Publius Maximus's page

About Publius Maximus

Hailing from the backwater fiefdom of Agatha, or more precisely one of several backwater farming villages in the backwater fiefdom of Agatha, the young, pock-faced Publius Maximus was an accomplished farmer, and a somewhat competent militia man. As the son of a line of barely literate (generously speaking) farmers stretching well past antiquity, the oddly ambidextrous Publius shoveled several tons of manure, sewed hundreds of pounds of seed, and threshed several tons of grain in his years of farming.

Publius was destined for something more than the life of a famer though. During the harvest festival of his 16th year, he made a name for himself as the champion of the Five-Village Harvest Brawl. His wiry, toughened physique and uncanny swinging of two grain flails proved too much for the other parochial challengers. A wealthy visiting merchant, who always laughed himself to tears watching and betting on these brawls, approached Publius after his momentous championship and offered to take him on as a guardsman for his trade caravan (mostly for comedic purposes, since hiring an untrained yokel of dubious future competence was something he could easily afford).

For the young and restless Publius, drunk on his newfound fame and many tankards of ale, the choice was obvious. He accepted the merchant's offer without question, his head full of dreams of further fame and fortune. However, he quickly found that life as a caravan guard was rather boring; the money was better (as the son of a farmer, he almost never had any), but the food tended to be worse. Publius' forthright nature and youthful energy won him a benefactor among the guardsmen, who took it upon himself to impart some much needed wisdom into the lad's head.

Guardsman Torum was once an adventurer many years ago, but gave up the profession after taking an ogre's club to the knee, and losing his friends to said ogre in that encounter. Torum was convinced that Publius had the makings of a stalwart man-at-arms, but knew the lad needed training and an education before leaving the boredom of the merchant's caravan.

"Publius, don't spend your money all at once! Always keep your arms and armor in serviceable shape! And for the sake of the gods, lad, always have extra britches! If you haven't soiled yourself yet, you will someday." That, and many other words of wisdom were given to Publius, along with a tenuous ability to read, to write, and use his weapons with a modest degree of skill. Naturally, Publius armed himself with a pair of warrior's flails. Countless hours threshing grain as a farmer had rendered the weight and heft of wooden shafts and steel balls second nature to Publius.

Two years of traveling with the caravan was all Publius could take. However, with Torum's tutelage, Publius was as ready for the world as he could be. With the steel heads of two flails swaying at each step, Publius left the employ of the merchant caravan at a city plastered in banners, petitioning able-bodied and skilled adventurers to take up a great cause.