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Citizenship: Slave from Brittania

Occupation: Gladiator, Gallus, and bodyguard

Names: Aonghus mac Ailpin; given the latinised 'Aeneas' by his captors.

Sexual Orientation : Heterosexual.




Aeneas is a steady and patient man by nature; something he inherited from his father and a necessary trait in any good blacksmith. A man of few words - and even fewer latin words - he may come across as slow, but rather he thinks things through before he acts. Not a particularly subtle man, he does however have great concern for others. Aeneas also has a sense of fairness that causes his current situation to be particularly grating. He is slow to anger, but like the mountain that has long been rumbling, when his temper finally snaps the results can be spectacular.

Appreciative of simple things, good food, strong drink and a warm bed are enough to keep Aeneas content for the moment. Helping others gives him great satisfaction, and after the very personal nature of life in a village, he finds the Roman hoards oddly blank, and their ability to work as a unit rather than individuals, cold and calculating. He can admire that for what it achieves, but he doesn't like it. He worries about what might happen to his people as the Roman conquest moves inexorably northward.

Often homesick, Aeneas misses the cool, green vales and majestic mountains of his homeland, and even more his misses his wife and young son, and fears that he has been presumed dead, and they have moved on. He yearns to return to them, and the life he left behind. At the same time he finds the technological and architectural developments of the Roman civilisation fascinating, and it's not uncommon to find him staring at some modern wonder like the provincial bumpkin that he is. He secretly worries that if he ever did get back to Caledonia, he himself would be too changed to ever really fit in again.



The classic tall, rangy barbarian, Aeneas towers over his Roman captors. He has a lanky rather than broad frame, and whilst well muscled from his training as a blacksmith, his proportions tend to sinewy rather than heroic.

Pale-skinned, he struggles in the hot, mediterranean sun, and often sports the blush of sunburn over his increasingly rich crop of freckles. His mid-brown hair is shaggy and non-descript, when his head has not been shaved by his master. His only really notable feature are his bright blue eyes.

Lanky and long-limbed, tunics are often too short on Aeneas, unless they were made specificially for barbarians of his height. Given the choice he wears his old tartan trews, but he often isn't, it's hot, and they're rapidly falling apart. He does have good, if hairy, legs. He sports a burn scar on his right forearm, and a long, recently healed scar on his right thigh, from when he was captured.




FATHER: Ailpin mac Dubh Glas, 48
MOTHER: Mael Muire ingen Feorghus, 45
SIBLINGS: Isabhael ingen Ailpin, 23, Mael Cuimh mac Ailpin, 20, Maebh ingen Ailpin, 17
SPOUSE: Eoife ingen Ruaraidh (in Caledonia), 23
CHILDREN: Fiachu mac Aonghus mhic Ailpin, 5
OTHER: Master - Claudia Corinthia




Born at the turning of the year in AD 50, Aonghus was the welcome first child of Ailpin mac Dubh Glas, the village blacksmith, and Maelmuire ingen Feorghus, daughter of a woodsman widely regarded for her herblore and talents in weaving. A steady stream of siblings arrived, and Aonghus became their natural lead; both chief troublemaker and sibling-wrangler. He learned to snare rabbits and tickle trout, forage berries and mushrooms, and keep out from under the feet of his elders. Together he and the other village children would maraud through the nearby forest or play in the snow, help to herd the cattle and sheep, and fetch and carry for the adults, whilst learning snippets of what their elders did. It was an idilic childhood in the rural north.


Having shown the same calm, thoughtful temperament as his father, Aonghus began learning his trade as a blacksmith; a valuable member of the village and a trade which promised to set him on a path of security and influence in the village. The implications might have been lost on him at first, but the applications were not; Aonghus proved to have his father's aptitude for working hot metal into all the things the village might need. One accident with a hot iron earned him a burn scar on his right forearm and a healthy respect for his tools, but he generally seemed well suited to the path laid before him. He trained with all the children in arms and the crafts that were necessary for the the smooth running of the village.

As they grew older Mael Cuimh joined Aonghus in his lessons at the forge, taking the role of junior apprentice whilst Aonghus was given more significant tasks. Mael Cuimh didn't have quite the even temperament of his older brother, having inherited some of their mother's fiery nature - along with her red hair - like their sister Isabhael, but he also had a flare for the artistic, and produced fine wrought-iron items that were both elegant as well as purposeful. The two brothers worked well together, though there were occasional moments of tension as they grew older and the question of whether they would work together in the future or whether Mael Cuimh would strike out on his own came to the fore. A blacksmith was welcome anywhere, but there was never any suggestion that Aonghus would be the one to leave, being the elder.

This became more apparent as the children of the village grew older and began to catch each other's eye. Aonghus himself developed no particular preference early on; that is to say, he liked most of the girls equally. But as time passed he developed a fancy for a girl called Brigitta from the next village over. However, quiet conversations happened between parents and Aonghus was steered gently in the direction of Eoife ingen Rhuaraidh, a daughter of Ruaraudh mac Domnhall, the current chieftain. Given his easy-going nature this wasn't difficult, helped by the fact that she was a pleasant and competent young woman.

ADULTHOOD [61AD onwards]:

Aonghus and Eoife were handfasted in AD 70, and the arrival of a healthy son Fiachu in AD71 completed their little family. With the help of their families they built a sturdy house next to his father's, and more and more Aonghus was learning the wider necessities of running such a business. Aonghus's path was golden, his career assured, his marriage loving and his son a candidate for future chiefdom through his mother; everything was perfect, much to the growing resentment of his brother Mael Cuimh.

That was, until the fateful journey. Travelling south to the river Tyne to trade for raw iron with the Textoverdi, a sept of the large and powerful Brigantes tribe, Aonghus had of course heard word of the Roman invasion to the south. But the south seemed a very long way away. What he failed to understand was how organised the Romans were, and how very fast they could move.

Swept up in the final push by Quintus Petillius Cerialis and the II Adiutrix to bring the region to heel, Aonghus found himself fighting for both his life and his freedom. Unfortunately he failed. Overwhelmed with his brothers in arms by the sheer discipline and tactics of the Roman invaders, he was downed by a blow to the leg from a legionaire's short sword. Captured, Aonghus expected to be either ransomed or killed; it was what his people would have done. Instead his wound was treated and he was bundled up with a large number of Brigantean captives, marched across more and stranger land than he had ever seen in his life, to eventually arrive in that distant city that, for him, had been only a distant fable; Rome.

It was a harsh fall from grace. Once a young man with all the promise of the world before him, he was now a slave of the Empire. The Romans seemed to hold no pity for them, if also no particular vindictiveness. They might as well have been cattle. Fed when needed, tended when hurt, beaten when disobedient, their status as just another commodity liberated from conquered lands was made abundantly clear to them. A few of their number were executed the first time they tried to escape, and others were marked for displeasing their new masters. Aonghus decided to bide his time and learn how he might be more successful than they had.

Unable to pronounce the palatal g of his name, the Roman who seemed to be in charge of the slaves during the march dubbed him Aeneas, and thus was he known to them. Just one of many idiot barbarians to be looked down upon. Arriving with a large influx of other slaves, he was amongst those set aside for the upcoming gladiatorial games.

And he might have ended there, just another human foil for the more famous fighters to demonstrate their skills upon, had not a young woman, Claudia Corinthia, taken an interest in him. Whether becoming her property would be an improvement on his lot remained to be seen, but over time he came to serve her as her bodyguard, and gradually his grasp of latin improved, even if his accent was still thick as northern mist. And over this time too his drive to find a way home waned, not because he didn't desperately long for the life he'd been taken from, but because after five years he came to accept that life would no longer be there for him. Eoife would have married another, and his beautiful baby boy Fiachu would be calling another man 'father'.

In the depths of the night when no one could hear he wept silently for what he had lost. And during the day he surived.

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