The Lost Legions- Teutoberg forest

[Aiden]

AD 9

Three legions (17th, 18th and 18th) under the command of Publius Quinctilius Varus marched north into Germania to make camp for the summer. Despite the cold and damp conditions, the army marches in near single file through the soggy forest with the thought of wide open and dry camps during the upcoming summer months. Only the sound of armor shifting and wet ground sloshing beneath foot and hooves can be heard for miles during the day time. At night the forest becomes different, pitch blank, colder and much more frightening to all, even the most veteran of Roman soldiers...

[Lyrus]

The tall silver pole with a conical-shaped head held up a narrow trapezoidal base, upon which a gilded bronze eagle with raised-up wings was surrounded by a laurel wreath of the same material, topped by a leaf-shaped spearhead. The bird's fierce gaze seemed to penetrate deep into the depths of the dense forest, undeterred by the miserable conditions and seemingly neverending greenery. The Aquila Signifer - the Aquilifer - holding the standard marched at a steady rhythym, matching the pace of the Legionaries around him; the proud Heavy Infantrymen of the Roman Legions that had trampled all over the known world, and was now marching deep into Germanic Territories. The Cohort that Gnaeus Livius Galeo had been assigned to was composed of mainly mercenaries and native soldiers, though there was a substantial amount of proper Roman Legionaries as well.

The sword scabbard Gnaeus wore at his side was hardly used; his main duty in battle was the hold the proud Eagle Standard aloft, giving heart to all men around it and rallying those who had gotten lost in the fury of battle. His battle was a personal battle, one of pride and importance, and only if the enemy had charged right up close to his position, would he sink the pole to the ground, draw his blade, and meet them in vicious combat. He kept his eyes alert, while men around him stifled yawns and as they marched. The forest unnerved him - and few things unnerved him, for he, Gnaeus, had been through a long and hard military career; few things could faze him. Yet this forest unsettled him; and he kept cautious ... for better a suspicious man than a dead man.

[Federico]

Splosh.

Hooves should not do this noise.

Splosh.

Publius curses the weather, the forest, the trees. He's forced to walk, because his horse would be too tired otherwise. He wonders if this was worth the effort. Three legions, advancing so fast in unknown territory, just to bend the Germans into paying tribute. What could Rome gain from their miserable tribute. He wishes for his family house, the olive trees, the rolling countryside.

Splosh.

He looks on his side, trees, on the back, trees, while in front of him he has trees. The legion lines are thin, stretches in the march. In front of him, the signifier.

Splosh.

Publius glances on the sides. Apart from his line of horses, the heavy infantry is proceeding on a single like.

Splosh.

A single line?

Splosh.

Publius speeds up to the signifier, patting the horse's face - shush, shush - to have a talk with him. What is Varo thinking? They should advance slower, and with more coordination.

Splosh.

"Hail Caesar Augustus! Greetings, Signifier. What is with the thickness of our lines?"

[Lyrus]

Gnaeus turned to the horseman, whilst holding the standard aloft and above his head, swooping it across the air slightly like an oversized bird of prey. "The thickness of the forest splits our men up with mighty force, but with no heed paid by the commanders, there's little one can do." The Aquilifer replied sagely, with the gruff, yet refined tone of a soldier farmilar with his job. Raising one hand, he pointed at the head of the column, and in a voice that seemed to resonate with his resignation, he commented, "So we had to clump together the men the best we could and make them march together instead of spread all about the place - the end result is this long, winding line of infantrymen."

[Aiden]

Marcus was not sure what had urged him to pull away from the main line, but many factors made him ride along side the army. Acting as a rear guard, he was subject to the horrid conditions of a trail long abused and destroyed, any man who was foolish enough to ride through it would experience fatigue rapidly. Along the trail an occasional village buried deep in the forest could be spotted, nothing more than a second glance given to the small bundle of huts. He let his horse travel at a comfortable pace, understanding that the conditions and his weight did not make it easy on it. A slight pat on the horse's neck assured the loyal creature that it would be given a chance to rest soon.

[Desan]

His eyes look around nervously, his legs seeming to quiver at a constant rate. Three steps, quiver. Three more steps, quiver. Two steps, nothing. Three steps, quiver. Three steps....

Sighing, Gratus look around not seeing much besides his fellow soldiers in front and behind him. Muttering to himself to be strong he checked his sword, pulling the cold steel out halfway to check to see if it wasn't stuck in his scabbard. It wasn't stuck, yet the scabbard seemed to cling to the weapon as if lovers lips pushed against each other and one did not want to let go while the other had to withdraw. Growling, he slammed the sword back into the scabbard, peering around the green forest. The trees seeming to close in all around the legions, suffocating them as they traveled deeper and deeper into it.


Three steps, quiver. Three-- "Hail Caesar Augustus! Greetings, Signifier. What is with the thickness of our lines?" Gratus cocked his head to the side, seeing how had said that. His eyes focused on a horseman and the signifier as they began to engage in chat. Though they were too far away for him to hear much, it calmed him some what. He was sure they were discussing how the camps would be set up once they had exterminated the german threat, and how the money would be split amongst the infantrymen.

A smile curved the edge of his lips. Though he had only been in service for a month then thrown into the 18th legion Gratus, though scared out of his mind, was itching to get a first kill, and he knew with the thousands of soldiers in front and behind him, there wouldn't be enough germans to go around.

[TheLegionary]

Lucius continued to march together with the 17th Legion. He was tired and unhappy with the fact that he had not been sent to Greece or Egypt, calmer places. He wanted to know other lands, but not those endless forests in a freezing region, covered with swamps and plagued with bears.

Anyway, what helped Lucius to calm down in those last days was the fact he had met a lovely young girl in a nearby village when he was exploring the region with other scouters. It was fast, the way the girl looked at him and the way they tried to communicate was somehow different - he wanted to meet her again.

The young girl seemed so receptive to him, but they could not talk to much. There was something strange in the air.

[Federico]

I raise my eyes to the banner, its red darkened by rain. Instead of flapping to the wind, the banner falls limp, heavy, trapped by the rain. On our right, a small gully winds up, trickling water down to cross our path. Surely our scouts have inspected it. Thinking about it, I become aware that I have not seen a scout the whole day.

I address a comment to the bearer and to his small circle. "Who would relinquish Asia, or Africa, or Italy, to repair to Germany, a region hideous and rude, under a rigorous climate, dismal to behold or to manure unless the same were his native country?" I do not expect my comrades to answer; they nod gravely, sharing my same thoughts. No one would, no one. Then a new sound hit my ears - the flight of a javelin.

The javelin rebounds from the banner with a splat. The banner vibrates, showering us in water. I know now many of us without turning my head; I look up the gully, where shapes are starting to run, and I mount my horse at the same time, setting my small round shield between us and them, waiting for the shower of javelins that is bound to come. How many of them, I think waiting for the flight of the arrows, cursing our ineffective formation, a narrow line. Weak. Exposed.

[Aiden]

The eerily monotonous march seem to shift as commotion was heard up ahead, word of mouth spread out that the legions were under attack, but from where?! Hooking his heels into his loyal horse, he turned to meet up with his small unit and ask if they knew anything when they came on the receiving end of an attack.
"Do not chase into the forest!"
Marcus heard the order and stopped from pursing, the night was approaching rapidly and it would be best if they all gathered together and stopped. A centurion ordered for the men to report to the clearing up ahead, shadows were slipped between the trees, the legions were being stalked.

Attacks were being made along the entire long snake formation the legions were forced to travel in, hit and run tactics, scaring and whittling away the exhausted troops morale. As the sun went down, a feint fog began to settle in, the men would not have any chance to rest tonight. Crickets, birds and creatures of the forest masked the rustling of Germanic warrios approaching the weary Romans.

[Desan]

"Aye. He's a tall one. My boy. He's going to make me proud. Ever since his mother exposed him to the world, I knew he would be a good soldier for the glory of Rome." Said one roman soldier happily to the other beside him. They stood, somewhat awkwardly in a semi circle as their part of the legion line had held and were told they were given a brief respite. The man next to Gratus continued,  "I told him when I get back I'd bring back a sword so he'd begin to practice! He's so excited that his father is in the army, and he's already worn out his wooden toy sword. Only nine and I'm so pr--"

Red and a gurgled scream was all that came out next Blinking furiously Gratus tried to wipe his face full of the red thick liquid that seemed to spray into his face, only to feel the man stumble into him, his whole body pushing him backwards.

Pandemonium. That's all there was. He could hear random screams from ahead and behind as the air began to whistle as javelins whooshed past Gratus, some embedding into their chosen target: the soldiers. Spinning he turned away from the man who appeared to have an arrow stuck deep into the side of his neck. Losing his balance Gratus fell, one hand out and a shield raised up to break his fall as he splattered onto the wet, muddy ground.

With a grunt he landed, his armor clinking together as he slowly began to look up. There were shouts coming from all directions, rustling of leaves and cries of agony. Then, a brief silence. The attackers. Where were they? He couldn't see much. Slowly, shakily, he got up, his whole body trembling from the experience. He looked around, seeing the outline of the man who was just talking. A javelin had dove deep into his neck, his neck nearly split into two from the impact. "Form up! Continue to march! Shields at ready!" He heard up ahead. Nodding to himself Gratus took up his shield holding it protectively to the side of his body, covering as much of his face and arm as he could.

He tried not notice the very sudden warm liquid in his pants that began to stream down his thighs and legs..

[Federico]

Publius was chewing on a stripe of smoked meat when the horn was blown. Jumping on his horse and rushing to follow his formation leader. He laughed as one of his comrades was dismounted by a low branch. "Pay attention you imbecile!" someone shouted.

His small, round shield would not protect against a well launched javelin. Honorless beasts, they were, launching their volleys just to disappear again in the forest. They had order not to pursue; they were been told that the pursuing parties had failed to return. Publius doubted, knowing the valor of his comrades - of himself. If only he could find some of these germans at sword's length.

The group galloped back, only to come again to a stop. Many valorous Romans were on the ground, pierced by the horrid javelins or hit by slings. And no sign of the enemy. He understood that the night would pass in these futile rushes around the camp. Accursed, honorless beasts.

[Lyrus]

Gnaeus immediately backed away, the cowled animal-skin over his head dripping wet and heavy. Gritting his teeth at the sight of the attackers, he swung the pole heavily, with much gusto; the banner flapped limply several times, heavy as it was, and gave the men courage as they rallied. Orders were shouted from all over the place, but the Aquilifier's role was clear - stand his ground, defend the banner, rally the soldiers. With that in mind, Gnaeus prepared to fufill his obligations; reaching into his side, grasping hold of the horn that lay strapped to his belt, and holding it to his lips, he took a deep breath.

The sonorous boom of the war horn echoed across the valley, drowning out all sound for a moment. Gnaeus strapped the horn back to his belt as the men calmed at the sound of the war horn; they would attempt to hold formations now.

[Desan]

His head snapped up and peered over his shield at the sound of the horn. That must be the rally point, or so he was told. His eyes squinted in the darkness, fires blinking here and there before his eyes settled onto the wavering banner. "Head over there?" He asked a solider that ran by him. "Hold forma ---" his words were cut off as a javelin slipped right into his chest, throwing the soldier back and impaling him to the ground. Eyes widening, Gratus quickly made his way towards the banner, hearing more cries of agony swirl around him.

As he gets towards the banner he spots the man who was waving it and had presumably blew the horn. "Orders? What do we do?" He asked in a shaky voice, trying to adjust himself from the uncomfortableness in his pants and crotch area.

[Lyrus]

"Gather up, form defensive line!" Gnaeus barked as Gratus appeared, "We must wait for the Legate to give the orders!" He dragged the heavy banner along with him, swinging it forward so that the drenched banner was in visible sight of all Roman and German. "They are keeping their distance, this is a guerilla tactic! Testudo!" Gnaeus shouted, thrusting the flag up into the air as he said so and crouching down, moving into the middle of the formation that was forming up at his shout. Legionnaries begun to move into a tight square, holding their shields up and around their heads to mimic a turtle, and urging their fellows to form similar formations so as to prevent the javelins causing further damage.

[Desan]

Gratus nodded, moving to the back of the formation and turning around so he walked backwards, hoping those in front were holding their shields high enough. With a shaky step he began to move with those who gathered around the banner. With every step he tried hard not to stumble and fall over and destroy the formation. Who would've thought  training would ever be used like this.

Sweat dripping down his body under his armor they began to move forward. Soon a thunk was heard to his right. He could here the person who had been hit stumble back and grunt from the shock, but otherwise hold still. "How long do you think they'll assault us for?" He screamed above the noises as they continued to move back

[Lyrus]

"Not for too long." Was the curt reply of the Aquilifer, holding the banner tall and proud as the javelins sailed overhead. One of them punctured a hole in the banner, whilst the other two dented the frame, but otherwise the banner remained in the air. Hushed voices muttered to each other, and the shields rose higher and higher with more confidence as the javelins bounced off them. Once or twice, a man gave way, and was immediately replaced before the gap in the formation could be exploited. "Where is the Legate..." Gnaeus grunted, glancing about while he was confined in the tight safety of the Testudo.

[Aiden]

Just as fast as they had arrived they left, the lines and soldiers lay in ruins. Countless were dead or injured officers had fled towards the front of the line leaving many of the others mostly green soldiers to fend for themselves. With morale down, many troops looked around in confusion for something to do. Even one person who attempted to lead were ignored, Marcus did not like the way things were looking.

Of his unit of 32, only 5 remained, the rest lay dead or fled like cowards. While others settled down for the long night before them, he rode up the line to warn others to move in unison. Gather in their formation, back to back and avoid the temptation to sleep and rest. His words fell on deaf ears, moving up until he spotted the damaged banner of the 18th. From up top his horse, he called addressed the bearer.
"The 17th legion is in ruin, is your commanding officer within your rank or did he flee with the cowards of the 17th?"

[TheLegionary]

The Barbarian assault to the 17th came from both sides and was swift. Worse than that, it was almost simultaneous to the attack to the other legions. The legionnaires fought bravely but there was no way out - the way the columns were marching made it impossible to organize defenses properly. Moreover, communications were swiftly cut off by the attackers, making coordination even more difficult. Every small group, vastly outnumbered from every sides, was fighting its own private battle.

This was exactly what happened to the 17th. Broken into 10 or 15 smaller groups, all of them outnumbered by Barbarian forces, each group was fighting not for victory, but for their own survival. Desperately, to say the least.

Lucius was in the smallest of these groups. They tried to organize a testudo, but their efforts were in vain - the enemies were using horses and they broke twice the formation. It did not take more than a couple of hours for the panick to take place among the legionnaires.

Lucius regretted deeply having joined the army. He would be much better in Egypt or Greece, not in that bloddy forest. He had to find his way out of that confusion and to survive. After these thoughts, he stabbed a large, bearded Barbarian carrying a hammer in front of him. He was running short of time to find his way out as more and more Barbarians were arriving. All he wanted was to go back to the peaceful village he had visited some time ago.

[Lyrus]

Gnaeus stepped out of the tight, compact formation that was housed around him; his hands never left the banner, despite their now ragged and torn state. It was a symbol of pride, survival, and above all, it would be a sign of victory. "I can't say I have seen the Legate nor the Commandant, and I certainly don't know where they went." The Aquilifer replied, raising his head so he could address the mounted horseman properly. "If you ask me, stretching the lines out was a big mistake. Not sending the damned scouts out was a big mistake. And letting Varus command the troops was a big mistake." He caught himself mid-rant, and admitted ruefully, "Not that you're asking me."

He took a glance back at the ragged bunch of men taking turns to hold up to the Testudo while others sat down. If the Germanic Tribes attacked again, Gnaues and his cohort would at least be safe. "The 18th is a mess right now. But at least we've got survivors."

[Desan]

As fast as they had attacked, the barbarians had receded back into the forest. Blinking, Gratus peeked over his shield only to be exposed to such a horrific sight laid in front of him. Bodies. Everywhere. "What...What do we do?" He stammered out loud, his body beginning to quiver again as the adrenaline began to recede out of his excited muscles. Bodies, torn up everywhere. Dead men laying upon each other, some impaled by the same spear. Blood, guts, the groans and screams of pure agony filled the air as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"I..I need to get back into line..where..where's the formation? Where is our Legate?" He mumbled, his pupils dilated, his arms and hands quivering as he tried his hardest not to vomit. He turned his head to Gnaeus, feeling woozy already and unable to process what really had happened to the legions who were marching through the forest.

[Lyrus]

"Stay in the Testudo, boy." The Aquilifer replied shortly, turning and stabbing the pole into the ground firmly so the banner flapped limply where all could see it. "Can't find the Legate, and certainly don't know what to do with no orders." He blinked at the questions, then turned to see Lucius in and the rest of some of the routing 17th running off in a panic. He heaved a great sigh; this was something of a disaster as it were. "There is no line." He said flatly to the stunned Legionary.

[TheLegionary]

Aquillifer's order came amid a confusion. Lucius decided to stay in the testudo for some more time, but many were fighting alone. Another Barbarian feel in front of them. Definitively, even in a surprise strike, the Barbarians were very inefficient. However, their massive numbers were cracking down the column´s defenses... would they resist for long?

He looked behind and saw a Barbarian horse was making victims behind him. What should he do?

[Lyrus]

The Aquilifier lost his patience; in all his years of warfare, he knew the factors of fear and confusion were the worst; they affected morale, which was vital to the army. Fed up, he skulked towards the fleeing men, leaving his precious banner behind for now, guarded by the Testudo, pushed past some of the 17th, and grabbed hold of a hold of several javelins left on the ground. Gnaeus, an experienced Veteran, knew how to cure battlefield demoralisation. Pulling back the javelin, he hurled it towards the Germanic Pseudo Alae galloping behind Lucius, the shaft struck straight and true. It impaled the horseman, the momentum sending the rider flying off his poorbred steed; in slow-motion, a mist of red engulfed the horrified Barbarian as he crashed to the ground a moment afterwards, and was crushed by the raging hooves of his mount.
"There will be no cowards!" Gnaeus roared, "There will be no runners!" Several of the men stopped in their tracks. "There will be no mercy!" He walked up to the fallen, mangled Rider, and slammed his boot into his face, hearing the satisfying crack of a breaking nose. "There, will, be, an, army!" He walked back to his banner, holding up the Eagle standard aloft. "We are the Legions of Augustus, Emperor of Rome!"
Despite the chaos raging all around him, Gnaeus knew if he could rally the men for now, he could hold out till the Germans tired, and then he could wipe them out. "To me!" He barked, causing the stunned men to scramble towards him. Gnaeus turned to Lucius, and with a grunt, handed him the javelins. "Watch my back, boy."

Little did the charismatic Veteran knew that one of their own had already betrayed them, and that in the pandemonium they were headed right into a trap ...

[TheLegionary]

Lucius listened to the order of Gnaes. He was delirating. He was completely insane, out of mind. Attacking when it was time to regroup to streamline the testudo?

Lucius looked around to see if anyone was following the superior. "Sir, I dont think it is wise to move ahead. Stay in the formation!", he shouted authoritatively to his superior as if he had forgot he was not an official. "Otherwise we will lose more ground".

[Lyrus]

Gnaues turned on Lucius coldly. "If we do not rally the rest of the men, and maintain a tight formation bigger than what we have now, we are dead!" He barked the last word at Lucius so it rang in his air. "We are dead! We are all, dead!" He wheeled around and picked up a fallen sword from a dead Legionary, plodding off, soiling his sandals with mud as he walked past the corpses on the ground and turned to Marcus. "What now?" He asked, bemused at their own situation.