MCG_Warface

Heavy Antibiotics worked..... one beer mixed with those.......got me a bit buzzed in Canada though......... Im such a wuss

First of all.............my medication says "May cause dizzyness" I say that "may" is an understatement......... Yes its all true...... though I had no intention of stealing her shoes, .............and unless my subconsious mind is really a drag queen, I prefer to go with the Im all drugged up on heavy antibiotics theory.

well that and combined with my Oklahoma DNA, means........ comedy and entertainment for Eve.


Oh and I killed the Lord (of course I mean brown) recluse spider .............I used her shoes :P

Found out mine is bugged not banned............. looks for can of raid to fix

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Welcome to the world of CoH.

[/ QUOTE ]Oh I have been here....... doesnt make all things right in the world. Some policies are just wrong.......and need to be modified.

Not one sentence in all the dialogue did I make fun of race, creed, color, foul language........... nothing.

Unless bunnies by themselves are offensive......... maybe its because the player is mad they dont have a furry tail too!

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the hatred runs deep. especially when they get lost in the burrow!

[/ QUOTE ] HAHA An evil bunny! ......................gets bat *hides behind back* holds out carrots........... :P

The results are in........it wasnt banned it was bugged according to the game support. I just have to figure out whats bugged about it. I heard if something gets banned it is removed or flagged..........though I dont know for sure.

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I'm all for playing with someone who has an open mind and has a sense of humour and not "the powers you chose suck ergo you suck!" mentality.

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You might want to re-read what he said. If anyone's got that mentality, it's you, given how you interpreted what he told you.

[/ QUOTE ]Honestly she only got that way after he said............ "it's because they are bad and not because you or your ice/* blasts are good."
.......... I think he cast the first stone, he got personal first. She at least stayed within humor. Does he know her skillset? I doubt it. No reason for making his comment just because he disagreed with her.

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I have not seen anyone use the term "any kind of story", I have used "a story" and there is a difference even if small.

Quick example of "any kind of story" that would most likely be banned:
Lewt City: Run the map get and many tickets as possible, click glowies etc. HAVE FUN.
BANNED.

Quick example of "a story" that would most likely NOT be banned:
Lewt City: Mynx is being held somewhere in this ruined city. You and your team of heroes have been called to rescue her asap. More story more story etc.....
NOT BANNED.

Same map, same objectives different story. Not rocket science here.

[/ QUOTE ] Ahh but mine had a HUGE storyline, COMPLETE dialogue, ambushes, everything............... NO FOUL language, no reference to creed, gender, race, and still banned. But all bosses....... so why banned...... because some idiot decided it was a farm. So not necessarily rocket science. NOW the burden is on me to prove its not. Thats crap.

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"and not because you or your ice/* blasts are good."

"not really... are you on freedom? wanna duel?"

"lolprotector.

virtue has like 5 good players."

"get emo."

[/ QUOTE ]Ah...... ahhhh Freedom how I wish I could go there...........I hear that you get badges for fighting mental giants... Good thing I have Psi Protection in my build

Wow that really puts a burden on us. If some guy doesnt like you and hits report.........it gets banned without being looked at .....its on you to deal with customer support. Seems like a new way to grief to me.

I dont know how you get around it, maybe make it so they have to give a full description of WHY it should be banned and customer service MUST email you why it was banned. I think thats fair. If they cant do it.....because of a lack of people to process reports then DONT BAN THEM.

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It's in two parts: #1 #2

[/ QUOTE ]Thanks Tripp!

I will contact support. Hope it works out. Thanks for all the comments. Yes it was all bosses, mainly so we could fight a comparable warface on the hardest setting only LOTS of clones. It gave us a good challenge with him having EM.

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Some of the farming missions tend to disappear after a while.
Now, if Posi's warning is actaully being carried out, that means that the missions were reported, the GM's looked at the mission and locked it out.
And if so, then one of that player's three mission slots has been locked out as well.
If there is a finite number of farmers, then this will clear up, particularly if a player with two to three locked out mission slots is actually banned from playing arcs as well, but I no idea if this is the case.

[/ QUOTE ]Can someone point me to the Positron warning I guess I missed?

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Welcome to the world of CoH.

[/ QUOTE ]Oh I have been here....... doesnt make all things right in the world. Some policies are just wrong.......and need to be modified.

Not one sentence in all the dialogue did I make fun of race, creed, color, foul language........... nothing.

Unless bunnies by themselves are offensive......... maybe its because the player is mad they dont have a furry tail too!

Wish I could hear a red name just comment on this (Not on my missions specifically) but on the thought process behind this.

Built two missions. Both were full boss spawns, made for me and a few friends. Both had DETAILED storylines within, both had lots of comedy, glowies, triggered ambushes with more comedy, all custom built toons. They were made for my friends and I------------- and not large AE farming teams.

None had foul words, none replicated anything outside of the game. Cottain Tails and Warface clones were the two missions.

So how on earth did they get nerfed? If someone gets a hair up their butt and plays my mission and decides it is too much of a farm (without taking the time to listen to the content) and report it............ it gets banned for being a farm? This is a serious question and I think there is a balance here.

Where is our ability to protest their comment (which never came my way btw) I GOT ZERO feedback whoever did that.

Honestly I guess I dont know where the fine line is, and I feel like I just wasted MANY hours making two fun missions.

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I created an SG called "The Master Baiters". It never got nerfed that I know of, but then I had deleted the toon that created the SG. Our motto was "We beat off villains!" And our symbol was an eye.

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Were you out of Beer... and, was this on Pinnacle?

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It was on Protector. And no beer for me. I know, I know. I'm Canadian and I don't like beer -- to the stake with me!

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I'd like you to apologize for your communist leanings as well plz.

[/ QUOTE ]As opposed to your communist leanings in New Hampshire.

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Thanks for the tips. And great idea releasing all the guides right before i14 pops and people are browsing the forums to pass the 5 hours, but did you really have to do some many?

Really like the color, size and text variables, this will help with quality is some of my arcs. Thanks a lot!

[/ QUOTE ] Actually I like how he broke them up, I think they should sticky it with links to each one.

Very nice!

I dont know about trash talk, but my favorite response coming from a player after you kill them:






A frowny face says it all..hehe

hehe, now this would be a better add to get people to buy the game!

Chapter 3 is up and posted.

The knowledge you seek, my friend, can only be gained through the retelling of its origins, our origins. In order to understand everything that I have done, even why I chose to save you during the invasion of Sicily, all stem from betrayal.

Betrayal moved me to to my greatest feats and brought me to my darkest despair. It is in these defining moments that we are shaped to become who we are, what we are. You understand betrayal, I believe. Soon, however, you will discover how far down the rabbit hole you have fallen and how worthless of a pawn you really are in the scheme of things. What is important, you believe, is the here and now. The here and now, my friend, is fear -- consuming fear.

I had never felt horror as I did thinking that my love, my Callista, was in some sort of peril. It surged through my veins; it drove me; it spurned me onward. I pushed the craft faster and harder than my body would allow. Blood trickled down the oars from my hands as I struggled to get to the main island.

When I hit the Cimeroran docks, I wasted no time. Several legionnaires saluted as they saw my tribune garb and began to assist me.

"Sir, can we hel-"

"No time, soldier!” I dismissed him and called to Tarixus. “Keep up boy!" I yelled, not wasting time with formalities any more. Tarixus struggled to keep up as I ran to my house.

I arrived at the door only to find it locked. Without hesitation I banged on it. No one answered. I kicked the door down with a mighty blow. It flew off the hinges and blew into the corridor of the house.

"What is the meaning of this?!" a slave woman yelled without seeing who knocked down the door.

She rounded the corner with a stick ready to beat off the would-be intruder, but saw me instead.

"Master Servilius!" she exclaimed. "You are … alive!"

"What do you mean?” I asked, confused and enraged. “Where is Callista?"

The older woman paused. Her head dropped, and she shook as she backed up.

"Where is she, Lusca?!" I boomed at my servant. “Did General Imperious not bring her back to my house? Is she still at the castle?” I demanded.

"Master,” Lusca began, “she spent most of her time at the castle with the General who looked after her. She was to return here to your house, but when she heard the news of your death, she stayed there. Some months went by, and she appeared fine, sad and grieving, but healthy. Then not more than two months ago, almost a year after your departure, she began to change, grow distant and forlorn. She was not herself.”

“But, I sent a letter not some six months ago,” I interrupted in disbelief.

“I can not say why she did not receive such a letter, master. We all believed you to be dead, even General Imperious,” Lusca explained.

“What happened to her?” I asked more quietly, fearful of the answer.

“She disappeared, master,” Lusca sighed and wiped away a tear. “One day while I was hanging clothes to dry, I saw her in the courtyard. She held something in her hand and walked off towards the sea. When I finished hanging the clothes I went to go find her. She was gone. I sent for General Imperious and the men searched for days. The sea must have claimed her. The entire kingdom was saddened by the news."

“Why, … why did they think I was dead?” I asked. “I was gone little more than a year and many times the legions can be gone up to five to ten years during a campaign.”

"Praefect Geminius told us you were dead, master,” she explained. “He told us he and ten other men were the only survivors."

"Geminius!" I hissed and raised my body with pure hatred and rage.

I must have scared the old slave woman as she fell to the ground.

"Where is he?" I barked at her, my fists shaking uncontrollably.

"M-master, h-he sits at the castle at General Imperious side. I-I saw him go there while I was at the market today," she stuttered, afraid.

"Watch the boy!” I commanded as I grabbed my shield and gladius.

I sprinted across the mountain path towards the castle. Praetorians watched me run forward, fully armed and did not know how to react as I raced past them. The most I would hear would be the random "Sir?" as I was a blur before their eyes.

I sprinted across the castle bridge into the castle itself. It was a long run, but I was driven with pure mad insanity. Geminius would perish by my hands.

I raced up the stairs into the main citadel, kicking open the doors to the throne room. There stood a group of people staring at me. I was in a blood lust, unsure of who was my friend and who was my foe. The praetorians moved towards me as I held my gladius in hand.

"Geminius, you foul cur! Face me now, you cowardly wretch!” I cried out.

General Imperious rushed forward, and I could see Geminius to his flank.

"Marcus, you are alive!” he cried. “Thank Jupiter!"

He came at me with open arms to embrace me, a shocked look on his face.

"Get out of my way, General!” I growled, pushing him to the side, not receiving his embrace. “Geminius has deceived me, our legion, and he is a murderer of children!” I cried, causing both Imperious and his guard to stand back and watch me. “He tried to kill me, and then left me for dead. He is a dog of Romulus!” I spat. “I am here to settle our score."

Imperious stepped in front of me again, a look of worry and anger on his face.

"Surely, Marcus, this must be a mistake?" Imperious asked.

"No mistake. He and his praetorians, men that I have served with for years, betrayed me and tried to keep the tome for themselves, for Romulus."

Imperious turned around and looked at Geminius whose skin was burned and scarred from the encounter with Akarist.

"He,” I said, pointing at him with my sword, “is the cause of my love's death, and he will pay for that cause with his life!"

As I stepped past Imperious towards Geminius, two of Geminius special praetorians rushed at me from the flanks while the others stood in shock. I sensed their movement as their swords were held high for a direct blow to my head. I spun low and brought my gladius clean under the rib cage of the man to my left, up through his armour. Then using his body as a shield, I threw him backwards into the second traitor then leapt up high in the air and came down on his head, cleaving it in two. Their bodies dropped like trees in the forest.

I glared at Geminius and prepared to rush him when Imperious stood in front of me once more.

"Stop this, Marcus! Stop this madness!" he commanded.

I could sense the boy near me. He had followed me to the castle and was now standing behind me, watching. I believed that he was there to stop me, but it turned out he was there to do more than that.

Geminius strode forward and pushed General Imperious shield to the side.

"General, if Tribune Servilius has come here to die, I can surely help him with that,” he said as he grinned, unsheathing his gladius and rushing towards me.

"Die traitor!" he yelled as he closed in on me.

Very few could call themselves a master swordsman in this world. I had no doubt about my skill, and I was ready for his mistake. Geminius brought the sword in a wide arc attempting to dispatch my head. In that instant I knew that I did not want to kill him yet. I wanted him to confess for his crimes, to be belittled in front of my men, my peers and my superiors. I wanted them to see him for the traitor that he truly was.

I ducked rapidly, missing his swing and with the hilt of my sword, I hit his squarely on the kneecap, causing a crunching sound as I connected to the bone. He spun over like a rag doll falling to the ground, face first, his gladius falling across the floor.

I leapt up and walked towards him kicking his sword out of his reach. I pointed my blade to his neck as he turned over to put his hands up, begging me to stop.

"I will give you but this one chance,” I said, towering over him. “Confess to all here what you have done, and I might let you live."

General Imperious walked over beside me and stared down at Geminius. It seemed as though Imperious was finally beginning to realise who the traitor really was.

"Servilius, you have always been a clueless boy,” Geminius laughed, wincing as he clutched his crushed knee. “Perhaps it is fitting that both you and Imperious share the same first name. So trusting. So foolish. So weak!” he spat as he looked up at the general by my side. “You have no idea what has truly been going on here, Servilius. I am not the one you want killed. I am not the reason your Callista died," Geminius said with a malicious grin on his face.

"Do not say her name, traitor!" I yelled.

Imperious reached down and grabbed Geminius by his tunic.

"Geminius, keep your foul mouth shut!” he threatened. “Guards! Take Geminius away!" he ordered.

I stood there confused. I did not understand why Imperious was preventing Geminius from speaking.

"Stay your post guards!” I threatened them with my sword and they paused. “What were you going to say, traitor?" I commanded.

Geminius smiled, happy I had taken the bait, giving him his moment of escape.

"The General bedded your wife-to-be, tribune,” he laughed. “He was in love with your woman and when he found out that you were dead, he took her. She must have discovered that you were alive and mortified with grief, she took her own life.”

Imperious made a move to strike Geminius, but I held his hand.

“Did you not wonder why you were sent on a suicide errand, Servilius?” Geminius laughed. “He wanted you dead and your woman for himself!" he said with an evil twisted smile.

"LIAR!" Imperious roared and struck down at Geminius.

I turned in disbelief and looked into General Imperious' eyes -- they told me what I needed to know.

"Damn you to the fires of Hades!” I screamed as I rushed at Imperious, leaving Geminius on the ground.

I was faster than ever had I been before. I could sense guards coming at me from all directions. I could hear the boy scream.

I thrust my sword at Imperious' neck only to have the blade hit and break into two sending me reeling across the floor. I rushed at him again, and he swatted me with the back of his hand sending me flying like I was a child's toy into the wall. I struggled to maintain consciousness, but it was a losing battle. With dark and blurring sight, I watched as Imperious and his guards approach me, Tarixus' screams deafening my ears until I slipped into the void of unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Servilius dragged me from my sleep early that morning and without word we rapidly walked to the docks in the cold darkness. I had not much experience with the sea, but I did have some knowledge of the various ships that drifted upon it. The boat that we were to board was a rare vessel of ancient days and rather small. Long seasoned she appeared, weather-stained from typhoons and all four oceans. Her dark hull was lined and cracked from war damage. Her masts looked to be cut somewhere on the coasts of Asia as she was very oriental in design and feel. Her ancient decks were worn and dirty, but it was a noble craft.

The lady privateer met us at the docks and led us onto the ship. Never before had I seen such a collection of men from different regions. There were Asians, Germans, Hispanics, Gauls, Greeks, Judeans, and a few Carthaginians. The styles of their weaponry and armour varied greatly. The sword-wielding Asians appeared to be the dark enforcers of the female who led us aboard the ship. The crew stood at attention as she walked aboard.

"Captain Vierra,” a burly Germanic warrior with a massive double sided axe across his back addressed her as we walked onto the deck. “All stores, men, and arms accounted for Captain."

"Good,” she replied, satisfied. “Tell the navigator that we set sail for Cimerora immediately. Cast off all lines and hoist the sails!"

"Aye Captain!" they all shouted at once and began moving with great haste in all directions.

"You down there,” she said to both Servilius and I as she tapped the hatch door with her foot. “You both are to stay hidden with the cargo."

"Lovely,” the tribune replied. “Will you serve us morning tea and fluff our pillows for us before bedtime, domina?" he asked with a grin.

"If you do not get your Roman [censored] and your little puppy below decks,” she ordered, “I will serve you more than tea!” She half-saluted the tribune and then closed the hatch.

“Puppy?” I asked, eyes wide.

Servilius snorted.

“Hey at least she compared you to something cute and soft.”

For three weeks we sailed, cramped in rotten, dark, dank, mould-infested quarters. On the fourth day of our chosen internment, the tribune finally offered his given name as a sign of respect. I was now to call him Marcus, and he was to call me Tarixus. This was to be the beginning of a bond that lasts to this very day. Although Marcus is not the anchor that allows my ethereal form to remain tied to this mortal world, he has always been a constant reminder of who I was. Should he ever leave my side, I fear what little humanity is left in me should disappear entirely.

But I digress. Seeing the past through my own eyes as a child has caused me to become somewhat nostalgic; I apologise. I assume Marcus will give you some account of our travels across the sea or perhaps not. It was something new and exciting for me, even though I was only half-conscious for most of the trip. My sickness lasted close to a week as it was utter hell getting used to the rocking of the ship. I ate very little that first week.

What I remember distinctly during the voyage, was one particular song the crew sang, for they sang it over and over:

Hey don't yer see that black cloud a-risin'?
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Caesar!
Hey don't yer see that black cloud a-risin'?
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Caesar!

Naow whin Oi wuz a little boy an' so me mother told me,
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Caesar!
That if Oi didn't kiss the gals me lips would all grow mouldy.
'Way haul away, we'll haul away Caesar!

An' Oi sailed the seas for many a year not knowin' what Oi wuz missin',
Then Oi sets me sails afore the gales an' started in a-kissin'.

Naow first Oi got a Spanish gal an' she wuz fat an' lazy,
An' then Oi got a [Roman] tart-she nearly druv me crazy.

Oi found meself a Asian gal an' sure she wasn't civil,
So Oi stuck a plaster on her back an' set her to the Divil.

Sheepskin, pitch, an' beeswax, they make a bully plaster;
The more she tried ter git it off it only stuck the faster.

They were singing this song one late night when I heard a yell.

"Captain!” one of the sailors roared above the singing. “Cimerora's lights, dead ahead!”

"Very well,” the Captain called back. “Darken the ship. We go to the Southern Island. Lookouts, to the bow!"

I could hear one of the sailors calling out the depth as we closed in on the island.

"Four fathoms 'n' holdin', Capt'n!" .

"There! Right rudder!" the Captain called out, moving the ship towards some unknown destination.

"Steady lad,” Marcus said as he gripped my shoulder. “We could be in for some trouble."

Within minutes I could hear the sound of the ocean turn into an echo as if we were in a cave of some sort. The ship came to a halt then rocked backward. I tightened my grip on the bars of one of the crates that were below deck with us as the ship itself came to dock.

"Roman, we are here. On the deck, if you please," said the Captain through the hatch.

Marcus and I gathered our belongings and climbed the oily, fish-scale encrusted wooden steps onto the deck.

"Very well, Captain,” Marcus said. “We thank you for your time, but must ask you of one last favour: where is this contact of yours?" Marcus asked as he handed her the bag of gold.

She half-grinned back at him, and held the bag of currency in her hand, feeling the weight.

"Weigh it!" she yelled as she tossed the bag to one of the Asian bodyguards.

He opened the bag and took out one of the coins and bit it, then put the coin back in the bag and placed it on some sort of a scale.

"Yee Ma'am, it is all hewe," the Asian replied in his strange accent.

The captain turned to us in the cave and pointed directly up.

"Directly above you, you will find my contact, Roman. Her name is Sister Airlia,” she explained and then extended her arm to Marcus' and he clasped his large hand around her forearm in return.

“Let us part paths now. Our business is concluded. I wish you luck, Roman."

Marcus nodded and let go of her arm and grabbed my shoulder, ushering me off of the ship.

"How much of my master's money did you give that woman?" I asked him.

"More than they probably deserved,” he replied. “However, keep a pirate happy, and the ones with honour will not give you fuss," he said.

"Pirates? I thought they were privateers or traders?" I exclaimed.

Marcus laughed at this.

"Trust me. I saw some of their cargo. They are not privateers by any stretch of the word."

As we walked off the ship and ascended the stairs out of the cave, a temple loomed before us. A woman stood at the steps of the temple, the strangest woman I have ever seen. Her eyes, hair, and skin were as white as the snow, and she stood in an unnatural angle. As we walked towards her, I could see she was not entirely in our world. I started to run backwards but Marcus caught me by the arm.

"Marcus,” I hissed as he still held my arm, “she is a ghost!"

"Steel your courage, Tarixus,” Marcus said. “Do not fear. I know who this witch is."

Marcus let go of me and approached the ghostly woman.

"So witch, I thought Imperious banished you from these lands," Marcus said with his hand ready on the hilt of his sword.

"Oh look, one of Imperious' finest returns,” Airlia breathed with mild mockery. “How went your mission, Tribune Servilius?" she asked with that same unearthly voice.

"What do you know of it, woman?" Marcus commanded.

"Oh I know many things, dear Marcus, more than you could possibly imagine," she said with an unnatural smile on her pale face.

“Like what?” Marcus asked, taking the bait.

"Like how you returned for your lovely bride-to-be, but that will never happen now," she replied, attempting to pout.

"What do you know of her, woman! Out with it!"

Marcus pulled out his gladius and pointed the tip towards her ghostly throat. She laughed at his threat and did not move.

"Ohhh that is right. You do not know,” she laughed again. “Better run along and find out then hero," she said with a smile.

Marcus lunged forward but only to find his blade meeting with air as Airlia laughed once more and flew off down into the cave, disappearing out of sight, leaving a black trail of smoke or Juno knew what in her wake.

Marcus bolted towards the row boats moored to the dock and I struggled to keep up before he might inadvertently leave me behind. The rest of our time on that godforsaken island was sheer nightmare and the encounter with the ghostly witch was only the beginning.

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The port of Misenum lay a hundred miles* to the south. We would reach our destination by nightfall as the tribune would, at times, drive our steed beyond its limits. The horse's chest heaved and its nostrils flared, snorting in great gulps of air then blowing it out in quick bursts as we moved with great haste along the high grassland trails.

There would be no checkpoints until we reached the outskirts of the city. Tribune Servilius had donned a large common cloak to hide his seventh legion armour and hid the remainder of his arms inside the animal skins that rested in our bags and on the horse.

We said very little on the final leg of our trip. Servilius seemed to be elsewhere whilst my thoughts focused on my master and his whereabouts. Later that night as we neared the port, I could see the torchlight of the buildings below and lanterns marking the Imperial Roman Navy.

My master had taught us much about the Roman military in our studies. The Roman Navy was always considered an inferior arm and was strictly under army control. Romans were no sailors, and they lacked knowledge of proper ship building. Their ships were, in fact, built copies of captured Carthaginian vessels, combined with Greek expertise. To Romans, a warship was little more than a floating platform on which the soldiers could be brought into close contact with the enemy on the sea or on islands.

The commanders of the fleets were praefecti, recruited from the equestrian order like those of the auxiliaries. However, we would not be on any Roman ship for our journey. We would be looking for trade ships or slave runners -- anything going near or to Cimerora. My master had given the tribune a large amount of denarii and aurei for our passage -- how much I knew not.

With night covering our entry into the city, we moved down the alleyway until we came to a stable. We purchased housing and food for our horse and then found our way into a local establishment that was said to be the hub for all privateers, sailors, and the general dregs of society.

“Tribune, it smells horrible in here,” I complained. “Can we not find some other place?” I asked him while holding my nose.

With a large hand, he brought it forward and landed it on my back, making me stumble forward.

“Such delicate olfactories you possess, young Tarixus,” he laughed and then led me into the bar. “This is our point of reference, lad. We need to get somewhere fast and unseen, and here we can find men to deliver us such promises. We need men who ask little and care even less.”

He put his mouth to my ear.

“So keep quiet, and let me do all the talking.”

Glaring at him, I went over and found a seat at a table in the back of the tavern. The establishment itself was old and weathered with whiskey and wine bottles strewn all over the place. Smoke from pipes gave a foul odour that made it very hard to breathe. Unkempt, burly men filled the place playing Tesserae, wagering what little they owned, sometimes losing their very lives.

One particularly large man was staring intently at me from the bar. He walked over towards me and bent down, leaning his large hands on the table.

“Boy, what is a young sweet lamb like you doing here?” he said, leering. “I think you need to come home with me. I have something to show you.”

He opened his mouth as he grinned, revealing both missing and rotted teeth. I began to turn away from him and leave when I saw the tribune walk up behind the grotesque man and place his hand on his shoulder.

“Leave the boy while you still have the use of speech,” Servilius said, wasting no time with conversation.

“Find your own boy,” the man with the rotted teeth growled, shoving off the tribune's hand.

The man turned around to face the soldier, brandishing the hand axe he held on his belt.

“Perhaps you should take care to whom you threaten, deserter,” the man said, noticing the tribune's armour.

Tribune Servilius smiled.

“Perhaps I should not have given you the option.”

The man did not even notice as the tribune reached for the small blade in his belt with lightning speed, striking him squarely in the throat. Blood squirted from the sides of the wound as Servilius shoved the knife in all the way to the hilt, glaring menacingly into his victim's eyes.

Just as quickly, Servilius yanked out the blade, saying nothing as he watched the man drop to the floor, clutching his throat that gurgled with blood. In a slow, mechanical manner, the tribune bent down and wiped his blade on the man's tunic and then tucked it back into his belt.

“Over here, lad,” Servilius said casually as he pointed to a table across the room where a group of men, who looked surprisingly well dressed for such a place, sat.

I was in shock over how brutally skilful the soldier was and immediately arose and followed him. As we walked over to the table, I tried to bring myself to thank the tribune for saving my life. My pride at the time, unfortunately, lodged the words of gratitude in my throat.

I sat obediently beside the soldier and scanned the men at the table. One, whom I initially mistook for a man, was in fact a woman wearing an archer's garb. Her hair was as white as the snow, slightly hidden by her hood. Staring more intently than I should have, I noted that she had red eyes, which amazed me greatly. The other two men looked to be Asian in decent and wore expensive privateer dress with fine leathers and ornate swords on their backs. They reminded me of drawings in the ancient traveller texts in which my master would tell let us read and tell us stories about the Asian lands. The swords were called chokuto and were straight blades made from a curious metal.

“This is my cargo,” Servilius said as he gestured towards me. “All we need is safe passage to Cimerora and no questions asked, obviously,” he said in his usual direct manner.

“If you or he are marked for death or capture, Tribune, that may up our price,” the woman said from the shadows, eyeing the soldier's regalia.

“First of all, I am not a deserter, and the boy is not marked by the Roman legion,” he said, lifting up a finger to the woman. “Secondly, never address me by my rank.”

Bringing up his third finger in count, I saw her scowl.

“Third, I will pay you a quarter talon of gold if you get us safely to Cimerora -- half now and half upon our arrival.”

She smiled at this; however, Servilius brought down his hand and leaned in close.

“Now if you cross us, woman,” he warned. “I will kill you, your men, and I will take your ship.”

The woman, who I had now realised was obviously the captain, smiled and spit on her hand, extending it to the tribune who took it and sealed the deal.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the utter darkness of the void was a light. It glowed like a dying ember, bright enough to see but not enough to guide. I found myself following the light in the blindness. As I did so, a lithe figure suddenly appeared behind it. I made out her form, but the light was too faint to make out her face. The light then began to pulsate and grow, illuminating her features in the shadows. Soft golden hair fell in ringlets about her shoulders, brushing against her alabaster skin.

I began to walk towards her as her features came into focus, caressed by the light, highlighting a haunting and sombre face. Her lips were full and pink; her eyes were almond shaped, glowing a rich, dark, amber. She was smiling a sad smile, a lonely smile. Her eyes shimmered with un-shed tears. Her lips parted, but no speech was uttered. The light then grew brighter, so bright that I could not bear to look upon it any longer. I closed my eyes, shielding them with my arm.

Finally, I was able to open them, revealing the woman's body now enveloped in fire, flames licking at her pale and delicate face. Her sad smile, her sad eyes, never left me. She stared at me even as the fire reduced her to ash.

The world went dark again.

Flashes of another woman’s face now assaulted my eyes. Her cruel eyes peered out at me through the darkness. Her face was painted as a white skull against ebony skin. Her hair was adorned with white feathers.

Her hand reached out and grabbed my arm in a grip so tight that it cut off the circulation of blood.

“You will make them pay for their insolence, their self righteousness, and their murderous, vile ways,” she thundered. “YOU will make them bow down to our people and to Hequat!”

Her voice was like a roaring thunder, and it shook me with terror. I felt as though she was devouring my very soul.

I awoke with sweat pouring off of my body and an acrid smell filling my nostrils. What I thought to be just a nightly fog filling the air was in fact smoke. I could smell burnt animal fur and see the last manifestations of burning embers surround me where I slept.

“Tarixus, my boy, are you well?” my master asked me from a distance. “You were screaming.”

“Yes master. I think so,” I replied, both confused and tired. “I just had a bad dream, that is all.”

Master Akarist walked over to where I lie and smiled down at me. He reached down and pulled the animal hides up over me.

“That is all?” he asked, seriously.

“Yes,” I replied. “A simple dream.”

He seemed to ponder on my reply with seriousness and then laughed despite his sombre expression.

“Tarixus, my boy, I have never found anything in this world, especially a dream, to be simple.”

He looked down and saw the confusion in my eyes.

“Sometimes, a dream can be a roadmap to your destiny,” he said with a gentle smile and squeezed my shoulder affectionately.

The last thing I believed was that that these two women in my dream were somehow a part of my destiny. I was just a simple boy who wanted to be a man, whose only ambition was to join the ranks of the Circle of Thorns. However, neither ambition nor destiny could wrest my mind and body from sleep. My eyelids languidly fluttered open and then closed. A dreamless sleep finally overtook me.

When I awoke again, my master and the now fully conscious centurion were sitting directly across from me, talking in whispers near the fire. The soldier began to raise his voice in disapproval and distress, but I still could not make out what they were saying. Finally they looked in my direction, noting that I was now fully awake.

I made to sit up and looked at my master who was looking directly into my eyes. His eyes were soft and lined with age. Staring at me, I felt him stare through me. I tried to open my mouth to ask them what they were talking about when a wave of dizziness suddenly overtook me. My eyesight dimmed, and I lost focus of the scene as my master and the Roman began to blur and disappear before my eyes. Once more I was consumed by the darkness.

“Get up boy!” a voice echoed in my head, and I quickly dismissed it.

“I said GET UP BOY!” boomed the voice once more.

I sprang up with a start. The Roman was still adorned in his blood red armour, looking directly at me as he bore all his weight down upon his one knee, crouching to my level.

“What?” I replied, simultaneously alert and drowsy.

“We have a long way to go and not much time to get there,” he said briskly as he rose to his feet to collect his gear. “Get your things, lad,” he said absently as he sheathed his gladius and looked towards the horizon.

“Where is master?” I asked as I got up in a stupor, searching for Archmage Akarist.

“He has some business to attend to,” he answered and then looked down at me with some distaste. “I am charged with your safety. You will be travelling to Cimerora with me.”

“But I do not wish to travel to Cimerora,” I whined. “I have to go to Oran-”

I stopped. I had almost forgot who I was talking to. It was forbidden to utter the name of the ancient city to anyone outside our order.

“Oranbega?” the soldier finished my sentence in a sarcastic tone. “Such a city does not exit, lad. It is a rumour, mere legend -- that is all,” the soldier scoffed.

“My master,” I began, and the centurion cut me off this time.

“Your 'master' is a madman, boy. He has powerful magiks to be sure, and I will be the last to dispute a claim in opposition, but he is not all right up there. There is no such thing as Oranbega.”

The soldier shifted somewhat uncomfortably as he saw the angry glint in my eye.

“I am not saying anything bad about your master,” he began to explain. “He saved my hide, he did. He should have killed me there along with those back-stabbing traitors, but he let me live.” He paused and then he grinned. “So that shows you how much sense the man has then, nay?”

The centurion then stood up and began unhooking the horse from the cart. The other horse was missing, along with my master.

“Why do we go to Cimerora?” I finally asked as I gathered my belongings and tied them to the horse as the soldier walked along side it, down the pass.

“We go to check on my finacée, and find out why I was sent to my death,” he spoke plainly and I cocked my head to the side to look up at him. “Are you up to it, boy?” he grinned mockingly.

“I have not been trained to fight, Centurion,” I said, unable to conceal my hatred for the man.

I could not confess to him that I had not yet earned my right of passage as a man by skilled combat or through hunting. I knew only of healing magiks.

“Well lad, if you are willing to learn then I am willing to teach. First lesson, however, is respect.”

I looked up at him and he looked down at me, his smile removed.

“I am a tribune, not a centurion,” he corrected me. “You will call me Tribune or Servilius,” he commanded, and I scowled.

“Well my name is not 'boy', Tribune,” I replied, equally as haughty. “It is Tarixus, discipulus Tarixus.”

“Oh well then discipulus Tarixus,” he replied, his grin now returned. “When I get done with you, Ares himself would take pause before tackling the likes of you.”

“But I do not wish to fight Ares or anyone else for that matter,” I said as I awkwardly tried to mount the horse behind the tribune.

He offered his strong hand, and pulled my frail body up in an instant.

“Well I do not believe that you have to worry about Ares seeking you out for match, but I do have the feeling that there will be trouble ahead.”

I must have had a look of worry on my face when he spoke of such a portent for at that moment he chose to “comfort” me with words.

“Don’t worry, Tarixus. I will not let them hurt you ... much,” he said with a grin.

“Much?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*