recalling him.
he looked to Chestnut with a little sadness, shrugged, and went into that direction.
Chestnut was alone again, but it didn't bother her, for she was just waiting for her friend to get back.
she decided to go play among the trees, her favorite activity before she had a friend.

she walked up to a particularly strong, old looking oak that dominated the center of the forest.
she decided to try and buck it with all her strength... and flew back a few feet from the recoil.
"ow!" she said, annoyance building. she started to bang on the oak with her hooves, the sound reverberating among the trees.

She got tired after some time and decided to sit at the base and daydream.
The story she came up with was of Clemens the brave, saving the princess Chestnut from a castle guarded by a mean old dragon.
She thought more and more about the new creatures.
it was so strange, they came right after the magical storm.

Her moments of thought were broken by the sound of rustling leaves in the forest around her.
"there you are! what happened? I thought your mom wanted you for longer than that."

...
silence.

She made a sound of annoyance. "come on, don't try and play those hide and seek games, im great at those!"
more silence, making her even more uneasy.

"clemens?"
more silence.

suddenly the silence was broken by the same rustling sound moving closer.
tension built up in her hind legs, her breathing was becoming more and more heavy, her heart began to pound.
run

She could only watch as the leaves began to rustle, growing nearer and nearer.

Run

she watched as the rustling stopped for a moment, a moment that extended itself into seconds, which adrenaline made seem like entire lifetimes.

From the bushes came a horrible-

Bunny?

it was a bunny! silly thing, it scared her-

wait,
why did it just run away?
bunnies aren't afraid of ponies-
then she felt it.

hot breath, some spittle flying.

then she heard it.
growling.

time slowed down for her as she turned around
all the time, the little voice in her head screaming
Don't look, stupid! Run! just RUN!

then she saw it

then her world went black.

Caspius's day was, short to say, in a bad way.
He got to see the most incredibly horrible and disgusting death to ever be seen by the legion in about a couple hundred years, and in the process, suddenly found himself slugging and marching across the fields and hills of some backwards boondocks untouched by the empire with a group of the most poorly trained of men he could have found in Europe, all complaining about being tired.

it was not a good day, but at least he had his comrade, Trebonius with him.

"so then, the man removes the alligator from the table and asks 'see? i told you he was tame, would anyone else like to try?', and this one drunkard raises his voice from the back and says 'i would, but i can't keep my mouth open long enough!'"

the men all laughed at this joke,

"But enough about Greeks..." he added, to me mirth of everyone.

"by Jove, trebonius, you must stop" said one of the men, "you're worse than a christian!"

"I never got what was with the hate of Christians anyway" He said, "A few of the men I met in the empire were christian, and before that they seemed to be stand up blokes, and afterwards they were no different."

"I heard they practice incest!" said one.

"I heard they drink blood and eat babies!" said another.

"Isn't that the same thing?" Added the first.*

"that doesn't beat what i heard" said a third.

they all looked to him.

"I heard, at their ceremonies, they turn off the lights..."

"that's not so b-" started Trebonius

"and then they have orgies" the third man finished.

Each and every one of them gasped, it was scandalous! *

"Oh how sick!"

"You mean they practice adultery? How barbaric!"

"That's enough men," Caspius finally interjected, "you are to resume marching until we reach that village on the horizon is this clear?."
The men began to groan, complain.
"sir, my feet are bleeding," said one poor soul "can't we set up camp?"

"you know what helps bleeding feet?" responded Caspius.

The men looked at him questioningly.

"You march some more! Until we clear that forest, no man rests!"

Clemens had been called to be warned of not straying too far into the woods with his new pet; he tried explaining that she was a friend, to which his mother pretentiously laughed at.

He was walking through the forest to find his new p- his new friend, in complete disregard to his mothers warning, when he heard the most harsh scream come from inside the forest.

He saw up ahead a couple of figures running through the forest.

He looked from the scene to he village, wondering what to do.
He decided to run.

Chestnut was not a happy filly right now.

She was being chased by a strange wolf thing. It seemed to be playing with her, letting her run until she was tired.

She kept running, for everything she had she ran.

She could feel it nipping at her tail, hot breath and the sound of its snapping maw

She screamed again.

While running, she was too frightened to see the same snag that tripped her before, repeating the mistake, and catapulting herself a few yards as momentum caught up with her.

She landed badly, her leg was dislocated.

The beast decided to take its time, and stalked her from a distance, slowly circling her like a vulture.

She gave up. She just cried as she knew she wouldn't ever even get her cutie mark, wouldn't have foals of her own or live a long, loving life.
The scene was pitiful, and anything with a heart would want to save or comfort the poor filly, to give her reprise from the harsh reality, but sadly, the gods abandoned the land eons ago.

Feed. Must feed.
Meat tripped. Meat weak.
Meat cry. Meat afraid.
Meat ready. Master pleased? give more meat?
Feed. Rush.
Pounce!
"Thwack"

The wolf miscalculated, not noticing the newcomer with a large tree branch.

Clemens, for his merit, ran, but to the sound of the screams, not away.
He picked up a stick he saw and swung under the beast as it fell to chestnut, catching it straight in the jaw with the heavy blunt end of the stick and following through until it went flying.
Unknowingly, the boy just invented the game of golf with the wolf's head as a ball.

It recovered rather well for a few moments, then fell as the brain trauma set in.

Clemens looked to the surprised and still weeping pony and saw her leg was messed up.
He tried helping her up, but the beast soon began growling as it fully recovered itself.
He looked from the beast to the pony, and had only one thing to say.
"CURRE!"
Run.
Clemens then had the brilliant idea to pick up and carry Chestnut.
He certainly was strong enough under the circumstances, to carry her while running, it was helped that the wolf was staggering a bit.

Through the woods, over roots, under branches he ran,
His only thought was to get them as far away as humanly possible from the beast.
Her only thought was to cling to him for dear life.

They ran and ran until they could not run anymore, breaking out onto the road that ran through the forest and through even that to another clearing, where the trees grew too dense to pass.

They had to stop, and only then did they dare to look behind them, realizing they had no idea where they were.

They saw, to their horror, the beast still coming their way.
To say it was ugly would be as much of an understatement as to say it was horrifying.
It was livid,

it's eyes grew red, foam dripped out of its muzzle, the jaw, having been dislocated, opened wider than it's head would normally allow, making it all the more gruesome.

Clemens braced himself, grabbing a stick and kicking it, so as to splinter it, giving it a modestly sharp point.

There they stood, a valiant hero, spear in his grasp, and the horrendous monster coming upon them with an anger to burn at the very soul of its prey.

It charged, tearing up the earth as it's powerful claws, howling a horrible howl, distorted to sound almost ethereal and eldrich.

Clemens prayed to Mars to aid him in the coming battle, swearing to serve in a way seemingly fit, just if they could live through the day, it would be worth anything.

The prayers having been said, he followed by charging the beast with a roar of his own

"ROMA!"

"INVICTA!"

Suddenly, dashes of light flew into the side of the beast, and a large figure of red slammed into it, bulldozing it across the clearing and slamming it into a tree.
Clemens stood in shock, but quickly snapped out of this and ran back to chestnut to check if she was ok.
He saw more red things in the forest, moving towards the clearing from the road, but they were discussing something.

Meanwhile, the beast and newcomer were locked in a duel to the death.

the beast snapped at the newcomer as best it could while it was stuck in between a shield and a hard... Tree.

The newcomer stabbed at it as best he could with his dagger, having not yet drawn his proper sword.

The beast eventually figured out how to get out: it pushed against the tree with its powerful hind legs, forcing the shield and it's bearer to be knocked back.

The beast's gambit paid off, and the shield's owner stumbled back, unfortunately losing his blade in the hide of the beast.

Instead of drawing the sword, like a sane and rational being, he decided to cast away the shield and brandish his fists like a pugilist.

The beast kept on top of him, or at least tried to.
The target was too clever and sidestepped the jumping beast, bring its fist in contact with the good portion of the beast's jaw.

He felt the already loosened bone break, the jaw now was completely loosened from the skull, causing the beast to yelp in pain, and for the maw of the beast to hang limply.

The pugilist decided to be the attacker this time and, with a swift kick, struck once again the creature's head, inventing the game of international football with the same head as the ball.

The beast, now dazed again from yet more head trauma, began to stagger and fail, his bleeding and bruised brain faltering.

The attacker did not let up, however, and quickly began to grapple with the beast, beating the poor battered creature's head all the way.

In a spectacular finishing move, the pugilist's final blow was a punch to the jaw that finally loosened and severed the lower jaw from the skull of the beast.

The wolf was now the prey and it realized that it was dead for sure, but it wouldn't die alone and without master.
Master needed to be warned.

In a final gambit, it pushed with what it had left for energy, at least freeing it from the attacker.
Unfortunately for it, it couldn't move. It fell immediately, attempting now to crawl.

Must get away. Master. Please-

The pitiable show that followed was an echo to merely minutes ago when it had been the one looking down at a prey praying for mercy.

This irony was lost on all involved.

The triumphant fighter then picked up the remainder of the jaw and walked to the beast, himself exhausted.

The wolf looked back, into the eyes of his killer with pleading.

The predator looked down at his prey and felt a moment of pity, but quickly squashed this. He closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry"

He brought down the jaw, returning it to the owner with a display of the deepest color red.

The beast twitched for a few moments, but soon was mercifully released from its torment and grew still.

The man got back up, shaking from the adrenaline, and moved into the center of the clearing once more.

Clemens now saw him again, covered in blood not his own, and hardly recognized him as human.

But he was human indeed.

In fact,
He recognized him.

"Caspius?"

The man looked at him with wide eyes, recognizing him in return.

"Clemens?!"

They slowly walked closer to one another before embracing.

Tears spread, from both of them, relief at being alive and of seeing each other once more.

With a sniff, Clemens finally said what he had been hoping to say for a year

"(It's good to see you again brother.)"

Author's Note

*note on the Romans' views of Christianity and sexual relationships: despite claims by popular culture, the Romans were a very prudish people (this is best shown in that the root word prudens means wisdom)! And the Romans (particularly those in military service) had looked down on those who committed perverted or otherwise heinous acts (incestus) were looked down as lesser men (infamias) for not being able to keep their purity (chasta). Funny how the Latin language screws with our perception of things, huh? In addition, the views of Christianity were considered to be better than normally depicted, as there were lull periods in persecution, but rampant rumors due to misinformation. A good article on this subject can be found here http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/christianityromanempire_article_01.shtml.

Disclaimer: The author holds no hatred to whatever ethnic, racial, or religious groups mentioned or otherwise discussed in this story, any any insults to these mentioned groups come from outdated stereotypes and deliberate values dissonance and in no part reflect the views of the author or his compatriots.

Now back to the regular author's note:

...
Holy.
trifling.
iupiter
my dear readers, please forgive my horrible, HORRIBLE hiatus.
due to a mash of problems (a very demanding education, severe/hospitalizing sicknesses and a job or two) I have been forced away from my duty as a writer for you all.
I can not promise an immediate end to this hiatus, but I can promise this story will not die... it will just be catatonic and on hiatus...
one another hand, I do require a proof reader to point out and correct my mistakes as i go, which frees up time for me to write more.
Oh, and the naming of the Prime centurion (master of the camp) and the other agents are up to you guys, as i can't quite come up with suitably authoritative (badass) names.
Also.... Damn, capius has been having a... Very bloody day hasn't he?
At least he now gets to see his brother again.
I'll explain why this is in the next chapter....
prepare for total war, and as always, please assist in any way possible, point out mistakes or flaws (if indeed they are flaws.)
Until next time,
Acta non verba (deeds, not words)