Age:
41

Sex:
Male

Military Rank:
Primus Pilus of the 13th Legion

Appearance:
Servius is arguably one of the most terrifying men serving in the 13th Legion. He is a military veteran of numerous campaigns across the Empire. The man is a born killer; one of those who you would say was born with the "warrior spirit". Standing nearly six feet and weighing in at a staggering 230 pounds, he is a huge man by all accounts. Broad in the shoulders and light on his feet, he has earned the many scars that crisscross his body, and the retirement that a return home promises him.

Personality:
Like many men of the Legion he tends to distance himself from those who have never shared the dangers he has. He is efficient in his work, quick to criticize someones poor work, and then provide them the tools and knowledge to fix their shortcomings. He is often very serious but once you can crack the iron shell you will find a man who loves animals, wants to go home and joined the Legion to serve the Empire.

Equipment:
Sword, shield, pilum, entrenching tool, etc.

Skills:
Combat veteran, calm under pressure, skilled leader, excellent swordsman, ruthless, speaks Latin well, a smattering of other languages partially.

Flaws:
Treats most problems as something to be hit with a hammer, doesn't do politics at all, believes everyone has Romes best interest at heart.

Backstory:
Servius is the son of a whore and has no idea who she is, or was. He grew up on the streets of Corduba, in the Roman Province of Hispania. The first ten years of his life were spent begging, fighting, and surviving on the streets of the provincial capital until the gods saw fit to see him into the Legion. He eventually made his way into the 13th Legion at the age of fifteen.

For the next 25 years he fought his way across the Empire, serving in every major campaign, rising in rank as his skills increased. During the Quadi Rebellion he distinguished himself in taking on command of his unit after the Optio was killed. He salvaged what would have otherwise been a debacle and secured the potential weakness in the line. In true Roman fashion he was rewarded for his hard work with more work, and a promotion.

He showed a natural affinity for leading soldiers and as the Empire continued to expand he earned promotions and accolades from his superiors until, at twenty years of service, he became the Legions Primus Pilus, or ranking foot solider.

Most recently he was riding between garrison posts when he and his escort were attacked by a superior number of Germanic raiders. Never one to shy from a fight, Servius led his outnumbered men in a charge against the Germans and engaged their leader in single combat. Despite being older by near on twenty years, who slew the barbarian with savage ease that so shocked the rest of the raiders they were butchered with ease.

Now the Legion is bound for home and Servius is looking to retire to find a place to call his own.

Age: XXIII

Sex: Masculum

Military Rank: Tribunus Laticlavius XIII

Appearance: Marcus is taller than the most of his people allowing him to look down on most he meets. He has broad shoulders formed from years of wearing the heavy armor of the legions. His hair is a bit longer than legion regulation, but not from disregard of policy but merely no time. He has hazel eyes and dark brown hair that is fairly curly.

Personality: Marcus is a tough but fair commander. While he expects his orders to be carried out with the utmost competence, he is understanding when given a valid reason for failure. For those Marcus doesn't care about he sees them as assets and problems rather than full people. This is how Marcus thinks on the battlefield, constantly calculating what certain assets are worth and the price he should pay at the current moment.

Skills: Marcus is a skilled swordsman and brawler due to his size and good instincts. His true skill is his exceptional tactical ability. That is what makes him appear a promising future commander to the senate. He can quickly make decisions that will affect many lives without much hesitation.

Flaws: He has trouble not just going by instinct and plays things by the cuff of his sleeve. Often thinking his first idea will be his best idea he rarely second guesses himself or thinks things over for too long. He also has no interest in politics, which if he dabbled in he might do well due to his family connections. While able to give rousing speeches he is no Caesar with the ability to inspire 2 farmers to fight an entire legion with nothing but manure.

Backstory: A long time ago Marcus’s ancestors were a fairly wealthy line of senators. During Sulla’s reign of terror his family had managed to lar low and not lose their heads. Their fortune turned for the better when they sided with Caesar’s faction in the civil war, and later on aided Octavion in his fight against the murderers. Having chosen the right faction they became one of the most powerful families overnight. The sons of the family became great statesmen and powerful generals, while the daughters spread their influence and gained vast sums of gold.

Now quite a time later their influence has waned. While not weak in any way, ever since the bloodline of Octavian lost the throne they have not held as much sway. Marcus is the promising second son of the head family. His older brother became a senator like his father, and his younger siblings seem to be intent on partying their wealth away. It is Marcus alone who has chosen the path of the sword and shield. Serving for a short time as a sub tribune in the 9th legion he was transferred out after four years.

His father then used his political clout to get the Senate to make him Tribune Laticlavius of the thirteenth legion. It also helped that the Legate of that legion happened to be a “family friend”. Marcus joined the 13th at the beginning of the darian campaign and has learned much from it.

Age: XXIX

Sex: Masculum

Occupation: Vergilius is the son of the most prolific bridge-builder in the Roman Empire, and has thusly never toiled a day in his life. If one were to describe Vergilius with an occupational title, it would be that of a philosopher. Though most traditional Roman philosophy focuses on law, either through legal rights or punishment, Vergilius has adopted an egalitarian philosophy that he frequently preaches in public squares, concert halls, and the muck-lined streets of Rome. He is a popular figure among Rome's slaves and commoners, who know him as "Vergilius the Gentle".

Appearance: Vergilius is a comely man who appears younger than he is. He wears his sandy blonde hair in the typically short-cropped style of his people, wearing decorated robes, leather sandals, and an array of finery around his neck and fingers. He is shorter than most men, which he counteracts with a notably deep, soft-spoken voice. He has pale green eyes, a soft chin, and wears no beard or mustache.

Personality: Vergilius is, in a word, clever. He spends his days in his father's manse idly lazing and philosophizing until he has something worthwhile to say, and then -- typically once a fortnight -- he journeys down the hill his home sits atop and preaches a lifestyle of love and equality to the people of Rome. There are occasionally senators seen in crowds of followers, more interested in the audience a merchant's son commands than what he has to say.

Equipment: Vergilius, aside from his robes and jewelry, carries nothing on his person. It is plain to see that a sword has no place in his hand, and Vergilius is simply not the type to conceal a dagger for self-protection. Instead, Vergilius is typically hounded by two bodyguards, Titus and Spurius.

Skills: Vergilius is an intelligent, learned man. Rather than sharing a senator's knowledge of historied laws or a scholar's knowledge of erudite trivia, Vergilius' intelligence comes from a knowledge of people; He knows when to employ the abbreviations and slang of slaves and fish-mongers, and he knows when to eloquently wax about the Gods in front of noblemen. Aside from his ability to read an audience, Vergilius' charisma extends to interpersonal relationships and casual conversation, making his name at least known in Rome's upper echelons. He is uproariously comical when he needs to be, and gravely serious when it is to his advantage. Vergilius somehow never stutters, misspeaks, or makes remarks that can be given immediate rebuttals, and seems as comfortable in any legal debate or philosophical discourse as a gladiator would be in his arena.

Flaws: Vergilius's main defense is his sharp tongue, though this is also a great weakness -- No tongue is so sharp that it can duel with an unreasonable man's sword, and no words are more convincing than the gold in an assassin's pocket. Despite having spent his 32 years becoming as clever as he could, cleverness is historically a poor substitute for martial skill in a number of scenarios, as any Roman historian could tell you.

Backstory: Vergilius is the only child of Lucius Pontem, Rome's finest bridge builder. Due to the extent of Lucius' wealth, Vergilius has always enjoyed a life of luxury, at the cost of his father's work keeping him away from home for long periods of time. In his absence, Vergilius would spend time with his father's many servants, slaves, and retainers. This would not only give Vergilius a soft spot in his heart for the common man, but make conversation his greatest hobby, even at a young age. Books sent by his father on bridge-building assignments would further his philosophical knowledge, and before long, Vergilius was known for his sharp wit and gentle manners within the immediate lands.

Age: XXIII

Sex: Feminae

Occupation: Gladiator/Slave

Appearance:



Aina is of an average height, though more lean and muscular than the common Roman standards of beauty might permit. She has long, dark hair, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her body is bronze from many days spent in the sun and painted with the geometric tattoos common among the Amazons.

Personality:

Quick-Tempered: Before her capture, Aina was known among her friends to be quick to anger, but since it is hard to say she is “Quick Tempered” because she is nearly always angry, resentful of her captors. Her every movement has something of the caged tiger: one can’t be quite certain when she will lash out.

Intrepid: Aina is bold to recklessness, dauntless in the face of any danger to her person.

Clever: Aina is very poorly educated by Roman standards, but is quick-thinking in battle and when faced with problems or puzzles. She is good at finding the weaknesses in her enemies.

Capricious: The Amazon hardly ever makes much of a plan, but rather launches into action and asks questions later.

Equipment:

As a slave, Aina now owns nothing, but her leather armor which she was allowed to keep in hopes of the exoticism drawing in more spectators. In the arena, she fights with a polearm.

Skills:

“Swiftness”: Aina’s name roughly translates to “swiftness” and she lives up to the moniker. The Amazon is fleet of foot, flexible, and remarkably agile; her skill in battle is largely due to her speed, reflexes, and acrobatic feats.

Horsemanship: Like all Amazons, Aina was riding almost before she was walking and has great skill in managing horses. There has been some talk of placing her against the other Eques, or equestrian gladiators. Others think it’d be a shame to waste the spectacle of her fighting on foot.

Melee: Though she was trained in the use of bows as well, Aina’s primary weapon is the polearm. She fights like a dervish, using the weapon’s long reach and her own agility to carve her opponents.

Flaws:

Uneducated: The Amazons teach their children the art of warfare, how to fight, how to hunt, and how to ride. Aina can read very little and has no knowledge of politics, philosophy, or art.

Reckless: Aina has no concern for her own safety or for danger of any other sort, not to mention the sort of attitude that is bound to get her in trouble.

Underweight: Compared to the other gladiators, and any other man Aina might find herself up against, she is small. The Amazon has little in the way of brute strength and must rely on other aspects to succeed in a fight.

Backstory:

Spring had come some time ago to the plains of Scythia, but so early in the morning a bite of chill still lingered in the air and Aina shivered as she stepped dripping onto the northern bank of the Black Sea. Salt water ran in rivulets off her bare, goose-pimpled body, taking with it weeks of dirt and grime from her travels. The young warrior had made good time on her trek outwards from the heart of Scynthia and by that very afternoon, she believed she would arrive at her destination.

The chieftess of Aina's tribe had little love for the Romans and their relentless hunger for new territory, and they had been suspiciously absent from Scythia for some time. It was possible that the legions had turned their sights on the easier, more fruitful pickings to the south, but Aina had been ordered out to check the borders anyway. With winter’s grasp lifted from the land, it may once again look favorable to the damnable Romans.

As the warrior woman slipped her clothing back over her damp skin, she looked out across the expanse of mirror-calm water and at the tall black mare nosing near the shore. It was as still and peaceful as any scene Aina had laid her eyes on, with fog rolling off the lake in the grey light of a sun just beginning her day’s journey. It was high time Aina and Aba, the horse, began their journey as well. With a prayer of thanks for the morning’s beauty, Aina collected her few belongings. Aba pranced impatiently as her simple bridle was fitted, and with a wave of apprehension, the warrior woman noticed that no trace of paint remained on her mount’s sleek black body. Gone were the geometric swirls that matched the tattoos on her own skin, and Aina prayed that the blessings that had accompanied the markings had not faded as well.

The peace of that morning lingered within the warrior woman as she entered the pine forests near the Scythian-Roman border, singing a simple chant to the moon goddess and swaying with Aba’s gentle canter. With the overconfidence of a fighter who had never lost a battle, Aina did not fear the approach of Romans—she doubted she would find any on so quiet a border, and if she did she had no doubt in her ability to best them. What were Roman soldiers to the wild beauty of a tribeswoman in battle frenzy?

Then, the first arrow struck. It was a clever shot, not aimed at the warrior woman, but at the unprotected chest of her trusted steed. The big black horse seemed to cave in on herself, crumbling to the ground beneath Aina as the barbed tip found a beating heart.

“Aba!” the warrior woman let out one startled cry of grief as her animal fell. She had raised the sturdy beast from a filly, but there was no time for sorrow just then.

An East Roman Border Guard was welling out of the surrounding trees like so much blood, each soldier bent on attacking the one savage they had seen on the border after being stationed in so remote a place all the long winter. Aina whirled into action, slaying 4, 7, 10 of the soldiers with the cruel blade of her polearm, but the sheer number of soldiers soon proved too much. There was a sharp stab of pain in her left temple, and the warrior woman knew no more.

---

Aina is an Amazon warrior from the steppes to the East of the Black Sea, recently captured and taken to Rome to be sold as a gladiator. She has yet to be pitted in the arena but has already been installed in the Ludus Magnus Gladiator School.

Age:XXII

Sex:Feminae

Occupation: Spy/Cuthroat

Appearance: Gerlinde, or as the Romans know her as, Marcia is a slightly taller than average woman, which displays exotic fair skin features befitting her Germanic Ancestry. A woman with fair skin, freckles, distracting green eyes and fiery red that keeps usually braided all the way down to her waist. She usually keeps her sensitive features under a hood to shelter them from the inclement sun. Marcia is rather fit and slim, and by Roman standards (small breast and wide hips) comely.

Personality: Marcia is a survivor first and foremost. She cares nothing about virtue and honor, and she appears to revel in infamy sometimes. Her speech is often jaded and cynical, as someone who has seen too much filth in too little time. Roman or barbarian, to her is all the same, a thinly veiled cesspool of based desires and craven intentions with little if any nobility at all. She however, cannot let her go of her past, and she has a bit of a soft spot for orphaned and destitute children. Surprisingly enough, she is far more cultured than she appears to be, and likes to read and learn new dialects and languages, even if she claims it's to improve her art.

Equipment:Marcia's equipment is as ever changing as her disguises, but she nevers parts without her dagger. She also carries some Aconitum poison in order to take care of loose ends.

Skills:

• Housekeeping: Marcia is competent in household chores and some people (who dare risk eating her dishes) even praise her food. While this once would've made her a good housewife, nowadays it is useful for her disguise and cover work.
• Hunting and foraging: Being born in a harsh location with limited supplies, Marcia is no stranger to hunting with spear and bows, as well as knowing some herbal remedies...and concoct some poisons as well.
• Spear Fighting: Marcia knows how to defend herself in a fight, and her spear skills are nothing to be scoffed at.
• Disguise and acting: Over the course of years, Marcia has learnt how to disguise herself by using dyes and clothes, and she can even pass off for a man at times. She has become a master to show fake emotions aswell.
• Polygloth: She speaks at least four tongues. In addition to her native germanic, she can speak Roman and Greek without accent, and even knows Celtic (but her accent is atrocious). She can read and write in Latin, Greek and Runic scriptures.

Flaws:

• Children: Orphans and young kids are a soft spot for her, and her most blatant weakness. She can't help but feel sympathy for them.
• Cannot comprehend honor: Marcia is sometimes unable to anticipate honorable behaviour, as she usually assumes the worst when it comes to people.
• Sarcastic: Marcia can't help but open her mouth to make witty remarks, sometimes to her own detriment.

Backstory: Marcia was born as Gerlinde, the first daughter of a humble Marcomanni chieftain, just outside the borders of Empire, near the shores of the Danube river. Groomed to be a prized wife of one of his father's best warriors, Gerlinde's life took an abrupt turn to the worst when a rival tribe just flat out annihilated her homestead due to a feud, missing her narrowly. With nowhere to go, and chased by a score of brutal and blood-roused germanic raiders, the 12-year old girl decided that the only place she could go to the deter these beasts that wore the shapes of men was behind the lines of their ancient enemy: Rome. Despair fuelled her, and before she had realized, she had swam the entire width of the river without drowning.

But she was far from safe, either. The Romans found her, and surely enough, they didn't kill her on the spot, but taken to the camp and, with the aid of a germanic cook, questioned about what happened. Her fate left unresolved, she was on the receiving end of a culture shock, when a couple of drunk soldiers didn't take in account that barbarian women weren't into that kind of activities at such early age. She somehow managed to react in time, and using her spear skills, keep the drunk soldiers at bay, but that fouled her first encounter with the Roman Empire.

Nevertheless, she managed to keep her head on her shoulders when the local Frumentarius had heard that a wet river rat of a girl had managed to swim through the river and kept a couple of soldiers at bay, which caught his interest. He saw potential in the girl and decided to recruit her services in managing the frontier as his eyes and ears beyond what the Legions could reach. The former Marcomanni thus turned on her former tribes and became a spy of Rome, an infamious job which nevertheless kept her belly filled and earned her a warm bed and food. Both Frumentarius and spy upped the game when he was called back to Rome, and decided that even though the Emperor had kicked the Germanic peregrini some time ago, bring her to the capital. Renaming herself as Marcia, she took the corruption of Rome like a fish takes to the waters, and her skill and rewards grew.

Unfortunately, her former employer did not share her luck. He instead managed to die in a very Roman but undignified manner, by choking on his own vomit after a party. Now, without a solid employer, Marcia wonders where could she go after so many years.