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Aeterna Roma RPG


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  1. No pity whatsoever involved then? In that case it sounded as though there were no cons to Alexius' proposition. He was about to voice his final agreement when the finger on his cheek lit a fire where it touched, making Artemon's face feel like it had spawned its very own miniature sun in a mere instant. He stared unblinkingly at Alexius, eyes wide like an owl's, as he took in the sweet words directed at him. Alexius was not only a great host and a generous person, but he was also a talented poet! Few times had Artemon been the target of such compliments, and he was lapping them up like a hungr
  2. It didn't really seem as though the man was trying to help, grumpy as he was. For one, all he had done so far was make a smart remark on the state of the sack and suggest they get a new one, but there were no turnips in his hands. Safinia frowned, and was about to mouth off that it wasn't nice to make such accusations to the party he had wronged when she felt quick movement around her and then the sudden coldness of metal against the warm skin of her throat. Huh? How the fuck was this lunatic so nimble that he had sneaked up on her without her noticing?! But even if she had noticed, would
  3. Hmm. Maybe his new friend had a point. But Artemon was a sailor, not a brewer, so he didn't argue. But could beer spoil like that? He had always drunk any he could get his hands on before it ever had a chance to get to that stage, though. The best beer was the one in his stomach, preferably enjoyed out in the sun like he was doing just now, taking a leaf out of the book of cats all over Egypt with their fondness for basking in the warm rays. He hadn't even noticed the collar on the other man, much to his embarrassment. To Artemon, free or slave made no difference and he hadn't yet made a
  4. No - now that he thought on it, life with Alexius could hardly be boring. Serapis knew what that son of his thought about his father, of course, but as far as Artemon was concerned, he was feeling like he had lucked out on his downstairs neighbour. If only all the other neighbours were as friendly as him! Then he wouldn't have been in this predicament with Lucilla. He thanked the gods for his good fortune with a quick silent prayer as he helped himself to more bread and sauce-slash-stew. It tasted so good that coherent thought was briefly wiped from his mind so that he could concentrate f
  5. Again the man proved he was reacting as Safinia would expect a spy to, feigning ignorance and claiming he preferred to attend gladiator games. Of course he did, trying to throw sand in her eyes. "Oh? Who's your favourite then?" She would agree the matches could sometimes be exciting, but if blood and death were what he was after as a spectator, the races provided those on occasion too. "I don't keep up with the ludi much." How would she manage to trot up the stairs to the cheapest seats now? Affording the ones closest to the arena was entirely out of the question. She chuckled at his word
  6. Studies first! Hope your projects go well and we'll be here when your schedule's more forgiving
  7. That was exactly what a spy would say. Safinia could not lower her guard. Within seconds a plan had formed in her mind: she would tell the man to wait a few feet away from the entrance while she went inside to get a new sack, and the guard could keep an eye on him in the meantime. Then she would return with the sack, hand it to him and come up with a good excuse for her lateness whilst she waited. The patronising look the man shot her went unmentioned, though she returned it with an unsympathetic one of her own. "If you really were a spy that's exactly the sort of thing you'd say, isn't i
  8. His new friend was in agreement - a man of taste when it came to beer, like a true Egyptian! "Indeed! I don't think they actually brew it here though, I'd bet you an as it comes on boats." As far as he could recall Artemon had never been involved in the shipment of beer, though grain was a different story. Then again, Romans had a strong appetite for grain, but not for beer. They clearly didn't know what they were missing out on. Artemon took another healthy swig of his drink, proud of his knowledge of Egyptian accents. "Have you not been back? I can't say I blame you, Alexandria is a fin
  9. Even though he was not favoured by Venus or Cupid, his neighbour's friendliness made Artemon realise he was quite blessed in the matter of friends. There was Iophon, of course, his best mate since the womb, and all the sailors he had made friends with throughout his life, and now Alexius who had invited him to his home and offered him food and drink. The conclusion made him perk up and he grinned broadly at Alexius, romantic woes put aside for the moment. "What a fascinating life!" he commented as he licked a blob of sauce off his finger. Gladiator, imagine that! Somehow it suited Alexius
  10. From the look of surprise on his face it seemed the man had little experience being told what to do, or having it done in less than convoluted ways. Odd when half of Rome was constantly ordering the other half around, but perhaps he was one of the fortunate ones that did the ordering. Looking at him, he didn't quite come out as poor like her, but he didn't seem to be swimming in gold either. Fantastic, they had reached the same conclusion. Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Safinia waited in silence for the man to own up and start picking up the turnips, but the next words out of his
  11. To his credit the man took the sack without complaining - which was only appropriate, since the turnips would still be safely stored inside it if he hadn't bumped into Safinia. That the sack turned out to be ripped was also his fault, she felt, although that was harder to explain rationally. Chances were a small tear had widened when the turnips were jostled. Not quite pacified, she looked expectantly at him, wordlessly willing him to get down and start collecting the vegetables, but blinked in surprise when he spoke. "Not really. I need to take these to the White stables." Distance had b
  12. Seeing nothing that raised suspicion, Safinia resumed her snail pace, noting to herself that the sack seemed to have got heavier in the few instants she had stopped and stood. Almost as if a tricky god with a twisted sense of humour had added a few turnips to the sack while she was distracted. If that turned out to be true, the cook would undoubtedly be pleased, but it was as likely as the sun rising again at that very moment. With heavy breaths she trudged along, wiping a stubborn lock of hair away from her eyes. Nobody paid her much attention or offered to help; the few passersby had th
  13. As a child Titus had imagined he would grow up to be many things, but actor had never been on the list. Facing the same hostile audience had not become any simpler despite repeated exposure, but he could at least muster a genuine smile at little Luto, who was eyeing the pallium with unabashed curiosity as the group made their way to the main hall. He supposed he should be thankful they had given him decent clothes, but couldn't quite find it in himself to act like it. For a barbarian, Zia cleaned up nicely when she could be bothered to put in the effort. Still, not all the gold and finery
  14. Oh, so his new friend was one of those who did not believe in the greatness of the gods. What most people did not seem to get was that you couldn't just waltz into a temple and start begging for favours - no, first you had to show proper, heartfelt devotion, and when the deity was satisfied then they would look kindly on you and maybe help you a little. It was inconceivable to Artemon that somebody could be so indifferent to all gods, what with how many of them existed. "I was fancying a good Egyptian beer after praying at the temple, but now I see that Mother Isis gave me a task when she
  15. Late October, 75 AD - near the White stables The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, and only a few remnants of its light tinted the sky with streaks of lighter blue among the growing darkness. Nightfall meant most well-meaning inhabitants of Rome retreated back into their abodes, and Safinia, on her way from the market, was about to join them in doing just that. The sack on her back was heavy with turnips and delayed her already slow pace, but if she got the vegetables to the kitchens today then she wouldn't have to venture out in the middle of the day tomorrow, when the
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