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Sarah

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Sarah last won the day on October 6

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  1. It was an interesting idea. In his culture bards, and the power of their words, were held in such respect - and also perhaps fear - that there were specific laws that applied to them. A Chieftain could be taken down by the barbed words of a bard who felt wronged by them, if they could sway the opinions of the people against them. No one would follow a leader they did not trust. How much power then might a group of bards have, acting out the stories of legend? Especially if they were skilled enough to twist the story to reflect current events, in one light or another. "Maybe one day I see theatre." He suggested. It would be an interesting experience, no doubt. Theodorus was easy to talk to, and didn't seem to object to Aeneas's sense of humour. He was also an interesting source of information. When he'd first been captured it had seemed to Aeneas that the Romans only wanted to make everywhere like themselves. Now that he had spent some time amongst them he had learned that even Roman society was made up of people from many different places, and that their culture likewise seemed to incorporate the aspects of other cultures that appealed to them. The bits that didn't were another matter. The gladiator slave glanced down at his ankle, then back up at the medicus. "Good now?" He asked @Chevi
  2. Sarah

    The Bodyguards

    "Indeed." He agreed with a slight nod, blue gaze scanning the room quickly for any threat to his charge. But all seemed well. And there were a number of bodyguards watching. He returned his attention to his companion when she introduced herself, and nodded politely in acknowledgement. Her next question was perhaps to be expected, though the addendum was much less so. He nodded in the direction of the young lady with the tanned skin, perfect coiffure and make-up. "Claudia Corinthia." He supplied, then gave a faint, amused smile. "No, no trouble." He lied. "She is imperial family." Though presumably due to the death of her father, didn't live at the palace. "And yours?" He asked the blonde warrior. Who was she she here to protect? Was it someone who might be of interest politically to Corinthia? His own mistress was, he knew trying to cement the standing expected for one of her bloodline. And if her fortunes rose, so did his. @Atrice
  3. Gaia's giggles were a warm reward, telling him that despite his poor mastery of Latin, the intended joke had been understood. The struggle to communicate was a constant one, but he worked daily to improve his skills in the strange language, to be able to speak to those around him. Perhaps to forge some sort of connection. Gaia was one of the more sympathetic listeners. The doctore didn't seem to want to let him go, a contrast to some of the trainers who were quite happy to get him out of their hair if his mistress wished it. Perhaps he'd had something specific in mind this morning. Aeneas was more than happy for an excuse to get out of the rigorous training for a few hours, expecially if it meant the company of those who didn't treat him like some short-lived creature, and involved a drink. If he had to be back by midday then they didn't have too long. "Is a domus publica west of ludus entry gate, three streets walk." He recalled, not knowing how good a quality the drinking establishment was. "Guards say watchers go often." At 'watchers' he indicated the seats above, where the audience might observe the gladiators practicing. No doubt dealers came there to buy and sell as they observed. Aeneas suspected that the guards frequented the pub as well. @Gothic@Atrice
  4. Sarah

    Fuck and be merry!

    He sold a lot of slaves, and whilst he generally remembered the Roman ones, at least vaguely, he never really expected to see them again, except possibly in passing. There were a few exceptions, household slaves for wealthy customers where he would take his wares to them, and the occasional troublesome return, but the majority moved through his care and onwards, to whatever life held in store for them. Thus he wasn't expecting the additional greeting when the blue-clad whore entered the room and greeted her mistress, before turning to him. He looked her up and down, hazel gaze noting that she looked well indeed, and seemed to have taken to the life that chance and he himself had thrown her into. That was well. And yes, he remembered her, the obedient slave who's only real need had been some consistency in her life. "Justinia." He acknowledged, with a slight inclination of his head. He hadn't intended to visit the Domus Venus or see the slave he'd sold, but Fortuna was obviously in a whimsical mood. "You are looking well." It was an odd feeling. As one who handled slaves every day, the turn-about of Saturnalia left him feeling slightly discombobulated, the usual social expectations overturned. What did one say to a slave who was one's equal on this night of nights? Perhaps it was doubly so because he wasn't accustomed to slaves he'd sold being quite so pleased to see him. He settled for, "I'm glad the Domus suits you." Not without a glance at Titinia; did she suit the Domus? That was always the more pertinent question. @Sydney@Gothic@Anna ((My turn to apologise! Had an attack of real life.))
  5. Sarah

    Sarah's Plotter

    Hey! So sorry I missed this. Must remember to check plotter frequently. Yes! All the things! I am definitely up for maintaining imperial family connections (even if I get a bit confused about who's related to whom sometimes). Also always looking for more interactions for my slave. What would you like to do? @Brian
  6. I also tend to find it easier to write male characters than female. No idea why.
  7. Seated amongst the other backbenchers as was appropriate to one still learning, Tiberius watched as his family members assumed the more central seats. His uncles and of course Quintus Caesar himself. Yes, theirs was an influential family, and it was important to remain so, which was why he was here. But he was not alone, as his cousin and adopted brother climbed the steps, though the process took some time as Titus paused to greet everyone, the far more garrulous of the two. And the more popular. Tiberius was more than happy for Titus to have the limelight, and greeted the other young man with a warm smile as his cousin settled, only to ask quietly if he was looking forward to the Senate meeting. "I am." Tiberius replied, realising that he meant it. "And you?" Though he suspected he knew the answer. Here was where the policies that drove the fate of the empire were decided. That was far more important to him than social good will, though he was still learning that that and political sway often went hand in hand. There was no time for further conversation as the Princeps Senatus called the session to order, opening it and the floor to the matters that would be discussed this day. Caesar - looking very official and rather more distant in this formal setting - rose and introduced the subject for discussion. Tiberius was immediately interested, it was something he and Uncle Octavius had discussed last year, now seemingly ready to come to fruition. Older men, more experienced Senators, rose to speak each in their own turn, raising points for and against, concerns and support, and Tiberius listened with interest, mentally categorising those who were likely to be in favour of the proposal, and those who might be against. They spoke of lightening the future burden these children could pose, and the burden of cost such an effort could now bring, of ways and means and the limited supply of funds, of the poor future left for these children if nothing was done. All valid points, and not all mutually sustainable. And then suddenly it was his turn. Rising to his feet, Tiberius took a deep breath as he felt the eyes of the majority of the Senate on him, for the first time, in this space. This was what he had trained for, and he either took his place among them, or forever wondered what he might have become. Perhaps it helped that this was a subject about which he felt strongly. "Honoured Senators." He began, lifting his chin to counter the urge to swallow nervously. "Ten years ago the heart of the Empire was decimated, and she is still recovering. This is an opportunity to treat her remaining wounds. Many children were left orphaned in those dark days." The urge to swallow or stutter was suddenly gone, subsumed by a cold, suppressed anger; he was one of those children. "Some of us were fortunate enough to be adopted into the houses of our kin," he bowed politely in Quintus' direction, "others had no kin to turn to. The eldest of these are already grown, and with no skills or education may well have turned to thievery or charity to survive. If so, these people are a drain on society, and on the Empire's coffers. Lets not make that mistake with the younger ones." "Certainly, let us try different methods. Perhaps a tax incentive might be offered to families to adopt orphans. Or houses built that will shelter many children, making efficient use of one cook, one tutor per house. Let the brightest move on to grammaticus, and the others be indentured to a trade. Let there be a tax of repayment when they can earn a living, if needs be. But let us not do nothing." His voice was firm, the blood of his line showing though. "In another ten years the orphans of the strife will be all grown, and the need will be less; it is up to us to decide whether they shall be a valuable part of the Empire, or the millstone around our neck that we did not care to remove before it grew heavy. Consider; the children we save today could well be the men who lead us tomorrow." He gave a faint smile, and for a fleeting moment looked very much like his father. And as quick as that, the attention of the Senate moved on, another rising to their feet even as Tiberius resumed his seat. @Liv
  8. As the two spoke quietly the medicus worked on Aeneas's ankle, and the gladiator could only hope that the man was good at what he did and he'd be up and running on it soon. He doubted that a medicus who wasn't any good would last long at the ludus, a gladiator who couldn't fight was worthless. The man was also pleasant enough company, which was a rare respite from the manner of their trainers. Perhaps because he wasn't Roman, perhaps simply because that was his nature. Aeneas might be an uncultured barbarian but he wasn't stupid, and he listened with interest as Theodorus described the theatre. Stories he understood, the bards told the sagas of the great heroes at important events, as well as singing songs and reciting poetry. They were often dramatically recounted, but generally only by the one person. The idea of playing out the myth or legend was novel. "I know stories." He said quietly. "But usually only one person tell." He rolled the concept of this art form around in his head. "So people pretend to be Gods, or people from stories?" It was... intriguing. A good bard could transport their listeners to that time and place with their telling, but to watch the story played as though it were unfolding in the here and now... would be quite something else. There was an odd, faint little smirk on the barbarian's lips as he looked Theo up and down. "Romans take many things from Greeks, hmm?" He observed quietly. @Chevi
  9. Hi similarly named writer! *waves* I don't know whether their stories could be worked together, but Aeneas is a Briton (Caledonii), a smith by trade, a gladiator by slavery and is only slightly older (23). He's obviously not the brother you had in mind, but could perhaps we could work something out? They might be cousins, maybe somebody's mother moved? (Aeneas' application) @Sara
  10. Sarah

    Juggling RL and RPG

    I hear you. Life has been busy for me too, but I love when I find time to play. I've also modded other games and I know how it can eat your life. Games should be fun. If they're not, there's something wrong. It sounds like you're doing the right thing.
  11. Sarah

    The Bodyguards

    Aeneas would have preferred some breeches, but none had been supplied. He was still learning Corinthia's mercurial moods, judging the right time to ask for things. Though perhaps she simply liked showing off his long if somewhat hairy legs; he understood that to Romans slaves could be as much ornamentation as practical. He could only assume from her outfit that the tall woman was also serving as a bodyguard, presumably for one of the female attendees, which made a certain sense. Where he came from women didn't go raiding or onto the battlefields, but there wasn't one who wouldn't pick up a sword or an axe if another clan raided their village. She greeted him civilly enough, though they were both cautious. He inclined his head slightly as she suggested he might want a drink, though he was aware he was on duty, keeping one eye on Corinthia as she circulated. "Little one." He allowed. His Latin was far from fluent yet, and his accent was still very much present, sounds of the north of Britannia. He fielded a mug of beer from one of the slaves carrying drinks and took a mouthful. "Aeneas." He said after a moment, jerking a thumb at himself. It was the name he'd been given. @Atrice
  12. To be able to fight because he wanted to, not because he was told; now there was a dream. And presumably to go home afterwards, assuming one survived. It was something that he'd dreamed of achieving himself, when he'd first heard that a slave could gain their freedom in the arena. Once he'd given up hope of escaping of course. Lately however he'd found himself torn, by a girl on the verge of womanhood who wanted - demanded - a bodyguard. In that role he was less likely to get killed, he thought, but also less likely to ever see freedom. And he had to choose, he knew that. He couldn't follow both paths. Then again, even as a gladiator, would Corinthia ever set him free? It was true that having been a smith gave him some insight into the quality of the weapons they were offered; he nodded in agreement. "Romans make good iron, not know why they have such tiny swords." He said with a smirk. In truth he had observed how frighteningly efficient the Legions were, at close range. It was an experience he hoped never to repeat. But it helped form his views on weapons, one one was a distrust of anything he hadn't seen in battle. The trident and net were showy, but they were also a great way to get yourself killed if you didn't know how to use them. He'd gleaned hints of Gaia's story from the household slaves, but did not expect the full tale, let alone that her husband had been an Imperial. Perhaps that explained something of his mistress's attitude, caught between the two extremes of society. He decided that it would be best not to comment on the more personal revelation of her less than successful marital life. "Greece." He said instead. "Like Theodorus." He revealed. "Ludus Medicus." He added, as they probably didn't know who Theodorus was. Even more surprising than her personal revelations was Gaia's suggestion. Perhaps it should not have been, he wasn't sure, but Aeneas was still working out the Roman social structure. Both Gaia and Lexus were now free, even though they had been slaves. He was a slave still. Perhaps he might hope that they saw him as one who might one day be freed? "I come, Domina. If doctore permits." He glanced over his shoulder, but the trainer was already focused on someone else. @Gothic@Atrice
  13. June 74AD, Emporium Magnum Whilst a lot of the more select sales occurred either in the buyer's residence or out of the large warehouse he owned that doubled as a human stables, it always paid to maintain a presence in the market itself, especially when the slave auctions were happening. People were here looking for slaves, and so the slave traders were out. Spurius was naturally amongst them, notable for his height and the tall staff he carried, much like an oversized shepherd's crook, complete with hook. It wasn't meant for sheep, though it was rare that he actually had to use it. With the war in Britannia over the supply of barbarians what could be sold wholesale for the gladiatorial games had dwindled to it's usual trickle, though Spurius had made the most of it while it lasted. Those he could wrangle and shift quickly in bulk, but today he had a more refined selection. Only one of them was a chalk-foot, and she was a strikingly beautiful black-skinned woman all the way from Aegyptus, and probably beyond. He doubted that she'd be here long. She didn't have much in the way of skills but she'd be snapped up for her looks alone. The placard hung around a young girl's neck declared that she was versed in make-up and hair, not as experienced as she would become but cheaper for it, very affordable to an upwardly mobile Plebian or Equite lady. A youth with experience handling animals, an older man who could read, write and do arithmetic - suitable as a clerk or tutor and thus worth a pretty denarius - and a woman who'd served as a general house slave and could cook and sew. Her back wasn't what it had been, though a few days on light duties had seen a marked improvement. See and be seen, that was what was important. One never knew when a customer might come looking for just what he had to offer. And if he didn't have it on show, there might be something suitable back at the warehouse. And he had his sources if the customer was after something very specific. He aimed to please, it lined his pockets. @Chevi
  14. July AD77, Circus Maximus The chariots rounded the curve for the last time, two neck and neck whilst others trailed behind. This was always when the race was at it's most exciting. The charioteer with the chestnut horses had the advantage of the inside of the curve, but the bay team were pressing him hard, and for a moment it looked as though they might actually force the chestnuts into the inner wall. But the team fought back, and the two charioteers thundered towards the finish to the applaud of the crowd, the chestnut team beating the bays by a mere nose. From where he sat under a shading awning, Tiberius raised a hand and gestured to the winning charioteer, symbolic indication of Caesar's favour, since he was here in his uncle's stead. Handing off the reins to his slaves, the charioteer approached the imperial seating area, even as the adjudicator came forward with a laurel wreath to place on the young man's head. Not a golden one of course, but one woven of leafy bay twigs, since these were only the heats. The grand competition, still some weeks away, would see the presentation of the gold wreath by Caesar himself, or his designate. For the moment Tiberius could simply sit back and watch. This was more Titus' scene than his, his boisterous cousin loved these kinds of competitions, but Tiberius recognised his duties as important to the Empire. To be present, to be seen, to support those entertainments which so captured the plebians' imaginations, and thus be seen as being in touch with the populace. He personally found the conversations around him more interesting than the racing, and listened whilst watching the race. @Atrice
  15. I have no idea whether Romans had them, but some sort of masked event? Where our characters won't know who they're talking to? There's even the option of creating temporary character accounts so we really don't know who the other character is, unless the writer makes it obvious. Also, I LOVE the idea of the roulette.
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