MID-CAMPAIGN EVENT, 218BC

*** The Battle of West Arno, 27th of Sextilis 218 BC ***

Rome's air-tight containment of Hannibal has been broken!

Following the emergence of information on the Carthaginian's intent, Legatus Quintus “Sulpicius” Cursor abandoned his position along the Western Arno river to prevent the impending massacre of Imperator Gnaeus Fabius Pictor's legions in the east.

Without Cursor's sudden re-deployment, the Imperator would have faced an army beyond the rational skill of his men.

***

"The Roman dogs have swarmed the area," Mago spat, wiping away the heat of the Italian summer from his brow. "We'll pay dearly to cross."

Hannibal inclined his head slightly, as he stared at the map laid before him. The Carthaginian officers joining him in his make-shift war room held total silence, for they knew his mind was running a thousand furlongs a minute. Such was his way.

"We can break them," Hannibal said at last. "Rome, I mean. We can cast them all to the fire this day, so that they may never recover."

Mago was at a loss. He loved Hannibal, as all good Carthaginian men did, but the man had a way of being vague and often condescending. Still, it would be ill if a commander's right hand man did not weigh in.

"Yes, my friend, we could. But the river is too heavily defended, though it is shallow. We might break the Romans, but our losses will be irrecoverable," Mago said, hoping he'd not upset the hero's temperment.

Hannibal entered another spree of intense silence, and it seemed to Mago that his words fell on an absent mind.

"Four, five Legions oppose us," said Hannibal. "So who is left to oppose your men in the West?"

"No one," Mago shot. "But they'll soon be on us, if we try to cross. It's a day's march from here, after all. We'll be trapped, with half our army on one side of the water, and the other half left behind."

Hannibal smiled, and his eyes suddenly beamed with life. He had returned from the vast expanse of his tactical mind.

"Cross the river, Mago. Kill whoever opposes you, and show no mercy. Let the Veneti blood themselves against the Consul and his men at the Rubicon pass," he said. "In two days, I will march my army into the west, and we will join you. It's time to find out just how organised our enemy is, and how quickly they can move."

"But my friend," Mago stuttered, more than said, "they'll be on us before we can consolidate."

"Yes, they may well be," Hannibal smirked, as if Mago's foretelling of doom held no relevance. "Half the Roman army- a loss even these scoundrels can't afford to replace. Get me over that river, Mago, and Carthage will win this war before the onset of winter."

---

Mago of Iberia, a noble son of Carthage, has breached the minor defences left behind by the Bastards of Rome on the Western Arno. He has secured the southern banks of the river, and his men are entrenching. In the distance, Hannibal's vast horde is descending from the hills to reinforce him.

Imperator Gnaeus Fabius Pictor, with the Bastard of Rome, has arrived on the scene. The Roman army must drive Mago back across the river, and deny Hannibal the crossing - failure to do so, will allow Carthage to pour its hordes into Italy.

Roman Army

Commander: Imperator Gnaeus Fabius Pictor

Legio XII Mineruia (Comprised of three legions)

Legio VIII: Spurii Romanae (Comprised of two legions)

Legio Sexta Ferrata (Comprised of one legion)

Total Men Est: 31,000

Carthaginian Army

Commander: Mago of Iberia

Gallic Warband: 10,000
Gallic Archers: 1,000
Libyan Spearmen: 3,000
Iberian Sword Infantry: 2,000

Total: 16,000

Hannibal's Horde

Commander: Hannibal of Barca

Iberian Infantry: 10,000
Gallic Mercenary Warband (Spears, light armour): 15,000
Numidian Cavalry (Light): 2,000
Libyan Cavalry (Heavy): 500
War Elephants: 23
Gallic Mercenary Archers: 2,000
Leuce Epos (Light Cavalry): 2,000 Leuce Epos

Total: 31,500

De initio

“Form up those ranks, Ironclad!” Lealius yelled across the century of triarii.

The elite veterans of the VI Legion reacted automatically to the Pilus Prior’s command, cleaning up the lines of the maniple’s phalanx into orderly rows. The tips of their iron-tipped spears shone dully in the mid-morning light—a forest of deadly intent marching towards the Carthaginian lines.

Lealius looked ahead to the offset ranks of hastate and princepes that preceded his triarii. This main body of the legion was formed with a broad wedge at its center, with the maniples of legionaries set with a strong center to force their way through the entrenched Carthaginians. The Pilus Prior could see little detail as his comrades advanced towards their objective; the inexorable cloud of dust and haze that accompanied the march of the legion obscured his vision.

The Legio Sexta Ferrata was formed at the western flank of the Roman advance, with the rest of their brethren legions arrayed along the southern edge of the Arno River to their right. Even now, amidst the cloud of dust churned from the feet of thousands of soldiers, Lealius could still see the glimmer of the sea some distance off to his left. It was a heartening sight, and he found that it bolstered his grim spirit even as the first ranks of the velites made contact with the entrenched enemy.

Lealius’ attention was drawn skyward as the first deadly arcs of Gallic arrows leapt forward to assail the advancing maniples of the VI Legion wedge. The triarii were in place well out of archery range, and Lealius intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. If the triarii were needed to the front, it would be for Legatus Titus Pomponius Philo to decide. Until then, Lealius would hold his station.

“All halt!” Lealius called. The signalmen took up the Pilus Prior’s command, and the triarii skillfully arrested their march. Without a further order, the legionaries bent down upon their right knees, resting themselves for the rigors that may yet come.

For now, it was up to their brothers at the front.

Medius

“To me! To me!” Pomponius cried, his gladius raised above his head. Around him, the legionaries of the Legion Sexta Ferrata roiled in the barely controlled chaos of a tactical withdraw. It was the second time the wedge of the VI Legion had been repulsed by the heavily dug in Carthaginians on the western flank of the line, and the Legatus vowed it would be the last.

Calls of “To the Legatus!” and “Form ranks! Form ranks!” could be heard echoing through the cluster of hastati and princepes. The air was thick with smoke, dust, and falling arrows. Pomponius growled in determined frustration, very near the embodiment of the wolf that adorned his back.

“My Legatus! Sir, you are too close,” yelled the captain of Pomponius’ personal guard. The legionnaire did his best to position himself in front of his legate, attempting to shield the man from the rain of falling Gallic missiles. “Please, sir, withdraw behind the triarii!”

As if to emphasize the guard’s imploration, an arrow buried itself into the earth beside Pomponius’ foot. The shaft was painted a light brown, with an alternating pattern of black and light brushes of white. It was a pattern all too familiar to the soldiers of Rome, and its intent was known just as assuredly. The arrow was painted to mirror the skin of the Asp Viper, a common and deadly feature of Italy’s fauna. Though it could be just a tool to incite fear, it was just as likely that the arrow’s tip had been coated with the viper’s cursed venom.

“Form up, damn you!” Pomponius roared to the captain, his ire rising at the sight of the arrow. “The triarii are moving to their objective even now. We must press the attack to give them the chance they require.”

The captain spoke no further protest to his commander, and fell into step along with his brothers. Even amongst the chaos, the constant training and the hard-won lessons of combat were allowing the legionaries of the VI Legion to rally into yet another organized fighting force. It was time for a final push. The triarii, and the cavalry that supported them, needed their swords—and they would have them.

---

The Legio Sexta Ferrata had formed themselves upon the western flank of the combined Roman force. Mago’s army, while numerically inferior, had used their advance across the Arno to the utmost, and had heavily fortified their positions along the southern expanse of the river. In response, the VI Legion had deployed in a classic fashion, with the ranks of the hastati and princepes arrayed into a wedge. Behind the wedge, the triarii were formed into their traditional offset maniples. The cavalry, lightly armored as it was, was set in reserve.

As the battle began, the VI Legion advanced, and the wedge was twice repulsed by the Carthaginians. For a time, the western flank of the Roman attack was vulnerable, as the VI Legion fought to reorganize itself following their initial lack of a breakthrough. In a valiant effort, Legatus Pomponius joined the ranks of his legion, and led his men in a last effort to create an opening into the Carthaginian rear.

With the body of the VI Legion pressing along the western lines of the Carthaginians, Pomponius ordered his trarii to advance in force, supported by the cavalry, upon the eastern edge of VI Legion’s action area. This swift press allowed the triarri to break the lines of the Carthaginians, and wheel to the west in an effort to support their legion’s attack. The cavalry advanced through the hole punched by the triarii, and set themselves up to press eastward towards the bulk of the Carthaginian force.

While this maneuver succeeded in breaking an opening in the Carthaginian line, without swift support on the VI Legion’s right flank from the other Romans deployed eastward, it would be possible for Mago to advance into the short axis of the VI Legion’s right flank, and possibly separate them from the support of their fellow legions.

Aulus came into the tent on their field of battle near the river reporting in for the legatus on the strength of his men and to give him any ideas he might need to help defend this position they had. Aulus went into the tent then looked to his legatus for this fight before saying "legatus my men are ready for the fight to come, with my cavalry (sorry forgot the roman name for horsemen) all that be needed is for my men to hold a position so that the enemy is stuck where they are before my cavalry charge in and flank them thereby making them scramble to reform their formation before my men charge in and pick them off before they get that chance. If you have other plans for my cavalry and legionnaires then please let me know. I am merely stating how my men are accustomed to handling defensive missions like this" Aulus said as he took his spot near the map so that the legauts can go through his strategy for the battle, it was the first time Alus was going into a fight of this many men and having someone else lead his legion.

Alus has earned renown on the battlefield for how he uses his men in strategic defense and while the men are used to it that doesn't mean that they wont be able to take the offensive if ordered to do so. Alus waits for the legatus to say his strategy...

Aulus understood his orders to make sure he got the attention of the opposing forces when the battle would commence. He left to collect the extra legionaries that the legatus gave to Aulus and he set up his position at the left flank, with the extra legionaries that the legatus provided his legion will have a better chance of using their hit and run strategy to their fullest.

Aulus went to his men and started to give them a speech "alright legionaries their lies our enemy! they will not stop till they hit your homes, they will try and beat us down and attack our women and our children. Don't let these Carthaginian bastards get through! our strength as a legion will destroy them are you with me!" as the men cheered they got into their positions. the legionnaires got ready as the cavalry were in the front ready to take their full charge and then the legion would follow after them to attack the enemy while the cavalry fell back to charge back into the fray and cause a bigger commotion.

"To confess, I had hoped for prideful reasons that my maneuver on the Rhone would have convinced Hannibal I was no mere politican in the vestments of a soldier, but it appears he insists on underestimating me, to Rome's benefit." Argentus narrowed his keen eyes as he mused. "Skill, I will not deny, Carthage has in abundance in Hannibal particularly. That Alpine crossing required superhuman generalship, and his men have such resolute confidence in him that even tired from a march that would make Xenophon faint that he beat Sempronius with ease. I will freely admit that if war were an even, intellectual contest, Hannibal would best me every time. But men are the canvas on which to display that martial skill, and Hannibal is wasting no small quantity of the few Cisalpine soldiers he has on the wager that we will remain stationary and wait for the Veneti to meander their way to us, allowing him to execute whatever brilliancy he has planned. Maybe he's right, but let's see if we can't prove him wrong."

Argentus bent his six foot frame and leaned on the table, studying the terrain carefully. "Doubtless he has told them to march with leisure. We shall fall upon them like a tidal wave and crush them against the Aegis of the Roman Legion, and then proceed west to pressure Hannibal back to the relative safety of Gallia Cisalpina."

He straightened once again, mindful to avoid a tent crossbeam. From a small bag, he withdrew an epistle from Imperator Pictor and read it aloud. When he finished, he folded it and gently tossed it on the table.

"Well, Toxilius, what do you think we ought do after we resolve the Veneti? Give me your appraisal of our situation."

Toxilus felt the heat in his face as it reddened. He was more familiar with simply being told what to do, and to carry it out no matter what the cost. Someone, a Consul no less, requesting his opinion on matters was a seldom opportunity.

"It is as you say, Consul, we would be foolish to wait for those Veneti goat herds to come to us - not when we have the advantage in strength of arms," he said, making an effort to fix the Consul's eyes with his own. "We've been on the defensive for most of this war, and were it in my power, I would perhaps be pressing towards some offensive action."

Toxilus moved a hand to the map of northern Italia, and started to manoeuvre the lead figurines denoting Rome's Legions and Hannibal's armies.

"As you say, Hannibal's crossing of the Alps was a colossal feat," he spoke, as he pushed the Consul's army into the Veneti King's rabble. "And here, at the rivers, he will attempt something similar. He's in charge of what we're doing; he dictates everything. He moves one way, we follow, he moves back, we'll chase him that way. This will go on, and on, and on if he wills it to. I do not like it. It's almost as if he's playing for time, or expecting us to become frustrated with him, and go on the attack ourselves."
Toxilus knocked over the Veneti army, and pushed the Consul's legions over the river. "In either case, what Hannibal has is mobility and the initiative. Even if we defeat him at the Arno, he'll simply - as you have said - retreat into the north, and come at us again in a month's time, unless we chase him back into the Alps. I propose we smash the Veneti - perhaps not pursue into oblivion, but rather, let them break and flee." Toxilus moved the Consul's army westwards, upon Hannibal's rear. "Then we could hard march west, and trap him before he can make good his escape - or at the very least, force him into giving battle on neutral terms... though with you on the right, and Pictor on the left, I don't see how even Hannibal could hope to win against you both."

Stepping back from the table, Toxilus gave a short bow. "But I am not as skilled in strategical matters, as I am in tactical ones. I defer to your judgement, and am ready to march my men right into Hannibal's camp if it's what you want of me."