Wra7hofAchilles
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Joined: 03 Jan 2008
Posts: 142
Location: Chicago, IL
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 Posted: Fri Jul 04, 2008 6:59 pm Post subject: Hunting Wolves II |
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Hunting Wolves II
:::::: A Week and a Half After The Roman March Reversed ::::::
For over a week Tiberius and the rest of the Danuvius legions remained stationary around the Quadi capital which was a rather small town. In their down time they managed to do some extra scouting and prepared as best as they could for what was to come. Tiberius had met several times with King Vidimir and managed to get him to commit eight thousand of his own troops for whatever Tiberius decided. Not very well trained, the new Quadi force was made up of young men plucked from their villages and forced to defend their king. They were reasonably trained and but few had anything better than leather armor; all were young and fresh; nevertheless they would be vital as the first wave and would provide plenty of confusion to the enemy. Germans were reckless fighters and could make a great mess of things quickly and Tiberius counted on that so his two elite legions could be right there to capitalize on that chaos.
As they waited to hear back from King Theodoric whom Tiberius had written to regarding the rogue legion; the proconsular, when not over seeing constant training or discussing things with King Vidimir, spent the rest of his time in private conversations with Cicero, Antonius and Pollo who never seemed to know when to leave. Today was no different as they sat in the command tent looking over a map of the land where the private legion sits. They were deep in discussion on what if scenarios. Not knowing what Theodoric would say had led them to all sorts of wild thoughts but Tiberius and Cicero remained the most grounded of the four and had boiled the dilemma down to two situations.
They would either have to go in, or draw the legion out.
“Judging from my conversations with Theodoric, it doesn’t look like the little prick will let us go on that land without making a fuss about it. I think we should prepare for the fact we will have to draw them out.” Tiberius said as he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of wine.
“Yeah, but you never know. I doubt he wants to deal with that legion himself, I think we should plan out both possibilities.” Antonius said with a confident look.
“Of course we have to plan for both, if we aren’t prepared for anything, we aren’t prepared at all.” Tiberius began. “However let’s start with if we have to draw them out…any ideas?” he asked as he tossed a grape into his mouth.
Cicero thought to himself, thinking of all those old battles he had read about; what needed to be done. “We need to know what they want, why are they here. That will be the key to drawing them out. We can safely assume that Theodoric doesn’t want these quasi Roman criminals in his land.” he paused. “Maybe he will rally the Sciri or bring his own men to push them out. If that is the case we must lay in wait, criminals run. I refuse to break a sweat chasing after these animals" Cicero mockingly stated.
“Well they are in Sciri land for a reason indeed, but I don’t think it’s because they are on the run so much that they are up to no good. A legion can’t stay on the run for long without its men needing payment, or food. Why they would pick the Quadi, I can only guess and I’m sure one of those guesses is right but I rather not speculate. The bottom line is, unless Theodoric goes in there himself; that legion is safe.” Tiberius said with a remorse look and continued, “No they won’t be driven out, but for whatever reason, they want the Quadi.”
Antonius sat up in his chair as if he had an idea, but then quickly sat back down as the idea seemed to leave him as quickly as it had came to him.
“We need to think of some way to make them think we left Quadi land and it’s safe for them to come out and play.” stated Tiberius.
Cicero cleared his throat and began, “We retreat back from the border far enough for the Quadi to maintain the prominent position, with the legions behind them. We need a hill, not a steep one but a large one. From there we line the peak with the Quadi and station our men down the opposite side of the hill or in a thicket close by. From the horizon the Quadi can be seen, they should attract attention and be as disorganized as a barbarian horde usually is.” he said smiling and turning toward Antonius, before continuing, “Not too much to ask of our fellow allies this time around.”
“I like it. They would never know what hit them.” Antonius said with a smile.
Tiberius shook his head in agreement too when all of a sudden a messenger arrived in the tent.
“Letter from King Theodoric, sir!" the messenger yelled as he saluted and handed the scroll to Tiberius who read it quickly, but there was no need. The message was short and to the point.
“Well I'll be damn!” Tiberius exclaimed in shock.
“What did he do it himself?” Antonius asked.
“Nope, he is letting us into Sciri land to do it ourselves.” Tiberius replied with surprise but yet somewhat pleased.
“What happened to his stance that is was ‘his land.’?” Cicero asked in a mocking way.
Tiberius smiled. “Same thing that happened when I told him it wasn’t his the first time. He acted like it was his but he elected not to go on it. Some call me a boy but Theodoric plays with people’s lives like it’s a child’s’ game.” Tiberius sighed, he felt like he was back at the academy and was dealing with childish selfishness.
“Well ok, looks like we get what we want at least, but Theodoric makes it clear not to go on Gothic land....and this time he means his actual acknowledged land...” Tiberius paused, “So!” he started as he sat up in his chair and clapped his hands together, “Thoughts?”
“Are the Sciri assisting the criminals?” Cicero asked.
“Unclear, but we should assume yes.” answered Tiberius.
“We need to split them then, I don’t want to have to rely on the Quadi.” Cicero insisted.
“Neither do I,” Antonius stated looking off for a moment in the direction of the Quadi lands, “there is nothing to rely on.”
“Oh trust me,” Tiberius interjected, “I am with you on that completely. However that’s the very reason why we shouldn’t split the force. If we split them we are faced with the Quadi running right away, and us either getting pushed back or overwhelmed. We need these extra bodies to offset the numbers. Plus they aren’t completely worthless, we can use them like auxiliary.” he pointed out.
“I mean we need to split the Goths from the criminals. Nothing a Goth likes more than an ambush and I don’t want to have to charge in. It would not be the ideal, but I still think we will win, but splitting the Goths from the criminals would be safer. Plus we can punish the Sciri and in some part Theodoric.” Cicero insisted as he sipped wine from his cup.
“Split the Goths from the criminals? How can you tell the difference? That blasted legion is nothing but Goths.” Antonius said as he spit on the ground, “More of Iovinianus’ wolves that seem to fester and plague the lands in and around our borders.”
“Well, as much as I would like to remove the Sciri myself, they are not our goal. We are here for the rouge legion. Imperator Raeus Honestus doesn’t want any problems with the Goths and I am not looking to be the man to create those problems.” Tiberius said, standing up to rub his eyes; a clear indication he was not happy with the orders and reluctantly accepted them.
“Gentleman I want to make this very clear. Our mission is the legion.” he paused to let it sink, “They are located at the north border of the Scirian lands. They are isolated and away from the Sciri. Our focus is on that legion. If the Sciri attack we can respond accordingly.” Tiberius commented.
Cicero looked out the window of the building they were in; this was enemy land and their home. “The Goths will protect their homes, their wives. We should attack a Sciri village. This will draw the Goths out to fight us alone. We won’t be fighting on their land, and if the criminals decide they rather fight then be separated by their Goth allies all the better. We need to select the town carefully, next to a hill. We can attack with one legion and station the Quadi force outside on top of the hill with our other legion to its side. Deciding whether to go in will certainly drive a wedge between the criminals and the Goths, from our perch we can wait and see what they do. We should tell the men no rape or physical exertion. They need to be fresh.”
Cicero smiled over his plan; he liked it. It inadvertently punished the Sciri for their aggression towards the Quadi. He might not have liked the Quadi but he respected their treaty and the Sciri could not go unpunished. “Also no taking of spoils before the battle.” he added now looking to his commander.
Tiberius sat back down and sighed. “Cicero,” he began in a low tone, “I agree the Sciri should be removed, but once again they are not our goal. Our mission is that legion. I will be damned if they will get away with their crimes. If we attack a village hours away from the rouge legion, they will have more than enough time to pack up and run. They have shown their worth when they ran in the face of the consequences for their action. I highly doubt they hold any allegiances to these Goths. If and only if the Sciri attack us first, will I ever permit any violence against them. I said it before, I rather be the bigger man and show Theodoric how a man does business then how a boy does it.”
A flash of rage gleaned over Cicero’s eyes. “The Sciri, Theodoric and those criminals need to be punished for the slights against our empire. And I don’t need to be reminded who is the bigger man, but Theodoric needs to be put in his place or he will keep pissing on us.” Cicero calmed down, realizing what he was doing and thus quickly remembered his place. “I am sorry for my attitude,” he stated, “but we had a treaty with the Quadi. If we do not punish the Sciri now I will some day, but you are right, the criminals die first.” Cicero added with a reluctant look on his face.
Tiberius had a stone cold look as he watched Cicero clam himself. “As much as I might agree with you Cicero, Honestus would disagree with you and ultimately it is not our choice. Our Imperator’s orders are clear Legate.” Tiberius said with a glair that said, debate over. “Now with that said, weather permitting, I want to march the last half day at night and get to the legion camp at dawn. It’s important we get the jump on them and for as long as they have been on the run, I doubt discipline is well maintained.”
Cicero sank back in his chair, picked up his wine and took a deep gulp. “We should be able to get there in time before the Goths have mobilized, swift and precise.”
“Exactly.” the proconsular agreed, “All Sciri aid would come from the south, therefore our focus will be the north and west gate which face nothing but forest. I want to have a larger then normal reserve for this attack and place them at the south and east to not only watch the south and east gates but to also be there waiting for when or if the Sciri come running up to fight. For the most part, we will keep Roman and Quadi forces apart. Only time I want to see a Roman cohort with a Quadi is either when we have won the battle and meet in the center of the camp, or if I send one in to keep them from breaking and running.” Tiberius jested as orders and battle plans spilled from his head like water out of a fountain.
For the rest of the evening, the officers debated and finalized their war plans and hoped when all was said and done they would have eliminated many roving, wild wolves in the wild.
:::::: Meanwhile; Sciri Territory, Longhouse of Optimate Retemeris ::::::
Retemeris slouched in his throne chair with his right elbow bent upward, his fist supporting his head.
He was in deep thought.
Nothing had seemed to be going right since the start of the last Gothic war. The faithful and strong had been shattered by Roman arms and their filthy Amali allies. Their Queen, the widow of Sava the Great, had been chased and beaten into submission and then suicide by King Theodoric. Their princess and the hope of their people, Arevagni, had been taken as a captive of Theodoric and forced to be his bride. Their last royal Amalafrida, had turned from a virtuous fighter and leader against Rome and the Amali to become the pet and personal whore to their most hated and strongest foe, ‘The Roman Wolf’ or as they preferred to call him, ‘Der Dämon’; now the ‘Gothic Witch’ rears his cubs that she bore and forsakes her true people. Truly, it was dark days.
He sat, contemplating his position when an aide came to him.
“Lord Retemeris,” began the aide, “the witch’s familiar is here…”
Retemeris sat up and gave a scornful look toward his aide before nodding his head and reluctantly motioning with his hand to give him entrance.
A moment later Harsa Silvimarus, dressed like a Roman legate, entered the presence of the Sciri lord with two guards who stood near the door who themselves were watched by armed men in the hall. Harsa stood quietly and with grin on his face.
Retemeris though despised the man and could only guess at what he had to say. “What do you want?”
“Tell me Lord Retemeris…” Harsa asked as he put his hands behind his back and slowly paced side to side, “…how would you feel to an alliance?”
The comment caught the optimate off guard and his shock quickly faded to him bursting out in laughter. He laughed for a minute, while the young Harsa remained still with an unwavering smile.
“I must say,” Retemeris started, “for an Amali who panders to Romans and traitors you have a sense of humor.”
“Well I’m so very glad I can entertain you.” Harsa replied before adding, “And I am always humbled by your ‘mighty walls’ that has such a ‘fierce and large’ army defending them.”
The sharp sarcasm made Retemeris cease his laughter; he glared at Harsa.
“Forgive me for wasting your time ‘Oh Great Lord’,” Harsa said, mockingly bowing to him, “I will leave your presence since my offer is of such hilarity.”
He turned to leave and Retemeris stood in anger and shouted, “How dare you insult me you dog!” Retemeris paused before adding, “I should have your head!”
The Scirian guards put their hands on their weapons and Harsa, with his back to the optimate commented, “You insult me ‘Lord’ Retemeris.” he commented with some distaste.
Harsa turned to face the Gothic noble and added with a cold tone, “Your men do not scare me, not when I have such men at my side.”
His comment made his guards partially unsheathe their blades; an indication that his legion would come upon them with swift vengeance should the need arise.
Harsa became quiet for a moment, and after some strenuous silence spoke up, “I suggest you read this...”
He extended his hand with a note held in it. Retemeris glanced to his aide who took it from him and handed it to his lord who opened it and read its contents. He looked up a bit quizzically, asking, “…coming here?”
Harsa nodded with a wry grin, “How bout it Lord Retemeris…” he stated, “…a little payback for the war?”
Retemeris crushed the note in his hands and walked over to Harsa and extends his arm in a warriors shake, quietly stating, “For a chance to kills Romans…” he began, “…we can make an arrangement.”
Harsa took the optimate’s arm and smiled adding, “Then let us plan our move.”
A short time later, Harsa was riding back to his legion to get them on the move and ready for the ambush of the Roman legions. One of his officers who had waited outside turned to his legate and asked, “Sir? Are you sure this will work?”
Harsa, his handsome face turning to his officer in smile said nothing for a moment before finally answering with, “Only in the tales that humans tell do the hunters kills the wolves in the end.”
:::::: The Next Day; Roman Encampment ::::::
The sun was just on the rise as the black night was beaten off by the light gray of the new morning. The Army of the Danuvius which consisted of Legionis VIII Gemina Macedonica and XXVI Confringatrix had already formed up and were prepared to march out on the orders of Tiberius Varro, who sat high on his horse in a circle with Antonius and Cicero as they awaited the arrival of the Quadi reinforcements.
“I am not expecting much from them. Vidimir promised me eight thousand men but with only three years to rebuild, I don’t think they will be worth much...” Tiberius paused, “…consider them weak auxiliary or fodder.” he said factually.
“Tiberius, they weren’t much better three years ago.” Antonius said with a smile.
As the Generals talked as the Quadi reinforcements arrived. Soon Tribune Gaius Marcellus approached with a tall lurch looking German who had scruffy hair down to his shoulders and a mustache that fell over the rest of his beard; combined it looked like a miniature forest on his chin. The commander flung his ax over his shoulder and took off a battered and used up helmet which looked like something he scavenged from a battlefield.
“General, this is Commander Edekon. He has been put in command of the Quadi allied force.” the tribune stated as he saluted and walked away.
The young group of generals looked up and down the tall intimidating German and finally Tiberius broke the silence, speaking in broker Western Germanic, “Salve commander, welcome to our campaign. I trust you have been brought up to date?”
Edekon stood there in silence as he just stared back with a somewhat dumbfounded look.
Soon Tiberius realized that, that was the commander’s natural look so he quickly added. “Did you hear me solider?”
Edekon finally shook his head in compliance.
“Good man. I trust you’re ready to fight for your life, your home, and your family. That legion is a threat to us all.”
Edekon’s face turned as his dumbfounded look turned to a blind rage. Instantly the stonewall like German picked up his dirty rusted helmet in both hands and without warning he crushed it in his hands like a melon. Antonius’ jaw dropped as he watched this waste of armor while Cicero smiled and Tiberius kept a cool face.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Tiberius said as Edekon shook his head yes and instantly turned around and walked off making sure to take the helmet off of another Quadi warrior lucky enough to have one.
“You gotta admit, he’s got spunk.” Antonius said as he watched the tower of a German struggle to get his new helmet on his head.
“Yeah, I hate spunk.” Tiberius said as he turned around with a concerned look on his face.
:::::: Later that Day While on the March ::::::
Maccius Cicero Disius walked among his men on the march to the lands of the Sciri, aside from swapping war stories, talking about women and fights in taverns his goal was to tell the men who exactly they were marching to destroy, and why this had become so important for him. He had begun to speak with Gaius over the affair.
“These men are well trained and fight like Romans, this will not be easy with us marching with the Quadi.” Cicero said in an almost derisive fashion.
"True general.” the tribune replied, “Nobody wants to fight a battle with men as green as grass.”
Some silence passed between the two as they exhaled loudly and looked about the area.
“I was speaking with one of the scouts.” Gaius stated, “He said that they were carrying the ‘Wolf’s’ standards.”
Cicero nodded grudgingly.
“Yes, these are the very men who destroyed a consular legion.” The men within earshot began to cringe; legionaries and officers alike knew the sacrilege of destroying the army of a consul. This fact had more of an impact on Cicero than the rest. “The first consular legion, Minerva…defeated in battle, serving our Empire.”
He sighed and shook his head.
“I was a tribune in Minerva for two years, I had friends there. Good friends…” he paused in remembrance, “they were the ones that showed me how a legion works, introduced me to army life. They died, every one of them.”
As his hands started to shake he steadied them on his sword, before calming down. “Since the day I heard I wished I would come up against them and exact the justice they deserve.”
“Legatus, we will do our very best. I hope I will never know the emotions you carry.” Gaius said with respect.
“Gaius,” the general began, “you never think about the men on the other side of the battlefield, your hand grips your shield and you do your duty. I will always do that and if I can die believing I did the right thing I will not hesitate before I charge in with sword in hand.”
Cicero walked to his horse; mounted it, and then bellowed, “We will be brave, we will be strong and most of all we will honor the memory of those who have fallen by avenging their deaths.”
His throat feeling dry, he rode somewhere he could be relatively alone. He had done what needed to be done, the story of their legate and Minerva would disseminate up and down the line.
He needed these men to know what he felt, to understand it; so when the time came he would be rewarded with the honor he had staked in them.
:::::: Nightfall; Sciri Territory; Two Days Later ::::::
The allied army had been on the march for two days straight; only stopping at night, that is, except for today. The moon was not at it’s peak but it still cast its beams down to all and the men made their prayers to Diana and Luna, to ensure they allowed their light to continue.
19,000 men began the slow but steady march through the thick woods of the Sciri lands to arrive at their destination at first light; with the hope they caught the enemy completely by surprise. It was a risky endeavor no doubt but the potential payoff was too much to not gamble with the Fates.
The Quadi had been given the lead in the march. Afterall, this technically was their land and they should know their own woods but it was becoming apparent they were almost as lost as the Romans and so, the going was slow; yet, they were on course and headed directly for the rogue legion.
Cicero, atop his grey and white horse, moved with elegant grace. The animal had been with him since Persia and was fast and nimble unlike the horses normally found in the region. He stroked the dark black mane while talking to Gaius who, like Cicero, was luxuriating in the saddle of his horse. Marcellus was a relatively untried man having joined the legion after the Persian War. He had not faced a foe in battle, and while the men liked him and enjoyed his company they were still unsure if his nerve would hold when the moment came. Cicero was hoping that Marcellus would prove himself a man made for battle; he sensed that the boy had an aura for destiny. Whether that was positive or negative was yet to be proven.
Cicero was telling him about the meeting of the other officers a few nights back and approaching the part where he lost his temper, he looked directly at Gaius waiting to see his reaction.
“Legatus, you should not argue with your superior so defiantly with raised voice.” Marcellus advised, only after the words left his mouth had he noticed that he had just told his commander how to act.
“Stand easy solider, one thing you can do around me is too speak your mind and you are right…in part”, Cicero smiled while putting the man as ease. “You should not yell at your superior, now this here is very true, but never be afraid to tell him he is wrong, never be afraid to speak your mind.”
“Do you think the proconsular was wrong?” the officer asked.
“No, I was wrong,” Cicero began, “I forgot for a moment… I forgot...” Cicero’s words trailed a bit as he looked about the forest, his eyes squinting as if he was trying to look at something far into the distance.
“Sir?” Gaius started, looking a bit concerned, “Is… is everything alright?”
Cicero halted his horse and looked with grim eyes into the forest and quietly responded, “Something’s not right…”
At that moment the quiet night air was shattered by the loud, thundering roar of the ‘Barritus’; the Germanic and Gothic War Cry.
And with that, suddenly the entire area turned into one hellish nightmare.
“Ambush!” yelled Cicero from his horse as all around the army the deafening cries of warriors arose. Almost immediately the sounds of battle, clashing swords, clanging shields and moans and wails of men suddenly followed in a rising chorus. They had walked into a trap.
“Quickly! Quickly! Bring the men up into line! Get them into line now!” Cicero yelled as he tried to move his horse through the thick woods to get to his cohorts; but moving so fast was nigh impossible.
Tiberius had been discussing a possible situation with Antonius when the terrible cry crashed into the night and sent the world around him into complete chaos.
Tiberius, frozen for but a moment, sprang into action. Since he was near the rear of the column, he had much more maneuverability unlike the Quadi who were in the lead or even Cicero who was between them.
“Defensive formations! Defensive formations!” he yelled as he pulled hard on his reigns to get his horse into speed; moving along VIII Gemina Macedonica he started to arrange them into battle lines and it was clearly apparent even this elite unit would take some time getting onto line. Not because they were incapable, but because the terrain would not allow for rapid movement.
The moans and wails of dying men flooded the ears of the Romans and even elite soldiers felt uneasy. Not so much because they were afraid of the enemy, but because they could not clearly see their threat. A soldier’s worst fear is to not know where the threat to their lives comes from and all they hear are comrades or allies dying around them.
The Quadi to the front seemed to be getting the worst of the attack, the sounds of battle making it seem they were getting torn apart from all directions and angles.
Cicero, in the front with his legion and closest to the Quadi, realized he had to get to them if they wanted to have any allies left and so, dismounting his horse so he could move with faster speed, came to the front of the legion with a clear look of determination in his eyes.
“Cohortes! On my lead!” he bellowed out to the echelon cohorts of his legion, his sword raised high to catch their attention, before turning around and briskly moving at the quick step forward toward the chaos and anarchy of the night.
Tiberius had been trying hard to get his men into battle lines and to advance the legion to support her sister unit just ahead of them, but things were hectic at best. Tiberius was blind and did not know what was going on, only the sounds of battle gave anything away.
He pulled an aide to his side and with a stern and clear voice ordered, “Tribune!” he waited, “Ride ahead and find Legatus Disius! I must know what is going on!”
“Yes sir, at once sir!” came the apprehensive reply from aide before saluting and rearing his horse toward the front.
Tiberius looked about frantically for a moment for his lieutenant. “Antonius? Antonius!”
“Sir!” came the loud reply as the man came to his side.
“Antonius, there’s a small clearing not too far to our right flank. Move the cavalry and a few cohorts into it and try and rapidly advance to the front or swing around to it. We’re gonna try and rescue our beleaguered brothers to the north.” he ordered, “We’ll break’em if we can just get up into line.”
“At once proconsular!” Antonius saluted sharply as he grunted loudly to get his horse to move off at high speed to his task.
Tiberius looked around for a moment and was about to issue another order when suddenly the cry of battle came from his left flank. The enemy had now reached his lines.
He turned toward it and gritted his teeth before unsheathing his sword to move toward the fighting with his loyal men around him.
“Roma Victrix!” he yelled to the bodyguard around him as he charged toward his flank to take personal command of the battle that was quickly erupting along the left.
Cicero had moved ahead and ran smack into routing Quadi as they darted into all directions, hoping to survive. Their panic induced retreat only made things worse as they began to run straight into Roman lines dislodging the Roman lines and breaking its cohesion. Some in such a panic even began to attack the Romans they ran into, either because they did not know where they were and just became in a panicked frenzy, or because they actually thought they were fighting the enemy. Afterall, the enemy was similar equipped and fought just like Roman legions.
Cicero was quickly finding it frustrating as he had to shove and push young Quadi done to the ground or out of his way. At one point, he had to even spill the blood of young Quadi who came brandishing weapons at his person.
As legionaries began to fight off frenzied Quadi who had become crazed and fought their Roman allies, other Quadi began to fight back, coming to the false conclusion that Rome had turned on them. As Cicero fought back the surge of allies who were breaking their lines to run for their lives or now fight them, it was then that the Sciri came in crashing right behind them and used to full advantage the chaos the Quadi were causing in their rout.
Cicero had time to look up before he saw the large Goth fall upon him with axe in hand; as it was in its downswing, Cicero raised his shield to defend himself and when the two connected, the shield shattered and splintered and Cicero found himself without a shield with a towering Goth over him. Cicero grunted in rage as adrenaline coursed through him and he steeled himself for a fierce fight.
Antonius moved a good portion of the cavalry and some cohorts into the open field to try and swing north to aid the Quadi but once they had come out into the open, warcries erupted around them as cavalry descended onto Antonius and his forces in a swift attack. Antonius yelled to get his men into action and as he turned to look back at the charging force he was struck violently across the face by a blunt object sending him crashing to the hard ground in a heavy thud. The Gothic horseman, in heavy armor, swung his mace as he rotated his wrist quickly. He looked down at the unconscious Roman legatus and turned to engage another cavalryman who was exiting the woods.
Anarchy reigned supreme that night, and suddenly, the hunters had become the hunted.
Scenario Results:
The Roman and Quadi force were ambushed and attacked during the night march resulting in a defeat, which luckily did not turn into a massacre for the legions.
Casualties:
Quadi: The allied force is nearly wiped out and suffer the worst in the entire battle; only a few hundred remain by morning after the retreat and regroup of the Roman forces. Other survivors either rout and run away or are taken prisoner.
Roman: The legions suffered nearly 30% in losses of men killed and another 10% each in wounded, but who will recover from their wounds; it will just take some time.
Legio VIII Gemina Macedonica: Estimated at just over 1800 in losses. (Nearly 4600 men still under arms and battle ready; including cavalry)
Legio XXVI Confringatrix: Estimated at just over 3400 in losses. (Nearly 3000 men still under arms and battle ready; including cavalry)
(I can’t give exact numbers cause of the Garrison Page is down, sorry)
Sciri: Unknown, but rumored to be minor or minimal at worst.
Rogue Legio III Iunia Gothicorum: Unknown but reportedly very light.
Maccius Cicero Disius suffers a torso injury; it is not fatal but it will leave a mark for the rest of his life and he is out of strenuous action for some time.
Written by: Neos Dionysos, Augustus Tiberius Varro and Maccius Cicero Disius
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Neos Dionysos - Phil
Senior GM
Military, Barbarian Affairs, and Cultural Specialist GM
"John," (GMJOM), "keeps me around cause I amuse him with stories..."
aka "The Fun/Nice GM" or "The Asshole GM"
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