bakerstreet | The Ancient Rome Meme!

The Ancient Rome Meme!

Ancient Rome

Your character is now in Ancient Rome! Most famous city of the Ancient Western world. All roads lead there and now they're here too. Roll the RNG and find out what your character is up to! Or don't and just pick your own, I don't care.

Options!
1. Colosseum Games: Gladiator matches! Fights to the death! Chariot races! Naval Battles! Wild animal fights! Are you there to watch and cheer on your favorite fighter? Or are you one of the attractions, fighting or racing for the crowd's approval?

2. Senate: Debate with your fellow Senators about the fate and laws of the Finest City in the World. Democracy in action! Okay not really. Or is there a dictator that needs a good stabbing? A conspiracy to concoct? Friends, Romans, Countrymen!

3. Party: After a long day of whatever it was you were doing, everyone likes a good party to relax, right? Bring on the slaves with the wine and food! Eat, drink and be merry! There might even be an orgy around here somewhere, and don't forget to visit the Vomitorium if you get full. (Or not. Ew.)

4. War: You fight for the Emperor, and the Emperor wants more lands added to the Empire! See foreign lands, meet interesting people! And then kill them and subjugate them under Roman rule. But hey, they're getting roads and civilization out of the deal so it's all good, right?

5. Roman Provinces: You live in one of the provinces, not in the city itself. Maybe you were conquered recently, or maybe you've gotten used to this whole Being Roman thing and you like having roads and aqueducts and all that around. And really, the taxes aren't so bad, right?

6. Slave Market: Out shopping for a new addition to your household? Or maybe you're about to go on the auction block, waiting for a Citizen to decide to purchase you.

7. Choose your own: Mix and match or come up with your own idea. You're a free citizen of the Roman Empire, I shouldn't have to do all the thinking for you.

((Tastefully stolen from

ferus_preliator, posted originally here))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ As good a time as any to test this soldier out. Gen for now. ]

Even over the heavy downpour the sound of battle echoed out. Metal clanging upon metal, screams of pain rising and falling in a fevered pitch as so many lives were cut down. Swords, barbarians, soldiers, brutality and valor. All were witnessed upon the field of battle below, as the god of Death looked upon the mortal world. So many men laid dead in the mud, as blood flowed across the ground just like the rain, and more dead would be joining the tally before this war ended. Still the fight itself was barely enough cause to bring Death incarnate out from the land of the Underworld. No he came for no other reason them boredom itself.

It was the rain that seemed to pull at his focus, the sound of it splattering across ground and trees, the sound of heavy drops clinking of the Roman armor. Oh most thought him a monster beyond all others; the reaper who haunted every mortal to the grave and beyond. However in all honesty Hades simply did his duty, out of the sake of maintaining order and peace. If not for the ancient god's role in the afterlife, well surely the dead would wander around aimlessly among the mortal plane.

He did his duty, and did it well, but still the Underworld could be so boring. Granted spend a few thousand years anywhere and one was likely to be bored. So instead of remaining so the god of Death used the grand battle as an excuse to go stretch his legs...and to secretly savor the delightful rain as it poured down around him. Had he not nearly been so enthralled with it all Pluto might have realized that his presence hadn't gone completely unnoticed, as a soldier seemed to spot him standing alone atop the hill.

((ooc: interested in running into the Roman god of Death during a battle against an opposing force?))

[ Probably a slave, a priestess of Diana, or a wet-behind-the-ears gladiator with a recent win under her belt. ]

It wasn't everyday that the god of the Underworld found himself wandering the mortal world, yet boredom was a curse of the immortal kind...and sadly one that could not easily be sated. To pass the time the god sought out all forms of entertainment, and after watching that last match in the Colosseum he was certainly amused. No one had expected the young woman to win, but the Death god knew better. He had witnessed the visage of many a warrior, most of whom ended up in his domain after having fallen in battle, so he knew without question that this one was a survivor. Oh she would fall one day to be sure, since such was the fate of all mortal kind. Still he doubted she would be a 'guest' of his anytime soon. So the god found himself wishing to study her and perhaps even offer a blessing.

Slipping into the pens beneath the Colosseum was simple enough since none could lay eyes upon him without the god's consent. Yet as he stood outside her cell the god of Death was genuinely surprised by how young the little one really was. Most gladiators here were men or slaves, but all had more then a few years of seasoned experience. Perhaps her youth was part of what caught his attention but such thoughts slipped away as he just appeared sitting across from her within the cell.

"You fared well out there. Rough technique, and lacking real experience, but still I see a touch of greatness about you." The young man that seemingly appeared out of nowhere made no hostile motion. If anything he appeared more then content to simply gaze at her appraisingly as a single hand ran through his ruffled hair.

((ooc: interested in having a run in with the god of the Underworld? Lol, Hades goes by Pluto amid the Romans.))

Katniss had been cleansed after her bout in the arena, what felt like a beehive's worth of slaves mopping away the sweat and grime, mending her wounds and stuffing her in a clean tunic. Supper would come at some point, a victor's meal to celebrate, and then the whole thing would start anew tomorrow. Training, training, more training. Her next turn in the arena might not come again until the spring, maybe longer, Cinna had assured her, but as she sat in her cell staring off at nothing in particular, she could still hear the shouts and delighted screams of the crowd, and the way her name had come back to her in the roar of thousands.

She dropped her head and rubbed her eyes, Glimmer's shocked face burned behind her eyelids. How could a victory feel like anything but?

There was little time to navel-gaze any further though, not when a man's voice broke rudely into her thoughts- and into her cell. Her eyes flew open and Katniss straightened, spine stiff to see the man occupying the rough-hewn bench across from hers. How had she not heard him come in?

"What?" she blurted out, baffled, and scrunched her eyes shut then open again, to clear a little of the fog. Who was this man?

((ooc: Perfect!))

Edited 2015-10-23 15:33 (UTC)

Pluto ignored her surprised reaction and instead looked mildly displeased with the less then impressive selection of seating within the cell. Casting a glance about the room for a moment he shook his head at last before softly speaking up. "This won't do." With the snap of his fingers the scenery around drastically changed as the two of them were now sitting within a luxury box that overlooked the grand colosseum. The god shifted a tad upon the cushioned chair, nodding to himself for a second before turning his attention back to the young woman sitting across the table from him.

"Much better, wouldn't you agree?" Pluto spoke as if the sudden manifestation of power, and the apparent act of teleportation was simply commonplace. As if he were remarking on the seasonable weather. Still as odd as it was the god was not completely without civility, and he gestured to the small feast that was laid out on the table between them.

"A victory deserves proper celebration, and let it never be said that Pluto was a poor host!" A little smile tugged at the corner of the Death god's lips as he nodded to the wine, and after slowly filling the glass for her he turned his attention to his own glass.

"Spare me the questions, little one. I am the god of the Underworld, just as you are the young warrior who caught my attention. Once you grasp the truth of my words...well the rest of our conversation can progress smoothly." There was no edge to his words, nor even a spark of anger. If anything the god seemed more interested in sipping the wine in his glass then offering much else in the way of explanations. Then again wine of the gods did have quite a delicious taste, so perhaps he could not be faulted.

Edited 2015-10-23 15:56 (UTC)

She moved to stand...and then promptly fell back in her seat. In her plush, cushioned seat, softer than anything Katniss had felt for a long, long time. There was nothing of the dank cell and its dark corners anymore, no shred of a straw mattress or a brazier that spat out more soot than light. Instead, there was clean air and cool shade, a private space above the wide arena. There were runners out in the sand, slaves collecting a lion's corpse, but Katniss didn't see them, couldn't hear them.

Her eyes were locked on the man. She felt herself go cold despite the midsummer heat, her heart beating so fast and loud Katniss was sure he'd hear it. Pluto, a god, sat before her.

There were many boys and men throughout her life who swore that they were gods or favored by them. Privately, she thought that Mars and Cupid --if they even bothered with Rome anymore, she'd given up so much of her beliefs long ago-- could have stood to pick better emissaries. She might have fitted this man into that category too, just another idiot bragging, except for the predicament he'd put her in now. There were illusions, magic tricks...and then there was whisking her from beneath the colosseum and putting her all the way up here in an instant.

Slowly, the way one might move so as not to draw the eye of a great predator, aware that her bandaged hands were shaking, she reached for her glass. "What," Katniss started, a dry mumble, and gulped wine before she felt ready to start again. "What do you want with me?"

An eyebrow arched ever so slightly as the god studied her out of the corner of his eye. His focus seemed to have shifted back to the glass in hand, or perhaps even down to the stadium floor as Pluto lazily looked about, but a perceptive young woman like herself could likely notice that he never once stopped gauging her reaction.

In truth the shaking of her hands was easily overlooked, after all he had seen supposedly braver and bolder men shake in terror before the god of Death. Still it was the question she posed that sparked something within the ancient deity. A spark of genuine amusement, and a touch of appreciation. Others could have blathered on, prostrating themselves before him like fools, where more then a few more would have been too frightened to even form a coherent thought. But not her.

No, despite the circumstance the young woman had maintained a moderately level head and even formed a proper inquisitive question. Sadly though Pluto was not too sure of the answer to said question. So after pausing a moment to consider it, and to sample a piece of well seasoned meat from his plate, the god spoke up at last.

"A fair question, however I do not rightly know just yet. You afforded me a moment of distraction as I watched you fight down below. Not many catch my eye, and fewer still merit a second glance. But you...as I said before, I see the potential greatness within you, and it has piqued my interest. So here we sit, sharing wine and speaking cordially."

It was rare for a god to mingle with mortals, well with the exception of his brothers and their 'appetites' for young men and women to bed. Pluto however had not ever really embraced such baser carnal needs. No, the god of the Underworld craved distraction too, however the flesh rarely called to him. This young mortal possessed something though, something the god found a measure of interest in. Not that he knew exactly what quality of hers had sparked said interest, but he was willing to look a little deeper to discover what it was. For now though Pluto shifted his gaze back down to the sands below, and smiled again before snapping his fingers once more. There was not outward sign that anything had changed at all, but the skin beneath her bandages tingled cooly for a moment as her wounds vanished from her flesh.

Edited 2015-10-24 05:14 (UTC)

The wine was good, impossibly good, rich and flavorful, positively ambrosial to a ragged farm girl turned slave turned gladiatrix. It helped to warm a little of her frozen insides, to unstick her tongue where it glued itself to the roof of her mouth when Pluto spoke once more.

He watched her fight, watched her win, and he approved? 'But why' was what she wanted to ask, to press him, because it didn't make any sense. Why would any of the gods start caring about her now? Where was he when she convinced the recruiters to take her, to see that Prim was bought by their investors and went off to Caelian Hill to be a lady's slave, instead of sent to a brothel? Why should he care, just because she ran her opponent through?

Katniss started at the snap of his fingers, looking around for the new change it must have wrought, and felt confused when it seemed there was nothing. Nothing, at least, until she ventured to set her empty glass on the table once more, and realized her hands weren't aching anymore. Confused, she gingerly peeled back the edge of the linen wrapping, finding pink skin smeared with ointment instead of split knuckles and burst blisters. She felt for the cut close to her hairline, the one that had bled so fiercely in her eyes and nearly cost her the match-- also gone, not a hair out of place, and knew without looking that the ones on her hip and across her back were gone too.

She hid her hands in her lap when they started shaking again. So this, too, was part of his power.

"Is it...really speaking when one half of the conversation doesn't know what to say?" Katniss admitted, feeling so awkward, uncertain, and hiding that in the edged tone her voice took.

Pluto was powerful. Perhaps even more so then even the other gods realized. After all even the immortals would fall one day, yet not the one who ruled over Death itself. Still as immense as his might was the god struggled to understand his own mind when it came to her. He had the faintest of inklings, a single thread of an idea about what she could come to mean to him. Still the process of following such a thought was delicate to say the least.

Pluto, lord of the Underworld and god of Death, was powerful. But he was not all knowing.

Not intending to be rude he slipped deeper into his own thoughts for a moment, silently sipping from his chalice as she examined the lack of wounds upon her form. It was only when she spoke up at last that he seemed to return to the present. However he paused once more to consider her confession, and smiled anew as a tiny shrug touched his shoulders.

"All things die save death itself, yet the manner in which you perish does indeed possess some power in and of itself. You could live a simple life, toiling and tarrying till death takes you in your sleep many years from now. Never would your candle burn brightly, but the wick may be a tad longer."

He hadn't intended to speak without formulating his own mind on the matter, but as the words flowed freely Pluto found himself interested to see just exactly where the train of thought took him. "Or you could burn brighter then the stars amid the heavens, and leave such a mark upon history itself...though such a life would likely not be a long one by mortal standards."

Something sparkled in his eyes as comprehension started to set in. She was an oddity, and a curiosity to him because her life stood at a crossroads. Too few mortals had ever really had a chance for real greatness, yet as the god looked at her he could see all that potential...clear as day. Still the question arose, would she seek such a thing?

"Tell me, little one, why do you fight? Oh I know you struggle to survive in this place but there is...something more then that about you. So speak honestly with me if you please, and tell me what drives you to not just live but to win?"

He knew how she was going to die? Katniss stared openly at him. Of course. Of course he would, he's Pluto. She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling her skin prickle beneath her fingers.

"If." She cleared her throat. "If I win, if I keep winning..." Katniss flattened her lips into a line, pressing them together until they turned white, before she continued. "My sister, Prim, is owned by one of my sponsors. My trainers agreed to keep a small part of their winnings aside-" their winnings, because she'll never see a single coin of it except as training supplies "-so I can get her back."

Money was the thing people listened to. She wasn't even really bitter about it anymore, only resigned. It was the way of things, it wasn't fair, but it was her way around the system as it was set up. That time she shot an apple out of the provincial governor's hand when she and her fellow gladiators were made to show their skills? It might have fortified her pride, but the whipping afterward wouldn't get her any closer to saving her sister.

Her answer was genuine, perhaps even heartfelt, yet Pluto somehow seemed disappointed by the reply. Oh even he didn't know what he expected her to say, but when she spoke of her sister and money...well it was a far cry from what he had imagined. In all honesty he could understand her drive, hell he ruled over countless souls who had spent their mortal lives seeking to care for their loved ones. But such concerns just seemed so small when it was viewed through the eyes of an immortal. Even were she to somehow win them both their freedom, through will and determination; plus blood, pain and sweat...what then? Both would shuffle off the mortal coil and neither would have left a lasting mark upon it.

"Sentimentality...I see."

With a sigh the god shook his head slightly, his gaze pulling away from hers to go back to watching the newest batch of gladiators begin to enter arena. Struggling against the boredom that slowly crept up on him again, and that itch in the back of his mind...the one that whispered of her possible value. The god of Death considered just departing altogether, and leaving her to whatever the Fates had in store for the woman. But that nagging thought kept him in his seat.

"Such smallness, yet I suppose there is a sort of honor in wishing to provide for family. So if that is what drives you, then I suppose you would be indebted to the one who granted you your heart's desire?" Pluto had hoped to find a hero, yet the few he had known over the centuries all had such a drive and ambition for greatness. Still perhaps he could work with something deeper then that, after all love was supposedly far more potent than blind ambition.

"If one was chosen to be my herald in this world, conceivably they would be rewarded with wealth and honors beyond the wildest dreams of even the greediest of men. And such a herald would need to have those that he...or she...could trust and rely on. Say a sibling or loved one perhaps?" The god seemed to be musing out loud to himself, but the slightest of smiles could be seen as he glanced briefly over in her direction. Oh no promise was made, and no pact was even offered, yet the tiniest crumbs of hope for a glorious future were laid out before his guest.

The apothecary looked at her as he held the knife in the flame. "My congratulations on your successful first fight, gladiator." From his tone the words were a mere formality for the gladiator before he became a little more animated. "I've some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is that thanks to the blessing of Aesclepius your opponent will live." Which given she shot him in the throat was a minor miracle even if she had missed both artery and vein.

He looked straight at her. "The bad news is that your trainers didn't follow my instructions and didn't bring you to me in the time I gave them." She wasn't that badly wounded. "Which means I may not be able to save that arm from infection. If I don't it won't be useful and you'll never fight again." He was sure she was sharp enough to pick up the offer - he was offering to cripple her left arm so she never needed to enter the arena again. A longer life if a less comfortable one.

"Thank the gods for that," she muttered, less out of any real feeling, more out of rote. Cato would live to fight another day. It would make his trainers happy not to lose out on their investment.

What the apothecary had to say next drew her up short where she sat. Katniss looked doubtfully at her arm, at the linens swathing it, and curled her fingers in to meet her palm. Out of the rush of battle, as things had calmed, each slash she'd earned was throbbing, steady and angry. She might be slow to cotton on sometimes, but she didn't miss his careful offer wrapped in so much bullshit.

"No," she said, as automatic as breathing, and shook her head. "If I can't fight, I have nothing else." Then she's out of work and crippled, and her little cell and practice bouts were sure to be replaced with the next rung or two down the ladder. Favored gladiators maimed after an illustrious career had at least some options, but she's only started.

"I didn't think so." Rory's tone was slightly disappointed but understanding as he unwrapped the clumsily applied bandage on her arm and frowned. "If you bandaged this yourself, nice job one handed. If not I need words with someone." He took the arm and carefully looked at the wound. "And someone didn't wash this properly. Vinegar's going to sting." With that he stood and walked to the boiling cauldron, washing his hands before fishing out a rag from it with the copper tongs then glanced over at his vials before picking one as well as obviously a bottle of vinegar. Katniss would recognise about a quarter of the vials and labels as being those her mother would use - but the apothecary's knowledge was obviously extensive.

The apothecary was certainly possessed of far more supplies than her mother had. Each vial, each bottle had a coin hanging over it in her mind's eye, particularly those she knew came from far-flung places - Katniss recognized balsam from Arabia, and other things from far into the Orient. But her mother had made do with what they had in those stark wilds, and she remembered the days of preparing tinctures and salves - cutting, brewing, straining, bottling, going to bed with green around her nails and her hands smelling like sage and dittany - well before she had to hunt and left Prim to help their mother instead.

She let Rory manhandle her, numb to it, and looked over the wound as he did, skeptical as to his warning. "It can't feel any worse than when I got it."

Katniss watched him as he went through his preparations, trying to suss him out. "Is it...common...for you to find such infections in the fighters you see?"

Rory smiled slightly. "You're female, you're small, you're callused, and you won. It was never likely." He shrugged. "It's most common in large boys who think brute strength is all they need and get a rude shock their first time in the arena. And your body isn't swimming with adrenaline right now."

But he was skilled and it wasn't that painful. "You really weren't bad there. And the odds against you were thirty to one. I'd have said three to one was fair." He threw a small bag at her - she should catch it easily. "A ten percent cut. You've talent. But if you want to be good you need an acting coach. And a costumier. People want to see spectacle more than blood. And scrappy underdog only works so long."

( Probably stuck as a gladiator. )

( Half-Celt called Walganus by the Romans. Open to having him as a slave, a gladiator, or maybe a druid-in-training out in the provinces. )

( Well-kept slave used as a messenger boy (and magician). )

[Former soldier of Caeser's 13th Legion, a common sight around the Aventine Hill.]

Edited 2015-10-23 14:56 (UTC)

( ooc; Proserpina to the Romans. Goddess of Rebirth and Renewal, and probable tourist. )

[Open to all prompts. But if 6, may be throwing a fit about the fact slavery exists. Character info in journal. Character can also be aged up since I know mostly what happens in canon - and made king if nothing]

(Likely a bodyguard type of slave, or in the arena with a fierce reputation for winning.)

(Either a minor goddess of fate, or the Roman incarnation of the Fateweaver, Aeliana, a powerful Seer. She's good for parties too)

[Gladiator, freed man, or rebel. Take your pick.]

[Soldier either in Rome or one of the provinces]

[Gladiatrix, slave-turned-rebel, maybe even a mercenary.]

[Slave or gladiator!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Ancient Rome Meme!

Quintus Dias | Centurion | OTA

no subject

Katniss Everdeen | Hunger Games | OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

sorry for the delay!

no worries! :D

no subject

no subject

no subject

so sorry for the wait

No problem

Dante • DmC • OTA

Gavin Darrow • OC • OTA

Kell • A Darker Shade of Magic • OTA

Titus Pullo | Rome | OTA

Persephone ✾ Mythology ✾ OTA

Arslan | Heroic Legend of Arslan

Dia Starfall | SW:TOR OC | F/M for shipping or smut

Altalita Bastion | Seer OC | F/F or F/M for shipping or smut

gannicus | spartacus

Titus Quintus Ferris :: Highlander/Immortal OC :: M/F for ships, OTA for gen

Saxa | Spartacus

Fenris | Dragon Age 2 | OTA