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 Recent Posts
Paper frowns at the smell of hashish in the air. Paper thinks to himself, vaguely embarrased by the home's deserted look and the smell of cheap slave drugs in the air.
Paper smiles, the first real one the group has seen. It transforms him into a much younger man. "Zalmoxis! It is good to see you. I am bringing someone who could benefit from some Roman hospitality. My friends here and I witnesses this unfortunates collapse on the street, he has been sorely wounded. We have a Persian doctor here, I would like to have the wounded man set up in a guest room and Isat, the doctor given any aid he requires." Paper speaks in a sofer tone
To Paper "Dominus. This man's enemies may find him here. I think it would be a good idea to close up access to the house so that we may only have one entrance to guard, and have a set of eyes on the street to give fair warning of trouble. Perhaps your goodly neighbours could let us know if strangers are about?" "Wise words friend. Let us make it so." Paper calls for the house servants to open the door
Paper clambers down from the wagon. "Friend Agrippa, you have done a good thing today. You truly embody the values which made the Empire great." Paper guestures to his home. "Although I am poor in money, perhaps I can thank you with some refreshments? Let us get our unfortunate here settled and I will have some food prepared for everyone." Paper guestures to the house "Please all, be welcome at my family's abode. I will go ahead and make sure things are ready if you all would see to the wounded one."
Paper shifts uneasily as the driver brings up Theodosius "The Goths are being given title to the lands they mauraded over. They will be a part of the empire. Whether they will assimilate when there are so many flooding over the border remains to be seen." Paper's eyes take on a faraway cast. Visions of shreiking red-haired demons fill his mind as his nose remembers the smell of rancid mare's milk rolling off the Goths that hot Augustus afternoon two years ago. He shakes his head slightly, trying to concentrate on the driver's harmless prattle.
"Please, call me Paper, it's what I am used to. Perhaps there is a courtyard or alley nearby we can take him to." Paper kneels down to see what the best way of moving the injured man would be without aggrivating his injuries.
Paper twitches his lips in what could be reasonably classed as a smile. "Wisdom is a fruit to savor indeed."
Paper turns to the smiling man "I am looking for gainful employment as well. I find myself unsuited for little but bladework."
Paper shakes Isat's hand "Well met Isat. I am Gnaeus Cornelius Papyrus, but most either call me Papyrus or Paper. As to joining a lost fold of sheep ..."Paper smiles wryly "Wolves rarely need the shelter of a sheepfold."
Paper sizes up the menacing barbarian. "It's seen the inside of a few Goths and Germans." Paper says in a casual voice.
A silent scarred man walked the roads of Constantinople. His gear was worn, but well cared for, and looked like it might have been legionary gear at one point. The man wandered slowly, taking care to stay in the background whenever soldiers walked by. He knew a young fighting man could be conscripted into the legions at any moment, and the new emperor Theodosius was frantic to replace the legions lost at Adrianople. After that battle the Goths had camped in the suburbs of mighty Constantinople herself, but had gone away after standing futilely at her formidable defenses. Now peace had been declared, and the Goths had been given ‘honorable rewards’ and ‘amnesty’, which meant they got title to the lands they had ravaged. The scarred man frowned as his thoughts led him back to Adrianople, as they always seemed to do. The sun had passed noon that day while the Romans waited in the hot sun outside Adrianople. Cornelius looked over at his legion mates, sweltering under their mail coats in the ferocious heat of a Thracian Augustus day. The Goths had their immense train of wagons circled, and their cavalry danced back and forth in the shimmering heat. Papyrus has smiled at his squad mate Aurelius Faber and slapped him on the back. “It’s just barbarians, “He quipped. “We’ll roll over them, we’re Romans.”
The scarred man shook his head again, trying to think of anything else then that day. He saw a rhetorician on a raised marble podium in the marketplace dressed in a Greek chiton of a formal style that reminded him of his old tutor Theokrities. He wandered over.
”Let them come and tell us that the generals were bunglers or the soldiers cowardly; we should rather celebrate the memory of their struggle, the courage with which they shed their blood and died at their posts. Their valor was equal to that of their forbears, and for love of glory they put up with heat and thirst, fire and sword, and preferred death to dishonor. If the enemy defeated them I am convinced that the cause was the gods’ anger against us.” The scarred man walked on. It seemed he was not the only one in Constantinople with that battle on his mind. Against his will he flashed back again. The battle has seemed well balanced at first. Papyrus’ legion faced off against a wall of snarling Goths, their flaxen hair flying about their heads as they swung their axes and swords against the Roman line. Papyrus’ legion, the Lanciarii, had actually made good progress moving towards the wagons of the Gothic horde. A shout cut through the din of battle. “Regroup! The flank is failing!” Papyrus could not believe it. The auxiliary cavalry, being traitorous mercenary German barbarians, had decided to run for it, leaving the infantry flank exposed like a snail out of its’ shell. The next sound Papyrus heard was the war scream of thousands of Goths, smelling victory.
Ok, rough character background. Paper here is a legionnaire that recently was on the field at Adrianople. He is still going through some serious post-traumatic issues, and has fixated on retreiving the lost sacred eagle of his legion, which the Goths ran off with. Family: Paper was the third son of a Plebian branch of the mighty Cornelii gens. As their Cognomen, and Paper's nickname implies, his family over the centuries has made their living importing high quality papyrus sheets to Rome. Over the years as literacy has declined, so has their business. Paper never was in line for any share of his families business, so he joined the Roman army. Although a lesser son, Paper's family did provide him with a classical education with a Greek tutor in the old style. Paper's family is also very conservative, and they still worship the pagan gods, although for business and social reasons his family is nominally Christian. Paper found this 'pretend to get along' attitute hypocritical and insulting of the gods of his Ancestors. He is a devoted follower of Mars, and he also gives reverence to another favorite of the legions, Mithras. He always considered the sacred golden eagles in the old-fashioned sense, the soul of the legion, its' numina. When his legion was overrun at Adrianople its eagle was taken, and thus Paper feels shamed and cursed until it can be brought back. Thoughts?
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