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Fantasy The Garden of the Gods - CS



I should be working...

Character sheet






Country of origin:

description of personality/background

Language proficiencies: Latin/Greek/West Germanic/Other

Religious beliefs: Roman pantheon/Greek pantheon/Paganism/Zoroastrianism/Christianity/Judaism/Other

Martial training: Legion experience/Self-taught/Tribal upbringing/Other

Factional alignment: (choose one)

Flavian Loyalist:
You played only a minor role in the civil war, and naturally you supported the man who brought the madness to an end.

Effect: Affirming your loyalty to the Flavian name could help you out of a tight spot – and you still have a large purse of gold gifted to you by the Emperor the last time you were in Rome. Be aware, however, that there are some in this forgotten colony that may be unwilling to recognise the new Emperor.​

Nero’s Favourite: Unbeknownst to many, the previous Emperor looked upon you favourably. Nero may be dead, but his memory lives on amongst his supporters.

Effect: Members of the Praetorian Guard remember this and will be more inclined to treat you well, as will supporters of the failed Emperor Otho. Should your secret be revealed, a vial of poison hidden on your person could be used to prevent you from being captured alive – or to cause the death of an enemy.​

Parthian Agent: The Kingdom of Parthia has great financial interest in Appolonia. Trade with a distant empire known as “China” has made the Kingdom the richest in Asia Minor, and dinosaur products are in high demand. Though the island is under the control of Parthia’s greatest enemy, the harvest of dinosaurs continues in secret.
Effects: You are connected to the network of Parthian agents spread across the island, and have access to a map of secret landing sites on the coast. It is vital, however, that other Romans do not catch you in possession of such information. In addition, a member of the Parthian royal family is known to be active somewhere on Appolonia, and could prove useful if discovered.​

Tribal Auxilia (male only): Years ago, you were recruited from the native population of Germania to serve the Empire as an Auxilia. Though your unit was disbanded before you received citizenship, you look back on your service with pride.
Effects: Other West Germanic speakers will be glad to meet someone who speaks their language, although some Romans may react poorly. In addition, your legion training will give you the edge in combat, construction and field repair. Many Germanic Auxilia troops were experts in amphibious warfare, and being able to swim is a rare and valuable talent.​

Escapee: For as long as you can remember, you have lived only to serve others. So when the ship carrying your master and most of his extended family sank just hours after leaving the harbour at Ostia, you washed ashore in a strange new world. There are others like you out there, and with some help you managed to travel across the Empire, taking odd jobs and laying low to avoid suspicion. Perhaps traveling to Appolonia will turn out to be a mistake…but at this point, you are beyond caring.
Effects: Try not to blow your cover! You have distinctive tattoos that could give you away to any Romans. Living on the streets has also given you light fingers, and thievery has become a very necessary survival skill.​

Gladiator: Though you were awarded your freedom after surviving your tenth bout, you yearn to return to the ring of honour. Traveling this far may have been a gamble, but the chance to perform before a new crowd and against new opponents was too good to pass up.
Effects: You are a natural fighter, and your scarred body is no stranger to pain. Though some Romans consider low-born entertainers vulgar and crass, others may find them strangely attractive.​

Vestal Virgin (female only): As a sacred custodian of the temple of Vestia, godless of the hearth, you hold a privileged position in Roman society that few other women can match. Once news that the temple in Bomarzium was unattended reached Rome, you were the initiate chosen to become its custodian.
Effects: All manner of odd traditions dictate your life, and your interactions with others. To enforce these rules, you have the option of recruiting a pair of lictors to serve as bodyguards in the colony.​
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Worthless pleb
Name: Sertor Domitius Longinus

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Height: 5'9 (175 cm)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Country of origin: Helvetia (Modern Day: Switzerland)


Sertor, born to a peasant family in Helvetia, was the third son of a family of seven. Sertor was the most rambunctious son in the family and perhaps the most unwilling to do farm work. The tension between Sertor and his father grew every year, only being temporarily quelled by his mother who always doted on the young son. However her time on this green earth would be short as Cato, Sertor's oldest brother, became spiritually ill. Whether Cato's illness was with him from his very birth, or it had developed through the years, isn't known. But in his madness, he struck their mother with a sickle. She died instantly. The deranged man began to hack away at her with the farming appliance. It was Sertor and their father who were the first to arrive at the scene. The sight sent Sertor into an instant frenzy. Immediately he charged at his brother. He pushed him off their deceased mother then began to pummel him with all the strength he could muster.

Not wishing to see another person die, Sertor's father pulled him off Cato. Cato laid there on the ground, face oozing his blood whilst his hands were coated in his mother's. Sertor cursed at his father for stopping him. Cato was tried for matricide and was sentenced to fight as a gladiator. This punishment angered Sertor, who felt that gladiatorial fighting isn't a punishment for Cato. He confronted his father about it, only to find out that he was glad that Cato would fight in the arena. This was the straw that broke the camel's back for Sertor. He took some money, food and the family's loyal molossian dog Brutus with him. Sertor and Brutus traveled for many months across the Roman country. After many months of travel, Sertor finally found the Colosseum in which Cato fought.

He had learned that Cato had become quite the entertainer in the gladiatorial games, renowned for his brutality and flare. Sertor knew this would happen. If only Sertor had arrived months earlier, he could've killed Cato then but now, he has to become a gladiator in order to exact his revenge on him. He noted that his brother became a Murmillo gladiator which meant Sertor must become a Retiarius in order to have a higher chance to kill him before someone else got him first. Two years of gladiator school later, Sertor exploded on the scene. It didn't matter who or what opponent they sent, Sertor would best them all. On top of that, his energetic attitude electrified the crowd. It was always a good time to see Sertor or rather Longinus battle it out in the arena.

However, the day finally came. The day when Sertor would finally put an end to Cato's madness. The two masked men met in the Colosseum's grounds, surrounded by cheering fans from all sides. Cato readied his fighting stance as did Sertor. The two brothers began their heated duel, neither managing to gain the upper-hand but each time they tried, they got close. The arena was deathly silent as the spectators looked on with baited breath. Any wrong move could mean the end for one of them. Cato was the aggressive one, always attacking while Sertor employed a more passive style -- dodging and weaving between attacks. The battle lasted for an entire hour but could've ended at any point. Then Sertor's opportunity revealed itself and he seized the chance. With the quickness of a viper, Sertor restrained Cato with his net then delivered the killing blow with his trident. At the twilight of Cato's life, Sertor knelt by his side. He revealed himself to his brother, much to his surprise.

"At least... I died by your hand... brotheeerr"

Those words saddened Sertor, he realized that his brother was just as much of a victim in this as their mother.

"Requiescas in pace, mi frater"

After the game, Sertor simply sat with Brutus to mourn his brother and mother, finally after so long.
Language proficiencies: Latin, and West Germanic;

Religious beliefs: Christianity;

Martial training: Partially self-taught, partial gladiatorial teaching;

Factional alignment: Gladiator (Retiarius)

Requiescas in pace, mi frater -- Rest in peace, my brother.

Sushi Muncher

Fyuri's Tacticool BBCultist

Name: Myra (Aerilia)

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Height: 5 ft. 7 in. (170 cm)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Country of Origin: Bithynia et Pontus (Modern Day Northern Turkey)
Come ye weary travelers, and lend an ear to the auspicious thespian here. For I, shall impart to you, good citizens of Rome, a tale from the far east.

Bithynia et Pontus, from a time long ago. A humble and just woman since her upbringing, Myra came from a long line of amazons that served the Pontic crown as formidable warriors in the past. Long, jet black hair like the starless night, dark pair of eyes like the eternal cosmos of inquisitive nature. Trained from a young age, Myra was taught the values of a warrior's honor and nothing was more sacred than to bleed on the field for . From martial arms to meticulous literature, there was a sprinkle of everything that she heeded to hone herself in the service of her kingdom. What was left of the Pontic Kingdom were mere fragments of its defeat some many moons ago. It did not take long for Pontus to be forced on its knees once again at the hand of the emperor. Myra, by then, was a commander in the Royal Cataphract. Fumed by the perceived injustice, sought to take matters into her own hands, leading her ardent followers at an attempt to reforge the old Pontic Kingdom. The ensuing skirmishes failed to escalate, and in the months that followed, the Romans were quick to retaliate. Despite her display of strength, the Romans prevailed and Myra found her end on the golden meadows of Cappadocia. Or at least, that was where the tale ends.

Where the valorous amazonian cataphracts displayed their might, so did their commander. Her plumed helmet marked her presence. Like Achilles to the Greeks, clad in full armor. A few weeks later, a woman emerged from beneath the shades of an olive tree over yonder. Her lips parched, and her fractured lamellar tainted in red. Passerby knew not what became of her, nor whom on Olympus presided over her arduous ways. No one dared to approach her, for her eyes were marked with hatred and a burning desire to keep marching east. A particular young man stopped in his tracks as she came to pass him on the dirt road. When asked "Could you be the Amazon at Cappadocia?", she simply paused to take a breath, tightening her tattered cloak, of which had donned the crest of the Pontic crescent, and marched on into the sandy steppes and ever fading from Tarsus, then the trading posts of Edessa, then beyond Susa's walls.

"What of Myra's fate after that?" a voice from the crowd beckons, to which the dramatic thespian smiled slyly.

Many years later, a woman, whose skin so fair and hair so silky emerged from the Mare Nostrum. Her eyes as inviting as it is nonconforming to the Roman eyes. A stranger, whose lethal schemes resided beneath her varied facades. Following the long forgotten death of the Pontic Amazon Myra, a demon was born. A fiend whose hatred for the Empire grew over the years, have finally seized the chance to bereave it of its illustrious claims. Frumentariis dared not cross the wicked's path, lest they too, become a victim. That demon would come to be known as Aerilia. A name that came with merits upon warranted services for their Far Eastern patrons. No less of a roaming mercenary. Yet, honor did not win her battles. Righteousness did not shield her brethren from hails of Roman pila. And justice was but a lucid dream, conjured by the Gods to mock man's hypocrisy. Where the Olympians have forsaken her at Cappadocia, the newly appointed Aerilia, courtesy of the Parthian's sponsorship, would surely see to it that she would get things her way. A warrior, now armed with sharp deceits and erudite wits, would surely tally those that gets between her and self-indulged vengeance. A once honorable cataphractii, now a discreet facilitator of the Parthian's will. Where interests align, Aerilia would surely see to her trades without fail.

And the young man, now a relieved evocati on furlough, drunk on attention, spending the rest of his good days bringing this tale to you folks of Bomarzium. May the Gods watch over you, for who knows... what calamity the tempestuous Aerilia might bring?

"Alright, that's enough for today, optio. Should've laid off the wine. Come on, let's get you back to your tent."

Language Proficiencies: Latin, Greek & Parthian

Religious Beliefs: Syncretic Greek Polytheism & Anatolian Paganism

Martial Training: Tribal Upbringing / Self-Training

Factional alignment: Parthian Agent
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