

Marcus Eppius Parthenicus
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The second half of any race was usually the most dangerous part, where the more skilled (and desperate) charioteers would try to make their bids for the lead position. The Greens were down to one chariot, with the other three teams still with both of their drivers in the running. Azarion was doing well, out in front and trying to work out where the Red behind him was. The Blues were in third and the other Red in fourth, with the second White (Flavius) fifth, battling it out with the other Blue and the remaining Green.
The second half of any race was always the more dangerous, as charioteers knew that the time was growing shorter for them to make their move and take the prime first place. The Red seemed to be eyeing up Azarion in front of him to try to move around him, possibly forcing him into the spina which would cause him a shipwreck and put him out of the race entirely - a charioteer who ended up in a shipwreck had a good chance of being killed or sustaining serious injuries, something Marcus had seen all too often in his career, and grown used to. He would be sorry to see Azarion come to such an end, although he had seen a real talent in the youngster and though it unlikely that he would end so ignominiously.
@Chevi @Insignia
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Azarion had found his footing as a charioteer in the bigae, that was clear from the way he had handled his two horses right from the start of this race. Marcus couldn't help grinning as the kid gestured at the wickedly sharp falx in his belt, the curved blade that every charioteer carried in a race in case they ended up in a shipwreck and had to cut themselves free. Bigae drivers could hold the reins without having to wrap them around themselves, although many chose to in preparation and training for the far more challenging four-horse quadrigae chariots.
Azarion was far more level-headed when out on the tracks than he was anywhere else, almost, and Marcus nodded in satisfaction as he allowed his horses to set a pace that would carry them easily around the seven laps of the race. The Red driver was ahead into the very first turn, and still ahead as they came out of it into the back straight. One of the Greens took the tightest curve around the spina as they round the end nearest the starting gates (and Marcus) and managed to hold the lead as the second lap begins.
The roar of the crowd informed him of a shipwreck, although he couldn't see it from his position - probably he'd tried to take the turn too tightly and collided with the spina. He could see Azarion's white-clad figure guide the light white-painted chariot wider at the far end, some natural instinct informing him of what awaited him out of sight.
He was shaping up to be a very fine investment for the Whites - and there seemed to be some sort of rivalry beginning between him and the Red, whose name Marcus would have to find out. Rivalries could be either encouraged or discouraged and Marcus would have to investigate which way this one should go, before it went too far.
@Insignia @Chevi
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Marcus couldn't say, in all honesty, that he was surprised by the outcome of the race, nor by the fairly predictable reactions of the other teams' riders, although judging by Azarion's expression it had been more than worth it.
If the Reds' rider thought that Azarion was going to give a single foot to him in the chariot race that followed, he clearly hadn't been paying attention.
"Don't get cocky," he warned Azarion, although he was resigned to the fact that his words would be falling on deaf ears. Well. He let Azarion hand his horse over to Nisus before taking his place in his chariot.
"Stick to more conventional tactics for this race, I daresay the spectators have quite enough to think about," he added, before stepping back to let Azarion prepare for the next race.
@Chevi @Insignia
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"I have done some travelling," Marcus told her, his gaze lingering on the very low-cut bodice of her dress... She was good, there was no doubt about that at all. "My grandfather came from Parthia, although I haven't been there myself. I have been to Hispania, though." They bred very good horses in Hispania, after all, which was his main reason for travelling anywhere these days. Britannia was another place to look for horses, as was Parthia - he would like to visit the lands his grandfather had called 'home' and not just to trade in horses.
He joined her on the couch. "I can think of one or two... interesting... places to visit," he added, his hand returning to rest on her thigh as it had earlier.
@Sara
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"You really need to stop pushing, for a bit. Let someone else risk their hide for once," Marcus said, and watched the boy put one foot in the stirrup and lightly settle himself on the horse's back with an ease that spoke to long practise at it (even if he hadn't actually done it in years). The Sarmatians, from what Marcus knew, were practically born in the saddle. They were famed as riders and archers - and Azarion had it in his blood.
He didn't need to worry that the boy would somehow be thrown, or fall, unless through the actions of another rider - but he had the most secure seat of any of them.
The trumpet sounded and the race began.
@Chevi
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Marcus could only guess what destruction Azarion might wreak if he were allowed access to a bow and arrows, although he had settled down somewhat from the half-feral youngster who'd first joined the Whites.
Not completely, though, as evidenced by the addition of stirrups.
Well, a bit of fire was a good thing, especially in the cut-throat world of chariot racing. And it seemed Azarion didn't much care if the organisers did disqualify him.
"Am I going to punish you? For what, trying to bring a bit of sense to riding?" Marcus folded his arms and arched an eyebrow. He was rather fond of the boy, Ahura Mazda help them both. "You do like to push things, but no."
He'd weather the storm later, if there was one. The serious business was the chariot racing, anyway; actual riders racing was done more from tradition than because it was taken seriously. The Romans far preferred the spectacle of the two- and four-horse chariots thundering around the Circus.
"Just, try not to push things too much, all right? I might have to actually rein you in, and neither of us would like that."
@Chevi
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"Yes, I daresay you can ride faster with them," Marcus said, dryly. "You'll throw the entire city into an uproar over this outlandish idea and the next thing you know they'll equip all their cavalry soldiers with them. At least you're not going to give them a demonstration of just how effective they can be for an archer - oh yes, I know that much about your people." The Sarmatians, like Marcus' own people (well, his grandfather's people; he himself was born Roman) were consummate riders and archers, devastatingly effective with both.
Perhaps that was why the Romans hadn't extended their own borders further east.
He clasped his hands behind his back. "I hope you won't be too disappointed if they decide to disqualify you due to having an unfair advantage."
@Chevi
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Marcus made it a habit to go around the horses and drivers (or riders, in this case) in the half-hour or so before a race started, unless his presence was required in the stands as it sometimes was; it was not unknown for the patron of the day's races to request the faction leaders attend him.
He did his best to treat his slaves, employees and the other members of the faction with impartiality, but allowed (within the recesses of his own thoughts) that he might have a slight bias where the mute Sarmatian was concerned.
Azarion was holding the reins of a young horse, one not yet used to the harness of a chariot, but that promised to be a fine runner given the chance. He had tied his hair back; Marcus had smiled when he first realised that he was growing his hair out - it gave him more of a wild look than usual, especially as it had reached that awkward length when it was nearly impossible to do anything with it.
Something about the horse's gear caught his attention and he shook his head. Really. Stirrups... he should have guessed Azarion would assert his own wild ways on this horseback race.
Well, he deserved the chance.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, drawing closer.
@Chevi
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To the Shades of the Underworld
In memory of Lucia Safinia, of the White chariot faction
17 years old loyal and hard-working
M Eppius Parthenicus and her friends of the White faction set this up
May the one who sent her to you never find rest
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"No, I don't think so," he replied, leaning against the doorpost as she bent to remove her shoes - light things that they were, totally unsuitable for wearing outdoors but perfectly suited for indoor wear. Her dress crept up as she did so, revealing the white skin of her thigh, hinting at what else it concealed.
He was enjoying the hints and the anticipation. Somehow, he thought she was not used to this sort of slow progression, but the quiet anticipation was just as much a part of the experience - Marcus was a patient man, with a long view of things, which surprised people who thought that racing was all about speed and the short sharp fury of galloping horses. That was only a tiny part of his trade - the most public part, to be sure, but the skill of his job was everything that wasn't seen, which led up to what was seen.
"I am maybe going to surprise you, but what would you like to talk about?" he asked, sipping his wine. "I have no doubt that you're a good actress, able to feign interest in a great many very dull things indeed, but surely you have some preferred topics of your own?"
@Sara
Topics I Participated In
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February 27, 77AD
Azarion's heart hammered in his chest as he checked over the horse's harness one last time. He had made modifications in the past few days, after finding out the Whites were participating in the Equirria races on the Campus Martius. his chariot and two horses were also ready for the run later that day... but right now, he was not looking after them. This horse, from the White's stables, was not assigned to a chariot yet; not fully trained to run alongside someone else, or keep a steady pace. Which suited Azarion just fine.
The festival, in honor of the old ways of Rome, started with horse races, rather than chariots. Romans were much more fond of the pageantry of charioteers now, especially when all four factions were represented - but still, tradition was tradition, so the tracks were cleared for riders. Azarion had caught glimpses of the others - mostly young men who were riders in the Circus as well. They had good horses, and experience. But Azarion had something they didn't.
Stirrups.
He had been considering this for a long time, but stirrups were no use in a chariot race. This was an opportunity he did not want to pass up. To ride again like they used to, in Sarmatia. He was not sure if Tiberius and Tiranes were going to show up for the festival, but he knew his cousin would go out of his mind. Azarion did not let anyone in on what he was preparing for. Not even Marcus.
He was wearing the uniform of the Whites, but without the reins wrapped around his body this time. He tied his growing hair back as much as he could manage. Patting the horse on the nose - in his mind, he called him Pagos -, Azarion was ready to walk out to the starting line, when Marcus made an appearance...
@Sharpie
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Funeral stele for Lucia Safinia
Started by Marcus Eppius Parthenicus ·
To the Shades of the Underworld
In memory of Lucia Safinia, of the White chariot faction
17 years old loyal and hard-working
M Eppius Parthenicus and her friends of the White faction set this up
May the one who sent her to you never find rest
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To Lucius Vipsanius Roscius
Started by Marcus Eppius Parthenicus ·
To L Vipsanius Roscius, from M Eppius Parthenicus (Dominus Factionis Albus)
Greeting
I understand that you are looking into the attack that killed Lucia Safinia, a member of the White faction. I pray that Ahura Mazda grant you more success than he did to the centurion of the cohort responsible for Regio XI.
The murder took place in October on a dark night outside the stable, in an alley that leads to the side door used by the faction's workers and slaves. The girl was discovered by Azarion, one of the charioteers, whose services you have requested. She had suffered three distinct injuries, one to her upper back by the shoulders, one to her side and a third (presumably the one that killed her) to her throat. I know this, for I saw it myself.
It being dark, and an ill-lit alley, and no witnesses being present, there were no clues left as to the perpetrator, so we can only presume that it was the same man who later injured Azarion in the same spot.
Despite appearances and a sarcastic tendency, Azarion is quite astute, but you should limit your questions to him to one at a time with answers that may be easily gleaned from his motions.
The gods be with you in your ventures and should you find the man who has done this, I will testify as to what I know
Eppius Parthenicus
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Happy Holidays!
Started by Vibia ·
Saturnalia, 76AD
Vibia stifled a yawn behind her fingers and tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. Saturnalia might be fun for the slaves and the plebs but it was the Venus' busiest time of year, and perhaps its most unpleasant. The most generous of (rich) masters often doled out gifts to their most valuable, trusted slaves which sometimes involved a night with a beauty from the Venus. They had poorer manners than her usual class of clientele and seemed to want to savour every minute that they paid for. It was exhausting, and so it took her almost the full day to be ready (and willing) to work after sleeping, visiting the baths and tidying her rooms from the detritus her clients left.
Now though, the sun had dipped well past the horizon and evening was drawing in. She could hear the tell-tale sounds of Rome's best and brightest being...entertained in the rooms down the corridor but Vibia herself was led resplendent on one of the couches in the main room, fingers softly trilling her cithara. A few of her colleagues; men and women alike milled around, entertaining the guests of the clients being seen too and likewise trying to prop themselves awake. A woman's work was never done, and particularly not a whore's on Saturnalia. The familiar jangle of the bells that overhung the front door sounded and Vibia lazily dragged her eyes up to see a new client walk in. Interesting.
TAG: Open!
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In The Darkness [M - V]
Started by Marcus Barbatius ·
Early October, 76 AD
It was dark in Rome this night. The moon wasn’t shining, there was not just a veil, but a thick blanket of clouds over the city for once. That made it all seem quite dark this time of year and Marcus enjoyed it. He had gone out with a purpose tonight, the usual purpose, wearing a cloak over his head and a proper knife by his belt, hidden by the long cloak that went all the way to his knees. He was ready for something to happen. Something he would like.
There had been a few attacks he’d failed at recently and he wasn’t very happy about it. At least none of the women had been talking about him, no one had found out about him, so that was good. Even if they escaped, the next best thing was them not talking. He preferred that. Else he’d have to find them again and make sure they wouldn’t talk. He’d like to find them anyway. Maybe he’d find one tonight?
Quite randomly he was walking around for some reason, ended up near the racing court. Not that he had any connection to the place, and yet… as he walked by a certain house with a few barrels in front of it, he stopped. Didn’t he once kill a girl there? It had felt so good. He didn’t mean to kill her, but she struggled and she hurt him and she wouldn’t shut up. So he made her. He’d slit her throat. And stabbed her chest.
He realized he was standing still, as the memories flowed through him. He licked his lips, thinking about it made him want more of the same. There had been so much blood. Maybe some of it had sprayed onto the side of the house or something… without thinking twice, he walked closer to the scene.
@Chevi
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A day at the races
Started by Marcus Eppius Parthenicus ·
July 76, the Circus Neronianus*
It was still summer in Rome, still hot, and yet with the advent of a new Caesar, there was a new air of excitement and anticipation even in the heat that pervaded Rome. It was cooler outside the boundary of the city - not a lot cooler, but enough.
Racing was something that everyone had an opinion on and interest in, no matter the season or who wore the purple. Most races took place in the Circus Maximus, that vast stretch of racetrack in whose shadow the Whites' stable lay, but there were other venues in Rome for racing to take place, and one of those was the new Circus outside the boundaries of the city, across the Tiber. It was a venue for less prestigious races, and therefore the perfect place to introduce a new charioteer to the business of actually being a charioteer.
Marcus had made sure that Azarion had had the opportunity to drive around this smaller track so that its shorter length and tight turns would be more familiar during his first race. And now the chariots were lined up at the end of the Circus; behind the carceres, the starting gate. When the signal was given, the gate would allow all the chariots to move forward at the same time, aiming them deliberately to the right-hand side of the spina that ran down the centre of the circus. Marcus would watch this first race of Azarion's future career from near the starting gate, where he could see right down the circus on both sides of the spina, although not the curve at the far end. He had Varica stationed on the spina itself to cover that - being able to hear of any occurrences there would help with the final assessment of the day. Seven laps would tell whether Marcus was right, or wrong, in his assessment of the boy.
@Chevi ( @Járnviðr and @Atrice if you want to include Menelaus and Caeso as either spectators or participants)
*Two things: the Circus Neronianus was begun by Caligula (and finished by Claudius in our own timeline, there's no need to think it couldn't have been finished by AeRo's own Claudius); I have referred to it by the name it has in our world because I don't know what it would otherwise be known as. The thread is set in the Transtiberim even though this circus is technically not in that area simply because it is on the other side of the river and only just outside Rome itself. See the map here
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August 76 AD
It had been ten month. Ten months since Safinia was murdered. A lot had changed in that time: Azarion had grown taller and stronger, turned eighteen years old, and was now a charioteer for the Whites rather than a stable boy. He was learning to write to communicate, and he was treated well, if sternly, by his dominus. Rome had a new caesar. And yet, in a way, it felt like time had been standing still all this time.
They never caught the man who murdered Safinia. No one even seemed to care. The sensation had long died off, and no one was much inspired to look into the death of a kitchen girl. But Azarion missed her. She had been a friend, someone who rolled her eyes at him but acknowledged him as a person anyway. And the gods had to be angry, that no one was punished for her death. Sometimes Azarion wondered if her spirit was lingering, waiting for someone to bring justice to her murdered. Sometimes he wished he could talk to her.
It was late afternoon now, the training had ended for the day. Once again, Azarion had slipped out the back door of the stables, and made his way to the alley where the mudered had happened ten months before. Any clues that might have been left were long gone now, and he had been over trying to imagine the sequence of events a million times. Still, he did it again. It was not like he had anything better to do.
@Atrice
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Panem et aurīgae
Started by Menelaus ·
With celebrations soon to commence, so too does the appetite for races increase. The charioteers, then, must prepare for battle. Each race is a battle against themselves as well as the other contestants. A chariot, loosed from one man’s control, is a weapon of instant annihilation. The sport takes a toll on their bodies. Meanwhile, the hungry watchers take in the spectacle. All of this would be enough to make any patrician balk- but Menelaus is not a patrician. He adores the attention, relishes the spectacle, and craves the toll. He plans to live a hard life, even though he dreads the end of it. Why choose caution over bravery? That would hardly be the appropriate path for a charioteer.
Instead, Menelaus prepared for the upcoming races. He did not yet know the details, but they would certainly be expected to participate in the ongoing celebration in some fashion. For now, he had returned from the latest round of practice, and had a moment of quiet in the stables. He felt the rush of it, still, even now that he was at rest. Menelaus took a moment to breathe deeply, smiling, when he heard someone else approaching. He turned to greet the newcomer, curious to see who would be here to speak with him when there was no race in progress.
@Sharpie
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There are no words
Started by Azarion ·
Late October, 75AD (Immediately after Sunset)
Azarion ran across the stables towards the offices that belonged to the Whites. Some people saw him run, and a stable boy even said something, but he pushed past him. He was only vaguely aware that his hands and knees were stained with blood. The way he was running, doubtful that anyone could tell if it was his or someone else's.
He did not wait at Marcus' door, although normally it was the rule to do so. Instead, he burst right in, and once again, he was painfully aware that he could not just yell, blurting out the things he wanted to convey.
Safinia is dead.
Safinia has been killed.
Instead, he made hurried motions to the man, pointing at the door. He would have to show him.
@Sharpie
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Training wheels
Started by Azarion ·
Mid-October, 75CE
Azarion was slowly getting better at being a charioteer. A trainee, anyway, since he had not competed in any of the races yet, but Marcus had him on a tight and brutal schedule. Honestly, if he had not cared for the horses' health and safety, it probably would have been even worse. Azarion went to be d every night with aching muscles. But also, he thanked his gods every night that he had something to work for. Even though he couldn't ride the horses freely like he wanted to, and he was not allowed to carry bow and arrows, the chariots gave him a sense of freedom, and hope for his future. One day, they might even free him. If he did well enough.
Which was the only reason why he did not complain when he was told he'd drive a mock race with Marcellus one morning. That man was the worst.
Azarion was not deemed ready for a quadriga yet, but he knew how to drive a biga securely by now. So, the early morning found him up and ready on the race tracks, with only a few men from the sables walking around here and there. Azarion checked the harnesses, the chariot, and patted the horses on the nose, making soothing sounds. Borena and Tabithi had been training alongside him the whole time, and he knew them well. Now it was time to put the whole thing to the test - by racing another charioteer.
@Echo
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